I don't want to die, but I ain't keen on living either. Robbie Williams - Feel

...

"911 state your emergency"

"Please help… please I need cops, paramedics, this place is full of horrors. I killed him…. he…. he's got another kid here. I can't get him out…. my leg is fucked… I know I should cut it off like that climber…. but I'm sorry I just can't do it… the kid is crying… forget about me… just help him… he looked about eight… I don't know the address, even a general location. He snatched me in Pacific Heights three days ago. My names is Alex Rider… I'm fifteen… Please help…" At that point the recording showed the phone had been dropped, only muffled sounds of a child pleading to be freed in the background.

Alex Rider had made it to the grand old age of 15 and not quite three quarters and had seen the worst of humanity had to offer and survived. Once again, he had crossed paths with a psychopath and paid the price for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The burned spy was no where near whole or healthy and would be the first to admit he was a mess both physically and mentally. The sanctuary of family life with the Pleasures had been a pipe dream, he was never going to be normal and now he was reduced to a walking security risk. Only he wasn't walking anywhere, his lower left leg was encased in a freaky titanium cage to sort out the crushed mess made of his tibia and tibia. He would be lucky to walk unaided anytime soon and a limp was a certainty. He was never going to run or play football again. All of which was better than his own prognosis, which had been for amputation. He was still a lucky bastard for escaping without septicaemia. The real problem was he had nothing left to give or to fight for.

He had not even been looking for trouble, the bastard in question had been after Sabina to blackmail Edward. Inadvertently, Alex had saved her from a fate worse than death. After everything, he was glad she was unblemished, whole, pure and safe. The teenager wondered how Liz was taking the fact Edward's investigations had almost cost them their daughter. He could not even speak to them as they were in hiding now, probably somewhere far from San Francisco.

The horror of those three days had broken him completely. Razim and Julius temporarily forgotten and replaced by another nutcase. Now he was playing the role life had forced him, not spy, nor hero, or saviour but victim. Alex Rider was a broken child. All the paramedics and cops at that house had seen was a fifteen year old kid, abducted then viciously raped and tortured. Anyone asking questions now would not need to threaten him with anything, he would just tell them the plain unadulterated truth, secrets and national security were no longer enough to hold his tongue. The man with the cold eyes and malicious threats had not even asked any questions. He had just used Alex to get off in a personal game to get to an insignificant journalist for his fifteen minutes of fame.

Now he was back to square one, an embarrassment to both MI6 and the CIA, only now he was sure one who would never be a covert operative again.

He was alive, but that fact offered no comfort. The hard truth was that four days ago he had prayed for death and had begged for it; as his pleading for the man to stop, pleads that had gone unheeded. He was now not deluded by the fairy tale of any sort of normal family life, but only the certainty of a shallow, unmarked grave. He could now scream from the roof tops 'come on Scorpia finish the job, stop pissing about. Time to stop playing and get real. Make sure on a head shot next time'

Alex was happy to lay in the silence of his hospital room, contemplating the blinds, the window and the clouds beyond, the ceiling and the walls. He had not turned on the tv set nor asked for any books or magazines. The passage of time was signalled by the steady bleep of the monitors telling the teen his heart was beating within normal parameters, helped along by the oxygen and the drip.

He had let the cops assume and had only answered directly asked questions by the medical team and had neglected to contact his CIA handler. So, far he had only spoken to nurses here as he had been unconscious during the cops finding him at the house of horrors. He had strangled his assailant to death using ta length of electrical cord. A stomach full of sedatives, a shattered leg and handcuffs had not stopped Alex from his seising his break to freedom.

At least the doctors and nurses were aware of his need for silence and solitude, noting his wince of pain as they spoke in whispers in his presence. After Marie had exited, he could here the murmur of gossip as they worried about the orphaned boy with no visitors. It was only a matter of time before social services and the cops would come and disturb this moment of clarity with the awfulness of reality.

He closed his eyes and dreamt of home. He was back walking in Oxshot Woods; off the beaten track in an area of sparse undergrowth and deep piles of autumn leaves. He could smell the musty decay of the vegetation and feel the wetness at the bottom of his trousers in the early morning dew and the chill of the October mist on his skin. Here, he kneeled down and was moving the wet mulch and soft peaty soil with his bare hands. He smiled thinking about digging his own grave. His thoughts then turned to a lecture given by the dry, humourless frenchman at Malagosto, where he had learned about disposing of unwanted remains, in isolated places, drains, building sites; using bleach, acid or fuel to destroy the cadaver. Just how to cover the disturbed ground, to mask the site from any casual observer. He could not unlearn what he knew.

