CHAPTER FOUR

Caleb Goterel

ALEX SLOWLY REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS, FEELING dizzy. Why are the walls spinning? He thought dazedly. His stomach was sore and there was a dull throbbing in his head.

Alex wondered where he was, and realized he didn't actually know. What had happened? He remembered finding out that Eagle was working for the CIA… he remembered walking home with Dylan and Sabina, and—that's right—there were men following them!

Immediately, Alex tried to stand up—but he couldn't. As the room stopped spinning, Alex began to take note of his surroundings. He was in a dark room. The only illumination came from a single lightbulb hanging above him, which wasn't doing much to brighten the room. The walls were made of cement, the floors of stone and there were no windows. Alex assumed he was in a cellar or basement. He was sitting on a chair, his hands bound behind the back of the chair, his ankles tied to it's legs. Thankfully, he wasn't gagged; a small bright spot in an otherwise drab situation.

Alex wondered where the men who'd attacked him were… he wondered where Sabina and Dylan were… He desperately wished he'd taken a few of Smither's gadgets with him that morning. No doubt they'd come in useful right about now.

He stilled, hearing footsteps. He couldn't turn his head around, but he was pretty sure there was a door behind him. His suspicions were confirmed when the creaking sounds of an opening door came, accompanied by disgruntled voices.

"He was 'sleep when I checked on 'im last," a voice was saying, "I dunno if he'd be awake yet."

"Eh," another voice grunted in reply. "The boss said to check on him, so we've got to check on him. After all, it's not really ours to question why." The voice turned weary. "He is Alex Rider, a largely successful spy. Although between you and me, I don't see what all the fuss is about. We took him down easy enough."

"Yeah, he's a weakling," the first voice sniggered.

"For everyone but you, Jude," another voice cut in. It was cold and mocking. "The kid took you down easy enough."

The men trudged in and slouched in front of Alex. Despite their conversation, they didn't look surprised to see him awake. "Finally wake up, didja?" asked the shortest of the lot. He had a muscly build and curly hair. " 'Bout time." Alex recognized him; he was the one that Alex had kicked in the groin.

"Who are you?" Alex demanded instantly. "Where am I?"

This seemed to amuse the tallest one, who leered at him. "I'm George. That's Jude," he nodded in the direction of the shortest man. Alex recognized George too. George was the one who had punched him in the stomach. Luckily, none of the men had hit his bullet wound. "And that's Tray. You're in the basement of an old abandoned bar."

Alex was a little surprised. He hadn't expected the men to co-operate so easily. They don't expect you to leave here, he realized, at least, not alive. He hoped he could prove them wrong. "That's just great; you know, the police will love to hear about this. I'll be sure to remember your names." Alex wasn't going to show his fear.

"That's some pretty smug talk coming out of your mouth, considering you're tied to a chair." The one called George mocked. "What, are you going to use your infamous spy skills and hop to the police station, chair and all?" Jude sniggered some more. He sounded like a drunken hyena.

Alex opened his mouth, ready with a snarky comeback of his own, when he remembered that there were more important things to talk about. "Where's Sabina?" he asked, glaring at his captors. "Where's Dylan? What did you do with them?"

George and Jude exchanged a confused look. "I think he means the boy and girl that were drugged," Tray spoke up.

"Oh, them," George snorted. "Who the hell cares about two dumb teens?"

"Where are they?" Alex yelled. The men talked as if Sabina and Dylan were dead. "What have you done with them—?"

George backhanded Alex across the face, nearly sending him and the chair backwards. "Let me tell you something, kid," George said, in a conspirational fashion. "Jude's dying to get some revenge for that nasty kick you gave him. I'm the only one stopping him; boss's orders. But I could always turn a blind eye and let Jude do what he wants. If I were you, I wouldn't give me any more reason to let him beat you up."

"Like he tried to do last time?" Alex retorted, ignoring the pain. He couldn't help himself. "Because that worked out so well for him. I'm sure his nuts still remember." It was worth it to see Jude's embarrassed look, and George and Tray's shocked expressions. They obviously weren't used to their victims talking back.

For a minute, Alex thought he'd be hit again. In the end, George just scowled. "It didn't exactly work out so great for you either. Take a look around, schoolboy. Jude," he snapped, "Untie him." Grumbling, Jude roughly untied Alex's hands and feet. Alex stood up slowly, rubbing his sore wrists. There were angry red marks around them.

Tray had a gun ready in his hand, pointed at Alex's chest. Alex felt his old bullet wound throb in response. "I'm sure you know better than to try and fight," he reminded Alex. Alex nodded, keeping his face blank. Tray's hand was unnervingly steady.

