Chapter 19: Lady Justice
August, 2019
Alex Rider straightened his tie nervously in the mirror. He gave himself one last check, noting his black jacket, slacks, light blue dress shirt, and dark gray tie. The tie had been one of Ian Rider's–one of the few artifacts Alex still had of his uncle's. He laced up his black trainers–no matter the occasion he refused to wear dress shoes if he could help it.
Just as he stood back up, a female voice behind him said "Alex. You look so handsome. All you need is one more thing." She grabbed him by the lapel and fastened something to his jacket.
"Thanks, Mrs. Jones," Alex said, looking at the Union Jack now on his lapel, "All ready to go, then?" She nodded once, and together they left the hotel.
The pair were at The Hague, in the Netherlands, as witnesses for the most important trial that no one is even reporting on. Zeljan Kurst, one of the few remnants of Scorpia, was on trial for Crimes Against Humanity. After Scorpia came tumbling down a handful of years before, thanks in part to Alex, Kurst was intercepted by INTERPOL. It took years, but the case was finally brought to international court. Now, during his Summer Holiday when most of his classmates were traveling, working, or just enjoying their time on their parents' couches, Alex was serving as a witness against the face of the organization that had killed his father. And his uncle. And Jack, almost. And tried to kill him…repeatedly. So much for a relaxing summer.
Alex and Mrs. Jones were quickly led into the International Court of Justice. They had an entire security team escort them in, which did nothing to assuage Alex's nerves. Taking down Scorpia in the field had been one thing. It was life-or-death and there was hardly time to think. Taking down Scorpia in the International Court, on the other hand, was all thinking. There were so many ways in which Alex could mess this up. He had to get justice for his dad. His uncle. For the surgical scar over his heart. For the millions of lives Kurst and Scorpia had impacted or ended. If he didn't perform well, Kurst would be released and free to do it all again. All of this pressure was enough to make him sweat. Alex studied Physics and Data Science at Uni–these were of no use to him now. He had no idea how to behave in a courtroom.
Alex took a deep breath as he was ushered into his second-row seat next to Mrs. Jones. He was to be a key witness and was expected to outline all of the Scorpia plots he had been privy to–without, of course, revealing that he was once among their ranks. Mrs. Jones expected that it would take a day or two before Alex was called to the stand–a court like The Hague meant dozens of witnesses, lengthy statements, and frequent recesses just for the judges to be able to process the horrible testimonies.
In all of the time Alex spent dancing with the devil that was Scorpia, he had never actually met Zeljan Kurst. Alex's eyes finally set upon the man, dressed up in a suit not unlike his own, sitting at the front of the room. Kurst was bald, with expressionless brown eyes. His face was pockmarked and he had a large, ugly scar twisting from his left ear down to his chin. He was built like a wrestler–large shoulders and a thick neck. Alex was certain the man could kill him with his bare hands in just a few seconds. Despite Kurst being handcuffed and having two guards surrounding him, the man's presence still made Alex nervous. This was compounded when Kurst finally met Alex's eyes and genuinely snarled at him. Alex Rider didn't fear much anymore, but he certainly still feared Zeljan Kurst.
Alex's head spun from all of the gut-wrenching stories he heard about Scorpia–of which The Hague was putting the blame squarely on Kurst. (As one of the few surviving founding members of the organization, he was taking most of the heat.) It appeared that all of Alex's tales of spies and assassins were child's play in comparison to some of Kurst's other endeavors. However, after five days in court, seventeen witnesses, and more testimonies than anyone could stomach, Alex was still not called up to the stand.
On the eve of that fifth day, a Friday night, Alex had just about enough. As the pair walked out of The Hague, he turned to Mrs. Jones. "When do you think I'll be called up, then? I'm not sure which is going to kill me first, the anxiety or the boredom."
Mrs. Jones chuckled. "I'm sure you'll be called up soon, Alex. Why don't you take a couple hours by yourself and just walk around the city? Explore. Grab a bite. You have barely left the hotel room since we arrived. You might as well enjoy the weekend."
"I'm nervous, Mrs. Jones. I need to stay sharp. I can't mess this up–I need to take Kurst down for my dad and for Ian," Alex said stoically, "Plus the man is really creeping me out. He has barely stopped staring at me this entire time."
"One meal isn't going to derail your case, Alex. You need to let off some steam. Go take a walk and clear your head and I'll see you in the morning," Mrs. Jones handed him 50 euros, "For dinner," she smiled, "Now go!"
Alex took her advice. As the evening began to cool, he found himself wandering the streets of The Hague. It was actually quite a nice city once he wasn't within the four walls of International Court.
