A few people seemed interested in this story, so here's another chapter, only two days later! How much should you love me! A simple review would be a fine substitute however :)
Alex was shocked out of his conversation induced stupor by shouts in his earpiece, and other various indistinguishable noises going off.
The sound of a car bomb exploding, however, was truly unique, to a trained ear like Alex's anyhow.
The cataclysmic wall of noise that assaults ones eardrums is unparalleled, and the plume of flame that appeared on Westminster Bridge spiked fifty feet into the air, ballooning at its peak before dissipating.
There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at the illuminated sky, before the screaming and the shouting began. Everyone milled around, unsure of what to do, unwilling to head towards the exit because it was the same direction as the explosion.
As soon as Alex had heard the chatter on the radio waves he'd moved. He'd secured his mark, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her low, providing as much cover as he could with his own body.
His Beretta was out of its holster, and he was moving, forcing the mark to run in a crouched position while his head whipped around, eyes flashing on any possible threats, pushing guests who got too close for his comfort out of the way without regard for status or fame.
He paused only to shoot the lock off a door down an alcove, and then kicked the ruined keyhole and the wooden door swung inwards. Pushing the mark ahead of him into the darkness, he checked that they were not being followed, before pushing the door shut once more.
"What the fuck was that!" came the high pitched voice in the darkness.
"Car bomb," Alex replied shortly, searching the room for a light switch.
He eventually located the switch only to find that he was being stared at once more.
"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes widening when she registered he was holding a gun.
"Alex Rider," he replied, checking exits and entrances, before removing a silencer from his jacket pocket and screwing it onto the end of his Beretta.
"No, no, I mean what are you?" she repeated, watching him apprehensively. "I mean, you say you work for the government, but you don't look much older than I am! And you have a gun!"
Alex sighed. They were going to be stuck here for a while, because regulations dictated that they weren't to move from their safe zone until the area had been locked down and secured. He figured he should probably tell her in any case. He didn't want to risk her opening her mouth to one of her friends because she didn't realise the gravity of the situation.
"Alright then," Alex said, taking a seat at the central table, which was lined with leather chairs, "we're going to be stuck here for a while, so we'll trade information."
The blonde girl took the seat opposite, still looking wary.
"My name is Alex Rider, and I'm seventeen years old," he began, doing his best to keep her mind from what had just occurred, or from panicking about her family. She was still in a state of shock, and her mind was all over the shot.
"I am a member of MI6, and I have been since I was 14. I'm a highly decorated agent, an honorary member of the SAS and I've taken part in operations in thirty different countries, over five continents. My father and my uncle were both employed by MI6, and all my family have been killed in the line of duty, except for my mother who was a nurse and was 'collateral damage' in an assassination attempt on my father."
"You...you're a seventeen year old spy!" she demanded, her eyes wide with shock.
"I find spy more of a James Bond concept. I am an operative, a patriot," Alex replied, thumbing his Beretta casually.
They sat there in silence as she processed the information.
"Do you mind?" she asked, looking pointedly at his gun, "it's making me nervous."
"My apologies. But now, tell me about yourself. I don't get much time out to keep myself up to date with the society pages," Alex smiled indulgently.
"But you know I am. Wait, were you here today to provide security just for me?" she asked, and Alex was pleasantly surprised. Maybe she wasn't the attractive halfwit the media suggested.
"Certainly," Alex responded, "I was assigned to watch out for you, provide bodyguard services if required. Take my word for it, it's not my favourite assignment, and you certainly don't make it easy for me,"
"So what, this isn't the first time?"
Alex was beginning to realise that she wasn't nearly as stupid as she was made out to be.
"No," Alex responded shortly.
"My eighteenth birthday," she laughed, remembering suddenly, "Sarah made a move on you at the bar, I remember now. She was cut up about you knocking her back for the rest of the night, still, I guess knocking her down a peg or two probably did her some good. Honestly though, I can't believe you were assigned to guard me, when else have you been there?"
A typical reaction after a shock; the victim is calm, lucid and makes light of the situation in the immediate aftermath. The honest response would only kick in sometimes an hour later.
"Pretty much whenever I'm in the country and you're going out. It's happened at least half a dozen times now. Your parents are both safe now," he added, pointing to his earpiece.
