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Thlipsis	By : AislingSiobhan Category: A through F > Alex Rider Series Views: 3074 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex, or any of the affiliated characters, events, etc. I make no money from this so please dont sue. And credit to where credit is due: Mr A Horz!

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Ok, so because it’s really long I’m splitting it into
4 different parts. Enjoy!

Words: 4,068

Chapter 2/4

March 31st 2001.

It was 2am. It was Alex’s last day in Port Tallon.

It would also be the first day since Felix Lester arrived that he
would be completely alone. For some reason, probably due to their
close ages, the other boy had demanded that Alex be the one to guide
him around Sayle Enterprises. Once Herod Sayle had agreed, what was
there for Alex to do about it? He couldn’t very well just
abandon the boy as he played the Stormbreaker. What if he got bored
and went exploring?

Undoubtedly, Sayle would blame Alex. They hated each other. No,
that was a lie. Sayle hated him, and Alex was merely disgusted by the
older man. There was a difference.

The last 40 containers of the virus were coming in. Once these
last few had been safely transported to the biochemical lab Alex’s
assignment would be complete.

It was a shame that MI6 had not moved on Sayle Enterprises.2 All
of those children would die, but Alex wouldn’t be one of them.
Yassen would be thankful for that at least. There were no computer
games on Malagosto. If Alex had wanted to play ‘Halo’ or
‘Call of Duty’ as a child, he had been sent out with a
team of training assassins and a real gun. He had been shot once, and
it had hurt like hell, but it had been a good learning experience.

Alex’s lips twitched into a smile at the memory.

The guards, all dressed in black, stood silently in a straight
line behind him. Their convoy of trucks rumbled softly in the dark,
the noise drowning out the lapping of the water on the shore. Alex
took a few steps forward, the tops of his shoes barely getting wet.
Nadia Vole made her way down to the end of the jetty, where a man was
climbing out of the Chinese Hans Class 404 SSN that had just
surfaced. Alex watched wistfully as the other man stretched, wishing
that it had been Yassen who was sent to join him for their final day.

Alex made his way back up the incline from the sea to where the
other men waited. Once he had reached the front of the queue, Ernesto
Alvisio handed him the first metal container, and Alex turned to hand
it to the person behind him. They continued for an hour, passing
container after container down along the line of human hands and into
the waiting trucks.

“How is Yassen?” Alex asked as they made their way
back up the jetty.

Ernesto shrugged. “He is well, I suppose. The bullet wound
is healing nicely, but Mr. D’Arc thinks it would be best for
him to remain at home for the next month or two.”

Alex gave a soft smile. “I suppose you’ll be taking on
his assignments then?”

“Oliver did mention that, yes,” he said softly,
blushing. Oliver D’Arc was the head principal of the assassin
training school on Malagosto. Consequentially he had been the one to
clear Alex for full duty when the boy was thirteen years old. Ernesto
Alvisio, however, was twenty-four and while having been recruited
almost a year ago he was only being sent on his first mission now

“Good luck with that. You’ll need a partner for some
of the things they send Yassen and me into.” They walked
alongside the trucks, looking inside and checking the containers. He
gave the signal, waving his hand twice, and the guards picked up
their guns and climbed back into their respective trucks.

“I was under the impression that taking on Mr. Gregorovich’s
assignments meant I would be adopting his partner for the time being
too?” It was said in a teasing manner, his voice lightly
accented by his native Italian, but Alex didn’t like the gleam
in the man’s hazel eyes.

“I’d much prefer to stay home and kiss Yassen better.
Thanks though.” Alex ignored the look the elder man gave him,
and added flippantly, “and anyway, I don’t deal well with
other partners. Tried that once. He died."

Ernesto followed silently as Alex led them to the last truck. The
others had already begun to drive away. Their driver was waiting by
the door, frowning. “Boss,” he whispered, “there’s
something you might want to see.”

Alex frowned. Without a word he followed his driver around to the
back of the truck and lifted up the tarp that covered its cargo area.
Crouching in the corner was Felix Lester and he stared up at Alex
with wide, terrified brown eyes. He was pale faced and crying, and
Alex was completely unmoved by the sight. Yassen chose not to kill
children in cold blood; Alex had no such concern.

