A/N: Chapter three! Blunt has Jess in his vile clutches. What's she gonna do? And how far will he go in order to secure her service?

Disclaimer: You know what? I'm going to be really bad and not put a disclaimer on this chapter. Cuz I'm pretty sure you all know by now that I don't own the Alex Rider conglomerate of stuff. Oops, that's disclaiming. Whatever.

Chapter Three: What Do You Say?

Sixteen floors and one extremely awkward elevator ride later, Crawley ushered Jess into an underground parking garage. He led her and the armed man – whose name, according to Crawley, was Marshall – to a nondescript car, virtually identical to its neighbours, and gestured her to get inside. She did so, fastening her seatbelt as Marshall shut her door with a sense of finality. Crawley got in the front, and Marshall sat behind the wheel.

"Where are we going?" Jess asked as Marshall started the car.

"Away from here," was Crawley's decidedly unhelpful reply.

Jess sighed, realizing that there was nothing she could say or do to make Crawley explain. Instead, she settled herself to look out the window as London passed by. She felt her eyelids droop. She had been running purely on adrenaline for a while, and the letdown was getting to her. She fully intended to stay awake and keep an eye on what was going on, but her eyes were burning...and she was so tired...

The next thing she knew, she was jerking awake as the car turned onto a roughly paved driveway. She sat up, disoriented. The sudden action must have caught Crawley's eye through the rear-view mirror, because he turned to face her and smiled. "Nice nap?" he inquired casually.

She simply glared at him.

Crawley sighed. "Are you ever going to trust me, Miss Fox?" he asked, seeming genuinely upset.

"Probably not," she replied bluntly.

He gave a wry grin. "Ah, well, at least you're honest about it," he said as the car came to a stop.

Jess looked out the window. There wasn't anything very impressive in the immediate vicinity, not that she could see. The only structure was a house that looked, to her, like it belonged in the Elizabethan era. Surrounding it was enough open space to tell her that she was kilometers from any city.

"Where are we?" she asked as she got out of the car.

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to tell you that," Crawley replied.

Jess whipped around to glare at him again. "Why not?" she demanded.

Crawley sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "You'll see once we get inside."

Jess scowled, but followed his lead and walked to the door. He punched a code into a keypad by the door, which buzzed quietly and opened. Crawley swept through, Jess hard on his heels. He led her through several hallways, finally stopping to knock on a heavy-looking door.

"Come," a man's voice replied curtly.

Crawley opened the door just enough to stick his head inside. "I have Jessica Fox for you, sir," he said.

"Send her in." Jess frowned; this speaker was a woman. How many people were in there?

Crawley nodded sharply, stepped back into the hallway, and gestured with a sweep of his hands for Jess to go inside. She did so, and found herself faced with a dark room, paneled with deep brown wood and carpeted in royal blue. A reddish-brown table with wooden chairs arrayed around it sat in the dead center of the room. Seated at the table were two people. One, a woman, was dark-skinned and rather masculine. The other, a man, could be summed up in one word: grey – grey suit, grey hair, even grey lips. Jess took all this in as Crawley shut the door.

"Sit down, please, Jessica – may I call you Jessica?" said the man.

Jess nodded and moved to a chair. "Sure," she said.

The man waited until she was seated before saying, "My name is Alan Blunt. This-" he indicated the woman, sitting on his right- "is Mrs. Jones. We-"

"You work for the government," Jess interrupted. "Don't you?"

Alan Blunt blinked. "Yes, I – How did you know that?"

Jess smiled thinly. "Lucky guess." When Blunt raised an eyebrow, she reluctantly elaborated, "And the Internet is very informative."

"You can't believe everything you read, especially on the Internet," Blunt replied.

Jess' smile widened slightly. "You can if you know how to look."

Blunt opened his mouth, but Mrs. Jones cut him off. "What else do you know – or think you know?" she said.

Jess unconsciously dropped her gaze as she thought. "Not much, honestly," she said a moment later, making eye contact with her companions once more. "I know that you work for some big, top-secret government agency, and you're both covered in red tape – metaphorically speaking."