He was the not the master of his destiny, once again. What cards would he be dealt now? A family was out, as the Pleasures were no longer an option. Would it be Boarding School, prison or mental hospital; either here or back in England? Now, he played the waiting game of who would come and debrief him. The best he could hope for was that he stay as a teenager in the system. He wasn't even sure if he could stay in California, now the Pleasures were in longer in the picture.

That evening, after the meal of soft bland food, two cops, a federal agent and a social worker arrived and the Alex let the cat out of the bag, he was going to go with the truth not caring about the shit hitting the fan. He only had to wait for the right questions.

"My CIA handler is Veronica Mentz.. her number is …."

FBI Special Agent Dan Michael knew the number for Langley off by heart as he had worked there many years ago. His brain was trying to work the angles, had they missed the fact Sunny Brennan was somehow connected with international terrorism for those guys to be involved.

Alex decided to fill in the dots and not leave everyone hanging as no one had reached for their phones. "I was in Cairo in June, at the the International School, my guardian was murdered by a guy called Rahzim, he was an Iraqi Al-queda nutjob. Hence the CIA keeping tabs on me. The sicko rapist here had a major beef with my foster father, Edward Pleasure. He had written about the two failed kidnappings at my high school as a poorly executed copy cat wannabe and compared him to some other whacko. My kidnapper was after Sabina, Edwards biological daughter only he got me, the fucked up foster kid instead. Everyone else was out at the theatre. No one figured I was missing until the bastard posted the kiddie porn video starring yours truly. About sums up my life, unloved and unwanted." Alex took a slow sip of water before continuing. He was watching the clock above the nurses station and ignoring his interrogation squad. "All other details are classified, you know Official Secrets Act and all that bollocks. The CIA spook acting as my supposed handler went over some other such bull concerning US treason legislation, blah, blah. Everyone I considered family is dead. My life sucked big time before I came to sunny California. Oh, by the way… I think my residency here was dependant on my being fostered by Edward and Elizabeth Pleasure. They have binned me so you can post me back COD. Better call the British Consul General and maybe they'll contact Mrs Tulip Jones, who is my actual guardian, not those mere foster parents."

All present remained silent. "So, ask your questions, cause in 20 minutes I get my next dose of happy juice and I'll get 1 hour 40 minutes of blissful dozing before my leg hurts like its being sawn off, while being pulled in all the wrong directions for the 2 hours and 20 minutes until I get the next dose."

The social worker was the first to speak "We only want to confirm the details of your kidnapping. We will timetable a full interview when you are feeling better."

Alex looked at her, she was a hard woman used to doing this which was really shitty. There was no signs of pity or discomfort in her professional demeanour. "Last Wednesday about 8… I was doing homework. I had been grounded for missing my head shrinking sessions for the second week. Like I want to talk to that bitch, even less now, but hey. It was a delivery, guy was dressed as a fed-ex driver, dark glasses, caucasian, medium height, slim build, brown hair. Wait he had a van, so he really was a fed ex employee. I took the pad to sign for some fake package and he whacked me one over the head. I woke up naked and handcuffed to a bed god knows where with a nice concussion. I was left alone for that day. He came in after dark on Thursday… maybe Friday… he then started his games for a couple of hours, to get me nice and warmed up then left … Next morning … he raped me… videoed all it, went out.. came back.. raped me again, said it was better as I was nice and loose. Then he beat the crap out of me. I woke up some time later and the other kid was there. He gloated that I was never going to escape, that I would die a long slow painful death he then smashed my left leg to pieces. He then tried to take off my handcuffs. I knocked him down, got hold of the nearest thing, a length of electrical cord and I strangled him. I could hear the kid, he was locked in somewhere, but I had no keys. I made it up to the kitchen, got the house phone and called 911. Woke up in hospital with two tonnes of titanium holding my left leg together."

"So, I guess you can't wait to go back to England?" said the younger cop, obviously trying to get the kid to think of something positive.

"No. I'd rather not think about that or anything beyond this room. I'm safe here, I hope. Two cops on duty and all that. The nurses say it'll be a few weeks here, before rehab or someplace with nursing care. This cage is on for a while, a year at least, they think more if I have a growth spurt. The surgeon was quite positive. Physiotherapy starts tomorrow. I also have to see a cardiologist about my surgery last year. They are worried about the strain on my heart and pulmonary by my broken ribs. I'm also on antibiotics for the long term. Here is better than the London even like this. London … I was glad to go to Cairo… I thought I had the hope of family with Sabin's family. No, there is nothing in London for me. It was never home anyway, no really."

Alex was then saved by the nurse entering and administering his pain killer. He had made sure he was never given any control over his pain management as yesterday he had stated to just give him three days worth in one go to make sure he never woke up again.