DISCLAIMER: If wishing counted, Alex Rider would be my creation.
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The woman sashayed up to him, brushing his arm with her manicured nails. The upscale bar was filled with the rich and powerful of Russian government with some spies interspersed. And he had found one that would be very useful to him.
"Privyet, handsome." Her smooth English accented with her Russian heritage rolled off her tongue like music.
"Do you have information for me?"
"Well," she purred, "I do if you have something for me."
Taking hold of her arm, in what looked to be an intimate embrace, Yassen looked pointedly into her eyes, the icy blueness reminding the spy how dangerous he was.
"Sasha, I will only ask once more. Do you have the information, or not?"
"Da," she whispered more serious now. A thick envelope slipped from her clutch which she handed to the blonde assassin.
"Spaseebah," he thanked her in a toneless voice.
"May I interest you in some fun tonight?" Her hopeful gaze withered as his eyes never softened.
Without a word, Yassen moved fluidly through the crowd, leaving the hopeful girl standing desolate at the bar.
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Fox stalked around the room, anger rising, ready to explode.
The fact that Alex was now in the clutches of the most dangerous assassin was a problem. The crude bombs that Sarov had placed all along the Russian coast to finish what he had begun years ago were a very large problem. All of Britain's resources that could be spared were trying to diffuse the problem. And they were stuck being useless.
"Fox, ye know it is for the best," Snake drawled in his Scottish accent.
"I know it would be unwise to chance the soldiers seeing us and figuring out we are rogue. I get it. I just feel useless standing on the sidelines." Punching a nearby wall solidly earned him a glare from Wolf.
"Stop whining, Fox, or I will send you to Sarov myself and let him do with you what he will." The rest of his team sat in tense silence as if waiting for him to tell them he had hatched a plan. While that was tempting, he had been plotting in the time they had been benched, disobeying orders did not seem the right thing to do. Any plans he came up with only put his team in more danger than in a place to help. He was at a loss.
"I say we chance it," Eagle stated quietly. "How do we know they pegged us as traitors? Getting back into the organization could give us the only chance at stopping Sarov and rescuing Cub."
Grunts of agreement sounded around Wolf as he realized he was in a losing position. Anything he said would not be good enough unless it was taking action and finding their missing unit member.
With a growl, Wolf stood up, facing his team. "We cannot all go back; that would be too suspicious."
"I want to go back. I want to find Cub." Fox stared his leader down, not willing to accept anything but yes.
After a few more moments of mental debate, Wolf glared at his teammate. "Fine, but you do what I say and do not go AWOL. It will be you and me. Snake, Eagle, you will follow from a distance and hide out near Sarov's new base. If we are going to do this, we have to lie to our own people. This could be your careers, men."
"He's a teammate, Wolf. You would never leave any of us behind no matter the cost."
"Then let's move out. We have a spy to catch."
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Damp air clung to his clothes as Alex was propelled forward by a silent Vicktor. The assassin had not spoken since the phone call with Yassen. The car ride had been tense to say the least. Falling asleep a few hours into the trip was not hard when silence reigned.
Frigid waters lapped gently against the rocky shore as the luminous reflection of the moon overhead dotted the waves. Fog hindered the view of the lake like a filmy mask.
Mesmerized by the eerie sight, Alex was jerked to the side towards a small building. The teen had not even noticed it. A faint light illuminated the night slightly as the pair entered the dusty interior.
"Over there," Vicktor said, motioning to a wobbly chair in the corner. The door was closed and locked, Vicktor peering through the grimy windows, keeping watch.
Alex did as he was instructed. Deciding this would be as good a time as any to question his captor about the remote, he spoke in the most confident voice he could muster.
"Did Yassen have an extra remote?"
"Da, he had a fake remote."
Yassen would have realized that Alex would go for the remote; that would not have been hard to guess. "So you knew I would go for it. How did you know I wouldn't get the real one?"
A curt look was all he received, as if asking a dangerous assassin if he could make a mistake was so unbelievable.
"So you planned it?" Alex kept pressing, hoping to learn something, anything. "Did Yassen tell you to use the remote instead of physical force on me?" Vicktor's jaw muscles clenched as he continued to watch outside, but he forced himself to relax and show nothing.
