They'd told him never to contact her – she had to believe he was dead. That was their only condition, and he knew how serious the retribution would be if he failed to stick to the deal. So he never contacted her. Not once.
He tried to avoid London, and MI6 sometimes gave him a heads-up if she was on a mission, keen to prevent chance encounters. But London was a hard place to avoid in his line of work, and MI6 were not always as thorough in their preparations as they wanted him to believe. He saw her five times after his "death".
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
The first was the day after. He was at Liverpool Street, finalising the agreement with Mrs. Jones and collecting the travel documents and money they'd promised him in return for his cooperation. She'd stormed into the building unannounced, demanding to see Blunt and Jones. He found out later that she'd discharged herself from hospital and managed to "lose" the agent assigned to keep an eye on her. When Alex Rider wanted something, there was little that could stand in her way.
There'd been no time for an exit avoiding her, and so they'd hustled him into a hidden room adjoining the main office. It had a discrete two-way mirror that even he'd never noticed. So he watched as she burst through the door, with a bruised face and bandaged wrist, and marched towards the desk, behind which sat Jones and Blunt, observing her calmly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"That you gave him a fucking bomb! This is all your fault. He's…" she faltered.
"Sit down, Alex."
She sat, looking suddenly young, and tired, and utterly defeated.
"We gave him a bomb, Alex, because we all wanted to destroy Scorpia completely, and it was the only way to be absolutely certain of success. We didn't tell you because, well, we know how you feel about killing. We didn't want you involved." Jones paused. "We believe there was some kind of malfunction. Very unfortunate, but…"
Alex's jaw clenched.
"Unfortunate?" Her voice was quiet, but full of rage, and her eyes brimmed with tears, which she blinked back. "That's all you've got to say? Unfortunate?"
Jones, for once, seemed speechless.
Alex stood.
"I'm finished with this now. I don't ever want to see you again. You can do what you want about that, but I'm going home." She turned and left.
From behind the glass, he watched her walk out of his life. If everything went according to MI6's plan, he would never see her again.
He sat down, opposite Jones. She continued to explain the parameters of their agreement; the unspoken threats clear in her voice. He surveyed her calmly. She finished. Their meeting was over, and it was time for him to leave.
"There's a car waiting outside. It will take you to Heathrow. Get on a plane, and don't come back." Jones gave him a final glance before turning away to her computer.
He didn't leave.
"You're scared of her." It was a statement, not a question, and Jones' head snapped up.
"What?"
"You're scared of her. Scared of what she might become."
Jones looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching for something. He wasn't sure if she found it, but she replied.
"Yes. Aren't you?"
He nodded, in understanding rather than affirmation, and left.
Maybe they were right. Maybe it was for the best. That night he got on a plane to Moscow, and to a new life.