2 Works in Frederick Grey
When Alex announces his decision to work for MI6 only part-time, he doesn't actually expect them to hold up to their promise. Doesn't expect them to play fair. Doesn't expect them to not cheat at the very game they'd both set stakes in. They own most of him, though he can try to deny it all he wants. There's not left, except, perhaps, his morals and those too were going to be gone sooner or later. They'd erase them like they'd erased the rest of him. One way or another.
What he doesn't expect is for them to get the child of a terrorist to work with him. Cold and violent, she's murdered enough people to warrant a spot on Interpol, and she isn't exactly pleasant company either. On a good day, she might say five words to him. On a bad day, she'll say none, and someone will die.
But it's for his own benefit, MI6 tells him. Bad enough that there's one of her in the world, without there being dozens of others. Calm and a little too comfortable with murder, the one thing they all share in common is having his blood over their hands. He can only hide for so long. Soon, he'll have to face them head-on and be ready to fight, and when the time comes, he'll no longer be able to say he doesn't have any blood on his hands.
“Number Twenty-six, you’re late for dinner”
Alex rider looked around, confused.
Why was he back here at Nightshade? The last he remembered was getting hit by a car outside of Brooklands. Was he still unconscious?
An unconscious Alex finds himself remembering 6 different circumstances that he had eaten food with someone.