Hello again... this chapter was a real struggle for me, I've been fighting with this story a bit to push it in the direction I want, but it won't obey me a lot of the time, and I end up rewriting or deleting parts.
Upon their arrival back at Gibraltar airbase, they were met by teams of medical and emergency service crews. Alex had been forced to strip down to civilian clothing for the purpose of remaining anonymous, and annoyed him no end when Bear started mothering him in the most patronizing manner possible.
There was some muttering from the concious rescued hostages about Alex's apparent age, or lack thereof, but Bear tactically mentioned that they would be 'home in time to celebrate Alex's 22nd birthday', and no more was said on the issue. Bear looked mighty pleased with himself for this unexpected bit of cunning, and nearly gave the game away in the process. Alex could only smile at the stupidity of K-Unit's most immature member.
Snake, it turned out, had several bullets lodged in his leg, and was going to need some serious recovery and recuperation time. He was lying on a gurney, talking quietly with Wolf who had his arm in a sling and was looking dopier than usual as the morphine dulled the pain of the wound to his shoulder. All of them had cuts and scratches especially to the forearms and shins, which were unprotected by body armour, except for Alex, who had emerged relatively unscathed.
The previously unconscious hostages were beginning to rouse themselves from the shocked stupor they had found themselves in, and some were asking to call relatives and friends, and asking when they were going to be discharged. Fortunately the worst any of them had suffered was severe dehydration and muscle atrophy from a month's worth of inactivity. While no one was allowed near a phone to call relatives until they had been fully debriefed, their transport home had landed and was refuelling, and there were no military transport planes this time.
No, Jeremy Mendelssohn clearly had powerful friends, and more importantly, rich friends. A LearJet was waiting on the tarmac to ferry them home, a model known as the LearJet 85 according to Mr. Mendelssohn.
Alex was prepared to put up with a certain amount of arrogance from the man he had just rescued in light of his response to the initial suggestion that, because the jet could only seat ten people plus a crew of two, K-Unit should wait for alternative transport.
Jeremy Mendelssohn had rubbished this idea when he learned that Bear had his commercial pilot's licence, and had insisted that he be allowed to take the co-pilots place, whatever the expense. He insisted that he would not allow any of the men who had risked their lives to save his to hang around waiting "lord knows how long for the government to rescue you from this god-forsaken rock". Alex appreciated the gesture, and wondered how exactly this man had become friends with a spineless wonder like Jonathon Matthews-Prosser.
So Alex found himself seated in a sea of white leather, white walls and white carpet, somewhere over the Bay of Biscay over France, sipping gently upon a lemon squash that the automated drink service had produced from the magical hole in the wall next to him.
He felt awkward in this setting, but he couldn't stop smiling because no matter how awkward he felt or looked, he knew Wolf was worse. The man looked like he'd entered an alternative reality, and coupled with his dislike of flying this was clearly the stuff of nightmares for him. Not that SAS members were soft enough to have nightmares.
If only that were actually true, Alex thought to himself as he stared out his window into the clouds, remembering the cases of PTSD he'd encountered in all areas of the armed forces. Life was tough for these men, but more so for the guys on rotation on the front lines. The fear of roadside IEDs, suicide bombers and car bombs left many a soldier scarred more than physically.
His depressing reverie was broken by the intercom noise, and Bear's voice coming through the speakers.
"Uhhh... Am I on? Cool, ok so I've got the Prime Minister on the line, he wants to talk to you lot. I'll patch him through as soon as I... shit how does this thing work? Umm... Jesus... Yeah so you should be good to go... Mr. Prime Minister sir,"
Alex's laughter was matched by some of the aides of the plane, as the Prime Minister's voice echoed through the speakers just like he was back at Brookland and the principal was telling students to not graffiti the back of the bike shed for about the fiftieth time.
"I'm just calling to check up on the wellbeing of you and your aides Jeremy, and wish you a safe flight home. Unfortunately I cannot be there to welcome you off the plane but you have my best wishes. I would also like to extend my thanks to the members of K-Unit for the astounding body of work you have done in bringing home our citizens and one of my closest friends, so thank you."
Alex looked over at Wolf, who appeared, if it were possible, even more uncomfortable than he had ten minutes beforehand. He had no experience around politicians, the army was his life, and this was all foreign to him.
"Co-pilot, is Alex Rider aboard please?" the Prime Minister asked, still on the speakers, "my daughter wishes to speak with him, privately."