He rounded another street corner and stumbled into a cafe called Rebecca's. The smells drew him in from the outside and he figured this was as good a place as any to eat dinner.
The hostess, a tall blonde woman named Anne, sat him near the window. Alex was happy to be able to sit down and people-watch. He hoped to God that he wouldn't see anybody he recognized from the trial. A few moments later, a waitress arrived. She was much shorter than Anne, probably by about 15 cm, with short dirty-blonde hair cut just above her shoulders.
"Hallo, mijn naam is Elsje en vanavond ben ik uw serveerster. Kan ik je op weg helpen met… Godverdomme," the girl sputtered. Alex racked his brain for where he'd seen her before. Why would he know a Dutch waitress? Had she been at the trial? Her blue eyes and blonde hair were unfamiliar, but something about her face…
"Alex?" the girl mouthed, quickly looking behind her.
"Who…Oh my god, Ella is that you?" Realization dawned on Alex. He hadn't seen her since that fateful November day in London.
"Elsje," she corrected him quickly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" they both asked at the same time. Ella's eyes widened.
"Okay okay okay," she mumbled, scribbling something down on her guest check pad. Her eyes flicked back to Alex's, and her voice became cheery once again, "Of course sir, I also speak English," Ella said in a polished Dutch accent, "Can I get you started with anything to drink tonight?"
"A cup of tea would be great," Alex said, following her lead. Ella spun around and practically ran back to the kitchen. Three minutes later, she returned with a cup and saucer and put it down in front of Alex.
"I will be right back to take your order, sir," Ella said, running off once again. It was weird for Alex to hear her speak accented English.
Alex lifted up his cup of tea, only to find the check pad from earlier folded up underneath. In French, Ella's messy handwriting read:
"My shift ends at 21:30. Meet me at the corner of
Westeinde and S100 at 22:00 and we'll talk–
wear something more casual.
-E"
Alex's night suddenly got a whole lot more interesting.
"What do you know?" Ella demanded, all traces of her Dutch accent gone. She was out of her waitress uniform and wearing black ripped jeans, a black Velvet Underground t-shirt, and an olive green bomber jacket with pins. The pins were the Netherlands flag, a Gerald Holtom peace sign, a barking Keith Haring dog, and the women's pink circle-with-a-plus-sign symbol that Alex did not know the name of. She had on black Doc Martens and carried a small leather backpack. Her blonde hair was now in a messy ponytail.
"What do you mean 'what do I know?'" Alex shot back. He had gone back to his hotel to change, careful not to alert Mrs. Jones in the adjoining room. He had slipped on black jeans and a fitted dark grey v-neck. He had kept the black trainers from earlier.
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," she responded. Alex did not. He wished that he could have just one normal interaction with Ella in his life.
Alex looked around the room. It was small and dark, with only a rectangular table and three chairs–the two they occupied and one empty one next to Ella. The table was so skinny that the tops of the pairs' shoes were touching underneath it. After meeting her about a quarter of an hour ago, she had taken him to a dive bar called Thee en Zand. She dragged him through a back entrance past two bouncers that looked almost Kurst-like, and began to question him.
"Ella, I know it's hard to believe in coincidences, but I'm not here for you," Ella scoffed at this, "There are actually things to do in the Hague that don't involve going to restaurants," The two of them met eyes.
"What exactly are you saying?" She challenged Alex, suddenly sitting up straighter.
"Now, Ella, there's no need to be cagey," Alex smirked, and in a second Ella had dived over the table and put him into a headlock against his chair. She was stronger than Alex expected, not that he would ever tell her that, "Anyways, El, it's great to see you again," he choked out, "Glad you're doing well."
"What?" Ella loosened her grip around Alex's neck for half a second in surprise. That half-second was all Alex needed, and he effortlessly twisted himself out of her grip and stood up. The force had knocked Ella onto the floor, and now nothing was separating the two of them except for about half of a meter.
Alex nudged her leg with his foot and reached an arm down to help her up. Unwilling to be bested, Ella took his arm and used all of her might to pull him down too. Caught off balance, he came tumbling down beside her, getting an accidental jab into Ella's side. He got himself into position, did two pushups, and sat back up all while Ella nursed her bruised side.
"My bad, didn't mean to land on you there," Alex apologized.
"Hazard of the job," Ella winked and sat up next to him, nudging his shoulder in the process.
"Can we make this less interrogation and more conversation? As much fun as this is, you're CIA and definitely know how to waterboard me so I'd prefer we kept things civil."
"Waterboarding was, like, so third grade," Ella smirked.
Alex's eyes widened. "Ever do it on anybody then?"
