Alex Rider: A Billionaires Paradise

Cliché

Alex took a break, rotating the craft into the wind, to reduce drag. He reached behind him to retrieve his water bottle. He took a few mouthfuls, before returning it to the back of the canoe. He took a minute to glance across the loch. About two kilometres away, he could see a group of people on what looked like paddle boards. He continued towards the island. 

As he paddled on in silence, the waves splashing quietly against the side of the canoe, he felt a sudden shudder. It was as if he had beached in the shallows. That's odd. He was over the deepest part of the loch. As soon as he finished that thought, he noticed that a considerable amount of water was spilling into the canoe, sloshing over his feet. He stood up, wobbling. The canoe began to sink, and Alex looked around. He was still about three hundred meters away from the nearest land. What could have caused such damage to the canoe? He was now up to his knees in water. Water was now spilling over the edges of the canoes sides. He dropped his paddle, and grabbed at his bag before the canoe sank. As he slipped into the water, he frowned. The life jacket should have been holding him afloat more than this. But instead it seamed to be absorbing water, pulling him down. He tried to loosen the straps. No luck, they felt held shut by something. He reached out to the paddle, it should float. He clung onto the buoyant object, but he still felt himself sinking. Desperately, he tried to kick towards the island, he was barely making any progress. Despite the paddle, he was sinking. He was now shoulder deep. He felt the water move up his neck, and he began to panic. He was experiencing cold water shock, and he could hardly feel his legs. He tried to fight the panic back. He racked his brain for a solution. Need to get rid of life jacket. Something sharp...paddle. no. do i have a knife? Yes. in my bag. 

Oh crap. There's a knife in my bag.
He reached in, and fiddled around, trying to identify the penknife. The water was passing his mouth. He strained his head above the water, emptying his  lungs quickly, and taking a huge gulp of air. Why does everyone try to drown me? 
_________________________________________

Blair glanced at the screen. Alex was clinging to the paddle, with a bag in his hand. 

"Make sure that you collect the paddle."

Blair got up and left. He had to make a call.
He walked to his office, a few doors down the corridor. He closed and locked the door. No-one was allowed to hear this. 

"He's dead."
"Do you have evidence."
"He's attached to ten kilograms of weights, over a fifty meter deep area of freezing cold water. He's not got a chance."
"Until you can give us definitive proof, you shall not be payed."
"It's not the money i'm worried about. I just want to avoid a lawsuit."
"That's not our concern. Goodbye Mr. Anderson."
"Goodbye. I look forward to business with you."

The snake-head's were like an addiction. He had first been contacted by them nearly five years before. Once he had seen the success that they brought, he had been drawn in, becoming one of the richest people one earth. Of course, his main businesses made a lot. The problem, was that once you know about the snake-heads, you cannot leave them, if you wish to remain living. He had been slowly doing less and less deals. It was really unfortunate that Alex had come now. If he had come by in a few years later, he might have been clean. Anyway, he was dead now. 
_________________________________________

Alex was underwater. He blinked rapidly so that he cold see. He felt the paddle slip from his grasp. He had his hand on the knife now. He took it out of the bag, and, using his left hand, flicked the blade out. He cut the two straps on his right, and then switched sides. He fumbled, his numb fingers struggling for strength. He cut through one, and . He cut the left shoulder strap, cutting his shoulder through his shirt. He was too numb to feel it. The jacket, only supported by the one strap, slid off, and Alex began to rise again. His lungs strained, desperate for some air. He kicked hard, and he was rewarded with upward movement. He could see the surface in between the blinks. He burst out of the water, and took the most refreshing breath of air. He looked around. He was about 150 meters away from the shore. There must have been a strong current under the water for him to have moved that much. He estimated that he was underwater for about two and a half minutes. Dragging his bag, he began the short swim to the shore. He made sure to stay under the water for as long as possible. As he swam, he realized how desensitized to life threatening situations he had become. If someone didn't try to kill him, then he would find a way of nearly getting himself killed. And Blair had just tried to drown him. There were no doubts now, this guy wanted him dead. 

As he dragged himself into the tree line, he took a minute to appreciate the creativeness of his near murder. A self sinking canoe, and a life jacket that isn't naturally buoyant? Pretty creative. But still such a cliché. Alex wasn't a stranger to drowning. In fact, he could list the number of people who had tried to drown him. The Grimaldi twins, Nikolei Drevin, Scorpia (When he invaded their HQ in venice). He had almost drowned in Africa, when he had blown up a dam. Plainly he wasn't very good at it.

As he twisted his clothes dry, he considered his next move. They might have  seen him escape, or they could think he was dead. Either way, they didn't know where he would go. Should he try his  luck with the warehouses? After all, he had the proof he was looking for, they'd just tried to kill him. Should he just call it quits, and leave with his life? Smithers would probably have seen what had happened. He put his damp, cold shirt back on, and then looked in his bag. What did he still have with him. He rummaged through his soggy backpack, and spread all of the things on a nearby log. From left to right, he had
• A lighter
•A damp half eaten cereal bar
•A water bottle
•Some soaked paper
•A small towel, also soaked
•A can of deoderant
•A bottle of spray on sun-cream
•A shoe lace
•£3.42 in change.

What was useful. Not the paper. Not the
Cereal bar. Probably not the sun-cream. He stuffed the change into his back pocket, and he took the knife without hesitation. The lighter and the deoderant could be fun. The shoelace could be useful. Everything else was either useless or ruined by the water. He kicked some leaves over the remaining items.

He walked away from the loch. If he was where he thought he was.