AN: Lot of line breaks in this chapter *purely* for dramatic effect
There's a fake email in this chapter that looks a little funny due to ffnet character restrictions. Just use your imagination!
Chapter 26: Family First
Autopilot takes over and before I even realize it I'm thanking John Cornell for his time. I cannot fucking believe that I just got that all that on record. I mumble something about getting food with Noa and leave the cabin as fast as humanly possible. I run right into both Uncle and Cousin Johannes a few feet from the door.
"Hey Johannes. Hi Uncle," I greet them.
"You okay, Elsje?" my uncle asks me.
"Yeah, yeah," my brain is frazzled, "Just a weird conversation with my Dad," I admit, coming closer to the truth than I probably should. Both Johanneses exchange a quick glance before my cousin speaks up.
"Want to go for a walk, Elsje?" he asks, "We were just coming over to invite you." I nod my head and blindly follow my family into the woods.
Pretty quickly, we arrive at the same cameraless spot where I had met with Ava and Christopher the afternoon before. I sit down on a tree stump and clench my fists.
"You know, Elsje, we're always here for you. We're your family first, before anything that goes on at any of these silly meetings," my uncle begins the conversation. I nod but stay silent. There is nothing either Johannes can do to save me now. I'm trapped in the middle of the woods and I need to get back to DC immediately before John Cornell can maim my friend slash mission partner slash whatever Alex is to me these days. "Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I say unconvincingly. Cousin Johannes sits next to me while Uncle Johannes looks on thoughtfully.
"We can talk alone if you like," my cousin offers but I shake my head. The things I have to say can only be said to Noa and Oliver, "Or I could go get someone else?"
"Noa and Oliver," I whisper, weirded out that my cousin just read my mind, "Please."
"I'm going to stay here while you get her friends, Son." Once Cousin is gone, Uncle speaks up again. He kneels down in front of my tree stump so we're at eye level. In typical Dutch fashion, Uncle is tall, standing at 6-foot-6. "I was serious about what I said earlier, Elsje," he begins, "We are your family first before any of this Piper stuff. If there was ever anything you needed to talk about, business or personal, my family and I are here for you." And suddenly, it all clicks.
"You know, don't you?" I ask, finally looking him in the eyes.
He nods once, answering the full weight of my question. "Just me–Hana and Johann don't know anything. Your mother told me once, a few years back," he answers my next question for me, "She told me in confidence because she's worried about you. Now, I'm going to ask you again. Is there anything I can do to help you right now? Uncle to niece?"
"Can you give me a ride back to DC?"
"Of course," he smiles, standing up. He offers me his hand and helps me off of the tree stump.
The two of us walk back to the campgrounds to find my mother. She's in the kitchen cabin, preparing a fruit salad for dinner tonight. Ira Yaron and Charlotte Brooke are there too helping with the cooking.
"Hi, Mama," I greet her, my uncle in tow.
"Hey, Elsje," she smiles, "How are you, brother?" she asks Uncle Johannes in Dutch.
"I'm well, Michelle," he replies in their native tongue, "I just wanted to let you know that Elsje and I are driving into the city and we were wondering if we could borrow your car for the afternoon. It's Hana's and my 30th anniversary next month, and I thought Elsje could help me pick out some jewelry for her. I'd take Johann, but my son has no eye for this stuff," he chuckles.
"Oh, yes, Elsje loves her jewelry," My mom nods, continuing to chop up strawberries, "Sounds like a great idea. My keys are next to my bed. Mind the traffic and please be back in time for dinner." I'm not sure where she got the idea that I love jewelry, considering every piece I wear is a gadget, but I digress.
"Yep. See you for dinner. Everything looks great! Don't tell Tante Hana," I call out. My uncle and I leave before she can ask another question.
"Okay," Uncle Johannes says as soon as we exit, "You get your mom's keys and anything else you need. I'm going to tell Hana that we're leaving–I'll be discreet, im yirtzeh Hashem. Meet me at your mom's car in ten minutes, or I'm sending in a search party."
I nod. "Godspeed, Uncle."
I hurry back to my family's cabin, hoping I don't see anyone along the way. I see Ethan Brooke a few yards to my left and thank my lucky stars he's blind. Wait, that came out horribly wrong. I shake my head and continue my jog.
I enter my room without anyone seeing me–there are tons of things to do all day from target practice to swimming in the lake and I imagine everyone is busy. I grab my hiking backpack and pack two changes of clothes, my phone charger, $100 cash, a miniature first aid kit, and my water bottle. I throw on an old American University hoodie over my t-shirt and shorts, make sure I have all of my gadget jewelry on, and exit my bedroom.
