Alex Rider: Jedi Knight

Jedi Goat

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider or Star Wars.

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Chapter 10: Relatives

"Alex, we need you to come to the bank."

Alex was rather disappointed to hear Mrs. Jones's voice on the other end of the line. "Why?" he asked, dismayed.

"We have some of your uncle's belongings and we thought you might like to take a look at them."

"You mean the stuff you stole from us?" Alex asked sarcastically.

"Alex, it was our job to remove your uncle's possessions. You didn't know the truth; we couldn't let you find out by going through them." She sounded tired when she added, "Please, Alex. We just want you to come by for an hour or so and see if there is anything you want back."

There was a short pause. Half of Alex really wanted to go, to discover more of who his uncle really had been. But the other half held his grudge against MI6 in a death grip. They had blackmailed and bribed him too many times; he didn't want to go back and let it happen again. But they're not giving me a mission, Alex reasoned with himself. They just want me to look at some of my uncle's old stuff.

Making up his mind, Alex declared, "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes." He hung up and jumped off his bed, shoving his cell phone in his pocket as he thundered down to the front door.

"Jack, I'm going out!" shouted Alex to the house in general. He didn't stay long enough to hear Jack's reply.

Alex swung himself onto his bike and pedaled hard downtown to the Royal & General. He had stopped in front of the bank and was just locking up his bike when his cell phone rang again.

"Hello?" Alex asked.

"Hi, Alex."

"Sabina?" He was amazed to hear her voice – and not in the hard, icy tone she had used these past few days, either.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Look, Sab," Alex began, hoping desperately that she'd listen, "I'm really sorry about what happened. If you don't want to be a Jedi, that's fine."

There was a short pause, and Alex braced himself for a scathing reply. But when Sabina spoke, her voice was a murmur. "No. I'm the one who should be sorry for blowing up at you like that."

"It's all right." Hesitating, he added hopefully, "We're still friends, right?"

Alex could imagine her smile as Sabina laughed – a sort of relieved laugh, "Of course we are!"

"Great." Alex couldn't keep the relief out of his voice, either. He was glad to have her back, and deep down her knew why.

"Hey," Sabina said abruptly. "Do you think you could meet me somewhere and we could just hang out for a while?"

"Sure," Alex agreed good-naturedly. "I'm kinda busy right now. How about we meet in an hour, outside the Royal & General bank?"

"That's where your uncle used to work, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," Alex answered absent-mindedly, realizing that Sabina didn't know the truth about the bank, or who his uncle had really been. Guilt flashed through him as he remembered that he didn't even know who his uncle had been. But I'll soon find out, Alex reminded himself.

"Okay. In front of the Royal & General in an hour," Sabina repeated. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye." Alex put his phone away and glanced up at the tall brick building in front of him. One of the Royal & General's secrets was about to be revealed to him. Filled with determination, Alex stepped inside.

"Hello, Alex." Mrs. Jones was waiting for him. "This way, please." She headed toward the elevator, high heels tap-tapping on the floor. Alex followed her in silence.

Soon after, the silver elevator doors glided open onto a chamber as dark and as cold as a crypt. Alex suppressed a shudder and took a step forward.

"This is the basement. We keep our deceased agents' affects down here until our team can have a look at them." Mrs. Jones's crisp voice broke through the eerie silence. She flicked a switch, and fluorescent lights powered on, illuminating boxes in neat stacks spread around the room. Mrs. Jones gestured to one corner. "Ian Rider's is over there. Take as long as you like; just inform the receptionist upstairs when you leave."

Alex nodded, and Mrs. Jones disappeared back into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Alex approached the boxes. There were four of them in total, all marked 'IAN RIDER'. Beside them sat a desk that Alex remembered with a jolt: it had once been in Ian's office at their house.

Shaking off the creepy feeling – as if the dead man were watching him – Alex flipped open the first box.

Two stacks of papers and folders stared up at him. Alex pushed this carton aside; he wasn't interested in the old mission reports. He wanted to learn about who his uncle had been.

The second box was stuffed with clothes. A wave of nostalgia rushed over Alex; he could recall his uncle wearing these outfits as if it were yesterday. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Alex moved on to the next box.

The third contained more of the same, covered with a layer of gadgets. Gadgets that Smithers probably made, Alex realized, picking up what looked like a clunky paperweight. There was a timer at the bottom; it was actually a bomb. Alex set it down carefully.

Looking back into the box, he felt his blood run cold. He reached in and took out a gun. Alex held the weapon in his hands, feeling the icy metal against his skin. How many lives did Ian take with this gun? Shaken, Alex tossed the gun back into the box.

And what about my father? a small part of his mind nagged. He was an assassin. How many people did he kill?

My father wasn't an assassin! Alex screamed at himself. He wasn't – he couldn't have been! Yassen was lying! Alex clenched his hands into fists, blinking back the fire that burned at his eyes. No. It can't be true.

Alex tore desperately at the next box, trying the erase those thoughts from his head. But an echo still resounded in his head: They were killers. They wanted me to become one, too.

He found more papers: mission briefings, mission reports. Alex dug deeper and discovered there was something under them. He pulled the papers out and peered in.

Items he vaguely remembered cluttered the bottom of the box. There was a self-portrait from grade one; Alex couldn't help but smirk as he saw it. He pushed aside other various art projects and picked up a framed photograph.

Alex smiled slightly, remembering seeing the photo the first time he had come to MI6, finding it in Ian's old office. It was an image of him, from his trip to Guadeloupe with his uncle two summers ago. Then, in the corner of the frame, there was a smaller picture from when he was five or six.

There was a squeak and Alex jumped, dropping the photograph. He whirled around to see a mouse scuttle for the cover of the wall. He breathed out a long sigh and turned back.

The backing had broken out of the frame when it had hit the ground; Alex picked it up gingerly. He collected the rest of the pieces to try and put them back together. The pictures were strewn about. There had been several stuck behind the front one. Alex shuffled through them curiously.

There were a few school photos of young Alex, some from his trips around the world, and one of Ian holding him as a baby.

What the -? Alex paused, glancing down at the last picture. Jack had been very into photography when she had first moved in as a housekeeper and she had created several thick photo albums of Alex's baby pictures. Alex knew what he had looked like as a baby, and this one didn't look like him. The baby had a shock of brown hair and bright blue eyes gazing up at the camera, and Ian looked a lot younger than Alex could remember him being.

Alex flipped the photo over and read the caption Ian had handwrote: Obi-Wan Kenobi, age 1.

"What the heck?" Alex stared down at the photograph again. His world was suddenly spinning out of control. What's happening? How did this happen? Alex felt dizzy and he slumped against the boxes.

"Alex?"

To be continued...

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