The Bard of the Bodleian (an Alex Rider fanfiction)

Chapter 7: Smoke Without Fire

Disclaimer: all characters and references to Alex Rider, Mission Impossible, James Bond, Narnia, Marvel and any William Shakespeare play are not our own (we're just big nerds).

Alex heard the museum attendant mutter a selection of curse words under her breath, before raising her voice so it carried over the general commotion caused by the fire alarm.

"Would everyone find their nearest fire exit and vacate the building in a calm and orderly fashion."

This must be their plan. Cause a distraction so everyone has to leave, giving them the opportunity to take the book. Alex turned to continue his hunt, but found his path blocked by the attendant.

"The fire exit is that way," she glared at him. Alex didn't know what to do, he had no idea where the book or the three thieves were, and also more importantly where Tom was. If anything happened to Tom... well that wasn't even worth considering.

He was saved by a shout, that seemed to carry over the panic of voices as people made their way to the doors.

"I can see smoke!" They were right; there was certainly smoke coming from the far end of the room. There was a sudden rush as people swarmed towards the exits and Alex took the opportunity to slip away from the attendant and disappear into the crowd.

***

Tom looked up into the sneering face of Caliban as the man roughly pulled him to his feet. So...maybe his spy skills needed a little practice. He took in the goggles over Caliban's eyes and put two and two together. They must be infra-red; Tom knew his heat signature would've stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the empty room they were in. Caliban let go of his rucksack and before Tom could react he was slammed against the wall, Caliban's hand around his throat. The guy was angry, that much was obvious.

As the man's grip began to tighten, Tom squirmed, working on subtly slipping his rucksack off one shoulder. It wasn't much but maybe he could use it to hit Caliban?

Before he could do anything though the side door once again opened and Tom heard Prospero's voice.

"Caliban, what is taking so long?"

Rethinking his plan Caliban released him before grabbing his right arm and tugging him towards the door. Tom needed to signal to Alex where he was. Realising his rucksack was now only over his left shoulder he let it fall down to the floor next to the doorway as he was pulled through. He'd have to hope that was enough.

The other man was fast and Tom stumbled after him, struggling to keep his footing. He noticed an old leather bound book in Caliban's other hand. So the bad guys had managed to get their hands on the manuscript; this just got better and better.

The room beyond the doorway had considerably less smoke in, and so, as he was dragged into it, Tom blinked in the sudden brightness of the lights; they were blinding.

"The kid found us again," Caliban said, and as his eyes began to adjust, Tom realised Prospero and Ariel were both in the room with them.

"Caliban, it's a different boy."

"What?" Caliban ripped off his infra-red goggles and looked at Tom hard. "Even so," he said, trying to defend himself to his boss, "he was following me. He knew what we were doing."

Tom pointed at the book in the man's hand. "You know, mate, I think you can only take books out with a library card."

"Be quiet!" Prospero snapped. He ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. "And you!" He turned to Caliban, "pull yourself together! That's two kids who've now sneaked up on you."

"Prospero, it's not like it was my fault! Ariel led the other one straight to the spiral staircase!"

Prospero glared at him, and the man bit his tongue, rethinking his words.

"At least, let me deal with him then. We can't have him telling anyone what he's seen."

Considering the options, Prospero seemed to come to a conclusion.

"Fine. Be quick and meet us at the bridge, or we're leaving you behind."

Without another word he spun on his heel and walked out with Ariel, leaving Tom once again alone with Caliban.

Caliban laughed, letting go of Tom's arm as he backed him into a corner. He prepared to launch his first strike, his fist poised in the air, aimed at his head.

"I'm going to enjoy this."