My parents' room is on the other side of the cabin, and I walk slowly, careful not to step on any creaky floorboards. My Dad was here under an hour ago and likely still is. I enter my parents' room and go to the left-side nightstand where my Mom said her keys were. I am just able to open the drawer when I hear someone else enter the room.
"Ella, I thought I heard footsteps," my brother James greets me. I whip around, my left hand in her nightstand drawer. This looks…not great.
"Oh, hey James! Yeah, I was just coming back from a walk to grab some…Mom's glasses," I curse myself that this is the first thing I can pull out of the drawer.
"Mom's glasses?" James repeats.
"Yeah," I double down, "I was grabbing a snack in the dining cabin and she asked me to grab her reading glasses. Said she needed them to read Ira's recipes." I smile wide, hoping he believes my story.
He waits a beat to answer. "I can take them if you want. I was planning to grab a snack anyway."
"No!" I exclaim way too quickly. "I mean, no thank you, James. I'm happy to do it."
"You sure?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Yes," I say, walking out of the room and pushing him through the doorway, "Now move, I have to get these to her quickly. I leave the cabin through the front door without the one thing I need.
I jog for about 30 feet before dashing back into the trees. I run back towards the house and sneak around to my parents' window. The cabin isn't air-conditioned, and my mother hates the heat more than anything, so it's thankfully left open. I peek through the window to see James on his phone leaning in the doorway. Fuck me. At the same time, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. I race to silence it.
Uncle Johannes is calling me. I pick up and whisper: "I'm okay. Be there soon." I hang up just to hear footsteps. No, no, no.
"Is someone out there?" I hear my brother call out, approaching the window. The door frame is maybe only ten feet from the window and I do not have time to run away–he would see me immediately. I take a deep breath and press my body to the right side of the window. I grab the only thing near me, my backpack, and hurl it across my body past the left side of the window. James immediately looks to his left towards the noise (thankfully) and I have just enough time to press a button.
"Agh!" James exclaims. I put a hand over his eyes and count backward from 5 as he struggles before he slumps over the window sill.
I sigh with relief. It's unlikely he saw me, and if I know my tranquilizer darts, he will forget the past few minutes anyway.
I remove my hand from his face and kiss my ring. Good old tranq dart ring. Unfortunately, the top half of James' body is still hanging out of the window. Once my hand is gone, nothing is supporting him, and he falls out the window into a heap on the ground. Karma, but this isn't good.
As much as I need to go right this second, I can't just leave James in the dirt. I grab my backpack, take a deep breath, and grab my older brother by the leg. I climb through the window as quietly as I can, dragging him up the side of the cabin. It takes me maybe two minutes to pull him through the window and I'm gasping for breath. Taking a second, I exchange my mom's glasses for her keys and pause in front of the window.
Finally ready to go, I drag my brother's still body across the floor. James is 6'4 and muscular–I'm not able to carry him. I drag him out of the room and into the hallway, praying that no one will hear us as I pull him through the cabin.
Eventually, I get him into his room, lock the door behind me, and use the remainder of my strength to lift him into bed. I tuck him in, put his phone in his hand, and close his eyelids with my fingers.
I'm about to climb out of his window when I realize I almost ruined everything. I pull the tiny dart out of his neck and slip it into my pocket, carefully leaving through the window. I duck into the woods and using a stick, I bury the dart a few yards from the house. I take a deep breath and get the hell out of this place.
Finally, finally, I see Uncle Johannes by my Mom's car. Noa and Oliver are standing a few feet away while my uncle and cousin are having a heated debate in hushed whispers.
"Pa, I just don't understand why you're leaving with her." Cousin Johannes pleads.
"Johann, it's not for you to know right now. Your cousin needs me and that's all that matters. Besides, this is her story to tell, not mine."
"Look who finally deigned to show up," Noa mutters as I walk past her, "What the hell happened, Ella?"
"Uncle, I'm here." I hand him the keys.
He smiles tightly. "Let's go, Ella."
"Papa!" Cousin exclaims, "You're seriously just going to leave right now?"
"Johannes," he hisses back, "I need you to trust me and just be quiet about this."
My cousin looks hurt. "Ella, what's going on?"
I sigh and shake my head. "I can't tell you." I open the passenger door, sit down, and we drive away from a broken-looking Johannes.
"What happened back there, Uncle?" I whisper as soon as the car leaves the campgrounds. I am pretty sure my mom's car is tapped, so I discreetly push down on the ring on my right middle finger. It blocks all recording devices within a 20-foot radius. Better safe than sorry.
"While you were gone I ran into your cousin. He kept asking about you, but I maintained that it was your story to tell, not mine."
"Thanks, Uncle," I reply. We sit in silence for a few more moments, "He looked really hurt."
"Yeah, he did. But he'll get over it, Ella, don't worry."
"I'm going to tell him everything," the words leave my lips before I know what I'm saying, "Once this whole situation all blows over I'm going to come clean to him about my job."