Alex was pleased; he had finally riled Vicktor. "So Yassen doesn't trust you with me really."
The only indication that the assassin had heard him was one raised eyebrow…just like Yassen. Frustration mounting, Alex decided tact was not the way to ask for information when speaking to a cold-blooded killer.
"I-" Before he knew it, he was on the floor, but not from the remote. In what seemed like seconds, Vicktor had kicked the chair over and now stood over Alex with his foot in the boy's throat.
"Before you ask any questions, boy, let me be clear. I warned you to behave and now three people are dead. If you had done what you were told, we would be halfway around the world by now and you would be undergoing training by one of the world's best. You do not think and so are sloppy. If you spent more time listening and less time being obstinate, you would find yourself in a more agreeable situation."
Alex brought his fists up and tried to club the side of Vicktor's knee on his throat. The foot shifted as the man removed it from his neck. With a kick to the boy's middle, Vicktor stalked back to the door to keep watch.
All the teen could do was hold his throbbing stomach. The kick had not been that hard but was enough to drive the wind from his body. He rolled over so that Vicktor could not see his grimace of pain. Lying with his head touching the floor, Alex tried to relax and breath through the pain when he spied a small hole in the wall big enough for him to squeeze through.
Timing was everything; if he bolted before he was ready, Vicktor would be on him and probably sedate him.
Outside the purr of an engine sounded, drawing Vicktor's attention away from his captive.
Alex took his chance. Scrambling up, he half ran, half crawled to the hole and squeezed through before the assassin knew what was happening, ignoring his side as it flamed in pain.
The darkness embraced him as he slipped out. He held onto his pants as they slid down, his teenage attire making escape difficult to say the least. At last he was out of Vicktor's clutches, if only for a few minutes. Alex had no doubt that the assassin would use the remote once he realized his charge had slipped out of the squat building. He hoped whoever was driving to the wharf at night would keep him occupied just long enough for him to get far enough away to hide. Once unconscious, he would have no control where he landed. Falling in the middle of the road would not be hard to spot.
Russian voices could be heard arguing, causing Alex to quicken his steps. He knew his window was growing smaller as the voices ceased and footsteps could be heard. Another building a few meters away lay dormant and looked to be a good place to lay low for a while. Crouching, he wove his way carefully through the debris towards his target. Silence hovered thickly as he tried to stifle his loud breathing.
A broken door hung by one hinge appeared to be the only way in. Alex tried to make out any movement in the fog before attempting to open the fragile door. It swung open easily to his surprise, the hinge moving smoothly instead of with an expected squeak as he snuck in.
The interior was hard to ascertain in the dark, but the room appeared bigger than the frame suggested. As he shuffled towards what he assumed was the back of the building, a large metal object attacked him. Clamping his mouth shut, the teenage spy felt the cold bars of what seemed to be a leg of something much larger. Crouching down, he felt a tire attached to the end. Alex's heart raced. He assumed the leg belonged to a plane; only a plane had metal legs with tires to land. If this was a hanger bay, there could be a radio on the plane. He could radio MI6 and they could get an idea of his location! It seemed all too easy after all he had been through, but he knew he was wasting time he didn't have on overanalyzing this opportunity. Following the leg to the belly of the small plane, Alex felt his way to the cockpit door. From his estimation, the plane was a two person craft. With his hands cuffed together, it was a challenge to hoist himself into the small space.
Finally, he had reached what seemed to be the radio. He had seen movies where they used a certain frequency to get the attention of help without alerting the enemy. Yet movies are a far cry from reality. And as much as it surprised him, the actors didn't stop to explain exactly how to do it in a step-by-step tutorial in the middle of the movie.
Quit being sarcastic and figure this out. Think of the solution, not the problem.
Pressing the button to the side of the handheld radio, Alex listened carefully before whispering into the receiver.
"Hello, this is Alex Rider. Anyone copy?"
Releasing the button, he listened.
Silence.
He tried again, speaking louder. "Hello, this is Alex Rider, can anyone hear me?"
Static met him once again as he sat in the dark cockpit.
"I believe it helps if you are on the correct frequency."