Blunt blinked. "Yes, well...anyway. It is true that we both work for the government; it is also true that what we do is not to be bandied about."

Jess chuckled slightly. "What do you do – aliens?"

"No." That was Mrs. Jones. She continued, "You're a smart girl, Jessica; I'm sure you can figure it out." The last words were accompanied by a small smile.

Jess scowled. "Oh, I will." With that, she dropped her gaze to the table, her mind rapidly processing all the facts and drawing a conclusion from them. Her head snapped up as she voiced what she had reasoned.

"You're spies."

Mrs. Jones' smile widened. "Very good, but not quite."

"I don't get it."

Blunt jumped back into the conversation. "We lead spies. I am the head of MI6 – I assume you know what that is?" When Jessica nodded, he continued, "Good. As I said, I am the leader, and Mrs. Jones is my second-in-command. Now-"

"That's all well and good," Jess cut in once more, "but what the heck does any of this have to do with me?"

Blunt's expression never changed, but there was a scowl in his voice as he said, "I'm getting there, if you would stop talking." Jess glared furiously at him, but remained silent. "Thank you. Now, you are here because, frankly-" he took a deep breath, as if preparing to deliver unpleasant news- "we need your help."

For a moment, the room was perfectly silent. Then Jess managed to say, "You? Need my help?" Her incredulous tone bordered on laughter.

"Yes, we do," Mrs. Jones answered calmly. She reached down to the floor, rummaged with something, and then sat up with a piece of paper in her hand. A photograph, Jess noticed. Mrs. Jones laid the picture on the table, facing Jess, and asked, "Do you recognize this man?"

Jess studied the face captured on the paper. The man was tall, as evidenced by the relative heights of the people surrounding him. He had red hair and penetrating blue eyes. Jess frowned and slowly shook her head. "No, I can't say I do."

"His name is Dorian Roberts," Mrs. Jones explained. "He operates a small publishing company in Spain."

"And you're showing me his picture because..." Jess trailed off, letting the question remain unspoken.

Mrs. Jones glanced at Blunt, who took his cue. "We feel he may be doing things that are not exactly in our best interest," he explained. "Suffice it to say that we believe he needs an eye kept on him."

"And why do you need me to do that? I'm assuming that's why we're having this conversation."

"It is. Sending in an adult would be impossible, as Roberts is paranoid about such things. However, he lets children move about with relative freedom."

"That's weird."

Blunt almost smiled. "That it is. I must stress, though, that he does so very rarely. Preparations must be made in advance, and he only accepts school groups. Two more children will make no difference to him, and-"

"Two children?"

Blunt sighed in exasperation. "Why do you keep interrupting me?"

"Maybe because I have something to say," Jess retorted.

Blunt pressed his lips together before answering. "To answer your question, yes, two children. You will have a partner on this mission – that is, if you accept it."

Both he and Mrs. Jones gazed at her expectantly. Jess realized that she was being asked – no, told – to make a decision, and make it fast. She bit her lower lip and remained silent for several heartbeats. Finally, she looked up and firmly said, "No."

"Very well," Blunt replied. There was no acceptance in his tone, however. Instead, there was a cold, almost angry edge to his words. He continued, "You may go, then."

Jess blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

She hesitated, then slowly rose from her seat. "Sorry to disappoint you," she said, even though she wasn't. "I just don't think a kid should be a spy, especially not me." With that, she turned and walked purposefully toward the door. She literally had her hand on the knob when Blunt called, "Jessica?"

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Good luck," he said simply.

Jess frowned. "With what?"

Blunt affected a vague look of surprise. "Why, paying for the hospitalization of your aunt, of

course."

Jess felt herself grow pale, and it took all her willpower to stand steady. "What do you mean by that?" she asked hoarsely, her throat being suddenly dry.

"I mean that you don't have the money to pay for it, do you?"

Jess nodded slowly. "That's right."

"Well..." Blunt hesitated, seeming unwilling to voice what was on his mind. Mrs. Jones, Jess noted, seemed uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

In a flash, Jess realized what Blunt was doing. "This is blackmail," she hissed furiously.

"What do you mean?" Blunt actually had the nerve to seem shocked.