"That's very brave," Uncle remarks, "Johannes is a good kid."
"The best," I smile. I look down at my phone and shoot a quick text to Noa. She can run interference for me.
Me:
talk soon, i promise
Noa Yaron:
stay safe
"So, when do I get to know what your dad said to make this all happen?"
"You don't. I need you to maintain plausible deniability."
"You know, Ella, I've been around for a while. You don't need to protect me." I stay quiet. "I know it's hard to trust people with heavy stuff like this, but I promise I'm on your side."
I want to trust him so badly. He's my Uncle, damnit. But I can't. And I can't tell my cousin Johannes anything either. My dad will find out and he may actually kill me.
"Hey," he says softly, "I didn't mean to freak you out. Here, how about I tell you something first. We can take turns." This sounds a lot like Alex's stupid question game.
"Okay," I say faintly.
"Your parents told me how they met?"
"Yeah," I say automatically, "My mom came to DC for school. She was a sophomore at American where he graduated two years before. You came to visit her and invited my Dad out for drinks with the two of you since you were friends through Piper. He came and they hit it off, and the rest is history."
"Yeah, that sounds about right," My Uncle pauses, "And it was perhaps the worst mistake of my life."
"What?" I am almost too stunned to speak.
"I really shouldn't be telling you this, Ella, but I respect you and want you to trust me. The first year of your parents' relationship was perfect. Your mom was so happy with your dad. Whenever she would call, she sounded great. Then, everything shifted around the beginning of her senior year of college. At that time, I was in Eindhoven with your Aunt Hana and a 4-year-old Johannes, just working up the ranks of the army. Your mom came home for her winter break and I made the trip alone to go see her for two days. I would have stayed longer, but I couldn't get the time off," my Uncle swallows, "Your mom was completely different. The light in her eyes had just…died. We all noticed immediately that something was off. Your grandparents sent me in to talk to her to see what was wrong. We were so close growing up."
"She always talks about that," I smile, "Said you were her rock growing up."
My Uncle smiles, though he looks pained. "I was. And when I got her alone for a moment, she broke down immediately. It was like the floodgates opened. She showed me…" my Uncle trails off, "She showed me bruises. From your dad."
I am frozen in my seat while he continues on, "They were all up and down her arms, and Ella, I was so mad I saw red. If your dad was there, I think I would have killed him right then. We made a plan–I was going to fly back with her after her break to help her move out. She even came down to Eindhoven and stayed with me for a few weeks. The longer she was home, the more normal she became.
"I was able to get a week's leave from the army to fly home with her, which is pretty unheard of since I was nobody then. Looking back, it was probably a bit of nepotism since your grandfather was a Kolonel then. In truth, it probably cost me a promotion at the time, but I didn't care. I only cared about my sister. I helped her move her stuff out of your Dad's apartment while he was at work one day–they were living together at the time. I got her settled in at a friend's place and went back to John's apartment. He was one of my best friends for a time, but I needed to set him straight.
"When your dad got home from work, I did something I am not proud of, Ella. I didn't say anything. I didn't give him a chance to speak. I just walked right up to him and beat him to a pulp. He stood no chance against me. I had been in the army for nearly a decade while your father took the more academic route into spying. You know that jagged scar? The one behind his left ear?" I nod. "That was me. I broke a lamp over his head," he pauses, "When I finally calmed down, I told him that if he ever did that to my sister again I would finish the job."
I finally find my voice. "Why would you not be proud of that?"
"Because I let him live."
"Zol er krenken un gedenken," I reply. Let him suffer and remember.
My Uncle nods. "He left her alone for about a month. I didn't tell the other Piper guys yet. I was waiting until my sister came back to Nederlands so that she was safe before we cut him off completely. I didn't want him to do something rash.
"After a week of staying with Michelle and trying to cheer her up, I had to fly home. Hana was alone with our son and the army needed me back," my Uncle sucks in his breath.
"Uncle, what happened?"
"Two weeks after I got home, your mom called me in anger. She found out what I had done to your father."
"Why would she be mad about that? If Christopher did that for me I would be indebted to him forever."
"Ella, your mom was pregnant," he blurts out. Oh, fuck.
"I…I didn't realize the timeline."
"Yeah. Once she found out, she did a complete 180 and went right back to him. They got married a few months later. James was born that year. I don't think he ever put his hands on her again, but I really can't say for sure." There are tears in my eyes threatening to fall.
"You know how you always came to visit Nederlands every summer and September?" I nod, "Well, I'm the one who always arranged that. I bought the tickets and everything. I couldn't control what was happening in DC, but for two months every year, I could make sure that your mom and you kids had a safe place to be. I never forgave your father, but I've remained civil ever since for her sake." Before I can help myself, the tears are falling and they won't stop.
