All right, so it's only a prologue, and it's two months late, but it's something, right? I really like this beginning, here's to hoping you do too!

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

The Ripple Effect

They didn't meet in a seedy restaurant hidden on a scabby London street. A woman of her stature spotted in such a place would garner exactly the attention they were aiming to avoid. Instead they met a bit outside the city, in a small but respectable restaurant called The Secret Garden. It wasn't particularly a secret, being a popular restaurant, and it wasn't a garden. Instead of coating the place with fake plants and flowers, the owners had gone for a minimalist approach, painting the walls white and hanging no paintings. They fancied themselves extremely ironic. The rest of the world found them pretentious, but the food was good and the service discreet, so it had become a favourite of politicians and celebrities alike.

The open, stark walls and well-spaced tables left few hiding spots to place bugs and little opportunity to eavesdrop, making it ideal for those whose dealings were less than politically correct. And in this case secrecy was indeed a necessity, for the business this man and woman were conducting was far outside the legal realm.

Father Mohammad Qasim was a wanted man. He had become so the very moment Alex Rider had written his first report to MI6. There weren't, after all, very many international terrorists that were also registered as priests in the Catholic Church, so he had been easy to find. As he walked into the restaurant, however, his enormous form was barely recognizable. He had grown out his hair and was attempting a moustache, and the tinted contacts he was wearing changed the shade of his eyes from a dark brown to a muddy blue. The woman at the restaurant, however, recognized him right away.

"Father." She stood. "It's good to see you."

The woman herself was beautiful, but not in any obvious way. She wore her brown hair loose around her shoulders in a way that managed to highlight her unusual eyes—hazel, but with flecks of gold. She was dressed expensively, in top designer brands, and had a PDA sitting on the table.

They embraced. "Anna. I hope you've been well?"

She flashed him a glorious smile. "Excellent, actually. You wouldn't believe the publicity opportunities after an entire group of teenagers is kidnapped and taken hostage. But I've been curious about something." She leaned forward. "How did you get out?"

"Ah," his deep voice rumbled, "you know I have contacts everywhere."

"Yes, yes, I know. But how did you know to go?"

Something flashed in his eyes. "Mitsoku failed me in her first abortive attempt to kill Rider. I do not give second chances."

Her expression was rapt. "You knew she would fail all along?"

"I had my suspicions, and my suspicions are rarely wrong. I thought it best not to take all of my chances with someone as crazy as her."

The woman—Anna—leaned back in her chair and folded her hands together. "Excellent. I couldn't stand her."

The Father laughed; a deep chuckle. "I prefer to put all my cards on the table when I have better cards—primarily you, Anna."

She smiled, and while it was a beautiful smile; there was something sharp to it, like the serrated edge of a can. "You can count on me, Father. I won't let you down."