Fun fact: I accidentally called my flatmate Wolf. His name is Will. And then I died of embarrassment, which is why I took so long to update.
(Same warnings as previous chapters apply)
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The recruit had been right: the Sergeant is pissed, and he makes his anger known. The moment Wolf sets foot in his office, his expression goes from angry to truly stormy, and the recruit scampers like a mouse as soon as he's dismissed.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you straight to high command," the Sergeant growls, after a moment of silence that feels physically painful.
Wolf opens his mouth, but the ability to form words seems to have temporarily escaped him. He's always hated answering to superiors when he's fucked up. It's a bad trait for a soldier to have, he knows, but he can't help it.
And it's never a good sign when he doesn't know which of his actions have landed him in trouble.
Apparently, it's all of them.
"First you tell a new recruit classified information about a contract killer. Then you fail your assignment so badly that multiple people – including me – are starting to question whether you even tried. And then you lie to MI6, you lie using my name, to get into a high security Special Ops interrogation where you have absolutely no authority to be." If the Sergeant could be any more tense, Wolf imagined he might actually shatter into a million pieces. "So tell me, Wolf, what the hell do you have to say for yourself?"
Wolf can't look the Sergeant in the eye. Anxiety is spiralling out of control inside of him. For the first time, he realises just how bad this reflects upon him. He's only been in the SAS a few years, and he's got himself tangled up in a web of MI6 corruption. If this gets out of hand, it could spell the end of him, in more ways than one…
But then the image of Cub, tied to that chair, screaming in pain, crosses his mind. Something steels in Wolf. He shoves his useless self-pity away. He has more than just himself to think about here.
… And yet, the Sergeant already knows that foul play is happening. The blame has to fall on someone. And if Wolf doesn't incriminate MI6, it will come down squarely on his head.
Maybe it's something about the room they're in, but it strikes Wolf with startlingly clarity, all of sudden, that he's standing in decidedly SAS territory. The walls are decorated with framed medals and certificates, the proud logo of the Special Air Services blazing on multiple surfaces. This is his ground, not MI6's – will his word be believed above theirs?
And somewhere in Wolf's gut, he knows that it doesn't matter. He will never get Cub out of here without the Sergeant's cooperation. There's only one option: he has to tell him the truth.
"Sir, MI6 have been lying to you."
Now that gets the Sergeant's attention. Wolf wonders what he was expecting. A profound apology? A long-winded excuse?
"You better start explaining, Wolf."
Wolf realises that he's being given a chance, and jumps on it. Still, his heart is crashing painfully against his ribcage. He feels like he's standing on a tripwire here; one wrong move and he'll bring everything crashing down.
"When you first briefed me, sir, you gave me a rundown of what MI6 had told us about Cu— about Rider. One of the things was that he'd been killing for years. That he'd made a name for himself. Racked up a high kill count. But I spoke to Snake last night, sir, and he said that he worked with Cub on a Special Ops mission, only six months ago."
The Sergeant's eyes are full of scepticsm. Wolf can see his caution about where Wolf is heading with this.
"Snake could have been mistaken."
Wolf shakes his head. "He says he worked with him in close quarters. Besides, how many teenage agents can Six have, that someone else could get mistaken for Cub? And there's more. I know that I disobeyed orders by going into that cell when they were interrogating him... But sir, when I was in training, I was taught that the SAS isn't just about following orders. It's about trusting our own instincts and our judgements, in situations where lives might be at risk. Isn't it, sir?"
The Sergeant's eyebrows go up. "Careful, Wolf," he warns. "That's warzone talk. I don't like Rider's situation any more than you do, but MI6 isn't an enemy you want to make."
Wolf straightens his shoulders, looks the Sergeant in the eye. "With all due respect, sir, aren't there some battles worth fighting?" The Sergeant looks doubtful, but he lets Wolf speak. "Six's agents aren't playing by the rules with the interrogation. They didn't just question him. They tortured him even though he was giving them answers. Apparently they were given orders to ignore everything Cub said until they'd used force. And to be honest, sir… I think at least one of them got a kick out of it."
