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Hunter had done his homework with Alex; he knew where he would be most of the time. Yassen was grateful; it gave him an idea of where to start searching for the boy.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he felt that familiar feeling return. He felt invincible, even though the fresh wound on his chest claimed otherwise. He walked slowly down the road, dodging between groups of people. Christmas lights were strung between the buildings over his head and he shook his head, they looked tacky. His eyes constantly flickered from side to side, although his head stayed still. He turned a corner, and almost walked into Alex.

The boy wasn't paying attention and Yassen sighed with relief as he passed without looking up. After taking a moment to compose himself, he turned and followed, staying a few yards behind, not that he'd be spotted in the crush of people.

Alex had his head bent, his eyes focused on the ground. A few tourists swerved round him, swearing in German as he plodded through the middle of the group. He was dwelling on the last few weeks, the final moments on Dragon Nine, and then further back, to Air Force One. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

As he did so, he stiffened. Some animal instinct had warned him of some potential danger. He stopped, ignoring the angry cries as people walked into him. He turned suddenly and scanned the faces.

Yassen twisted and faced a shop window, pretending to be engrossed in the display. He could feel Alex's eyes on him and turned away, walking back the way he had come. A few moments later he looked back. Alex was gone.

Cursing silently, he pushed his way through the mass of people. Nothing, the boy had vanished. Oh well, he could wait. He leant against a wall and folded his arms across his chest.

A few shops back, Alex Rider was doubled over, trying to get his breathing under control. Yassen! Here of all places. But why?

He answered that one before he'd even formed the question properly. Of course it was because of him. But Yassen was dead, he'd seen him die. It was like seeing a ghost, but worse. If Yassen was with SCORPIA then he would probably have been employed to kill him, Alex. And yet Mrs. Jones had told him that MI6 had called them off.

A few minutes later, he straightened up and peered around the doorway. There he was, only a few metres away, leaning on the wall of the shop next door.

Alex ducked back round the corner and weighed up his options. If he ran, Yassen would gun him down before he'd got to the door of the next store. But if he didn't run, Yassen would get fed up and come in after him.

Then it hit him, the back door. It was so obvious that he was angry with himself for not seeing it before. He made his way to the back and slid through the staff door. A few minutes later, he was standing in an alleyway, litter rustled as a chill wind whispered over it.

Alex shivered and drew his coat tighter and set off back home, making sure he stayed well away from the main street.

Yassen meanwhile, had somehow realised that Alex was gone. But he didn't know how or where from. He was stuck on the first day. He swore again and strode back down the street, not bothering to move around people. He didn't have to though; the look on his face cleared a path in front of him as people moved quickly and silently aside.

Hunter was reading when Yassen opened the door. It was a car magazine. The younger man slumped on the sofa in silence until Hunter asked what was wrong. Yassen explained quickly, bluntly. Hunter listened closely, and then nodded thoughtfully.

"He thinks that you still work for SCORPIA, that's why he didn't say anything. He probably thought you were going to kill him."

"Why would he think that? I told him that I would never kill him, he's your son."

"And then you sent him to SCORPIA, who promptly tried to poison him. See my point? He probably thinks that you were just saying that stuff to make him go to Venice." Yassen was silent. It made sense, really. "It carried more weight when you were supposedly dead, but now you're alive, he doesn't know what's going on."

"You've given this a lot of thought." Yassen said quietly. Hunter shrugged,

"I had words with Mrs. Jones when I went to see MI6. She told me a bit about how his mind works. But for all I know, he could be acting completely differently. And if you still want to follow him, you could just go to his house…" Yassen sat up straight instantly. Hunter laughed and handed him a slip of paper with the address written on it.

A few seconds later, Yassen was pulling the door shut again as he raced down the steps and out into the crowed street again. He glanced at the address and set off.

Fifteen minutes later he stopped in font of the house. It was large, three floors stretched above a few trees and the golden gravel of the driveway. A red mini was parked in front of the door.

He checked the address and smiled to himself. He crossed the road and inspected the garden of the house opposite. He hadn't been trained as a spy and had to guess at what would be good qualities of a lookout post.

"They're out. They went on holiday last week, they'll be back in three weeks." A neighbour had stopped behind him. Yassen spun round, bringing his fists up, but lowering them instantly as he completed the turn.

"Thanks." He said lightly, "I didn't know." The man shrugged and walked on down the street. Yassen waited for him to go, then vaulted over the fence. He landed lightly nest to the dense bushes and then strolled up the drive.

There was a wooden gate to one side and he leapt catlike to the top before dropping down in the back garden. A cat sprang off of the bird table and twined itself around his legs. Yassen rubbed its head quickly and the pushed it gently away with his foot. It hissed quietly before vanishing over the gate.

Yassen made his way quickly around the side of the house, keeping his eyes peeled for cameras. There were none and he made his way along the rear of the house, trying every window and the door. They were all locked, except one, a tiny window presumably left open for the cat. He went back to it.

Pressing his cheek against the glass, he saw that the handle of the large window was on the side of the smaller one. A plan started to form and he slid his arm through the small gap. He could just about reach the key.

Withdrawing his arm, he clambered onto the wide windowsill and paused. Once he had found his balance, he again inserted his arm and turned the key. The handle turned and the window swung open, almost pushing him off of the sill.

Yassen slid in through the larger window, careful not to disturb anything. The room was spotless, a cream carpet had been vacuumed to perfection and the white leather of the sofa was the colour of pure snow.

Yassen moved lightly up the stairs, treading only on the wood at the side, wary of pressure pads under the thick carpet. The landing on the first floor was floored in laminate and his trainers squeaked slightly as he made his way to the front bedroom.

He had a clear view of Alex's house, probably even his bedroom. He pulled a pillow off of the double bed and placed it on the window seat. He sat down on it and fixed his eyes on the dark windows of Alex's house.

Can I just say I'm sorry that I always say Hunter instead of John, it's because I wrote my first one calling him Hunter… Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter.