Dearest readers, I live!
I'm truly sorry for not updating last week, it was incredibly hectic... I didn't sleep from Sunday night till Wednesday writing my English coursework, and then passed out very dramatically during prep time, only to be woken by my matron screaming because I'd had a nosebleed and looked VERY dramatic passed out on my floor covered in blood. (grin) When I do a thing, I REALLY do a thing. And it was all very Supernatural-esque.
Sorry. The moral of the story is - surviving on caffeine is bad, kids!
Anyway, I'm now on holiday, but A-Level revision is biting me in the ass, so please don't hold your breath - or bug me incessantly - for updates, because while I would LOVE to be able to write fanfiction constantly, I just can't. People demanding updates with menaces doesn't make me feel any better, I promise you.
So, a huge vote of thanks as always to Von, my poor, long-suffering friend, who puts up with all my madness, and beats me through the difficult stages of all my many and varied fanfictions without complaint, and to xaritomene, who just beats me. (grin) And is always there with tea and a comforting word when I most need one, and with a kick up the backside when I need one of them. Her timing is impeccable.
DISCLAIMER: oh, yeah, of course it's mine. Duh. (sarcasm)
While Eagle was trying to get through to Alex, a very different meeting was taking place, at 10 Downing Street.
"Prime Minister."
"Colonel Markham." The Prime Minister inclined his head a little, instead of smiling, offering the SAS' delegate a tight smile and a seat. "It's good to see you."
"And you; thank you for seeing me on such – short notice."
The Prime Minister's smile tightened even further. "It's no trouble." Both of them were well aware that the SAS had been trying to organise this meeting for the past three weeks; he had been putting them off because he neither trusted, nor really liked, the various branches of the Secret Services in England, and, for him, the SAS were close enough.
"Of course. I trust you and your wife are well? How is the baby?"
"I'm very well, thank you." He returned, a little sourly. That was one of the reasons like this he didn't like the secret services; they always knew and remembered far too much. "Cheryl is fine; and William is doing very well." He paused. "And yourself? How is your son?" If Markham was going to try and intimidate him with personal knowledge, two could play at that game.
"I'm fine. Harry was killed in Iraq last week."
The Prime Minister winced a little at that, but managed to hide it. "I'm extremely sorry."
"Thank you." Markham nodded at him, rather stiffly. "As I remember, you sent my wife and me a rather nice letter about it."
"Do military personnel get the same letter as civilians?"
"No – you wrote to us personally."
The wince was rather more pronounced that time. "How can I help you, Colonel?"
Markham paused. "I'm sure you remember Alex Rider, Prime Minister." he said, carefully.
The man frowned a little. "I don't recognise the name, no…"
"The teenager MI6 have – employed. Extremely useful two years ago, in that unpleasant incident with Scorpia, you may remember."
Oh!" The lines on his face tightened a little in disapproval. "Yes, I remember the boy. What about him?"
"Bit of a PR disaster if his – situation – got out, don't you think?" Markham asked casually.
"You could say." The Prime Minister said, tersely. "Colonel, is this some kind of attempt to blackmail me? Because-"
The other man smiled, completely without humour. "Of course not, Prime Minister. No, it's simply that we thought you might welcome the chance to deal with such a potential threat. After all, as you so admirably pointed out, he could easily be used to blackmail the government."
The Prime Minister leant forwards. "Go on?"
"As we see it, we have found a situation which will serve two purposes – kill two birds with one stone, as it were. Firstly, it will get rid of a potential embarrassment to the government, as well as deal with a case of what we believe amounts to little more than child abuse. And secondly, it provides an opportunity to deal with SIS. I'm sure you'll agree that, ever since that situation in Venezuela, they have been getting – dangerously confident."
"And Alex Rider is a way of dealing with them?"
"We think so, yes?"
"How?"
"Well, sir – we have intelligence that Rider tried to kill himself a little under five weeks ago. We have a degree of jurisdiction over the boy, since he trained with us, and, more than that, was registered with us, to throw anyone off should they try and investigate him." Markham himself leant forwards, for once abandoning his rigidly upright posture, something the Prime Minister had never seen him do before. "When we found this out, naturally, we contacted MI6, to get records on him; they haven't yet refused to give them to us, but they are being deliberately obstructive. Firstly, you can force them to give us the records – something of a humiliation. But, Prime Minister, it's obvious that SIS have driven this boy to the point of suicide; surely that counts as child abuse?"
