The Kremlin was a vast complex of Buildings behind the encircling boundary wall. The car drew north, well past the building where Boris had resided or the State Rooms where Sasha had attended the infamous party in 2011. Never in a million years had the ex-spy and former SCORPIA assassin expected to be given a private audience with any head of state as he was just a dirty secret. The President of Russia was an infamous hardliner, a man cut from the same cloth as Alexei Sarov. The one thing Alex did not want to become was this man's puppet. He felt the man pushing to meet him directly after the death of his good friend and quasi-father was really shitty.
"What is really going on, Dima? Alexei died fourteen years, half my life away". A man he had known for less than two weeks. Just because he was the first person to try to be a father to the teenager, one too used to rejection and neglect. "That man was an absolute shit to me. It was a fucking nightmare. It took me years to get over how that bastard manipulated me with the one thing I'd always dreamed of, a proper family, a father, a home. I have always been true to the fact I have never considered the General my father. Equally, I'd be the first to admit I am not ideal son material."
"You refused any recognition for your bravery and sacrifice in 2001. You have never asked or expected special treatment, when you saved millions that day and saved Russia from another plunge into dictatorship and possibly Europe into war. Here and now, you are still struggling with your demons. Boris asked for you to be recognised for the bravery you showed. For being true to your ideals. That it be a matter of national pride that you are not sidelined because of secrecy and the need for preservation of the status quo." Dima looked at this man on edge, one who wanted to run as much from his grief as from this unexpected meeting.
It was the fifteen year old who broke the tension. "Look Mr. homophobic Asshole President is only going to do the minimum to appease the dying Boris. Its a clandestine night meeting, so the creep won't be tainted with being seen with a unrepentant deviant. Don't look so shocked Dimitry-baby. You're just as bad, the Sergeant is besotted with Sasha the dancer and totally cool with Alex Rider, psycho killer. Well, he is a total SAS nutcase, himself. Guys fall in love, fact. Both are consenting adults, fact, What they do in the privacy of their own home is up to them. Its not a big thing, strange and a bit sickening sweet, but its their life. I also agree that after everything Alex did back in the day, he deserves peace and happiness. All the spy shit should just be swept under the carpet. Let sleeping dogs lie. After fourteen years does any of it matter now. Let the General rest in peace. What benefit is it to draw attention to Sasha and blacken Sarov's name in the process?"
Alex chuckled darkly, "This means the wall of silence has been breached. I give it four weeks for full disclosure regarding Murmansk. The reporter on that cable channel has been digging, interviewing survivors. Its only a matter of time until someone connects that the timeline for MI6's teen agent corresponds the CIA and the FSB's operations. Its a matter of public record that I was at Point Blanc. One person already nearly broke the story in 2002, only he pissed off Desmond McCain and died for his efforts. I'm not going to be so lucky in this age of instant communications."
…..
Dimitri took care of Pyotr, promising to look after the exile's son on pain of a fate worse than death. "You look after him or you'll have to face Luci. People think Vladimir has a bad temper. The petite ballerina is pure she-devil, had to be to tame and domesticate that man. You should hear all the shit he got up to from his first wife. Luciana plays dirty, subtle with it. Shit Dima, she had me sussed in days."
"Right Pyotr, son of a she-devil. Lets go have an after hours tour of the Tsar's apartments. Its meant to be haunted."
Alex was shown to the President's office by his personal guards.
When the man paused, Alex politely bowed and greeted the Head of State "Good Evening Your excellency, my condolences for Russia's loss today."
The man had been reading through letters and emails from the Foreign Office and State Department. "Please sit down, Alex. As you see, already the messages of condolence are pouring in. The state media are in mourning. Borya was a popular man with many friends in Russia and abroad. He will have a full state funeral. You, at the insistence of the man and his daughters, with be seated with the family mourners. They think of you as a freelance dancer, your stage career over; the American son of an exiled General. You are so much more. Russia has failed to support and honour you. The Russian Federation owes you a debt that cannot be repaid, because of the security blackout. I am not going to dishonour Boris by disgracing the friend he fought so had to protect. His one mistake. He should have protected you."
Tea and small almond biscuits were served by the president's silent secretary,
"I want for nothing, Your Excellency. I have a home, work, friends and love in England. I have my own strange family in New York. I am replete. I know my limits. I am a damaged man, the damage done many years ago, I endure, but all victories have a cost." Alex sipped the hot sweet tea. Thankful to be able to quench his thirst. "It has been a fraught day. I… I need to mourn my dear friend. One I am more than happy to acknowledge as almost a father."
The President smiled "The medals you refused as a fourteen year old are still awaiting the Hero of the Russian Federation. Not one but three. I humbly ask again, Alexander John Rider, please accept these mere tokens of our appreciation … the Medal "For Interaction with the FSB of Russia", Hero of the Russian Federation and the Medal for Courage. These medals have been waiting since 2001."
