• A well placed kick to the temple? Grab the steering wheel? Open the door and jump? These thoughts and others raced through Alex’s mind as they flew down the streets of London. He desperately wanted to get back to the café. If Tom was hurt, then it was his fault. After all, they had jumped through the window right next to the bomb. Even though the big guy—Butler—had pulled them into the kitchen, the plaster and cement and glass had landed on them. But Alex didn’t attempt escape. He wasn’t willing to risk getting pumped full of holes by the giant’s Sig Sauer. Once was enough to last a lifetime. He would just have to wait it out and hope that an opportunity of escape would present itself. He tried to flex his left hand, and winced. At least two bones were broken. And the boy in the backseat had smiled when he had reacted to pain. Why? Who was that boy? He was younger than Alex it seemed, yet employed this huge man as bodyguard, and was obviously smarter than the average teenager. Just his vocabulary was evidence enough of that. Alex stared out the window, and he suddenly realized where they were: the Kingsway Hall Hotel. So this is where they were staying. They were only about three kilometers from MI6 headquarters. If he could somehow get out of the hotel, he could get to the Royal and General building, tell Mrs. Jones about the bomb, and be safe while the professionals dealt with the problems. That is, if he could get out of the hotel. Getting past the giant bodyguard would be difficult, but not impossible, as Alex had learned from previous experience. Nothing was impossible, just highly improbable. (1) Butler pulled into the line for valet parking and got out; handing the keys to the young man that had run up. Butler then went around to the passenger side, opened the boy’s door, and then let Alex out. Butler didn’t take any chances. He held on tightly to Alex’s wrist, making sure that there was absolutely no way Alex could bolt. They then went into the hotel. Alex, who was extremely reluctant to enter the hotel, dug his heels into he ground and fought the whole way between the car and the entrance of the hotel. He knew that his efforts were pointless, but if he wanted to escape, he had to lower his captor’s guard first. Pulling and resisting weakly might hopefully make Butler think Alex’s capabilities as nothing more than that of a normal teenager’s. Alex was sure he looked awful, with his clothes all dusty and ripped, but nobody gave him a second glance. He was with paying guests, rich ones too. Nobody would look at him. It wasn’t their business if their guests came back with somebody who looked as if he had dove headfirst into a vat of glass and flour. Even in the elevator, Butler did not loosen his grip on Alex’s wrist; despite the fact that there was nowhere Alex could run. The circulation in his arm was pretty much cut off and Alex desperately hoped that his hand would not have to be amputated due to the lack of blood. The trio finally reached the right floor and the doors of the elevator slid open. The room was on the 16th floor. Room 1604. Alex stored the room number in his memory for future use. The suite was immense. There was a living space, two separate bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchenette. It almost looked like a small apartment, although, none like Alex had ever seen before. A large flat-screen television hung on one wall of the living area, opposite a large imitation of a da Vinci. If Alex had to describe the suite in one word, it would be expensive. Butler shut and locked the door behind them. The pale youth who employed Butler immediately went into the nearest bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Alex with the bodyguard. “You might want to go get cleaned up,” began Alex. He knew it was futile and completely pointless, but he could at least try to get Butler to leave, “Wouldn’t want that kid to fire you over something as ridiculous as looking dirty.” “He wouldn’t,” was Butler’s reply. Alex nodded and plopped down on the couch. Sitting down in an enemy’s lair without invitation was something that was out of character for him, but he was so exhausted after everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes that he didn’t care. It was too much work to stay alert. And plus, thought Alex, I don’t think they want me dead at the moment. I’ll have time to escape later. Resting his chin in his palm, he stared out of the window in the general direction of the café. He really needed to get to Tom. He might be hurt. Maybe still unconscious. Despite being reassured by the bodyguard, Alex did not feel any better. For one thing, he didn’t trust his kidnappers at all. Butler sat down on the sofa across from Alex after doing a small sweep of the room. Checking for bugs, Alex figured. Or bombs. Although, Butler didn’t have to worry about bombs here in the hotel room. Whoever threw that bomb wasn’t after Butler or the boy. They were after Alex. He had truly hoped that, after MI6’s threat, they would leave him alone. Instead, they had lulled him into a false sense of security, and then attacked. Alex mentally chastised himself. How could he have left his guard down? He knew better than that. He knew that there would always be someone out there who wanted him dead. And it seemed that this time, it was a few particular someones. Because etched into the metal of the small, disk-like explosive had been a scorpion. Scorpia was back in play. o.0 (1) A quote from “The Princess Bride”. I couldn’t resist : ) —rmiller92

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