He nodded, somewhat shocked. "Um – yes, of course…" He'd had no idea that the boy was still being used by MI6.
"Obviously, this can't go through normal channels, but surely the gains of getting involved in this – case – personally far outweigh the difficulties of it?" He paused. "Not to mention, of course, that this boy is obviously exceptional, and is privy to any number of national secrets. Ensuring his loyalty can't fail to be a wise course of action." It was his killer blow, and he sat back to watch it take root.
The Premier visibly wavered. "Remind me of the gains?" he said, slowly
Markham curbed the desire to curl his lip. "The government is protected from what has the potential to be an enormous scandal, and deals with the problem of an over-confident security service, sir. Not to mention cementing the loyalty of someone we firmly believe could be extremely useful in the future."
The man nodded, slowly. "I would have to look into it further of course…"
"Of course Prime Minister." Markham nodded, earnestly. "That's our problem. We've been trying to get MI6 to hand over their files on him, but so far our successes have been negligible."
He received a sharp look. "MI6 are withholding information?"
"Sir." Markham inclined his head. He could almost see the Prime Minister turning it over in his head.
"This would be more in the nature of research than actual – action, am I correct?" the man said, slowly.
"Exactly, sir. But… well. We are not a police state; MI6 have no right to be holding it back. And if they refuse to give it to you, then you are perfectly within your rights to go to MI5 over their heads. If MI6 are being difficult, then it's a matter of internal security. And that's the last thing they would want, of course." And the SAS were far from unaware that the current government was uneasy around the security services, particularly MI6; a way to subdue them would likely not be rejected.
The Prime Minister gave him a long, silent look. "And then?"
"When we know the facts, sir, we can go on from there. Until then, anything else is speculation, and little more than a waste of time."
"Right." He paused. "I'm willing to cooperate on this, then. I'll contact you when we've made the first move. Is that what you were wanting?"
"Yes, sir – thank you."
Markham was nearly at the door before the Prime Minister called after him. "I suppose you have spoken to the boy about this? He's been exploited enough, I think…"
Markham met his eyes, evenly, and smiled a little. "Of course, sir."
Eagle called Wolf the moment he left the garage, and was certain he was out of earshot. "James?"
"What?"
"Charming as every." Eagle half-grinned, half-grimaced – no small feat.
"Get to the point." The other man snapped.
"I've found him."
There was a short pause, before Wolf said, rather curtly, "Cub?" it was testament to how invested Wolf was in this that his mind went straight to the boy.
"Yeah."
"How in the name of God did you do that?"
Eagle grinned a little, despite the way it highlighted the pain in his cheek where Cub had hit him. "By accident, if you'll believe it."
"Well – good, either way. For god's sake, don't leave him, alright?"
"I kind of had to, or get done for stalking the kid, James…"
"I'm not asking you to hang around in dark alleyways looking shady, Neal, I'm just asking you to keep sight of him so we don't lose him again!"
"I don't think he's going anywhere." Eagle said, rather distantly, remembering the way Cub had flared up at the simply suggestion that he leave his job. "he was pretty firm about staying exactly where he was."
"Why?"
"He's working in a garage near where I live."
"So he must live near you. Look, wait for him, follow him home when he leaves, and we'll come and meet you later. Ring if you've got any problems."
Neal was about to protest, but his team-mate, with his near-habitual abruptness, had already rung off.
Four and a half hours later, Eagle was still waiting for Cub to appear; all the other mechanics had left – including the man who was, Eagle had gleaned from watching the place for half a day, the owner – but Cub hadn't appeared.
An hour after that, Eagle was pretty certain that he'd missed the kid – that Cub had somehow given him the slip, and stood up from the little café he'd been sitting in for the past two hours. In the fuss of paying his bill, and gathering up all his belongings, he managed to miss the boy slip out the garage, carefully locking the place up, and heading down the street in a dead run.
And there you have it. Short, I know, but all of these chapters are short... (sigh) I never thought it would be a relief to write long chapters again!
HIOP 7 - sorry, Hell Is Other People Chapter 7... I actually CALL the damn thing Hiop in my head - should be out soon, by about Friday or Saturday, and I'm still slogging away at the set up for my Yassen/Alex one, so look to the east for them, my friends!
I've gotta stop reading Gothic fiction. "look to the East" indeed.
Right! I hope you all enjoyed it, and please review! 97 people have this on story alert...is it really so difficult to drop me a line? go on... reviewers get cookies and milk.
Lol,
-amitai