No matter how old a person was, once you put a bullet in them they
were just one more dead body. Alex had seen plenty of those. They no
longer bothered him, and he didn’t sleep long enough to have
nightmares anyway.

He pointed the gun at Lester’s face, his expression blank.
He had to clench his bottom jaw to stop his hand from shaking. While
he had no problem killing, it was part of his job after all, he
really didn’t see the need to excessively waste life. But the
boy had seen too much. Scorpia would not be pleased with Alex if the
boy were allowed to continue living. Alex’s eyes narrowed and
he swallowed. He would not take the blame for some child’s
nosiness.

“I will say I am sorry if that would make you feel better?”
Felix just shook his head, crying harder. His mouth moved, probably
to beg for mercy, but the words weren’t coming out, and Alex
didn’t really want to hear them anyway. Begging made death that
much more undignified. Alex was determined to die with dignity, so he
didn’t see why everyone else simply threw theirs away.

He pulled the trigger. Half of Felix’s head blew off. Blood
splashed across the inside of the truck and onto Alex’s face.
Rider wiped at his eyes and licked his lips, then tucked his gun
away.

“Leave the body out on the beach.” When Lester didn’t
return home tomorrow, someone would report him missing.

Alex climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and slid towards
the middle. The passenger seat was wide enough for two men, so
Ernesto sat beside him. When their driver returned from dumping the
body he started the car in silence, shooting Alex wary but half-awed
glances, and drove them back to Sayle Enterprises.

XXX

April 1st 2001.

Today was the day the Stormbreakers were due to be unveiled at the
Science Museum. The Prime Minister himself would be the one to bring
the computers online and kill every school child in the country.

Alex flicked through the TV channels before he settled on the
news.

The Channel 4 crew were there, their cameras framing Herod’s
face as he was dragged from the Museum by three armed police
officers. MI6 agents stood around the room, strategically placed to
minimise any harm that Sayle might have caused to civilians once he
realised his plans were ruined, and very careful to keep out of range
of the cameras. Sayle had shot the Prime Minister, before trying to
activate the computers himself, but Ian Rider of all people had shot
him in the hand.

Alex felt his blood boil as he watched the man standing beside
Mrs. Jones. Those two people had killed his father, and the anger
that still lived inside of him was overwhelming when he thought about
the two MI6 employees.

Alex changed the channel. He couldn’t bear to look at Jones
or Ian any longer.

He left it on some cartoon, one he was not familiar with, and he
reached for the scrambled mobile phone that lay on the bed beside
him. He dialled in the number from memory, and then Alex pressed the
call button.

It rang a few times before someone answered it. For just a moment
there was only the sound of someone breathing, and then, “Alex?”

“Hey Yassen.” Alex smiled, flopping back onto the
mattress once he heard his lover’s voice. “I’ve
missed you.”

“As I have also.” There was something off about the
Russian’s voice, but Alex couldn’t place the emotion.
“When are you returning?” There was a hint of longing in
his voice now. Alex smiled at the ceiling.

The other bed in the room was empty and the shower was running,
but Alex didn’t have to worry about keeping anything secret at
the moment anyway. It didn’t matter if Alex’s roommate
could hear what they were speaking about. “Ernesto and I are
waiting until Mrs. Rothman sends someone for us. We have to be
debriefed before returning to Malagosto, and since the mission failed
we’re following policy and hiding out for a few days. It
shouldn’t be much longer, ìîÿ ëþáîâü
.3 (my beloved) God, I can’t wait to be home.”

“You should wait a few days, ìàëåíüêèé
àíãåë,”4 (little angel) Yassen
whispered down the phone. Anyone who knew Yassen as well as Alex did,
knew that there was something very wrong with the man. “Perhaps
you will be safer where you are?”

Alex pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at it
intently, as if the look would somehow be magically transported to
Italy and to Yassen. “I don’t understand,” he said
simply.

There was a sigh, and Alex pressed the phone tightly against his
ear, waiting. “They know.”

Alex didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. MI6. It
was the worst thing that could have happened and at the worst
possible time. He was still in England and there wasn’t much
chance of him escaping the country while they were looking for him.
Yassen was right; it wasn’t safe to go home yet. No airport in
the country would be safe for him, and short of swimming the English
Channel, Alex was stuck in the country until Scorpia sent a handler
to retrieve him.