Something changes in the Sergeant's demeanour. "Are you saying they tortured a prisoner who was willingly surrendering information? Without duress?"
Wolf nods. He sees anger return to the Sergeant's eyes, but this time, it has a different source.
"A seventeen-year-old prisoner too, sir. Cub's still underage."
Wolf sees the same combination of shock and nausea run through the Sergeant that he had also felt, when he found out. The Sergeant leans back, looking firmly at his desk as he visibly tries to collect his thoughts. Of course, they'd both known that Cub had been young, but not that young. And neither of them had really let themselves think about what the implications of his age could be. Where are his parents? Hell, why isn't he in school? How the hell did he get mixed up in all of this?
"Fuck," the Sergeant summarises. Wolf heartily agrees. "You should have come to me before… but I understand why you didn't."
Wolf lets out a shaky breath. He realises that his fingers are trembling with adrenaline. It's strange, how a conversation can make him more lightheaded than he might have been in a gunfight.
It's truly out of his hands now.
"What are you going to do about it, sir?" he has to ask, even though he's not sure he wants to know the answer. If the Sergeant doesn't side with Wolf, he's risked his only shot at getting Cub out of this…
The Sergeant looks thoughtful as he sinks into his seat and leans back, threading his fingers together. Then he picks up the phone on his desk.
"I'm going to have Alex Rider officially brought into SAS custody," he announces. "What you've told me should be enough to prove that MI6 can't be trusted with the boy. You are going to fetch Snake and bring him here to back up what you've just told me."
Yes! Wolf could have kissed the man.
"Gladly, sir. But what about Cub? Those agents are still with him."
"I need you on the official side of things right now." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Scarab and Jaguar are in the camp at the moment for refresher training. They're in the cabin next door. Fetch them. Tell them to go down to Rider's holding cell and see that the interrogation is paused, until further notice."
Scarab and Jaguar are members of L Unit, fully qualified SAS. Wolf remembers them starting their training just before K Unit passed selection. They'll be able to handle things.
Once he's passed on the message, he finds Snake. He doesn't have to go far. He almost collides with the man as he leaves the Sergeant's office. When he quickly fills him in on what's happened, shock is exchanged for anger which is exchanged for relief, as he hears that the Sergeant is on their side.
"Thank god for that." He blows out a long breath. "What now?"
"We wait," says Wolf. "And see if high command are going to back us up."
"They will," Snake says confidently. "Anyone can see that MI6 is out of line. It's just a matter of time."
Wolf nods in agreement. It's not for show, either. For the first time in too long, Wolf truly believes that things are going their way.
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That line of thought holds until about half an hour later, until Wolf and Snake exchange glances from where they're waiting outside the Sergeant's office. The Sergeant's voice has risen dangerously as he speaks on the phone.
"What do you mean you can't— I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation, Officer— No, I won't bloody hold, I need to speak to— Hello? Hello? Damn it!"
His curse is following by the resounding crash of a phone slamming into its socket. A moment later, the door to the office opens, and a recruit beckons them inside. The Sergeant is pacing the floor of his office, coursing a hand through his hair.
"Sir?" Wolf tries apprehensively.
The Sergeant stops abruptly. "It's going to take longer than I anticipated to get custody of Rider."
"But sir, we need to act now."
"You think I don't know that, Wolf?" he snaps. A moment later, he sighs. "Sorry. It's been a long night."
He takes a seat at his desk and takes a moment to collect himself.
"Right," he says, sounding much more like the Sergeant of Brecon Beacons this time. "The problem is that the only evidence we have of MI6's misdoings at the moment is Wolf's word. And high command can't treat verbal accusations the same as they could, say, video evidence."
A thrill goes up Wolf's spine. He exchanges a meaningful look with Snake, but before either of them can get a word in, the Sergeant is speaking again.