"Mother! Father!" she exclaimed, realization hitting her. "Are they injured, where are they!"
"Relax, they've been whisked away to a safe house, and they're more worried about you than themselves now. You're in more danger than they are; you are still in the vicinity of the blast."
"But I've got you, don't I?" she smiled, "the seventeen year old superspy who spends his time somewhere between a guardian angel and creepy stalker,"
Alex was glad she was able to be so relaxed, it made his job much easier, but he guessed growing up surrounded by armed guards and police escorts, this was a smaller blip on the radar than it would be to your average civilian.
"Tell me about yourself then," Alex said, trying to keep conversation flowing so she wouldn't have time to run the events over in her mind, and so he didn't have to listen to the mundane commands being barked out to the security agents and the replies of 'clear!' as they checked and double checked every nook and cranny.
"Well, my name is Sienna Atherton, I'm eighteen years old," she began, smiling broadly. Alex could tell he'd struck upon her favourite subject.
"Let's walk and talk," Alex suggested, "I don't particularly want to be given a full body search by some over-zealous security officer when they finally check this room."
"Don't we want to be found?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Not if it means we have to go through a security screening to make sure we aren't potential threats. I have to hand over any potential weapons I was carrying too, and your average rank and file security agent doesn't know I exist. It's a bit hard to explain why a seventeen year old is carrying a 9mm and a combat knife."
"Where are we going then?" she asked.
"Head for the front. You're the Prime Minister's daughter, surely you of all people know your way around the Parliament buildings."
"Haven't a clue," she responded, as they made their way through the halls, lit only by the spotlights flashing every now and again from helicopters searchlights.
His charge couldn't resist the opportunity to continue to recount her life's narrative.
"You wanted to know my story? Well, here goes: My name is Sienna Atherton, and my father is Prime Minster. I attend St. Paul's Girls' School in Hammersmith, where I board for most of the year..."
The voice of Sienna Atherton echoed through the halls of the Houses of Parliament as they traipsed along in the virtual darkness.
"...I'm also the lead in the VIIIth, which is the annual play put on by those in year 13 by the drama society, we're doing The love of the Nightingale this year, it's a feminist play from the late 1980's... Oh! We've arrived at the entrance, that was quick!"
"Speak for yourself," muttered Alex, as they stepped out onto the street.
"Have you contacted anybody to inform them that we're okay?" she asked, looking up and down the empty boulevard.
"Of course," Alex replied, pulling out his phone, "I was banking on them meeting us here,"
Quickly connecting the radio network, he tapped out his message quickly, while retreating back into the building.
He only had to wait seconds for a response.
"They're concerned about follow up attacks, so every car has to be swept and searched," he said, as they stood in the doorway of the parliament buildings, after Alex had picked the lock. "The entire city is in lockdown, once your father's car arrived they closed off the vicinity completely, no one gets in or out."
"So what now?" she asked, looking out the door.
"We've been instructed to wait for backup; they're going to send in special ops or something to extract us. I imagine that will mean at least a couple of hours wait," Alex sighed. He had suddenly remembered that it was a Sunday and he had school the next morning. That could be interesting.
"I don't want to hang around here for two hours!" his protection assignment wailed bitterly.
"It's not exactly my idea of a perfect Sunday either," Alex muttered, finding himself a seat in the grand entrance hall.
Sienna Atherton stood in the doorway, and Alex was to disinterested to bother informing her that she was making her a prime target for any potential snipers.
"Well, why don't we leave then?" she replied, looking out of the door.
"Because I'll get strung up by my balls, that why," Alex replied, frustration evident, unbuttoning his jacket, and removing his bow tie.
"What if I just leave? You can't keep me here," she responded, looking defiantly back at him.
Alex scowled.
"I am not your blasted baby sitter! This isn't some big joke, as much as you want it to be. I'm not here for your entertainment, to quote an absolutely shit song."
She sniffed, clearly unused to being talked to quite in that manner, and stepped outside.
"You're not serious," Alex said, standing up.
"I refuse to sit here for the next two hours doing nothing! These are my holidays, and I'm wasting them!"
"I don't fork out twenty thousand quid a semester to go to some rich kid school so I'm not even on holidays yet, so some of us have fucking school tomorrow," Alex muttered, as his assignment strode out the door.