My uncle pulls the car over and holds me while I cry. We're lucky we haven't reached the Beltway yet. "I'm really sorry, Ella," he murmurs into my hair, "I never wanted to be the one to tell you this."
I break away from his hug. "Who else knows?" I say through tears.
"Just me, your Tante Hana, and your grandparents. I grappled with telling everyone for a long time. You can hate me for not doing anything, but this was the only way I knew I could keep you all in my life. Otherwise, your dad would have completely isolated you and your mother–no Nederlands and no Piper meetings. Hate me all you want, I can live with that. It was the only way I could think to not lose your mom and brother, which I could never have lived with."
I don't hate my Uncle. I only feel two things: a terrible sadness for my mother and a deep, seething, irreparable hate towards my father.
I'm crying harder and my uncle pulls me into another hug. He just lets me cry and cry and cry until there's nothing left.
Once I finally calm down a little, he hands me a tissue. His shoulder is wet and snotty, but he's being a very good sport about it.
"Do you believe me, Ella?"
"Ja, Uncle. Completely. And thank you for never giving up on my mom. Or me," He hugs me.
"Of course, Elsje. I love you."
"I love you too."
He pauses for a moment. "Now, do you have anything to tell me?"
"Yes. But we need to keep driving." He nods and pulls back onto the road. "To be honest, I'm not really sure where to begin. I will say that my dad never hit any of us after that. Blackmail and psychological warfare became more of his MO," I take a deep breath and the words just fall out, "I'm not going to get into my entire fucked up childhood, but in summary, he's been making me go on essentially suicide missions alone since I've been 10 years old. He homeschooled us to be weapons. We studied languages, shooting, martial arts, and more. The biggest mistake I ever made was being the best at these," I sniffle, and the floodgates open again.
My uncle just keeps driving, letting me cry it out. He silently hands me another tissue. "Because he saw potential," I sob, "He held me to the highest standard. He forced me on missions and when I refused he emotionally manipulated or blackmailed me. He did this for years, and I finally started breaking away when he got injured. He got promoted and had less and less time to think about me. I began traveling more and getting away.
"I'm sure you know I went to rehab last year," my uncle nods. I try to steady my voice but to no avail, "Around this time I started getting more and more into drugs and partying. I'm not defending some bad choices I've made, but it was my only escape for a long time. Last fall, I broke my ankle during a mission and required surgery. The reason the pain pills were so appealing after my injury was because this was the first time I was ever allowed to take them. They were the greatest escape I've ever had. My dad always confiscated the prescription, and I guess I went a little overboard.
"When I turned eighteen, I knew I had to get out of that situation. I applied to a ton of schools: Georgetown and American in DC; Oxford and University of East London in England, the Universities of Amsterdam and Rotterdam, Utrecht University, and The Hague University of Applied Sciences in Nederlands; and Tel Aviv University in Israel. Georgetown was my first acceptance, and it took me a week to convince my dad to let me go there instead of American like everyone else in the family. I still would have lived at home, but it was the principle of the whole thing. I actually got into all of my schools, and I chose Oxford not because it's the best, but because it was a chance for me to start over. I know people in or around all of those other schools, but Oxford was something that was just mine, and my dad had no influence there.
"Once I got to Oxford–after much fighting with my dad–I encountered MI6 within 24 hours. That was actually my fault," I say quickly detailing that debacle, "Anyway, when I was taken to MI6, I was given a mission partner. I am so sorry this story is taking forever."
"Nonsense, Elsje, we have nothing but time. I hope this is at least a little cathartic for you."
Now that he says it, I think he's right. Saying each word of my story out loud gives me a little power over those memories. It's not as scary as I thought it would be, and it's getting easier to keep going. I take a deep breath and continue on, "The mission partner was someone almost laughably similar to me. He is also a spy, sent on his first mission at fourteen years old, and has been doing fieldwork ever since. You want to know the craziest part, Uncle?" he raises an eyebrow at me, "His name is Alex Rider. His father and uncle were John and Ian, respectively."
The car swerves slightly, but Uncle Johannes corrects it. "Are you serious?" he asks quietly. I nod. "I haven't thought about that boy in forever. I probably saw him last when he was four or five years old, and I guess from afar at his uncle's funeral several years back."
"Yeah, well he's hardly a boy anymore. He's a month older than me." Uncle whistles, "That's actually who we're going to see," I reveal.
"Explain?"
I quickly detail finding Alex at the Hague, our misadventures to follow, and the weird conversation with my dad. Uncle Johannes stays silent throughout, hanging onto my every word. "I need to warn him before my dad gets home or he gets into trouble. That's why I was acting all weird when I ran into you and Cousin."
"Yeah, this is all starting to make sense now," he considers, "I do have one question though."
