Becoming Agent Rider

Family Business

Wind whistled past Alex, numbing his skin, as he strained his muscles to hold onto the van while memorizing the route they were taking. He should have grabbed his jacket. The frosty air chilled him to the bone and made his eyes water. Shivering, Alex hoped he wouldn't catch a cold. He could almost hear Jack and Ian scolding him for not taking better care of himself.

How much time had passed? Five minutes? Ten? He wasn't sure he could hold on much longer. Every bump in the road threatened to dislodge him. His arms and legs burned with the effort of staying on the thin ledge while crouching low enough to not be seen through the back window. His dress shoes weren't helping him stay on either. And with the letter opener he had shoved into his shoe earlier, the sole of his foot was sure to have a bruise too. But if he gave in and fell now, at this speed, he would be as good as dead. Or, if he was lucky, severely bruised and cut up with a few broken bones. He couldn't afford either of those. Not with John and the girls' lives on the line. Gritting his teeth, Alex renewed his efforts to hang on and carefully adjusted his position. At least there were very few vehicles on the road at this time of night.

Muscles screaming in protest, the van finally stopped just as Alex feared his grip would fail. He checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes. They were in the docks in Canning Town, on London's East End. Interesting location, he thought as he silently got off the van, careful to remain crouched and out of view. He was lucky that he was positioned in such a way that the moonlight didn't cast a shadow to give away his presence. From Treat's politics lessons, he remembered that the Labour Party, and Baster by extension, had the majority vote in this area. It was also one of the Hunt Syndicate's territories - the founding location - if he recalled MI6's files correctly. A convenient place for smuggling and trafficking operations. That couldn't be a coincidence.

The driver cut the engine, doors opening and slamming shut a second later. Heavy footsteps approached on both sides and Alex flattened his back against the rear doors of the van. There was nowhere to hide. So, straining his ears, he listened for the pair of footsteps that would reach him first.

Turning towards his right, Alex popped up and grabbed the nearest kidnapper by the shoulders, pulling the man off balance, towards himself. Then, he continued pulling as he turned his body, pushing at the last second, so that the man was sent crashing into the two men on Alex's left. His foot connected with the temple of the remaining gang member on his right at the same time. The man dropped like a brick but Alex wasted no time in celebrating that fact. Instinctively, he dodged a punch but tightened his stomach muscles to lessen the damage as he deliberately let the next hit fall there. Still, he doubled over. Partially from the impact, partially to keep up an act. Before he could straighten up, Alex felt his arm being twisted behind him, forcing him down. He winced as his knees hit the hard concrete. There would definitely be bruises there. Defiantly, Alex raised his head to glare at the man in front of him, only to find a gun pointed in between his eyes. He swallowed thickly.

"You!" the gunman exclaimed. After a pause where he looked at his unconscious accomplice, he snarled, "That's my brother! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now!"