"Good," George pushed Alex towards the door. "Now keep moving. I'll lead the way. You try and run, you even so much as look at the door leading out of the bar too long, and Tray will shoot," George growled at Alex. "Are we clear?"

"Where's Sabina and Dylan?" Alex tried again. He needed to know the other two were okay—he needed to know they weren't in trouble because of him.

George moved forward, his eyes deadly, towering over Alex. He gave Alex a shove backwards. "I'm only going to ask again once. Are we clear, schoolboy?"

Alex sighed. "Yes," he said shortly. He knew that there would be no point in arguing with George; the man was aggressive and clearly itching for a fight.

George smiled a truly feral smile. "That's what I thought."

Alex followed George out of the basement into a narrow stone corridor. He wondered how long he'd been knocked out for; his leg and arm muscles were sore from lack of use. Alex touched his forehead but found no specks of dried blood. That was odd. He remembered bleeding after his last fight with George and Tray… Now that Alex thought about it, besides the rope burns and the pounding headache, he was mostly fine. What exactly was going on? He didn't suppose George would be willing to explain it all.

The thug led him out of the corridor into what had to be the main bar. Wooden floors, stylish wallpaper and black tables were covered in a thick layer of dust. The place was obviously unused. However, in the middle of the room, a silver table stood. On it rested plates of fancy food and two glasses filled with an amber liquid. Two chairs were next to the table, both empty. The silver table and chairs, unlike the rest of the bar, were not coated in grime.

"Sit," ordered George. Alex sat. He didn't really have much of a choice.

There wasn't much light in the bar, since the windows were sealed shut. On the table, two lamps were shining brightly, but they couldn't penetrate the shadows that hung around the edge of the room. Alex, looking upon it all, was reminded of a horror movie set. He raised an eyebrow, feigning impatience. He couldn't let the thugs know how unsettled he was. "So all this, just to invite me over for dinner?"

"Precisely." A voice rang out over the room, loud, clear, confident. A man stepped out of the shadows, clutching a briefcase. He was dressed in a crisp suit that just reeked of money. His designer shoes made soft sounds on the dusty floor as he made his was across the room.

"You could have just asked," Alex muttered sarcastically.

"But then you might have misunderstood my intentions—you might have declined! No, this way was much better, because here we both are." The man beamed, taking the other seat. He set down his briefcase and leaned across the table, offering his hand. "You're probably wondering who I am. My name is Caleb Goterel." Caleb Goterel had dark hair with blonde highlights, light blue eyes and slightly tanned skin. He looked around his thirties. "Don't worry, I don't bite. It's perfectly safe to shake my hand." Caleb chuckled, as if Alex's wariness was the most amusing thing in the world. Gingerly, Alex shook his hand. Caleb nodded in approval. "So, you're Alex Rider. I've heard a lot about you. Though it may not come as a surprise to you, you're quite famous, both in the spy and criminal world." Alex kept his face carefully blank. "All those successful missions—my, how you've become a commodity! Why, I know all about you, and I've never even met you before!" Caleb chuckled again.

"That hardly seems fair, now does it?" Alex asked slyly, causing Caleb to pause mid-chuckle. "I don't spend my time stalking others, so I know nothing about you."

Caleb smiled, but his eyes turned stormy. "I think you do," he said softly, his voice turning dangerous, "I think the CIA has filled you in."

Alex blinked. "You're not serious? The CIA?" He pretended to pause thoughtfully. "Isn't that the American secret service. Like, spies and stuff—"

"Alex, that's not how it goes," Caleb shook his head. "You don't need to pretend you haven't worked for MI6 in the past. I know about all that; I know you're working for the CIA right now."

"I'm not," Alex said truthfully.

"Kids," Caleb muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. He grabbed one of the glasses containing the amber liquid and took a sip, his eyes assessing Alex. "I'm not in the mood to play games, but I'm not stupid. I know you won't co-operate easily. Alex, you do have a reputation for being stubborn. That, and successful. These are qualities I have come to admire in you." Alex remained impassive. Caleb sighed. He gestured at the table. "Eat, drink—I think you'll find not many children are as lucky as to get offered Scotch everyday." Caleb pointed to a glass containing the brownish-yellow alcohol. "I will talk to George and his friends, see how you were when you woke up. Excuse me, will you?" Caleb rose, and strode to the thugs, who'd disappeared into the shadows around the room.

Alex gazed at the table, before deciding he didn't want any of the food on it. Who knew if Caleb had drugged it? The man was obviously psychotic, acting as if this was some social dinner. Then again, what villain hadn't dined with him? Alex looked around and noticed there were a set of doors leading out of the bar, barely visible through the gloom… he remembered what George had said about Tray shooting him if he stared at them too long. Still, they were his one shot at escape.