“I see.” What else could Alex say? He was sorry? “That
sucks.”

Yassen snorted. “It does, doesn’t it? I will have to
miss you longer I suppose.”

“And here I was, looking forward to kissing you better.”
Alex whispered, teasing. The shower stopped running, but he ignored
it. Alex ignored Ernesto as he walked into the room in just a towel,
dripping wet. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

“Where?” The Russian played along.

Alex chuckled; knowing without needing to see it that Yassen’s
hand was down his trousers. In breathy whispers Alex described
exactly what he planned on doing to the older man the second he was
home. Alex brushed off the glares Ernesto sent him, and the jealous
gazes, and he didn’t notice the eyes fixing on his groin as his
own hand slipped into his trousers, lost as he was in the sound of
Yassen’s panting.

When he hung up the phone, Alex easily slipped into sleep.

XXX

April 3rd 2001.

Yassen was supposed to be resting, but he didn’t feel tired.
He had never slept much anyway, even as a child. After his parents’
deaths he had been too afraid to sleep, the streets of Moscow were
not the safest place to let your guard down. Joining Scorpia had
probably saved his life. Like all jobs it took up a lot of Yassen’s
time and like his last job most of it was done at night. Night-time
was valuable, he had quickly learnt, and most of his money was made
during the dark hours. He didn’t have time to waste on sleep.

Dr. Voitekh Emiliya was a good man with a very strong Bulgarian
accent, a kind disposition and an unmemorable face. There was only
one thing Yassen didn’t like about being in the man’s
care (aside from the fact that he was injured), and that was his
pronounced need to force Yassen to sleep. The need extended so far as
to actually drugging the assassin with sedatives
if Yassen suggested leaving the medical ward.

Dr. Emiliya was busy tending to a couple of Scorpia’s
explosives technicians. He didn't notice Yassen slipping from the
room.

The Russian made his way through the familiar corridors of his
home. He had houses, scattered throughout the world; some his enemies
didn’t know about, some his employers didn’t know about,
and one or two that no one knew about, not even Alex. Yassen didn’t
stay in those houses often. He only visited occasionally when he
happened to be in the area on business, just to make sure the people
he paid to look after his homes were doing their job. Ever since he
had first met John, he had always considered Malagosto to be his
home. John Rider had made the island become somewhere Yassen had
wanted to be, rather than needed to be. Whenever they were away from
the island and he was with John he hadn’t missed it, but if
they were ever separated it was Yassen’s biggest desire to
return home. With Alex, he felt the same.
Apparently home really was where the heart was.

Malagosto was made up of a firing range and 6 buildings,
surrounded by concrete courtyards and overgrown forests. It had been
Scorpia’s base since its founding in the 1980s. Each of the
buildings was separate from the others, each had its own function,
and Yassen found that this building was his favourite place outside
of Block 12.

Block 12, as it was called, was actually the 3rd building built on
the island. It was where the instructors trained future assassins,
spies, and terrorists. The gym was first class and Yassen had enjoyed
working out there over the years. He had especially enjoyed sparring,
when Alex had been younger and easier to pin beneath him. However, it
was just as fun to wrestle with Alex now as it had been then. Yassen
mostly won.

Block R was where the inhabitants on the island slept. It was the
biggest building by far and the only one that Scorpia had expanded,
contracting outside builders and surveyors who, once their job had
been completed, had been shot one after the other and dumped into the
Venetian sea. Yassen and Alex shared the same rooms. Theirs were the
same as everyone else’s. A bedroom with two twin beds, which
the couple had pushed together once their relationship had changed;
twin bedside lockers and wardrobes; a small television sitting on a
chest of drawers. There was a small en-suite, with just a toilet and
a sink in it, branching off from the bedroom. Yassen had fitted his
own desk against the wall beside the bathroom door. Unlike Alex, he
could not plan his missions while lying face down on the bed. It was
uncouth.

There were several communal showering areas spread throughout the
levels of Block R, but at least the toilets were private. All the
bedrooms were shared between partners, though Yassen knew for a fact
that Mr. Alvisio had put in a request to room with Alex.

