They got their first visitor one noon in late September. Gordon Ross was a ginger Scotsman and a surprising bit of familiarity in all of the Russian culture Alex had been surrounded by. A technical specialist at Malagosto, Yassen had told him, come to see Alex and assess his potential.
Alex had no delusions about what would happen if Ross found him lacking – or worse, untrustworthy. He had passed the first real test when Yassen had argued his case for the executive board and undoubtedly kept them up to date on his progress. This would be the second.
Even then, he couldn't help but like the man. He was a murderer and a terrorist who had spent years in prison, but he had a wicked sense of humour and was a breath of fresh air against Yassen's iron-willed, emotionless self-control.
"What's your favourite weapon?" the man asked in accented Russian. His Scottish accent seemed to seep into even his foreign languages. "I know Cossack likes his toys."
"I have none," Alex answered in the same language, less accented but more slow and careful. Yassen had started to crack down on grammar and pronunciation, too. "Routine kills."
His mentor had been very clear on that, too. Alex had weapons he liked a lot more than others, but he would learn to use all of them to Yassen's exacting standards.
Ross nodded and looked pleased. "Very decent Russian," he continued in English and glanced at Yassen. "Eleven weeks, starting from scratch? Fantastic job. Arabic next? Children learn better than an adult ever would. He'll be ready for his first mission soon at this rate."
Yassen nodded. "He will start on Arabic in November. There is still much to work on with Russian, but he is intelligent and has incentive. MI6 conscripted him for a reason."
Ross' smile was sharp and a bit too delighted. "Absolutely furious that they lost him, that's what they are. Their own fault for not taking better care of their operatives, much less Hunter's son."
He clapped Alex on the shoulder. "Come along, kid. Let's see what you can do with a weapon. Show me what eleven weeks of Cossack's tutelage can do."
Ross might have had the sense of humour that Yassen frequently lacked but he was no less of a merciless taskmaster. Alex spent six hours going through every single weapon in Yassen's considerable arsenal in the cabin, from knives to sniper rifles. He was drilled in their specifications, history, and use, followed by practical demonstrations of both their general care and maintenance as well as Alex's skills with them.
The last weapon packed away, Ross continued right on with close combat interspaced with a number of questions in Russian.
Alex found himself struggling to answer a rapid-fire interrogation on maths, war history, poisons, proper grammar, and whatever else Ross felt like in the middle of mock fights with Yassen and Ross himself, neither of which held back in the slightest.
Two hours later, when Ross finally nodded and stepped back to allow Alex back on his feet after the last fight, it had been eight gruelling hours since the assessment had started.
Alex was exhausted, his head was spinning, and he knew he would be in real pain as soon as he settled down, but he hadn't made a sound of complaint and he had never let his focus waver even once.
Whatever Ross' verdict would be, he had done his absolute best. He knew with complete certainty that his life depended on it.
Ross gestured to the couch and settled himself on the chair across from it. "Sit, kid."
Alex sat.
"Why SCORPIA?" Ross asked bluntly.
Alex had expected the question and had already considered the answer. "Because Cossack gave me a choice. Because MI6 didn't. Because it's in my blood."
"Hunter was a double agent. Skilled, dangerous man, that one, but loyal to MI6 in the end." Ross had already been hard to read during the assessment. Now Alex could get nothing from him.
Luckily he had thought about question, too. "Cossack told me the details. It got both him and my mum killed, and almost me in the process. They sent a married man undercover with someone like SCORPIA, after screwing up his life to make him a suitable candidate. The only way he could have had a normal life afterwards would have been a new identity, and there was no way MI6 would have let someone as useful as that just leave. With the way they recruited me, I'm not even sure how much of a choice my dad was given in the first place. I was sent off with no training, no backup, and no real weapons. I wasn't even paid. If I'd refused, they would have deported my caretaker and sent me to the worst institution they could find. My dear uncle Ian left my guardianship to them in his will. They owned me. My dad had my mum to worry about. I can imagine the sort of threats they came up with for that."
Ross watched him carefully. "And if Hunter turned out to have done it of his own, free will?"
Alex's words were bitter without any need for acting on his part. "Great for him, then, isn't it? He got an actual choice. They must have really liked him. MI6 ruined my life, and I'd destroy the entire place if I could so they never get the chance to do it again."
Ross nodded. "Cunts, the lot of them," he agreed and watched Alex in silence as seconds ticked on. "Not all of the board were all that enthusiastic about Cossack's plan. Not after your dad screwed them over. He sold it on your potential. Hunter's son, raised from birth as a spy by the best surviving agent in MI6's arsenal. I wanted to push you proper today, see if you yielded. Didn't get as much as a whimper from you. Based on your performance out there, you know the consequences if you don't live up to their expectations."