"Don't ask me what my plan is," I interject, "It's a work in progress."
"No, Lemele, I want to know how you managed to sneak a boy into my mother's house overnight."
I roll my eyes, "Rot op, we're just friends."
"Going on a secret mission against your dad's wishes doesn't seem like just friendship to me," he shrugs, "But I'm just an old man. What do I know?"
I squint my eyes. "Johannes carried him inside."
"Yeah, and you yourself said that he asked you out and you accepted."
"I was young and dumb back then," I protest.
For the first time this whole car ride, my uncle lets out a hearty laugh. The sound fills up my mom's car, and for the first time in a while, everything starts to feel sort of okay again.
When we're about 10 miles from the city, I finally call Alex. I have no idea if he has his phone or not, but it's the best place to start. The phone rings twice before it gets picked up. "Alex?" I exclaim.
"Hey, this is Alex's phone. Jack speaking. Who is this?"
"Oh! Hi, Jack," my Uncle looks at me, confused. Alex's friend, I mouth, "This is Ella. You may not remember me. I was the girl who Alex went on the Texas mission with," there is silence for a moment, "I passed out in your shower," I say quickly.
What the fuck, my Uncle mouths back. I shake my head. "Yeah, I remember you, Ella. Alex isn't home right now. What's up?"
"Alex is in Washington DC right now. Would you happen to know where he's staying?"
"Even if I did, that feels confidential to me," Jack replies.
"Jack, I know this sounds bad, but I really need your help. I have to find Alex."
"I didn't even realize you two spoke anymore. I haven't heard about you since he got home from Texas," Okay, ouch.
"Jack, I don't mean to be a bitch, but this is serious and time-sensitive. If you don't feel comfortable telling me, could you please give me Mrs. Jones' phone number?"
"Yeah, I'm going to need a little more information."
"Argh!" I exclaim, "Jack, please. I know you don't know me, but I need you to trust me. Please. The mission he's on is a trap, and I'd like to find him before he gets himself killed. I'm in DC now, but I don't even know where to begin. I really, really need her phone number," I make my voice break.
"Yeah, okay," Jack finally concedes. I hear my phone beep with a new text, "Sent."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jack!" I hang up and race over to my messaging app.
"What was that about?" My Uncle asks.
"Just needed to get the phone number for the head of MI6."
"Do you live in a Bond film?" he asks incredulously.
"I wish. James Bond always gets out of things alive."
"Hello, Mrs. Jones?" I say the second I hear the phone call connect.
"Who is this?"
"It's Ella. Ella Cornell."
"Oh! Hi, Ella. It's nice to hear from you, but how did you get this number? Have you reconsidered my offer?"
"I got it from Alex's friend, Jack. I hope you don't mind. Mrs. Jones, I'm going to be honest with you. I did not like the way you tried to recruit me the other day and we are not cool. However, we both have a bigger problem at hand. I just spoke to my father, and it turns out the entire mission is bullshit. He leaked fake information to make you send Alex here to DC. He plans to capture Alex and hurt him in the next few days, but I can't let that happen."
"Ella, that's a pretty serious accusation," Jones replies, her voice remaining level.
"Mrs. Jones," I raise my voice an octave, "I need to find Alex. Where is he?"
"I am going to need a little more evidence before I tell you the whereabouts of one of my agents," Mrs. Jones says obstinately.
"I don't know what you want me to say," I fight back, "It was enough of an ordeal to even get this number from Jack. She's like, insanely protective of Alex but even she believed me."
"Ella, I wasn't born yesterday. Frankly, I thought you were more mature than these childlike antics."
"Listen, I can get this information with or without you. One method involves breaking into the CIA and tracking him myself. While that won't be a problem for me, it may prove to be a problem for you. If I use their software I may accidentally leave some clues that you sent an agent to spy on the US–one of your strongest allies. I can't imagine that it will look too good during your next performance report. The other method is that you give the address of where he's staying. You can even make it a puzzle to maintain plausible deniability or whatever."
"If you leave any information about MI6 at the CIA, I'll tell your father that you've switched sides. I'm sure he'll like to know you're talking to me right now."
"He will never believe you," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady, "I'm his child and he'll always put me above some foreign intelligence officer." That part may be a lie. I'm not sure, but I don't particularly want to find out. Nevertheless, it's what I'm sticking with.
"Then I'll get you expelled from Oxford and banned from Europe."
"Mrs. Jones, I have a Dutch passport. That's EU citizenship, which is something you're not even going to have now that your country is going to hell. I swear half of your country only voted for Brexit because they liked the name. That's right, I do stay informed," my Uncle stifles a laugh, "I don't care if you ban me from the UK. I have other options, unlike you. You can kick me out of the UK, but you won't."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
"Because," I pause, "You want me to work for you so badly. You want Alex and I to work together in the field to keep the UK's best interests alive. His field experience and tactical skills combined with my language skills and connections is MI6's wet dream. You've wanted this for years–back when it was still Blunt, probably. You'll never ban me because that kills any chance of what you really want."