"You're saying that if I don't help you, I'll be left to fend for myself," Jess growled, slowly walking back to the table. Her voice rose as she continued. "You say that knowing full well that it'll be impossible to pay for it without putting us both on the streets. This-" she reached the table and slapped her hands on the surface, lowering her voice to a rage-filled whisper- "is blackmail."

Blunt remained as placid as ever during her tirade. "Perhaps," he said. "It depends on your point of view. Now, are you going to help us, or not?"

Jess dropped heavily into a chair. "Fine. What, exactly, are you going to do?"

Despite his never-changing expression, Blunt had the air of a self-satisfied cat. "Very good. However, it's not exactly a question of what we will do, but of what you will do. You will receive basic training for three weeks, after-"

"Three weeks?" Jess interrupted, her voice going up at the end. "I can't leave my aunt in the hospital for three weeks!

"You can, and you will," Blunt said coldly. "Rest assured, she will be taken care of."

Jess glared at him, furious and disbelieving, and opened her mouth to protest – or, more accurately, curse him out. He headed her off, though, saying "Thank you" as if she had agreed. He continued, "Now, after you have been trained, you will meet your partner. Then the two of you will depart for Spain, where you will investigate Dorian Roberts and – if necessary – bring him down. Do you understand?"

Jess scowled. "Fine. Get trained, meet my partner-in-crime, get shipped off to Spain, get killed, all the while wondering whether or not the woman who raised me is still alive. Yeah, I got it."

Blunt sighed heavily. "Are you always this way?"

Jess pretended to mull the question over. "Pretty much," she said with no repentance whatsoever. "When do I start the 'get trained' portion of this oh-so-wonderful scheme of yours?"

"As soon as possible," Blunt replied, ignoring the jibe. "We are actually on the grounds of one of the SAS training centers. Their tactics are similar to ours; it makes sense to share instructors."

"Whatever," Jess said flippantly. Secretly, though, she viewed the coming three weeks with dread. Anything designed to toughen already-tough adults was certain to be a living nightmare for a fourteen-year-old girl.

"Do you have any questions?" Mrs. Jones asked.

"Yeah, actually," Jess responded. "Why me? I mean, what made you pick me for this? What drew your attention to me?"

Mrs. Jones smiled slightly in amusement. "Never let it be said that you don't ask a question thoroughly," she said before answering. "What drew our initial attention was your school records."

"What school records?" Jess interrupted before realizing her slip. "Sorry, bad habit," she added.

"No matter. Although you were homeschooled, your yearly test scores were kept on file."

"I see."

"Good. Now, a person who graduates from high school at age twelve-"

"I was almost thirteen," Jess interrupted.

Mrs. Jones raised an eyebrow at the interruption, but nodded her acceptance of the distinction. "In any case, one who graduates so young must be extraordinary. However, we had to look deeper than that. So we dredged up everything we could on you – you'd probably be surprised by how much we found," she added as an afterthought.

"Go on," Jess said impatiently when Mrs. Jones paused.

Blunt answered instead. "I must say, Miss Fox, your gymnastics records are quite impressive. You must be very good."

Talk about a non sequitur, she couldn't help but think. "I try my best," she replied aloud, a little disconcerted. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"If you will give me a chance, I will explain." Blunt glared at Jess until she mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. "Thank you. We recognized that with such records, along with your school scores, you would most likely have the skills necessary to – pull off this mission," he continued. Jess thought that he wasn't originally going to say "pull off" – she was pretty sure he meant "survive." He continued, "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah." As she said the word, another query occurred to her. "But I have another one."

Blunt sighed. "What is it?"

Jess bit back a smirk. "When – exactly – do I start?"

Blunt seemed vaguely irritated, though with his never-changing expression it was hard to tell.

"Fifteen minutes."

A/N: Well? Review, pretty pretty please, and tell me how bad this chapter was! Or, preferably, how good it was. :D

I am sosososososososososoooo sorry this took so freakin' long! I've had this written for a while, but I had some issues and couldn't publish it without it being betaed, so – I'm really sorry. Forgive me? *holds arms out for a hug*

Many thanks to Khushbu Salazar for beta reading this chapter!