Alex was running through the trees, fast, an old bolt action rifle grasped tightly in his right fist. Agile and graceful, leaping like a gazelle over obstacles, with a look of grim desperation on his face. The oppressive silence of the woods broken by a loud shout of "Cut, Starting places."

Alex sat down hard on the damp forrest floor and lay back. "Give me five, Arkasha. We've been doing this for hours."

"We only have another 40 minutes of good light. Remember we could not afford a lighting rig or a best boy. Its just the two of us at the moment making this masterpiece."

Alex lay there and gazed at the bright blue sky. "Fuck it, 'kasha. We only have a few fill in segments to do and the bloody film is finished. This is the only tracking shot and you expect me to do all that running and push that bloody cart back up to the top of the hill. I'm the one with a fucking heart murmur."

"Shut up you invalid, get back to work. You've had your five minutes on your arse, now."

Arkady Tupolev was the son of a very rich gas magnate. However, his father did not want his son to waste his life as a film director, but had planned for a business associate to take on the man's riches. It was Aleksandr's money making this film. The young actor happy to squander the 'blood money' left to him by his uncle. The dark haired young man was 27, eight years older than his friend. He had studied film and theatre at Moscow, where Aleksandr was a freshman now. He was a junior professor. He had stuck up a friendship with the strange boy from Ulan-Ude over a discussion on Shakespeare. The little peasant had been the only one in his class to be able to do justice to the English bard and had landed the role of Mark Anthony in the winter performance of Julius Caesar. The fact a first year had landed a major role, marked the young man out as a future star, one who had the intensity of a Brando or a young De Niro, according to the notices.

Alex stood up and brushed the dirt and pine needles from his already dirty uniform. His hair cropped into a brutal crew cut. Their summer spent making and editing the film as they went along. All the scenes filmed on 16mm, with minimal cast, crew and effects. Arkady calling in favours from a host of friends. Three more takes, and a few close-ups were shot before the evening sun began to set. He had written the script himself, with a few re-writes on suggestions from his young friend. It was shaping up to be good. It all hung on the editing but he had had plenty of pointers from the ancient film editor, Laslo Gresky. The old man would approve the final cut. The premier already planned for the St. Petersburg Independent Film festival in six weeks. On the back of that they would get a distribution deal, if they were lucky.

"Shit, Arkady. I'm going to be late for dinner with Antonin." Alex calculated he had just enough time to get back to his digs, wash, change and get to the restaurant. Antonin was entertaining American guests. Alex was expected to act like the good and dutiful adopted son. He pulled off his costume and threw it into the BMW's boot on top of the rig, tripods and the cases holding Arkady's two cameras and the sound equipment. He pulled on a jumper, jeans, biker boots and great coat as his director watched.

Fully dressed and ready to go, Alex quipped "Have fun at your parent's dacha, 'kasha."

"It'll will be slow torture. I can't wait to get back to Moscow next week." Arkady slammed the trunk shut. "I wonder who my mother will have invited over this time to pair me up with. Not any of my cousin Natasha's airhead friends's I hope." Arkady moved forward, after checking they were unobserved and kissed Alex deeply.

"Just tell your mother you prefer male company." Alex murmured as he clung to his lover.

"My parent's would never accept that. I'd be sectioned and re-educated to get over my perversion. Its not like either of us have understanding family. Your cousin would have us both arrested."

Alex pulled away and laughed. "Thats, where you are wrong. I have no secrets from Antonin. He knows I'm bisexual and sexually active. He already guessed we were more than just good friends." Alex stared at his shocked friend and in sudden seriousness stated. "I can't afford to keep secrets from Antonin. I owe him too much. Anyway, one step out of line and it'll be back to Siberia for me."

"And fucking your tutor is not stepping out of line?" Arkady was suddenly afraid for himself. He should never have seduced a student, especially not one with such high ranking relatives.

"I was a very bad boy when I was 14 and 15. I have the scars to prove it. Did you think the scar on my chest was from a hunting accident? I was kidnapped... tortured... I even grew to hate my uncle and all he stood for. No, I tell Antonin everything, its self-preservation on my part. Do not worry about him knowing. He's OK with it. He gets I'm fucked in the head. You, you are just the artistic type or some thing like that. I'll see you round." Alex pulled on his helmet and gunned the engine of his Dnepr motorbike, before speeding off back to Moscow.

Alex made it to the restaurant with five minutes to spare. He looked slightly out of place with his extremely short hair and the designer penguin suit and italian shoes. He checked his nails, he had only briefly buffed and filed them. Not quite up to a full manicure but not the mess they had been earlier that afternoon. His teeth clean and a good close shave meant he was up to close scrutiny. He then entered the Cafe Pushkin. He was a regular diner, He and Antonin caught up at least one a week over supper after a visit to the ballet, opera or theatre. The old Russian was very proud of Aleksandr's success, he had sat in on three performances of Julius Caesar last winter.

The tall, thin nineteen year old walked straight to the waiting table where his cousin stood to greet him and gruffly chided "You are late, Sasha."