"You'll never work for us."
"Well, if that's what you want," I smile into the phone.
Mrs. Jones sighs. She tries to keep her voice level but I've broken her. I know it, she knows it, and Uncle Johannes certainly knows it. "What I meant is, you'll never agree to workfor us."
"Never say never. Besides, after my Dad and the CIA threatened to hunt down and kill Alex–my friend–I've been feeling pretty disenfranchised recently. I might be willing to teach a few people a lesson," I keep my answer intentionally vague.
"You're lying," she declares.
"Maybe I am. But what if I'm not? That's not really a chance that you can take, is it? Imagine poaching me from the CIA–from my very own father. The rest of the world won't stand a chance against the UK. Alex Rider and Ella Cornell working together under Tulip Jones. I can hear you salivating just at the thought."
"I want insurance," Mrs. Jones replies. Finally, I've got her right where I want her.
"Let's make a trade. You give me the whereabouts of one Alex Rider as well as wiring me $5,000 to a bank account of my choice. In return, I'll keep my mouth shut around the CIA."
"Two notes. One, why do you need money? Two, you need to do something in return for me."
"One," I mock, "I can't say for sure, but I'm pretty sure Alex and I are going to have to go off the grid for a little while. I'm not using a credit card my Dad can see to do that. Two, I can promise that, in exchange for the money and the information, I will go on exactly one mission for you, as long as it's alongside Alex and doesn't interfere with school. Oh, and I won't spy on the CIA, FBI, or my family. Let's say one mission that doesn't involve the United States of America. Do we have a deal?"
Mrs. Jones sighs. "We have a deal."
"Great. Have your people type that up into a pretty little contract and email it to me when you're ready. No surprises or I will call the CIA immediately. Send it to abc467 at Cornell dot edu, and I shouldn't have to tell you to encrypt it. Oh, and I want protection and immunity the second I'm back in the UK," I hang up the phone.
"It appears we need to make a detour," I inform my uncle.
"Where to?"
"Home."
"Do I get to ask my questions now?" Uncle Johannes asks.
"Yeah, okay. Let me preface this by saying I would literally never speak to anyone other than an intelligence agency like that."
"I know, Elsje," he replies. "Now, explain the email first. How did you get an email from Cornell University?"
"Right, so I needed a secret email, you know? Comes in handy quite a bit. No one would ever think to check a random student email from a random university. Besides, the school's name was too good not to use. Anyway, I got my friend Yuri–you don't know him–to hack into their software and have the email listed under faculty so that it won't get deleted after four years like a normal student email. The numbers 467 have some significance to me in the field, while the abc is just to make it look semi-legitimate."
"You're just full of surprises now, aren't you?" I grin at him. "Is all of this really worth going on a mission for MI6? I thought you really hated that life."
I swallow. "Well, there's always more than meets the eye. You see, I actually have a recording of my Dad and I's conversation. I could have given it to her, but if there's one thing I've learned it's to never show your full hand. I made it look like I had nothing but my word and sounded just desperate enough to make her accept my offer."
"Oy vey," Uncle sighs, "Remind me to never challenge you."
"Uncle, I'm just so over this. It's time for me to finally take matters into my own hands. For the first time in my life, it's like I can feel the tides turning. I have some of the power now. I have a couple of cards in my hand. It might sound stupid," I say, "To go through all of this for Alex. My Dad could be bluffing and just trying to mess with me. Who knows how deep this all actually goes. But I…" I trail off.
"You love him." My Uncle states plainly.
I swallow and look at my shoes. "I need him."
I shoot my mom a quick text just to breathe a little more air into this lie.
Me:
just wanted to let you know that we're stopping by the house real quick. want to show Uncle some of my jewelry as examples because he's terrible at visualizing these things haha
Mama:
Sounds good, Elsje. Best of luck with your shopping! ️3
I don't feel bad about lying to my mother. I don't feel bad about lying to most people, honestly. Noa, Oliver, and Christopher are the only ones on that short list.
We drive in silence for maybe 25 more minutes before reaching my family home. We live in Alexandria, Virginia in a beautiful neighborhood called Del Ray. We're about twenty minutes from both Langley (CIA headquarters) and DC itself.
The house is actually fairly normal. There are a few old oak trees in the front yard to offer some privacy and three security cameras at the front door alone, but other than that? Completely average. Sure, the doors are reinforced with steel and there are three escape routes I won't commit to writing, but I digress.