Alex took a slow breath. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I do."
"Oh, no need to sound so worried," Ross assured him. "You didn't just meet those expectations, you blew straight past them. You passed with flying colours, Mr Rider."
It was, Alex recognised with a chill, the first time the man had called him by name. Made him more than just an object to test, however friendly Ross had been towards him.
Alex nodded slowly. Felt his racing heartbeat slowly return to something closer to its normal pace.
"Thank you." He hesitated. "So now what?"
"You continue training," Ross answered like it was the most logical thing in the world. To him, Alex supposed it was. "You will be tied to SCORPIA for five years in an exclusive contract. I'll leave the paperwork here so you can go through the details in your own time before you sign. The job pays well, but you'll be paying off the cost of your training for the first few years, too."
Ross looked a little bemused when he continued. "Normally that would be the training at Malagosto. In your case it'll be whatever additional training you'll need, since Cossack handles your initial training on his own. If there's any payment there, it's between the two of you."
It sounded horribly like an actual, legitimate job and reminded him painfully of his circumstances with MI6. SCORPIA wanted an official contract with conditions and agreements for both parties. What did it say about MI6 that they didn't?
"Your missions will depend on your specific skills. Cossack is probably the best assassin in the world, so it would be a crime to waste him on anything else. Well, unless the payment is really good," Ross conceded. "In your case, we'll see how you turn out when your training is complete. Mostly assassinations, probably, but with your additional training and your experiences with MI6 … intel, too, I'm sure. Spying. Possibly all-around problem-solver for a client. It's rare to have someone of your age with such skill and it would be a shame to waste it. The closest we've had before is Cossack himself. Your age is a priceless asset right now. Damn shame not to use it."
Ross held out his hand. "The final decision is always with the board and Mr d'Arc, but in this case I don't think there'll be any doubt. Welcome to SCORPIA, Alex Rider."
Alex shook it without hesitation. "Thank you." Then he smiled a little wryly. "Thank you for not flunking me, too."
Ross laughed. "If that wasn't a pass, I don't know what was."
The man got up and stretched. Just like that the assessment was over and done with, and the business part of it was out of the way.
Ross had brought extra supplies with him and handled the cooking that night, classic Scottish fare. They ate somewhat later than Alex was used to but the company was nice and Yassen seemed to enjoy it, too.
"You've worked miracles with him out here," Ross told Yassen once the table had been cleared again and Alex had handled the dishes.
"Botanical lessons and torture techniques have remained mostly theoretical, of course," Yassen said modestly. "There are a number of things that still lack in his training, unfortunately. I do not have the resources of Malagosto here."
Ross shook his head. "His theory-based knowledge is better than some of our students' practical displays in the greenhouse. Have you started on resistance to interrogation?"
"I would prefer to do so in a more controlled environment with medical attention nearby."
Cold and clinical. The words still sent a chill down his spine and his heart racing. SCORPIA-based resistance to interrogation. It would probably make the brief RTI training at Brecon seem like a walk in the park, and he'd get to pay for the dubious privilege on top of that.
"Perfectly understandable," Ross agreed. He grimaced slightly. "Could take a while, though. It'll be a headache and a half, but we've started to relocate from Malagosto island. The Italian authorities have been twitchy since Cray's stunt, and after Invisible Sword they finally decided it was time to do something about us. We should have charged more for that bloody job. Keep the kid here. Safer and easier until things quiet down a little again. He'll be a high priority target soon enough."
It made sense, Alex supposed. A number of countries had grown far less tolerant of terrorist organisations in a post-Cray world. It made sense they would crack down on SCORPIA's activities where they knew about them, and it would definitely make sense they would want him dead or captured once the truth got out. Rogue agents, even conscripted ones, was something no intelligence agency tolerated.
"The client is dead," Ross continued. The man was a far more talkative type than Yassen would ever be. "Croaked a few days ago. That's one loose end tied up, at least. It was kept mostly out of the press. They have other things to write about."
The devastation and political tensions following Cray's attack. The SCORPIA attack in London. Alex could see why something could just slip by without notice.
Yassen didn't look remotely surprised. "Natural causes, of course."
"Of course. Heart failure, you know. A little young for it, but he was a hard-working man. It must be very stressful, having so much responsibility."
"CIA, then."
"That's the current theory," Ross agreed. "They have agents in the area. Could have been MI6, they were gunning for him, too, but it looks like the Yanks got him first."
His attention turned briefly to Alex. "He had pretty solid security. They might've used you for that one, if you'd hung around. A child could have slipped through security. It looks like they managed to turn someone on the inside in this case. Easiest way in."