Frozen, all Alex could do was close his eyes in defeat as the icy voice washed over him. He should have known the only person coming to the wharf at night would have been Yassen. Anger at losing his first real chance to send out a message rushed through him. If he had known the assassin's location, he would have taken his chances fighting him at this point.
"You may exit the plane now, Alex."
Resentment flooded his body as he refused to speak or move.
Without warning, strong hands were grabbing his handcuffed wrists, propelling him out of the plane. His forearms took the brunt of his weight as he landed on the clammy cement.
Yassen had left the door open and Alex could now see the man's silhouette. Pushing himself up, he tried ramming the assassin in the stomach with his shoulder. Only he found himself skittering to a stop a few feet past him as Yassen sidestepped the attack. Anger mounting, Alex lashed out with a side kick aimed at his kneecaps followed by an elbow to the chest. Both were blocked easily.
Alex knew his chances, especially being handcuffed and exhausted. He was at Yassen's mercy. But as much as his mind told him it was futile, the more if fueled him to action.
After a few minutes of failed attempts, Yassen ended the match cleanly. Stepping behind a charging Alex, the man's arm went around the boy's throat. The grip was not enough to cut off his air, but enough to halt any attacks. Struggling violently, Alex pulled at Yassen's arm, trying anything to be released from the man's clutches.
"Be still, Alex," Yassen commanded in a quiet voice.
Deciding it would be best to let Yassen believe he was ready to cooperate, Alex stilled, his muscles still coiled for any opportunities at escape.
Vicktor seemed to materialize from the wall as he approached the pair.
"I would hope that you now understand how hopeless your situation has become. Your escape is unlikely," Yassen said impassively.
The fact that this whole scenario and his almost escape was probably a set up took most of the fight from the teen. He knew that fighting now would only make his eventual escape more impossible.
I can't give in. I can't give up.
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Ares cleaned his knife as he watched his leader pace the small hostel room. The frigid Russian air was welcome after their few days in Greece.
"That boy will die by my hands for all the trouble he has caused me," growled the burly man, glaring at Ares' calm countenance. "Sarov will soon lose interest and then I will crush the life from his body slowly."
Looking bored, Ares glanced at the assassin. "No doubt you intend to go after Gregorovich and his charge."
"You wish to go back to Sarov like dogs with our tails between our legs again?! We find them or die."
"Our chances grow slimmer as our numbers dwindle, Zeus." A dangerous glint lit the man's eyes as he reminded his colleague of their fallen comrades.
"It will be harder to track our movements with only two." Zeus shrugged nonchalantly.
Ares was not distressed about losing his teammates; it was the life of an assassin. You live and get killed. He knew his time was coming. But going after trouble seemed to tempt fate in a useless way. Taking their chances on Gregorovich seemed idiotic.
The fact that Alex Rider had outwitted them on multiple occasions and had caused his team to be disgraced was the only reason he considered Zeus' offer.
"Fine, but Gregorovich is mine."
A malevolent look took over his leader's face. "I know where to start."
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The alley was cold and damp from the rain as she strolled briskly past dumpsters ready to be emptied. The moon cast eerie light on the path and strange silhouettes marred the walls around her.
Footsteps sounded from the end of the alley. She strained to make out the person walking towards her but could not distinguish anything but the panther-like gate.
"Was the package sent?"
Sasha licked her suddenly chapped lips as she tried to formulate words. "Da, the package should have left by plane tonight."
Brief silence. "And the handlers?"
Stifling the urge to run, she took a step closer to the man, attempting to catch a glimpse of who she had made a deal with. Betraying an assassin was dangerous business after all.
"They are in route. They have the package safely secured."
The man stepped into the pale light. His handsome features and rugged appearance leaked danger and confidence. Sasha had found men of his nature had that in common.
"And their destination?"
She took a step closer. "My summer villa in Greece."
The man looked stunned for a moment before snapping himself back to reality. Gently taking her hand in his, he placed a light kiss on it. "Thank you, Sasha, you have been most helpful."
He turned to walk away, but was halted by her voice. "And what can I call you, for future arrangements?"
All she could see was his smile. "Fox."
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So here is another installment. I don't really know where I am going, so suggestions and reviews are helpful and much appreciated.
Cailean44