Thinking about Ernesto made Yassen’s lips curl. If it had
been safe for Alex to risk taking a public flight out of England,
Yassen would have told him to come as soon as possible. He did not
like the idea of Alex being left alone with Ernesto; he had told Mrs.
Rothman as such. She had accused him of simply being jealous,
brushing off his concerns easily. In irritation Yassen had accused
her of the same, back when he and John had been indivisible and Julia
had been the one desperate to separate the two.

He was about to open the door to his room when something made him
pause. Something wasn’t right. Ear pressed against the thin
door, Yassen listened as someone moved about inside the room. There
were two people in the room. As one of them spoke, Yassen breathed
out a sigh of relief. It was only Mrs. Rothman. She was probably
waiting to speak to him, he thought. He was about to push open the
door, pleased to know it wasn’t anyone snooping through his
room, but then Nile spoke.

“What are we going to do with Rider?” he asked, his
voice smooth and cultured.

Yassen paused, considering his options. He didn’t believe in
eavesdropping because usually one only heard half of the story, but
in this instance he would forgive his lack of caution. It was likely
to be his only chance of knowing what Scorpia planned to do about
Ian. Yassen decided to wait outside. After all, gathering
intelligence was a part of what Scorpia had trained him to do.

“We’ll have to kill him.” Mrs. Rothman answered,
her voice light and bubbly. Like the champagne she was probably
drinking. “He’s too much of a liability now that the
truth is known.”

“You’ve always known the truth,” Nile pointed
out slowly.

“Yes, but no one else did who mattered. They know he is
alive! What if they tell him, what if they tell Yassen?”

The Russian startled at the mention of his name. His hand that had
been flat against the wall beside the doorframe clenched into a fist
and then his fingers straightened out again. He took a deep breath,
let it out and waited silently, patiently.

“They won’t have a chance. We’ll kill him
first,” Nile promised.

“We will. You will.” Julia sighed, and then giggled
lightly. “Oh, I have the perfect idea. I’ll have to give
the boy a ring and let him know. Perhaps he will kill him?” she
mused aloud, smiling widely.

Yassen frowned, his eyebrows creasing together. He was annoyed; he
would admit that much. They planned to kill Ian and leave him out of
it. But they had also said ‘the boy’. There was only one
boy in Scorpia, and that was Alex. If they were allowing Alex to kill
Ian then Yassen could not be too angry. Alex deserved to cause the
traitor’s death. John had been Alex’s father, after all,
and Ian was his uncle. Perhaps it would be best to resolve the issue
within the family?

“If they don’t kill him first, Nile, make sure you do.
Rider isn’t going to be a problem much longer.”

Yassen smiled, briefly, imagining blood on Ian’s chest as
the man lay dying. It was something he had dreamed of for a long
time, and knowing that his death was so close made Yassen’s
heart start beating faster in excitement.

“Poor Gregorovich,” Nile said, chuckling, “he’ll
need a new partner.”

“Again.” Julia laughed as well.

With a sickening jolt, Yassen realised they weren’t talking
about Ian. They were talking about Alex! And for a second it was like
his heart had stopped beating.

XXX

April 4th 2001.

When Yassen had decided to fly his private Colibri EC120B
helicopter to England, the last thing he had expected was to be shot
out of the sky and captured. MI6 were apparently so desperate to
capture him that they had let the Army fire upon the helicopter,
bringing it crashing down over a private airfield.

The helicopter was a write-off, but Yassen had managed to survive
the crash uninjured.

“Hello Mr. Gregorovich,” the head of the Covert Action
branch of the SIS greeted him coldly. “How nice to meet you
face to face.”

Yassen stared at him silently with cold, blue eyes. He was secured
to the chair, the cable ties around his legs, arms, wrists, ankles
and waist digging painfully into him. Ian Rider stood behind him with
a gun pressed to the nape of his neck. Mrs. Jones smiled at him,
sucking on a peppermint as she picked up the phone.

“Here you go Alan,” she said kindly, handing the
telephone over.

He took it and dialled the number Jones had used to arranged the
exchange on Albert Bridge with Scorpia. He waited out the ringing.