Alex's jaw involuntarily collided with his knees. He could have parked a small truck in that gaping expression.
Oh no. Dear gods no, Alex thought, his scowl now very prominent.
There was no mistaking the gleeful tone of Bear as he responded.
"He sure is Mr Prime Minister, I'll just patch him through, to the phone in the arm of his chair," he added for Alex's benefit.
Alex removed the handset from the slot and moved to the rear of the plane, hoping the noise would cover the conversation so he'd never have to relive it. Unfortunately the noise of the engines while in the rear of the craft also meant he had to plug his left ear to hear what was being said.
"Alex!" came an excited shout from down the line.
Alex winced.
"Hello Sienna," he responded with about a tenth the enthusiasm, if he was being generous.
"I'm so glad you're okay, nobody shot you or anything horrible like that. Do you know what this means?" she asked, her voice piercing through the phone speaker.
"Thank you for your heartfelt concern," Alex deadpanned, "and I have no idea what it means."
"It means you can escort me to my senior debutant ball!" she half shouted down the line.
Alex was speechless.
"Isn't that wonderful?"
Silence.
"Alex?"
"You really couldn't wait until I'd finished helping save the lives of six people to ask me whether I would take you to your high school dress up dance?" Alex said at length, incredulous to the extreme.
"Daddy," Alex heard the unmistakeable voice in the background now, still audible down the line, "I don't think he wants to go with me, and I've so been looking forward to seeing him again. Why won't he go with me?"
"Of course he'll go with you darling," came the response, slightly louder, certainly for Alex's benefit.
Alex swore, covering the phone temporarily and took a couple of deep breaths before putting on his best 'rainbows and unicorns' voice to affirm that he indeed would accompany her to whatever it was she wanted him to go to, before wishing her a hasty goodbye and hanging up as soon as he thought he could get away with.
It was then that he realised there was a slight echo in the plane. Or not an echo so much, as another speaker that was broadcasting his conversation. Bear hadn't switched off the feed to the main cabins speakers, and as he turned to look at the nine people he was sharing a plane, and a private conversation with, the desire to murder the largest member of K-Unit almost overcame him.
A couple of the aides were openly laughing, Jeremy Mendelssohn was doing his polite best to cover his chuckles as coughs, Wolf was staring at him like he'd just landed from another planet, and Eagle had his arm around Snake and they were both howling with laughter. Snake even had the audacity to give Alex a mock pitiful look, despite the fact he was the one who probably wasn't going to walk for a month or two.
Why could nothing in his life be simple, Alex raged silently as he took his seat, picking up one of the magazines from the convenience stand and burying himself in it.
The passenger jet touched down smoothly at Heathrow Airport, and Alex wondered whether they were going to be forced to exit through the civilian terminal. Of course, enough money can get you anywhere, and Jeremy Mendelssohn wasn't short of a dime.
They taxied into one of a series of hangers, away from the main part of the airport, where all the private planes were held and maintained.
Bear emerged from the cockpit in time to give Alex a wide grin as the steps folded out from the side of the aircraft, and he stood and gestured grandly towards Jeremy Mendelssohn, inviting him to disembark.
One by one they filed out, Alex waiting until last so he could mutter a few choice curse words at Bear on his way past.
The hanger was large, but there were no other aircraft in it, a not unexpected scenario. The operation had been top secret, and no one would know who had undertaken it except those involved in its planning and execution.
There was a small pack of family members, government ministers and other assorted bureaucracy present, and K-Unit and Alex were all handed fresh balaclava's by a conspicuous man in a sharp black suit, standing at the top of the gangway as the exited the plane. MI6 operative Ben Daniels, formerly known as Fox of K-Unit, was looking relieved and smiled as he held out the fabric garment to Alex, while blocking anyone else's view of the transaction.
"This is for your benefit, but it would raise questions if you were the only one wearing them. The Prime Minister wanted the press allowed in, so they're waiting outside until you're ready. It's a PR stunt with an election on the horizon, you know the drill, answer no questions, and keep to the back of everything and anyone."
Alex shook his head and gave Ben an appreciative punch on the shoulder, which he had already been rubbing after Bear had done the same thing.
"He's a bad influence on you," Ben Daniels muttered as Alex chuckled under the fabric.
His smile didn't last long however.