Del Ray, like many of the higher-end DC suburbs, is home to any number of high-ranking government officials. It's great for us because your neighbors don't tend to ask you many questions.
We park in the driveway behind James and Ava's cars. "We have to work quickly," I mumble to my uncle and we both walk inside.
My Dad will definitely get a notification that someone has entered his house and would know immediately if I tried anything like turning our cameras off. This is a very temporary location for us and there's only one thing I need from here.
"Uncle, I'm going to the restroom, then I'm happy to show you my jewelry!" I call out, running ahead to my personal bathroom. Bathrooms are one of the few places that John Cornell didn't put cameras in, and I need to use that to my advantage. Just in case I'm wrong, I act naturally.
I do actually use the toilet, but jiggle the handle as if the flusher won't work. I wash my hands, lift up the lid of the toilet tank, and fish around in there for a second. My fingers finally grasp what they are searching for: the rubber flapper that seals the tank. I reach my index finger into the small hole on its underside and pull out something small and metal out of the rubber. Score. I mess around in the tank for a few more seconds before putting the lid of the tank back on.
I actually let the toilet flush this time, as though I found a miraculous fix. I wash my hands again and leave, slipping my find into my sock as I bend down to pretend to tie my shoe. I take a deep breath because my work here is done.
"Hi, Uncle," I greet him. He's sitting in the only chair in my room. It's a bright red director's chair that matches nothing else in the room but I don't care. I miss that chair. I go to the drawer next to my bed and pull out my jewelry box. "So, were you thinking of earrings, rings, necklaces, or bracelets for Tante Hana?"
My Uncle pauses for a second. 'Make something up,' I mouth in Dutch. He nods.
"Hana would love a necklace, I think," he decides. This is the worst conversation ever.
"Great," I reply, "Well, most of her jewelry is gold, so I definitely think we should stay on theme with that. Tante Hana has blue eyes, so I think we should find something that matches that." I have no idea if that's right or not, but if John Cornell hears a recording of this he wouldn't know the difference. "Anyways, I'll bring a couple of these as examples and then we can go!"
A few minutes later, we're back in the car. "Drive, just fucking drive," I mutter and thankfully Johannes II listens. I'm holding a couple of necklaces and bracelets from my jewelry box and I put them on. They're gadgets, obviously. You should know me well enough by now.
"Where exactly are we going?" My Uncle asks.
"Left," I direct him. A few turns later, we end up at a wine outlet.
"Thirsty?" he teases.
I shake my head. "The real reason we're here is that," I point across the parking lot at a sign for the Potomac Yard Metro Station.
"We're taking the Metro?" he raises an eyebrow.
"I am taking the Metro. You're going into that wine store and buying something for Hana. It can be an $8 bottle for all I care, but that's your story. While you're inside, I'm going to escape from your car–I'm underage here, remember–and run to the Metro station. You're going to drive around until dark pretending to search for me. Then, you're going to call my Mom and go back to Camp David without me," I pause to catch my breath.
"Are you kidding me?" he asks.
"Uncle, I am so fucking serious right now. I have a mission right now and I can't let you get involved. You said it yourself. If my Dad thought you were involved in any of this, he would isolate the entire family from you. I love you, but I need you to maintain plausible deniability. This is something I need to do and I can't say anything else."
His face softens. "Is there anything I can say to change your mind, Elsje?"
I shake my head. "There isn't."
He sighs. "You're as stubborn as your grandmother." It feels good to not be compared to my parents, for once. "Here," he says, "I want you to have this." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flip phone. "It's my burner phone. It works anywhere in the world and has some numbers you may find important. I can't ask you to stay, but please, Elsje, stay safe. You're like a daughter to me and it would kill me if something happened to you."
"I will. Goodbye, Uncle."
"Tot ziens, Elsje." He steps out of the car, walks into the wine store, and doesn't look back.
I take a shaky breath and then another. I hold back a few tears and all of a sudden I feel a shooting pain in my lower abdomen. What the fuck? I swallow my pain and climb out of the car. I am physically unable to run, so I use the covers of the buildings to sneak across the parking lot and over to the Metro station.
I huddle on a bench. There's only a handful of other people there and I pay them no attention. My train thankfully arrives eight minutes later and I curl up on one of the seats.
By the time I reach my stop, the pain has subsided a little and I get off the train. I follow a crowd of people, allowing myself to get lost in it, and board a second train.
My first stop is a small twin home in Glover Park. I pull the key taken from the toilet tank out of my left sock and let myself in. I race to turn off the building's alarms.
When I'm done, I stand back to survey my surroundings. I haven't been here since Christmas and it looks exactly the same, thankfully.
This place is a safe house–one of quite a few I have across the world. I split the rent on this one with Oliver, Fenna, Sem, Yuri, and the Yaron siblings. The purpose of these places is to be a safe, short-term hideaway in case of emergency.