Caleb came back and sat down, a smile set on his face. "My men tell me something very interesting Alex." Caleb's smile widened to a grin. "They say you were asking about your friends earlier. I'll give away your friends location, if you admit to your past of spying. Do we have a deal?" Caleb looked like a cat that had just caught a bird.

Alex was trapped—there was really no choice at all. "Deal," he said, "If you release them too."

"Very well." Caleb looked amused. "But you'll find that isn't necessary. See how much better things are when we're not lying to each other?"

Alex had had enough of Caleb's games. "Where are Sabina and Dylan?" he repeated, for what felt like the zillionth time.

"Not so fast. First, I am going to ask you a question. Remember, we're not lying to each other anymore. You're a spy, right?"

"I have been a spy," Alex admitted. "Now what about Sabina and Dylan? Where are they?"

"Right at this very moment?" Caleb glanced at his watch lazily. It was a Rolex, glinting when it caught the light. "School."

Alex stared, disbelieving. "I thought you said we were being honest."

Caleb's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "We are—I am. I have no need for those friends of yours, and although I could have used them to blackmail you, I'd promised Jade I'd leave them out of it." Caleb leaned forward, hands clasped together. "I'm not interested in any of them. They were merely drugged and left to wake up on their own. They won't remember a thing about the fight it took to take you down. They'll just have a bad headache today. And I'd advise you not to call me a liar again."

Alex sighed internally. He was relieved; at least Sabina and Dylan were out of the whole mess. "How'd you drug them?"

"That's a topic for a later date," Caleb brushed Alex's question aside. "Although, you might like to know, you were meant to be drugged too. For some reason it seems you didn't take the drug, or you weren't affected by it, and that lead to a bit of rowdiness."

Alex took this in. "So why am I here?"

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" Caleb's eyes glinted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Caleb ignored him, getting up. "I got someone to take care of your injuries. Aren't you going to thank me? No? I'm not surprised; you teenager's are always unappreciative." Caleb motioned for Alex to get up too. "Follow me. If you try and run, you'll be shot. I'd really hate for that to happen, so please, don't do anything we'd both regret."

Alex got up and followed Caleb. Instead of heading back towards the basement, Caleb took Alex out a set of doors leading out of the bar. Fresh air and sunshine greeted them. Footsteps behind Alex told him the three thugs were accompanying them.

The area outside the bar was just a large square of concrete. It was fenced off; the fence was five metres tall and made of chain link. "Stand right there," Caleb pointed. Alex didn't budge. "Alex, if you don't move, Tray with shoot." Alex moved deliberately slowly. He glared at all the men. When he was standing in the middle of the concrete area Caleb grinned. "Great, great."

"Now what?" Alex said. The three thugs were moving around him, circling. Caleb moved back, until he was an inch away from the door to the bar.

"Now the real fun begins," Caleb smirked. "Alex, I must say, I'll be very surprised if you survive." With that, Caleb disappeared behind the doors.

~o~

None of it made any sense. Not the thugs that were circling him. Not the villain that had planned it all. Not even the part where Dylan and Sabina had been drugged, but some how he'd been unaffected.

Cursing his luck, Alex turned around to face the men circling him. Three-on-one. Alex knew the situation could be worse. There could have been more thugs, or no chance to escape; just a gun held to his head.

He moved slowly, trying to keep his eyes on all of them. Once again, Jude got impatient and lunged for him first. Instead of lashing out, Alex waited until the last second before stepping aside. Jude crashed into George, who'd been waiting behind Alex. George swore and shoved Jude away.

Tray was still circling, keeping his distance, gun securely in hand.

"Tray," George snarled, "Go already. You know the plan. We'll take care of the schoolboy."

Tray nodded and moved towards the bar doors. George and Jude closed in, tightening ranks. Suddenly they both rushed at him, in a single file.

Alex ducked past George and aimed a forward instep karate kick at Jude—one of the kicks he'd learned in his early years of karate. Jude tumbled down like a house of cards, leaving the path to Tray clear. Alex dashed towards the unsuspecting man, knowing that George would be on his trail.

"Hey! Tray—" George called out, realizing what Alex planned to do, but he was too late. Alex leaped onto Tray's back. Tray, startled, spun around, but Alex was still on his back. Tray's hand slipped and he accidentally fired his gun a few times. Alex stiffened as he heard the gunshots, afraid of getting hit. He heard someone shriek. Leaping back, off Tray, he saw George kneeling on the ground, blood gushing from his shoulder. Tray whirled around, turning on Alex.

