Alex Rider: White Tiger

                                       ________1________

                                            Unbreakable

    There were no windows in the tiny room hidden deep in the jungle. A single bare bulb swung from side to side, giving off a dim light. In this light there was a single man, tied to a rusty metal chair. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth and his face was battered and bruised. There was a door in front of him, though he knew it was locked. He still tried to shuffle toward it, gathering his muscles and jerking forward.

He was halfway there when the door opened, permitting a heavy-set man in a military uniform to enter. He had jet-black hair and a crooked jaw. His nose had obviously been broken one or more times. A thin scar snaked down his temple, starting at his hairline and ending at his jaw. His face was blank and showed no emotion at all. No one would guess he had a wife and two children.

The prisoner, for that was what he was, looked up and smiled. "Come to try to suck information from me again, Colonel?" he asked. The colonel ignored the question and looked down at the prisoner. His eyes were two pinpoints of hatred, though he didn't allow the emotion to show on his face.

"You've kept me here for three weeks. You've beaten and electrocuted me again and again. But surely by now you should know I would rather die than betray my country," the prisoner taunted, raising his head proudly. The colonel struck out viciously, slapping the man across the face. The man winced and recoiled, his cheek smarting.

"Then die you shall."

The colonel cut the ropes and shoved the prisoner to his feet. He stuck a pistol into the small of his back. "Walk," he commanded, opening the door to reveal a small hallway, roots and vines peeking from between cracks in the wall. The prisoner, whose name was John Pelup, obediently started to walk, strangely calm. He knew what he had to do and didn't regret it. It's not like anyone's going to miss me, he thought.

About halfway down the halfway he lashed out with his foot, kicking the colonel in the leg. He started to run, pumping his legs, willing himself to go faster. He had thought that the kick would disable the colonel for a few precious seconds, but he had been wrong.

There was a loud Bang! and Pelup keeled forward, a look of total shock on his face. He landed face-first on the concrete with a soft thud and lay still. Blood flowed from a small, neat hole in his back. He had been shot.

John Pelup was dead.

Colonel William McClain poked the dead man with his foot, shaking his head. "Shame," he said to himself. "I could have used him." He walked down the hallway, speaking into a walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. "I need a disposal team in the prisoner's keep." McClain came to a door and opened it, entering into a spacious, modern room. A woman sat in a velvet armchair, a cat purring in her arms. It was ironic. This woman looked very much evil, and indeed she was.

The colonel bowed his head as the woman stroked the cat. "John Pelup is dead," he murmured. "He tried to run and I shot him in the back." He stood there, tensed and frightened. He knew this woman could snap her fingers and he would die. She looked up at him, staring at him with intense blue eyes, her long blonde hair spilling onto her shoulders.

"I was going to kill him, anyway," she answered. "He wasn't going to break and wouldn't tell us anything. But don't worry. Project White Tiger will go on as planned. We will get the information from somewhere else."

A smile played on her lips as McClain nodded and backed out the door. She ran her finger along the cat's spine. "Nothing can go wrong now," she whispered. "Nothing."