I'm not here for long, but there are a few things I absolutely need to get done. First, I pull out my safe from under one of the beds and grab my laptop. I plug it in and let it charge while I complete the rest of my task list.
Next, I ditch the shorts and American University hoodie for a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a Nationals hoodie and baseball cap. I know I'll come to regret this in the sweltering DC sun, but I'm picking anonymity over comfort today. Last, I exchange my combat boots for a pair of bright red sneakers. They're a little flashy for my taste, but they sell the illusion just a little bit more.
The last thing I need is a bag of essentials. I exchange my backpack for a nondescript black one and run around the house, filling it with various items. I grab a pair of scissors, two boxes of black hair dye, a few pairs of colored contacts, two clear retainers, a handful of cards, and a pair of Sem's clothes. There are definitely a few odds and ends I'm forgetting, but they'll come to me. I know it.
I take an extra pair of contacts and put them in. My bright green eyes are now a dull brown. I shake my head at my reflection.
My computer finally has a charge, so I log on, opening my email right away. Mrs. Jones did actually forward me a contract. Mercifully, it's only a page long, and promises me $5,000, the DC address of one Alexander John Rider, and essentially diplomatic immunity upon returning to England. In exchange, one Ella Marian Cornell (oh hey, that's me!) will work for MI6 Special Operations on one occasion of one Tulip Jones' choice, so long as it does not involve one United States of America.
One Ella Cornell reads over the contract again before signing it and sending it back. I send over my bank's information as well for the money transfer.
Approximately ten seconds later, my phone pings with an address on Massachusetts Avenue. I Google it and it appears to be an apartment complex. I sigh with relief.
I make quick work of putting the laptop away, grabbing a few additional things (including a snack), and then I get the hell out of the safe house. I know that everyone else will have gotten a notification that I've been here, so at least they know I'm safe.
Before I go, I tie my armpit-length hair back into a ponytail. I put on the chunkiest sunglasses I can find and pull the hood over the hat. It's as anonymous as I can get without drawing more attention to myself.
I lock the door behind me and begin the brisk walk to Mass Ave. I feel a little exposed, but the walk is genuinely the same amount of time as the Metro route. Besides, I need to stop by a bank really quickly.
Right outside the bank, I put my hoodie down so I look a little less suspicious. I pop one of the retainers into my mouth to alter my speech and saunter inside. Luckily, there's no one in line ahead of me.
"I'd like to withdraw money, please," I say to the teller. I quickly recite my information.
"Josie Baker?" the teller asks. I nod. Again, every fake account needs a name, and I named my banking persona after Josephine Baker: queer person, dancer, and badass female spy. I hand her one of the cards I took from the safe house. It's a bona fide Josie Baker driver's license from the great state of Virginia. "Great. We just received a wire transfer for you from the Royal and General Bank in London. It seems they also sent a piece of correspondence along with it."
The teller prints out a piece of paper and hands it to me. It's a note of a transfer for $5,467. Who said spies can't have a sense of humor? There's a quick note that reads: "A high school graduation gift for my favorite niece. Love, Auntie T.
"'Auntie T' is a real class act, isn't she?" I gush to the teller, "Now, I would like to withdraw this all please."
"Are you sure, Dear?" the teller asks. She's an older woman with more than a little gray hair peeking through her natural brown. She's shorter than me with piercing blue eyes. "It may be a good idea to keep some of this in the bank. You know, let it earn a little interest."
I put on a fake smile. "Thanks, Ma'am, but my Father doesn't trust banks. Also, there's this car I'm looking at and the seller only takes cash." Why not? As long as one of those sticks…
"Of course," she says and starts counting cash.
I walk out of the bank $5,467 richer. I had stopped at the restroom first to distribute it across my backpack and my person. After that, I walk the last seven minutes to Alex Rider's apartment.
I walk right in and immediately start pressing every button on the intercom system. I'm mumbling words and clicking numbers but no one is letting me in. Bastards.
Wait, I remember, Alex lives on the first floor. I quickly pull up the apartment complex on Google and by some miracle, there is a blueprint of all the units.
I leave the building, run to the back side, and count windows until I find my target. Bingo.
I knock on the window as politely as I can. Almost immediately, a mom holding a toddler opens the curtains. My eyes widen. "WRONG ROOM," I mouth exaggeratedly. She opens the window anyway, just my luck.
"Excuse me?" she asks, balancing her child on her hip.
"Wow, I'm really sorry, Ma'am. I'm here to pick up my cousin to go to the Nationals game today, but he must have overslept. I was going to knock on his window but guessed wrong. My mistake."
She narrows her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yep! Just great," I see the window to the left open and a hand reaches out. I grab onto it and let a pair of strong arms pull me in through the window.