Part of Alex wanted to argue. Another part of him wouldn't even have been surprised. They wouldn't have called it an assassination, of course. Maybe just have told him to leave something, somewhere, or taint the food with something – non-lethal, of course, to let another agent slip inside, that's all, Alex – and he would never have known he was a killer until he returned home.
"Rothman was in charge of the operation, was she not?" Yassen's words were more statement than question. Alex recognised the name from the structure of SCORPIA that Yassen had drilled into him as well.
Ross grimaced. "Rothman was apparently killed in the London raid. Nile escaped with a few new scars. We lost about two dozen guards as well."
Alex got the distinct impression that the last category was expendable.
Yassen was silent for a second. "Perhaps her death was for the better, if it can be confirmed."
Ross glanced at Alex again. "She was a little unpredictable. Absolutely ruthless woman. One of the most dangerous people I've ever known. Not someone you'd want to get on the bad side of. Rumour had it that she had a thing for your dad and took it a little personal when he turned her down."
"She was difficult to read when I reported my plans. She could have become an issue." The look in Yassen's eyes, cold and calculating, spoke volumes to Alex.
His attention turned back to Ross. "What is the probability that she is in custody?"
Ross looked grim. "Worse than we'd like."
Which meant MI6. Which meant that if she talked, they would find out about him, too.
Whatever Alex's own plans, there would be no turning back. He had done a runner with Yassen Gregorovich. Even if he returned as a double agent, even if he brought down all of SCORPIA single-handedly, they would never stop watching him.
Ross slept on the couch and left the following day with plenty of praise for Yassen's work with his young protégé. Alex's safety was ensured for at least a while longer.
Alex's INTERPOL listing upgraded him to wanted person from missing person two days later. The line that specified the charges as terrorist activities was all the confirmation Yassen needed that Julia Rothman had been alive at least long enough to be interrogated proper.
Alex blamed MI6 for that, too. For Rothman and his INTERPOL listing both.
Part of him wished he could bring himself to care a little more. The rest of him knew it had only been a matter of time.
They left the cabin for a full week the day after Alex officially became a wanted person. It was the first time in nearly three months that Alex had been away from Yassen's safe-house for longer than it took to make a supply trip.
"Did Ian Rider teach you to drive?"
Alex shook his head. "I know the basics. Enough to get somewhere if I need to. I'm sure he planned to do it, but you killed him before he got the chance."
Three months in Yassen's company and under his tutelage meant that the words were calm and matter-of-fact more than anything. The bitterness still lingered in Alex, but he would be the first to admit that his situation with Yassen – with his uncle's killer - was complicated.
Yassen's training left Alex with little time to his own thoughts and definitely did not encourage distractions, but Alex still wondered sometimes what might have been. If Ian had lived. If Yassen hadn't murdered him. MI6 probably wouldn't have recruited him. Probably. Part of Alex wanted to believe that everything Ian had taught him had been to help him survive or to keep an overly-active, curious kid out of trouble. Part of him also knew his many Ian-encouraged hobbies fit terribly well with what MI6 was looking for.
How long would it have taken Blunt to spot him? Would he ever have, if Alex hadn't put himself on their radar? How long before Alex himself had grown too suspicious about Ian Rider's 'banking' job? A lot of things hadn't added up for a long time.
"You will learn properly, then. You will not be an expert driver in a week, but it will provide a solid foundation that can be improved upon later."
Alex just nodded. He had grown used to getting little to no warning about new lessons. Yassen didn't like to be predictable.
They spent five full days on Alex's driving lessons somewhere outside Moscow, early morning to late evening. Yassen cared little for Alex's exhaustion and wavering focus by the end of fourteen hours or more of almost non-stop instructions, day after day.
"You will not always have the luxury of being rested and clear-headed." Simple but merciless, like a number of Yassen's explanations, and Alex nodded tiredly and kept his attention on the road and Yassen's voice.
Seven long days later when Alex could finally collapse into the familiar bed in the cabin, he had never been so relieved to see Yassen's safe-house again.
The year would become known as an annus horribilis in terms of terrorist attacks. Alex wasn't surprised.
Air Force One was recovered from the North Sea well into October. The recovery teams had worked fast, but even then they had cut it close. It wouldn't be that much longer before the first storms of the winter seasons would arrive in those particular waters.
Whatever they found in the wreckage, the information remained heavily classified, though a number of photos were released. The tail with the American flag on it was mostly in one piece and its recovery became an iconic image of the salvage operation.
