Truth, was the basis of everything, stripping away the lies, avoidance and denial to learn to be true to oneself. His weeks talking to Rachel, had drummed that philosophy home. The broken teenager had talked through his anger, grief and blame; but only had skirted the fact he'd killed. The basis of healing as he had been lying to himself. He had been open and honest with his foster family, told them about the events at Brookland and Cairo. Then gone one step further and done the normal thing and come out, he had been honest with Sabina, she deserved to know he was not interested in her and preferred being siblings. He had described that moment he knew he was gay, his first meeting with Yassen; an event that led to a mountain of denial on his part after he watched the hot guy with the body of a dancer then kill in cold blood and realised this was the man who had murdered Ian. In retrospect, it had been a great shot though, perfect instinctual firing, just like Hunter had taught him. Sabina's reaction had been petty and childish and completely understandable. Yassen was the bogeyman to her. Alex was her ideal guy, with two to three years maturing, only he was not interested. She was hurt and horrified. Alex's reaction had been to shut up and do a complete threat analysis when the family dynamic shattered. Sabina had done him a favour and showed him the truth. He was not normal, play acting at being a member of the family had been a lie.
His leaving had been best for everyone. Now the killers sent after him were dead, Nate might have thought he cleaned the scene but the clues would show an efficient kill, but not one professional enough for a child who had almost graduated Malagosto. Alex Rider had disappeared and would be assumed dead by the CIA as SCORPIA were involved. The assailants liquidated to keep the trail cold.
Alex smiled at his train of thought as he cooled down from the brutal run. Nate lagging behind after the first half a kilometre. The objective to see how fast, hard and focused you could be over ten kilometres in mixed terrain. Scrub, woodland, mud, water, hill climbs as well as dirt road had been the route today. He had left his filthy shoes and clothes on the step outside. Just in his shorts he went through his routine of tai chi, katas and yoga. He was almost finished his 20 minute routine when he heard his apprentice approach the house, breathing hard, staggering with exhaustion.
Nate had collapsed on the step in the autumn heat. Alex moved to remove his shoes and stripping the man of his filthy workout clothes. "Get up, you need to stretch or you'll cramp. Come on, up. Follow my movements." The Californian was catching on fast to the reality of brutally, intensive workouts needed to achieve the peek of physical fitness so you could run farther, fight longer so your opponents and enemies either died or you lived to fight another day.
As Nate finished his last stretch he vocalised his unhappiness "Fuck that was the worst. How much do I have to improve still? Ten minutes my guess."
"I did the trial run today in 32 minutes 45 seconds. You were 12 minutes behind me. In three weeks you'll be as fit as me." Alex's timetable was striped down to marksmanship, tracking, close combat and fitness training. Nate already had the basics of stealing cars, pickpocketing, housebreaking, guns, knives and tailing a target. His old trainer Brisco and life on the streets had been a hard learning curve for him post thirteen and he'd had thirteen years to refine his skills. Meeting Nate had driven home just how efficient and focused Ian's lessons and chosen pursuits had been for his nephew. Laying the foundations for MI6 to exploit. He had been a child, but Ian had always treated him as an asset. In some ways Nate's sister had loved him more and been a genuine parental figure, in a way neither Ian nor Jack had been. Ash did not even factor as an influence.
Alex needed a shower, so did Nate. "Personal question, was your relationship with Brisco intimate?"
"Yes, quid quo pro, payment for my education. I was an equal not one of his toys. Its hard to explain, but it was my choice. We crossed paths and he could have killed me, but he didn't, said I reminded him of himself. Empathy from a monster." Nate looked at the kid, who was not a kid. More skilled than Brisco at fifteen: cold, efficient and focused in that beautiful not quite adult body. "Shut up about it, I've got blue balls as it is and me and my hand is getting old."
Alex then made his confession "I'm gay. I… I had a thing for a guy who died last year. Like your Brisco he refused to kill me, when he should have."