"Someone's being dispatched from headquarters," he says tiredly. "But we don't have the authority to act with force until we can provide solid evidence of corruption." The Sergeant gestures to the recruit who brought them in, who's sitting at one of the office's computers, scrolling through a folder. "Lynx here is looking through the CCTV recordings of your sessions with Rider, Wolf." The Sergeant waves off his surprise. "Yes, yes, we put up cameras, if you weren't perceptive enough to notice them, that's your own fault. The thing is, those bloody agents did notice them, and they deactivated them before starting their interrogation."
"So we can't help Cub," Snake translates.
"We can't help Cub," the Sergeant confirms. "Not yet. MI6 can still do whatever they like with him."
He runs a hand through his hair.
"Sir," Wolf finally says, "what if we were able to provide solid evidence?"
The Sergeant pauses. "What are you saying, Wolf?"
Wolf feels every eye on him as his fingers fumble at the button on his lapel of his combats, and pull away a small, black orb. Not a button at all, but a compact, Special Ops-issue camera.
Wolf hadn't wanted to watch those agents torture Cub. It had been one of the most harrowing things he'd ever seen. But he'd gone through with it, on the notion that they needed to witness the exchange between Rider and MI6. And just before he'd gone into the room, Snake had stopped him and handed him the surveillance device that had been issued to him at the beginning of his assignment, to guard the MI6 agents against a dangerous assassin.
Video evidence.
For once, the Sergeant is utterly speechless.
"Will it be—"
"It'll be enough," the Sergeant confirms. "If it's everything you told me you saw, it'll be more than enough."
It's a breakthrough. Hope ignites within Wolf's chest.
The mood is quickly broken, however, by the recruit's voice from the corner.
"Sir," he says, in a serious enough voice that he instantly catches the attention of the room. "There's something I think you should see."
They close around the screen. The recruit - Lynx - has a video loaded, with grainy footage from the holding cell. Wolf sees that there are two screens of playback, twin cameras projecting the cell from two different angles. According to the date in the corner of the screen, the footage is from the second night.
"What is it?" the Sergeant asks.
"You'll see," says Lynx. "Hang on, I'll just find the right part…"
Lynx rewinds, and it's strange for Wolf to see a pixelated version of himself on the screen, just standing up and crossing to the door, leaving Cub for the night. Wolf's heart skips up to his mouth when he realises that if Lynx had gone back just another second or two, they'd have seen him hitting Cub. He's suddenly gratefully for the recruit's tactful timing.
Lynx has gone too far back, because he skips ahead now, fastforwarding a period of time consisting of nothing but Cub tied to the chair, until suddenly he slows back down again to regular speed. The timestamp in the corner indicates about an hour after Wolf left.
And that's when the cell door opens again.
Wolf's first thought is a flashback to when they were eavesdropping beside the cabin, when the guard who'd been on the door had quite clearly said that nobody but him and Wolf had entered the cell. Had he been lying…?
But when Wolf's eyes adjust to the grainy quality of the footage, he realises that the guard hasn't broken his word yet. It's him. It's the guard.
"What's he carrying?" Snake mutters. Wolf's hands fall to the man's hand.
Snake gets his answer a moment later, when he strides towards Cub, and the object comes into clearer view. It's a water bottle, which Wolf realises shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Even if they weren't letting him have food, he'd assumed that MI6 were smart enough not to let Cub die of dehydration.
As he saunters closer to Cub, they seem to be exchanging words, and Wolf sees the Sergeant's eyes narrow.
"What's that man's name?" he demands.
"I don't know, sir," Wolf says quietly. He honestly hadn't given the guard much thought. But he is MI6 – an operative, if not an agent. And he suddenly recalls the agent commenting about Cub, that first night.
On the screen, the guard unscrews the cap of the bottle and holds it out to Cub, but doesn't bring it near enough for him to drink. Taunting him, Wolf realises. He says something. Then he pours the water out onto the floor in front of Cub, right before his eyes. Only when the smallest of drops is left does he finally let Cub have some.
"Dick move," Wolf comments, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable with what he's just seen.
"There's more," Lynx says darkly. "Keep watching."
The Sergeant and Snake both look as grim as Wolf feels, but their eyes, like Wolf's, are similarly glued to the screen.