Striding out of the crowd came a red face, blotchy with utter rage, heading straight for Alex. Clearly the balaclava didn't fool everyone.
Suddenly the air was tense, and Alex felt the assembled family and friends watching the exchange taking place from behind them, unable to miss the shortish man who was literally quivering with rage.
Jonathon Matthews-Prosser grabbed Alex by the collar of his fatigues, and pulled Alex's cloth-concealed face close to his own beetroot coloured one.
"Agent R... You have the temerity to disobey a direct order on the battlefield from your commanding officer and the head of National Securities? You think this is going to go unnoticed or unpunished?"
His voice was quivering with rage, and Alex realised that he must have been in the command centre issuing the orders directly when Alex had defied his commands. Pieces of spittle flew from his lips as he spoke, unable to contain his anger. The agent he held close had no such concerns.
Alex's voice was cold. He didn't have to justify his actions to anyone. This man made him sick to the stomach.
"You may abandon your men when your neck is on the line, but I will not. Any soldier in the world will tell you that you never leave a man behind, and that is why you are a spineless pen-pusher who risks other people's lives because of his own ineptitude. You're not fit to lick the slime off my squad-mates boots. Head of National Security? If you're going to make up a title to disguise the fact you're a lap dog, at least make it believable."
Alex's voice never wavered, and the pitch never changed. He simply said his piece and then stood silently and waited for the inevitable eruption to occur.
Jonathon Matthews-Prosser's entire body was now shaking, as he uttered a garbled curse, and raised his hand as if to strike Alex.
"You insolent little prick!"
Alex was too quick for him. Grabbing his arm in his left hand, Alex twisted it behind him until he heard a crack, and then followed up with a powerful Muay-Thai style elbow to the jaw and temple region.
If Alex hadn't lowered the unconscious man to the ground by his shoulder, he would have hit the tarmac like a sack of potatoes.
Somebody shouted "Oh my god!" before Bear pulled Alex away by the arms, swearing to himself.
Everything was frantic now, as Alex stumbled slightly under the force of Bear's grasp dragging him along.
"Shit Cub, what are you doing?" he breathed into Alex's ear, as he pulled him away, "you've just laid out the NSA chief, the Prime Minister's right hand man. And I thought I was the one who did stupid things in this team."
Alex wasn't perturbed in the slightest, indeed, if his face had been visible, satisfaction probably would have been the best description of his expression.
"That pathetic piece of shit wanted the Chinook to leave you to fend for yourselves in the Tunisian desert. All he cared about was saving Mendelssohn's skin, the rest of us could get torn limb from limb for all he cared," Alex spat venomously, "and he didn't even have the stomach to do it himself, he made one of the Mary Poppins overwatch boys pass on his messages. I want to rip his throat out and impale him on the flagpole outside Downing Street."
"Holy shit. Well, at least I've had a positive influence on your threats vocabulary. Maybe that's what I'll tell my mother when I see her next, that I've been 'positively influencing the lives of children', she'll absolutely love that," Bear said solemnly.
"Did you hear me? He wanted to leave you to die face down in the sand!" Alex repeated, looking shocked that Bear hadn't reacted.
"Mate, he's a politician. That's how they are built, they care about people who can help them. Once you're done helping, you're disposable. There are plenty more of Wolf, Snake, Eagle and I in little huts in Brecon Beacons or at HQ in Hereford, at least in his books. We're tools of the trade, and we always will be. That's the life of a soldier for you."
Alex had no reply to this.
Alex allowed himself to be pulled away into the break room for the aircraft mechanics and aerospace engineers, which was an empty room. Bear and Alex sat in silence at the table, Alex swigging water from the bottle he'd filched from the fridge while they waited.
"I hope he tries to give an interview like that," Alex said, breaking the silence, "looking like he's just gone ten rounds in a cage with a grizzly bear."
"Honestly Cub, what the hell were you thinking? You just KO'd one of the most powerful men in the country, and you're sitting here like nothing's happened. You should be shitting bricks knowing what's coming to bite your arse."
Alex chuckled slightly, and took another quick sip.
"MI6 can't get rid of me. I might make things difficult for them occasionally, maybe even infuriate them, but I know firsthand that they can't do without me. This mission was nothing compared to what I've got lined up in the next couple of months, you think they'd jeopardize that much prep work cause I laid some smarmy desk jockey out on the tarmac?"
"Cockiness isn't becoming Cub," Bear replied seriously.