The two men hugged, Alex knowing his uncle was not mad, but probably already fully aware that Alex was running late. "Work ran late. No hot water in the dorms, and I had to chat with Constantin." The porter at the university digs liked Alex. He was an ex-paratrooper who had taken the orphan boy under his wing. Telling Alex tails of the brutal occupation in Afghanistan.

"How is the old soldier?" asked Antonin, allowing the brief conversation before he introduced Alex to the fellow diners

"Complaining about his pension as usual. He makes more from getting supplies for students than from the state"

Antonin flawlessly switched to english, "So, Aleksandr. Please greet Deputy Director Mark Collins of the Department of Homeland Security in Washington DC."

"Pleased to meet you, sir." Alex shook hands with the tall black man.

"Lydia Danvers, his wife." Te young russian smiled and bowed to greet handsome woman sat to the right of his uncle.

"Charmed, ma'am" Alex, kissed the back of the offered hand.

"And you know Dimitri and Olga"

Alex nodded his recognition of his uncles work colleagues. Dimitri never brought his wife to dinner, but chose to partner up with another officer from the office. His wife could speak no english was his excuse, not the fact she was a bit of a lush.

Mark observed the boy that had been refused an exit visa four years ago. He had thought Antonin Konovalov a cold bastard up until that point, but the man had proved to be a family man after all, taking full responsibility for his cousin's son. The two had holidayed together twice a year over the next three years before the russian was recalled to head up their own Counter-terrorism branch in Moscow. Mark had seen photos of a blank faced, guarded boy in 2003 change into a cheeky, happy and settled young man before them today.

"Are you following your... cousin's footsteps after college." asked the FBI agents wife as she ate the caviar ordered as an starter with the russian champagne.

"Umm... no. I failed my medical for conscription."

Antonin laughed. "Aleksandr tried to sneek into the paratroopers last year. He has known about his heart condition since he was 15. He and a friend from school went to join the army. They sent Sasha straight to hospital. His friend Kolya is now at Officer Training Academy in Moscow."

"You wanted to be an army officer?"

"Like my father." Alex said in all seriousness. "My mother was in the security services. She outranked my father. Antonin told me she ordered Junior Lieutenant Gregor Novikov to date her." It had been nice to find out about Yelena and Gregor Novikov, his fictional parents. He knew more about his fictional family than his English blood relatives.

The polite gentle laughter then passed as conversation rose and fell over the main course, dessert, coffee and brandy.

Alex went home with Antonin. "You look tired, Sasha."

"Just realising my affair with Arkasha has ended. He's too much in the closet. He'll be engaged by Christmas to please his parents. A compromise to allow him to pursue his career in film."

"That does not mean an end to your affair." The older Russian knew several homosexuals, most married to hide in plain sight.

"Yes, it does. He liked the thrill of seducing a gormless Siberian peasant. He only found out about my connection to you recently. Never realising my cousin Antonin was actually General Konovalov of Federal Security." Alex spat out bitterly. The Professor had got what he wanted from Alex. alex knew he was being unfair about Arkady. He had been the one willing to part with Ian's money. The $20 grand was small change considering the trust fund was in the millions.

"Most boast of powerful and well connected family. Thats normal."

"I survived on my own at Ulan-Ude. I made friends, worked hard, got my place at the Russian Academy of Theatre Arts without name dropping. I was just an orphan. No-one special." Alex looked out of the limos windows at the blur of buildings, street lights and people.

"Tonight was a test. Those American's saw a young, well educated russian."

"MI6 know I'm alive."

"No, they know your trust fund has been claimed. The money is legally yours. Of more importance is the fact you, dear boy have appeared in print. Notices in several Moscow papers on your performance in two theatre productions. Now you are starring in a film." Antonin had a smile on his face. Noting that Alex had not thought that any in MI6 or the CIA would make the connection between Sasha Novikov and Alex Rider.

Alex was suddenly worried and tried to comfort himself that it was just a crappy student production. "One no one will see it. Minimal budget. Slash-horror not high art."

"A film that has a premiere in St. Petersburg. You will get noticed. You will need to get an agent, maybe even one in Hollywood." Alex now knew Antonin was pullng his leg. "I think you will be picking up more work. Most at the Theatre School have been impressed that you have never tried to trade on my dubious reputation. Others would have threatened to get parts and good grades. I am a General in the only slightly reformed KGB after all"

"You know, Antonin. I never wanted success or fame." Alex confessed. He just wanted to be ordinary and unexceptional.

"Yet, you are a fine actor. Lets see if any of your old friends recognise you. Fame will act as another shield from them."

"Really?"

"Really. I need a good sleep, we will both go to the banya in the morning to sweat out all that brandy." Antonin then lit up a cigarette, offering his case to Aleksandr. Both had refrained from smoking in front of the Americans. "Take a leaf out of Arkady's book and date some girls."

"Yes sir." Alex got the hint. Easier to become a successful actor, it you were seen as perfectly normal. He'd had enough of two faced boyfriends after all. Not that he was planning on settling down. He'd play the bad boy and date all the available girls at the Academy. Get the reputation of being a gigolo.