Alex could not help but be pulled back into the memories of that bleak quay in the Barents Sea.
Andrei Tshaikov could relate to the trauma of war, as covert operations were the theatre of the cold war and the war on terror; also the balance of power between the superpowers. "Anyone who has been under fire, who has seen combat, who has endured terror and death is affected by these events. I have my own demons from my days protecting Russia as a soldier in the Security Services. You were a child, yet you fought like a man, were a true hero and we noticed you were breaking, but your handlers in London, Washington and Sydney continued to use you."
"I was already well and truly broken… my uncle hurt and manipulated me for years… fashioned me into a weapon. I am not a hero." Alex rubbed his eyes, " Boris wanted this didn't he? If I accept these tokens, I would request that this draws a line under the Murmansk incident. I wish to go home and do nothing of any importance ever again. I am no longer a player. I beg you not think of me as anything except a man recovering and attempting to rebuild my life after surviving those horrific feats."
"You of all people deserve a quiet life. You have your friend Paul Roscoe watching your back. I will make sure we never forget you are a true friend of Russia, showing us all that standing up and courting death to fight for what is right and proving your uncle did not destroy you. You are a principled young man and one with strong morales. I take it you will keep the name Maria Makarova gifted you?"
"Yes, I am definitely Sasha Makarov. Alex Rider ran away and someone else came home."
…..
The TV news across the world saw Boris Kiriyenko's State Funeral , with his daughters and grandchildren standing with the ballet dancer, Sasha Makarov. To the press in general, this alone proved that his birth name of the former principal of Novosibirsk Ballet was Aleksandr Alexeyevich Sarov, Those with an eye to detail noted three decorations on the American's suit, all Russian. The medal for interaction with the FSB with crossed swords was not a mere trinket for a life devoted to the arts, but recognition for work in espionage, defending mother Russia more than once with bravery and heroism.
"Finally we get to stay with Alia." Alex sighed, glad that he would be above to relax after being on his best behaviour and only being able to sneak short conversations with his lover. Katya and Xenia never alluded to Alex's illicit London partner or any of his serious love affairs. Here, to be polite there was no out and proud, just tolerated as an eccentric at best or a pervert at worst.
They were walking across Moscow, still in their funeral attire. Their belongings already delivered to the apartment on ulitsa Ostozhenka. "Alia's at work until 7, want to just go chill for a bit. Find an American bar eat burgers and drink either Coke or milkshakes?"
"Sold… need a place that does Kareoke as well. I need cheering up. That's always good for a laugh. Sing some Beyonce and the world will right itself. Better if you get mom to sing as well, but we can invite Alia to embarrass herself."
"Do you really think she'll let you join her class if you piss yourself laughing at her rapping along to hard core Russian protest songs. You poor innocent child, that woman will wipe the floor with both of us."
As it was early, there were only a few tables occupied and no singers. Alex was filled to bursting after consuming a double cheeseburger, fries and three cokes and felt sufficiently American again and started to scroll down to pick a song. "You got your iPhone on you? Video this and then post it on my Instagram." As the fifteen year old pressed record. Alex smiled sadly and said "This is for Boris, He will be sorely missed."
…
It was after midnight in Moscow, when Alex rang his beloved Niall. "I ache for you, darling; but I'm diverting to New York in two days to take Petrushka home for a week after all this excitement. Can you drop everything at such short notice to join me?"
"I'll see. I ache for you too. Its been less than a week and I feel empty without you. My lovely dancer, I'm hard now. Wanting you more than I have ever wanted anything. Are you hard for me too?"
Alex bit his lip at that image. "Yes, but I'm saving myself for the real deal, your monster cock buried in my arse. Fuck, its like I'm in the Twilight Zone as no one mentions you or the fact I'm completely happy to be in a homosexual relationship. You and me… we're just so easy and right. As usual I decide love's a bag of crap and I fall head over heals again. Need you in New York, we can stay at Paul's place. Well, Paul's place for guests. Mr Paranoia much. You have to meet him and be really lewd. He hates it when I hit on him."
"How could he turn you down? You do know I'm wanking right now. If this was FaceTime you could watch me slapping percy."
"Bastard, I'm not going to spoil our reunion. I will be fucking desperate by then. Talk to you tomorrow. Sort a flight out, OK?"
…
Alex could not resist the temptation to dance in Moscow. He was loose and limber after class and his accomplice had his video camera set up. Dima and Alia were acting as lookouts. With minutes to his illegal performance, the dancer phoned Grennady Titov, only to be put through to voicemail.
"Esteemed Director, Its Sasha Makarov. Just to let you know I'm dancing on your front steps. Just a little thing I threw together for our Independence Day. Flying out tonight. See you at the end of the month, I have tickets for the Flames of Paris."