Alex's smiled slipped slightly and nodded. Bear wasn't serious very often outside of the field, but when he was it was sincere.
"I know, I know, I shouldn't have done it, turn the other cheek and all that. But that man is scum, as yellow as they come. You would have reacted the same way if you'd been the one in the cabin when Wolf, Snake and Eagle were out on the ground and someone had suggested you leave them behind."
Bear said nothing, but their pondering of this point was interrupted by the door opening.
Tulip Jones face was expressionless, but Alex could tell she wasn't happy.
"Thank you soldier, I'll take over from here. You are dismissed."
Her voice betrayed no emotion as she sent Bear out.
"Yes ma'am," Bear replied, nodding at Alex as he stood and exited the room.
"Mr. Rider," began Ms. Jones, preferring to stand at the table rather than take the empty seat, "I don't know where to begin."
She unwrapped a peppermint from its little foil wrapper almost by habit, and slipped in between her lightly chapped lips. As always, here attire was overtly formal, a grey power suit and skirt that finished below her knees, and black heels that raised her only an inch.
Alex, for his part, was fairly certain that if he'd taken the time to rummage through her wardrobe when he'd held a gun to her head during the SCORPIA affair, he'd have been assaulted by a collection of clothing exclusively black or various shades of grey. Ms. Jones' wardrobe, however, was not the topic of discussion that she had chosen.
"This is the second time in consecutive missions that you have been up for disciplinary action as a result of insolent conduct and disobeying direct orders. This is a stain on your permanent record, and may result in some form of punishment, and if Mr. Matthews-Prosser has his way, certainly."
"If you think I'm going to apologise to that imbecile, think again!" Alex announced loudly. He wasn't going to be pushed around by the man that was so willing to sacrifice men to further his own ends.
"Agent Rider! Regardless of the individual circumstances, this blatant disregard for the instructions given to you by your superiors cannot be ignored! You know full well that if you were enlisted in the regular manner that this would be cause for you to be dishonourably discharged."
"Frankly Ms. Jones, I couldn't give two figs," Alex said, his eyes flashing angrily.
The woman breathed out, as if steadying herself, and she took a new direction.
"Alex," Ms. Jones said, softening her voice as she addressed him more personally, "Jonathon Matthews-Prosser is on route right now to see the Prime Minister. He made it abundantly clear that he is going to ask for your immediate employment termination, and your expulsion from MI6."
"Let him try," Alex said defiantly.
"If he succeeds, you will no longer be protected by your status as an agent, your diplomatic immunity will be stripped from you record, and you will be completely exposed. Alex, Matthews-Prosser isn't stupid, regardless of what you might think. If he removes your immunity, he can have you court-martialled for insubordination and assault, like any regular soldier could be. If you are interned in military prison, there's no telling what could happen to you."
"He wouldn't dare. No military tribunal would convict a soldier of insubordination for saving the lives of his men. He'd be a fool to even try."
"Alex, remember who we're talking about here. This man, while he may lack certain personal charms occasionally I'll agree, is the ultimate networker. The military is his plaything in this government, he has unprecedented control. Do not suppose for one second that because you believe that what you did was right that it will protect you."
"Nuremburg defence. Trials of Nazi war criminals who were convicted despite arguing they were acting on orders from superiors, because they legally were required to act on morality not upon the orders they had been given. It's exactly the same as this scenario, but in reverse," Alex said confidently, his mouth stretched into a smile.
"You are over-confident, and place too much faith in the system. We will do our best to protect you Alex, Alan Blunt is going to speak with the Prime Minister personally on your behalf, but you have to understand the gravity of what you have done. I hope the Prime Minister has forgiven you for that stunt you pulled with his daughter."
"He better have," muttered Alex darkly, "somehow I ended up getting stuck taking his daughter to her prom."
Ms. Jones didn't quite know what to say to that.
Hey so I know some people hate long A/N's... but I'm not going to stop doing them. I'll just apologise afterwards :) So the next chapter should be the last before Alex heads off to Italy, just a few loose ends to tie up first. On another note, I would just like to thank you guys for almost getting me into triple figures for reviews, it's a great feeling when you see people's feedback on something that has taken a bit of effort and/or time. Also thank you to those of you who have added this story to your favourites or alerts, that is also very flattering. As always, thanks for your support and patience, and if you have a second please take the time to review and push this story past that magical hundred review mark!