Ella shrugged, "I don't know. You lie down and I'll get a towel and you can judge my form." Alex's eyes were bugging out of his head.
"I…uh…okay. Anyway, let's just have a talk then. We can play the question game–take turns asking a question about anything except family or genuine government secrets. How's that sound?"
"Fine by me, Alex," Ella said, staring him down. In a second, she was up on her feet and sitting back in her chair. She swung her feet onto the table and crossed her legs, "But I am absolutely asking first."
"I'd expect nothing less," he smiled and followed her back to his chair.
"Well I feel like it's kind of basic to just begin with asking why you're here," Ella considered, "So I'll start with this. What did you think of my letter? I'm assuming you got it."
"Yes, I got your letter," Alex began. Ella had written him a three-page apology from rehab. That was all Alex had heard from her since November of last year, "And I accept your apology. I can tell you really meant it. Thank you for writing all of that out."
"Yeah, my therapist actually cried when she read that she was so proud that I 'took initiative and responsibility to write such a beautiful letter,'" Ella smiled, "So yeah, I guess I won therapy," Alex shook his head and laughed despite himself, "I know it's not my turn again but I do have to ask. Are we good? I truly am sorry about everything," Ella fidgeted.
"You're right," Alex winked, "It's not your turn. Better luck next round because I'm up," Ella flipped him off, "So I have to ask, in the interest of 'not being basic,' about your accent. What's your real way of speaking English? Your nondescript big-city Americana or the Dutch?"
"Well, Alex," Ella grinned, "It depends on who you are asking. If you're asking Elsje the waitress, she speaks Dutch at home and English mostly for work. So it makes sense that she speaks said English with a heavy Dutch accent, no? A perfectly curated Mid-Atlantic city accent that no one can quite pinpoint would sound out of place for a nice Dutch girl like Elsje. Ella, however, grew up in DC and needs to sound exactly like everybody else. No need to even question her about it. So to answer your question, this is my real way of speaking," she said, enunciating the words with her accentless, untraceable English to which Alex had become accustomed, "The thing about languages, is that they're only as good as the speaker. If I'm acting as a native Russian, my Russian will be perfect while any English may be a little broken and accented, you feel? It's all about the sale, and baby, I'm the best in the business," she winked at him.
Alex's eyes widened. "Yeah. That's…impressive actually."
"No one does it better than me," she grinned. "Now. Seriously, before we continue on. Are we okay? I know it's a lot to ask to go back to normal after everything that's happened between us, but I would really really like to be friends again."
"Yes. We're all good," Alex smiled, "We're much better as allies anyways, which brings me to my next question–what the hell are you doing here?"
"Wow, here I am being a great friend and using my two questions to actually communicate about our status while I'm out here getting grilled on things such as my reasoning for my current whereabouts."
"Government secret?" Alex guessed.
"No, you," Ella teased, "And 'Government' is a strong word."
"Here you are being cagey again."
"Hey now, now need to use the 'C word,'" Ella challenged, "I need to remain mysterious or I will die."
"Fine, fine," Alex conceded, "How's school?"
"Okay Dad," Ella rolled her eyes, "Oxford is great. I completed two terms and changed my major to Modern Languages and Linguistics. It's great fun–I only ever focused on speaking languages, not their structure, and I'm loving it. I actually think I want to teach by the way–introducing you to Arabic really opened my eyes to that," she smiled softly, "You'll also like to know that I tested out of 9 of Oxford's 11 language courses–everything but Greek and Japanese which I'm learning now. They're giving me 'Fluency certificates' for all 9 as if I need those," Ella rolled her eyes again.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Seriously," he smiled, "Your turn."
"Have you ever killed anybody in cold blood?" she asked bluntly.
"What the fuck?"
"Not your turn!" exclaimed Ella, "And I swear I have a reason for asking."
Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. And no further comments," he said, not able to look Ella in the eye. Memories of Julius Grief were repressed as soon as they popped into his head.
"Noted," Ella said and swung her legs off the table. She walked over to the singular door that led out of the room, "Stay right there," she said as she left the room.
Alex stood up and began to search the room, brows furrowed. Despite his search, he could not find anything besides the table, chairs, and a large spider in the corner he chose to ignore. Just as he was about to leave the room to follow Ella, she walked back into the room holding a tray. On it was a small bowl of peanuts, two shots, and two martinis.
"Where did you get those?" Alex asked her.
"That's your question," Ella grinned and Alex swore, "And the answer is the bar in the next room over."
She handed him one of the shots and martinis and took the others for herself. The peanuts were placed between them.
"Baby Guinness," she explained, pointing at the shooter.