"Oh." Nate had not expected that. He was a man that saw the confession for the opportunity that it was. "Fuck buddies? We're partners. I miss sex. I switch… so, how about it."
The fifteen year old virgin smiled at the simplicity of this arrangement. "Quid quo pro indeed. I've had no real affection in my life. Touch, sensation and sensuality was never covered in my education to date. lt is just another tool to be mastered. Teach me seduction and what pleasure is, Nate." He was an asset, a spy and now freelance. He was never going to date, co habit or have a normal relationship. Fucking work partners or one night stands was the only option and the thought of anyone he did not have a basis of trust touching him made his skin crawl. He could remain a virgin, but why waste this offer of a relationship between two men broken by life and with a mutial goal of revenge. Brothers in arms, now Spartans or Janissaries. "How about show and tell in the shower, then the bedroom."
Nate's cocky grin spoke volumes "Lucky, I have lube and condoms. Let play time commence. Do you want me to call you Cortez in bed?" The older man had wondered on his partner's adherence to his new alias.
"Yeah, I have not asked your real name, because you aren't that kid. Ditto. Nate and Cortez, partners and soon to be lovers. You can call me anything you want, but not by my real name. Lets keep the past where its meant to be." Alex was more at home here, more comfortable with a fellow killer than he had been with Liz, Edward or Sabina. He missed the acceptance of school in Cairo, but that had been a legend, lies not reality. He was bitterly aware Jack had already planned to leave. He had been bait for MI6 and a toy from Rahzim's and Julius' amusement. Nate had taken on board how much training to be an assassin on par with SCORPIA's graduates cost, a full five years to pay off that debt. Five year partnership in death and destruction. The dead of Julia Rothman had only been the beginning of this journey. He and Nate had to play by the rules of their enemy, revenge to the code of never forgive, never forget.
…
Carlos the animal was indebted to the Cuban and his American friend. Most misinterpreted the dynamic, thinking the younger partner was the junior in skills or just the toy to fuck considering their close relationship. Cortez was the dangerous one, who stood back and let Nate have all the fun, but was the one with the game plan, the understanding of actions and consequences and whose word was law. It had been Cortez who had given Carlos control of the Ruiz cartel. He could stayed there, as boss himself of this nice piece of the action, but had let this minor gang thug become boss, go from poverty to luxury in one move and finally live not exist. He paid for their services, to guarantee the fear of all competitors. The pair were had a formidable reputation for removing their opponents and restructuring with locals, not outsiders. Nate, who killed and tortured with a smile, sarcasm and puns as he brutalised and broke those in his care. Cortez only intervening occasionally with instruction or to show a ruthlessness not expected for one so beautiful or so young. Like shadows they destroyed those who had crossed them. Left others untouched. Carlos did not question them as he had seen them work, killing the Russians and the Americans who had previously taken control.
He sat in his villa with his wife, his most trusted and the journalist asking after Cortez. He had already thought this American would be dead by evening. Better not to ask questions of men like those killers.
Edward knew he was taking a large risk. It had taken months to find this connection, to three dead DEA agents in this minor backwater, the Gang lord paying for top class assassins to remove the moles, so even the Mexican federal police knew not to overstep their mark here. Proven to be the work of Nate and Cortez after he asked the Gang Lord himself, Calos the Animal proud of his powerful friends. The journalist had to know if this Cortez or if his foster son was long dead. In this high stakes game of brutally removing all enemies, he may pay the ultimate price for asking a direct question. He could only hope if Alex was Cortez, their former closeness would ensure his survival. Edward could not guarantee that, for six years Cortez and Nate had effectively wiped SCORPIA off the map in America, taking over their interests from San Paulo to Miami. In Europe, governmentts had removed the taint of SCORPIA in 2002. Others had taken over after the demise of Winston Wu in the Far East. Only in New York and LA did the former associates of SCORPIA still prosper. Edward's projection was their days were numbered, he had contacted the investigative reporters he knew in Miami, had confirmed that every assassin sent after Cortez and Nate had been sent back to their masters a piece at a time.