Ark Angel, the massive, multi-billion pound space station, suffered a catastrophic failure in early November. It disintegrated in the atmosphere and the remains either burned up or crashed into the Pacific as a string of burning metal. The few staff members on board at the time were all killed, though considering the consequences if the station had fallen to Earth in one piece, that was a very small number of casualties.
An act of terrorism was the immediate theory, and Alex couldn't blame them based on the events of the previous few months. Force Three, who had already been behind the kidnapping of Nikolei Drevin's son, claimed immediate responsibility. They were followed closely by several other more or less credible groups. SCORPIA remained silent.
Nikolei Drevin himself was arrested two days later on a number of charges ranging from resisting arrest, insurance fraud, and all the way to attempted mass murder. He had been about to flee to South America at the time the arrest was made.
For once it seemed that SCORPIA wasn't to blame. If even half the charges held – and the CIA had to have done a solid job, if they were willing to risk that sort of trial – Drevin had plenty of influence on his own to see that sort of thing done.
The question became purely academic shortly afterwards. Drevin died in prison from a ruptured brain aneurysm five days after his arrest. Absolutely nobody believed that story, but with no evidence and a lot of people with motives to see him silenced, there wasn't much anyone could do.
The conspiracy theorists had a field day. Life went on.
Alex started on Arabic in mid-November, when the weather grew increasingly cold and the first snow arrived. By then he hadn't heard or spoken English in weeks. He still read it online, but anything that he could not understand or express in Russian would be handled in one of the other languages he and Yassen had in common, usually French.
The Middle East had a large market for SCORPIA's particular types of business, and that was all the reason Yassen needed to teach him. Alex didn't doubt that once he had mastered Arabic to Yassen's standards, the next language would already be waiting.
The list of more or less natural disasters finished the first day of December with an earthquake in the Timor Sea. According to experts it was supposedly nowhere near as devastating as it could have been – Alex took their word for it, he wasn't a geologist - but it was bad enough to send several tsunamis surging towards the surrounding lands.
Even with the tsunami warnings sounded, the number of fatalities still inched close to five thousand, with a billion pounds or more in property and environmental damage.
Among the casualties were a group of eight celebrities and forty-something reporters gathered on Reef Island for a press conference. They did receive somewhat more coverage than the lesser-known victims but even those stories didn't last for all that long.
There were rumours about a terrorist attack, some weapon capable of setting off an actual earthquake, but if anyone had proof, they didn't go public with it.
Alex didn't want to ask. He had the suspicion he already knew the answer, but he still couldn't leave it alone. He had to know.
"SCORPIA?" His voice was resigned more than furious, too exhausted from a particularly brutal day of training to find the energy for anything more than weariness.
Yassen simply nodded.
"Why hasn't anyone said anything?" Alex continued. "They must have some kind of proof. You don't just go kick a fault line if you want an earthquake. You would need something to trigger it, and that's not exactly something you pick up at Tesco. It has to be something experimental, or the owners would have used it already."
Then again, they might just have saved it as a last resort, and who was he to say it hadn't been tested before? How would he even know in the first place if an earthquake was natural? He wasn't an expert.
"Few governments have an interest in the sort of issues that would come with making it public knowledge that they possessed such a weapon, much less that an organisation like SCORPIA stole and used it. For one, they would need to explain the existence of the weapon, as well as SCORPIA as more than just the minor terrorist threat they claim us to be. That would be followed by uncomfortable questions about why such a threat has not been eradicated in the first place. They would prefer not to hand us such publicity. SCORPIA will still be hunted for what happened, but that is easier done without the public watching their every move and demanding results. Even then, we are still useful to a number of governments. Sometimes it's preferable for them to buy their way out of distasteful jobs."
Of course it was. Alex wouldn't have been surprised if MI6 or the CIA had been right there on the list of clients.
Alex had known that SCORPIA was powerful. He had sat through Yassen's detailed lectures and warnings and paid very close attention.
Only now, staring at the map marking the epicentre of an artificially triggered earthquake, did it really start to sink in just what sort of behemoth he was up against.
A/N 1: Alex was accepted very easily in the SCORPIA novel. My headcanon is that part of the reason was that Rothman always intended to kill him. In this case Yassen had to convince the board that the sins of the father did not extend to the son. They take him serious as a legitimate operative – and potential threat – in a way they didn't in the book.
A/N 2: Ark Angel didn't succeed since the CIA was already on the case and still on high alert after Eagle Strike. As for Operation Reef Encounter … Alex wasn't there to get involved, but everyone was still twitchy after Cray and security was likely to be a lot higher than it had been in the canon version of events, so it could have gone either way. In this case it went SCORPIA's way.
Next: Malagosto