Wolf expects the man to leave, but he doesn't. Not straight away. As they watch, the guard sets the bottle down on the side, and then pulls something else out of his pocket, something Wolf recognises this time. When he lights the cigarette, the end is a glowing beacon within the monochrome footage. He's saying something, making more conversation with Cub, which in itself can't be entirely orthodox, since Cub was a lethal assassin in the eyes of the SAS at this point.
And then, when the cigarette is smoked down to a stub, the guard stops pacing. He takes a step closer to Cub, and all of a sudden Wolf isn't breathing. On the screen, Cub flinches away from him; he looks as tense as Wolf feels. And then the guard quite casually reaches out, flips up Cub's sleeve, and grinds the cigarette end into his skin.
On both screens, Cub jerks simultaneously, bucking against the restraints. But there's nowhere for him to go. The guard only takes another drag and then puts it out against Cub's skin again.
Wolf sees red. His fists tighten at his sides; everything in him is screaming in indignation.
The motherfucker.
And then Wolf is flooded with guilt. The pieces had been right there in front of him – Cub never sleeping for some reason, and looking progressively worse and worse each day… How had he missed it? The signs of dehydration alone should have been blindingly obvious. Cub was being tortured all along, not for information, but for the pure, sick gratification of an MI6 operative with a vendetta, who had openly disliked him from the beginning.
"Fucking hell," Snake breathes. "That's – that's fucked up."
And the Sergeant is looking just as angry as Wolf feels. His face is a tight mask.
"That's enough," he says harshly. The recruit stops the playback. "That's more than enough to warrant intervention. Wolf, Snake, get down to that cell. I want Rider as far away from those fucking people as we can get him. T Unit are in Cabin 7. Fetch them and bring those bloody agents into custody. Snake, you have medic training – do what you can for Rider. I'll have a doctor brought in from the nearest hospital as soon as we can."
They obey without question. Snake sums up Wolf's thoughts pretty nicely, as they're tucking extra guns into their belts.
"Let's go gut the bastards."
T Unit is the newest qualified SAS unit, and as soon as Wolf sees them, he can understand why the Sergeant chose them. They're not seasoned SAS men in the way that K Unit are, but they're not new recruits either; they've passed selection, and they all have solid army experience. They look a little startled when Wolf and Snake burst into their cabin, armed for a fight, but when they've heard the basics of the situation, their expressions turn grim and serious. They comply quickly enough, and then they're heading towards the cabin.
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They're only thirty feet away when Wolf stops in his tracks. The others follow suit.
"What is it?" says Snake. All of them are watching him.
Wolf can't answer, but he'd had a feeling all of a sudden, not to go any further. The hairs on the back of his neck are going haywire.
He spots the bodies a moment later.
"There!"
Wolf and Snake are at the scene in a heartbeat.
"Scarab and Jaguar," Snake breathes.
The two men are both sprawled out on the grass, in the shadow of the cabin. Perhaps in the dark of the night they'd have been concealed, but in the emerging morning light, they're visible enough for Wolf to have spotted them.
"Jaguar has a pulse," Snake confirms, lowering his ear to the man's mouth. "And he's breathing."
"Scarab too," says Wolf a moment later. He looks down at the body beneath him. He might be alive, but he's been knocked out cold. The side of his head is sticky with blood.
Wolf meets Snake's eyes and sees his own fear reflected there.
If the guards knocked Scarab and Jaguar unconscious… that means the agents didn't follow the order to pause the interrogation. Which means they've still been torturing Cub, this entire time.
"We need to move now!"
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Twisty twisty twisty... Poor Alex. He needs a hug. And he'll get one! Soon!
Did anyone suspect the guard was up to no good? I'm curious about how obvious it was.
I know this is a lot of dialogue, but I needed to move things along. Review if you want to see Alex finally be rescued... think about the cramp he must have in his legs, being tied to that chair for all this time...
Okay, in all seriousness, I really, really appreciate the support I've had for this fic so far. Almost at the finish line now. Thanks for sticking with me.