For a second, Tray looked torn, deciding between killing Alex or helping his comrade. "You'll be sorry later, kid!" He glared at Alex, but turned back and ran to assist George.

Alex took this opportunity to run into the bar. Hopefully, Caleb would have left. There was no way he could climb the chain link fence, and there had to be another way out.

Alex entered the gloomy building, finding it empty and dusty. Grateful, he slunk into the shadows, edging his way around the room.

He found a door, leading to a flight of stairs. He hesitated. The stairs led up, not out, but Alex heard footsteps nearby. He had no choice. Shutting the door quietly behind him, Alex ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. The stairs seemed to go on forever, but at least Tray hadn't figured out where he had gone.

Alex wondered why a bar had so many stairs… It was one tall building. Eventually, the steps led to a metal door, which was locked. Alex rammed into it with his shoulder. The door made a loud screeching sound, but remained locked. Alex tried again, knowing that the sound must have alerted Tray to his whereabouts. Once again, nothing happened, although the door made another horrible noise, like nails scratching against a chalkboard. Alex thought he could hear faint footsteps getting louder. Alex tried again, and then again. On his fifth try the door broke open, and his momentum carried him forward.

Alex stumbled onto the roof of the bar, which was as flat as that of an apartment building. The view was disappointing. Many empty building surrounded this one, with signs warning citizens to KEEP AWAY: DANGER.

Alex's heart sank as he surveyed the roof; it was barren. There was nothing to use as a weapon, or to help him escape. He moved around the roof's edges, searching for anything; hopefully a fire escape. There wasn't anything like that, although the building opposite seemed to have a fire escape. All the bar had was a metal pipe, leading down to a small platform.

An idea formed in Alex's head. It was a big, sturdy pipe and he hoped it wouldn't come crashing down…

Alex began climbing down the pipe. He moved slowly, using the tiny metal structures holding it onto the building as footholds. He was halfway to the platform when he heard the slamming of a door. "Rider?" a voice yelled. "Come out, come out! I know you're up here!"

Alex moved a little faster. He missed his next foothold, and started sliding. Luckily the platform was just a meter below. Alex landed on it with a dull bang as his feet hit metal.

Shaking himself, he judged the distance to the fire escape. It wasn't too far, and he could climb the rest of the distance down. Now that he was this close, he noticed that the fire escape also had a small platform. It was smaller than the one he was on now, but with any luck, he'd be able to jump to it.

"There you are!" Alex glanced up, just in time to see Tray take aim. Alex flattened himself against the wall of the bar building just as a loud bang echoed. He was left staring at a small bullet hole in the metal platform, an inch away from his foot. A faint click told Alex that Tray was reloading his gun; he'd wasted a lot of bullets already. This was Alex's chance.

Not bothering to glance at Tray Alex ran and jumped. He grabbed the platform and rolled onto it, just as the sound of gunfire reached his ears. The platform he'd been standing on earlier was now full of holes. It resembled swiss cheese. His heart in his chest, Alex knew he couldn't risk climbing down the ladder. Tray would make short work of him.

He stood up, and saw with alarm that Tray was climbing down the pipe. Alex knew there was no way Tray would miss once he reached the metal platform. Alex would be barely a meter away.

Edging backwards, Alex felt his back press against glass... Glass!

He turned around and saw the while the bar building had no windows, this one did. There was no time to waste. Alex backed up and kicked the glass. Fortunately, due to years of disuse, the glass broke. Thousands of sharp shards fell in every direction, a few burying themselves in Alex's shoe. He had no time to worry about them—he slipped inside the building, with only a few minor scrapes.

The building was just as unused and as dark as the bar, although sunlight poured in through the broken window. It lit the way to the door, which Alex opened without too much trouble. He was out of the room just as Tray jumped from metal platform to platform

Alex then ran down the hallway.

He kept running; he ran out the building and sprinted down the street. This was Sans Francisco, not London, and although Alex didn't know his way around yet, he just kept heading east. A small part of him wondered why Tray hadn't given chase... maybe he was planning an ambush up ahead?

After a while, tired and gasping for air, Alex emerged in a busy part of the city, bustling with people and cars. He knew that this in no way assured he was safe; people had tired to kidnap him in busy crowds before. Still, Alex slowed down as he made his way to the pay-phone.

He quickly dialed a number.

After five rings, someone answered. "Hello, Elizabeth speaking," Sabina's mother picked up.

"Hi, it's—"

"Alex!" She sounded worried. "Where've you been?"

Alex didn't know where to begin, adrenaline and his escape making him almost giddy with relief. "It's a long story. Oh, and I need a ride home."