“They won’t fall for it. Not again,” Yassen told
them emotionlessly. As long as they stayed away from Alex, he didn’t
care what they did to him.

“I’ll take your advice into consideration- oh, hello!”
Alan trailed off, as someone answered the phone on the other end.
“This is Alan Blunt. Ah, of course you know who I am. But whom
might I be speaking to? Ah, Julia! A pleasure as always, I’m
sure. How have you been?”

He spoke to her as if they were old friends. Yassen frowned, but
otherwise showed no outward reaction. Mentally, though, he wondered
if this was how Mr. Blunt treated everyone, enemies and friends
alike. Then he wondered if Mr. Blunt even had any friends. He didn’t
seem the type.

“What can you do for me? Well, I’d say it was more a
matter of what I can do for you— no, no, hear me out.” He
chuckled; Julia must have said something scathing. “I have in
my possession Yassen Gregorovich. Speak to Mrs. Rothman, Yassen, she
doesn’t quite believe me.”

“I apologise,” the assassin said softly, clenching his
fingers, “for causing a nuisance, madam. Please don’t go
to any trouble on my account.”

“Now, we are willing to trade Mr. Gregorovich for Alex
Rider. Oh, don’t deny you have him; we know very well that you
do. We also know that Alex has ceased to be useful to you. We will
take him back. No questions asked about his training, zero
repercussions for his kidnapping and a carte blanche promise from us
to you that Alex will never be used against your organisation. You
relieve yourself of a liability and in return you will receive back
your best assassin. The world’s best
assassin! It is a good deal, don’t you agree?”

Alan cupped his chin, resting his elbow on top of his desk, and
began drumming his fingers against the flesh of his cheek.

The room was silent for some time. Yassen didn’t want
Scorpia to hand Alex over. But he had realised that Alex would
actually be safer here than with Julia Rothman. Julia… who had
once been so fond of Alex, and who was now planning to kill Alex. The
same Julia whom he had trusted with the safety of the son of a man
she had once loved, a man they had both loved.

“Really?” Alan said, his voice raising just a pinch,
expressing his surprise. He had expected to work harder for Alex, but
Mrs. Rothman was all but throwing the boy at him. “Yes, the day
after tomorrow will be fine. Perhaps I should let Alex know, do you
have a contact- ah. No, no, right, you inform Alex. We’ll bring
Yassen.”

He turned and nodded at Mrs. Jones, who smiled widely back at him.
“It was nice doing business with you.”

When the phone was placed back in its cradle the head and the hand
of MI6 frowned at each other.

“That was too easy,” Mrs. Jones said.

“They’ll try to trick us.” Alan clenched his
teeth.

Ian chuckled softly. “They’ll send Alex tomorrow to
look around or attempt a kidnapping. They’ll try to take
Gregorovich before the handover date. Even if they don’t order
it, Alex will come anyway.” He sounded so sure of himself, so
calm and patient and convinced, and Yassen felt a
snarl rising within his throat.

“How would you know?” he hissed, the first outright
show of emotion he had exhibited since he had been captured.

“It’s what John would have done.”

Ian and Yassen stared at each other; Yassen’s head bent back
at an awkward angle to meet the spy’s eyes. At the sound of his
dead friend’s name Yassen flinched away. Ian looked just as
uncomfortable, but at least he knew the truth. Yassen simply thought
he was trapped in a room with everyone responsible for John Rider’s
murder.

And they would never tell him the truth. What if he blamed Alex,
the son of a man who had betrayed him? What if he tried to hurt Alex?

MI6 never wanted Yassen to know.

Scorpia wanted to hide the truth from Alex.

But hardly anyone gets what they want. The world just didn’t
work like that.

XXX

2 – A few people were confused about this, but it is
mentioned earlier in the story by Mr. Blunt. Ian didn’t get a
sample of the virus… The PM refused to act without a sample.

3 – ìîÿ ëþáîâü
is Russian for “my beloved”. Let’s assume Alex
learnt Russian!

4 – ìàëåíüêèé
àíãåë or Mladshaya anhel is Russian
for “little angel” apparently, because I couldn’t
find the word “one” without the Cyrillic writing!

* * *

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