"Ella, I'm an Englishman. I can't drink Guinness. My ancestors will hunt me down."
"Then you're lucky it isn't actually beer. It's three-quarters Kahlua and one-quarter Bailey's. Now brave the evil Irish Bailey's and drink up. The other one is a martini–shaken not stirred, of course. It's almost tragically on brand, isn't it," she noted.
"Why would I trust these drinks?"
"Because we're friends now. You said it yourself. Plus, I've decided that it's time to cut the pleasantries and talk shop now: namely why we're both in the same little city at the same time. Thought it might be more fun over a couple of drinks. You can trade drinks with me, but I'm really not looking to have a 'Princess Bride' moment with you," Alex laughed, "Though all that movie taught me was how to microdose," she grinned slyly. "Now drink up."
They clinked glasses. "Cheers," Alex said.
"Proost," Ella exclaimed at the same time as they both threw back their shots.
As she put her glass back down, she said "Alex, you can't just come to another country and not respect local customs," she shook her head and left the room once again. She returned at once with a full litre bottle and two clean shot glasses. "Jenever," she explained, "It's like gin, but Dutch so it's better. The national drink of this beautiful country." She poured them both a shot. "Now, Alex, try again. It's Proost," she said, heavily accenting the Dutch word.
"Proost," he practiced in an English accent. Ella shook her head and clicked her tongue.
"Come on Dorothy, we're not in London anymore. We're on my turf now–show a little respect. Proost," she repeated.
"Proost," he repeated, this time mimicking her accent. Ella had a huge smile on her face.
"Now, you're ready to try Jenever."
The pair clinked glasses, Alex said Proost, properly this time in tandem with Ella, and they threw their drinks back. Alex gagged a little and Ella chuckled.
"Gezellig," she smiled, "God this is so Dutch I love it."
"Can I inquire about the obsession with the Dutch language and culture?" Alex asked.
"Not your turn, but I'll humor you because you said "Proost" right," she conceded, "Ik ben half-Nederlander. My mom is Dutch and I spent most summers right here in The Hague while growing up. It's the one piece of me I really do feel connected to, even though I'm short by Dutch standards and not blonde," she laughed, "I am pasty as hell though, even though I grew up in the American South."
"I never knew that," Alex confessed.
"You never asked. But yeah, I'm a native speaker–my mom and grandparents taught me Dutch as a baby along with English, and my dad decided to toss in German too just for the hell of it. Being raised trilingually definitely has its advantages. Feels like nepotism almost when I start to pick up a new language since my brain is so accustomed."
"God you're humble," Alex rolled his eyes and took a sip of his martini. As much as he hated to admit it, James Bond knew how to pick a drink.
"So anyways, since I let you go early in the question game, tell me what you're doing in The Hague," Ella said smugly.
"You're good," Alex joked, "And I trust that this conversation stays between us? You've already given me quite a bit of personal information this evening that I'm sure you don't want public."
"This is simply a conversation among friends. No need for it to ever leave these four walls," Ella remarked.
"Glad to hear it," Alex replied, "I'm a witness in the Hague's current trial."
Ella's eyes widened. "You know Zeljan Kurst?"
"Not specifically, but I sure do know Scorpia. Anyways, I'm here with Mrs. Jones testifying against him. Got a bit of a complicated history with Scorpia and I'm hoping to finally get some closure."
"How noble of you," commented Ella, "Taking the legal route."
Alex gave her a deadpan look. "And which route are you taking?"
"Starts with a 'v' and ends in 'igilantism,'" Ella smiled.
"Care to elaborate?"
Ella swung her feet back onto the floor and leaned over the table, closing the gap between her and Alex. She cupped her hand around his ear and whispered slowly. "Let's just say that Kurst has enough friends that a guilty verdict could potentially stir the pot. Nobody wants that. My team and I are simply keeping things calm. The authorities can't track down and handle rogue Scorpia cells, but I sure can. I'm just trying to keep everybody happy."
Ella leaned back in her chair and swung her boots back onto the desk. "I mean–my name is Elsje Maas. I'm just home for the summer from Utrecht University where I study linguistics. I work as a waitress to earn some spare money for Uni," she said, switching back to her Dutch accent. "But between you and me," Ella lowered her voice once again, back to her normal accent, "My real job exists within the Dutch underground. And I'm just trying to keep the peace," she winked.
"Wow," Alex low whistled, "So it's your job to make sure things don't go south after the Kurst decision? Who are you even working for?"
"No one except for Lady Justice," Ella winked, "Now c'mon, I want you to meet my team!"
*Got introduced to the Baby Guinness this summer by someone near and dear to my heart and I'm a huge fan.