Diane Harris had tried to keep the news of his missing best friend from Tom, who had just arrived back from Italy and had already asked several times if Alex had been in touch. She knew Tom suspected her of not passing on Alex's messages, but only because Alex was sneaky enough to leave the same messages with Jerry. For some reason both her son's liked the trouble maker. There had been a postcard from Guisborough, but Diane had burnt it. That boy had been the reason Tom had been hurt two years ago. He had disappeared after that and she was quite happy to keep it that way. Now Alex was front page news. This would upset Tom. She felt slightly guilty about the boy getting into trouble and having no one to help set him straight but if he had stayed Tom would have been a junkie as well.

She hung out the washing on the balcony and came back inside to see Tom watching BBC News 24. Aerial views of the Moors and the abandoned vehicle before it had been towed for forensic examination were being shown. The Friar at the retreat speaking of a kind, hard working boy who had put his demons behind him. And long range views of teenage boys in drab brown uniforms working on the farm. Tom looked at his mother and stated in a cold, flat voice. "Looks like those terrorists he got involved with have finally got their wish. I bet they hold a memorial service for him next week."

"You are still not going on about how Alex is a spy nonsense. That boy was a drug addict and sold himself on the streets. Its all in the Mail."

Tom looked back at the news, disgusted with his mother but it was now reporting on the up and coming football season. Tom had a try out for Brentford in three days. An icy hand closed around Tom's heart. It should have been Alex and Tom on the football team like in their day dreams many years ago. Alex was likely dead or worse. "I'm going to the gym' was all Tom said as he left.

Tom went to the local phone box, not caring it was early in the morning in California. Edward Pleasure answered and Tom began to rant "Are you happy? Alex told me you all stopped trying to get through to him. I talked to him nearly ever week. He told me all about how loosing Jack was devastating and how fucking awful school was over there. Last I heard you threatened to send him back to the bastards at the bank for smoking a bit of dope" At this point Edward tried to interrupt and say it was more than smoking a few joints. Alex had turned up drunk for their planned visit to Edward's sister and her family, but Tom cut him off. "It was a cry for help you schmuck. You're to blame for all this. I fucking hate you and tell Sabina she's a grade A bitch as well." At that Tom slammed down the headset.

James Sprintz sat in the dining room in the large opulent home he shared with his father, smoking, not caring if his father caught him. His copy of the Times had not been opened. James just stared at the photograph on the front page. There was a smiling Alex Rider stood wearing a municipal brown uniform and with two laughing friars. Three years ago, Dieter Sprintz had briefly considered Baysdale for his wayward son but had settled on an elite academy in France which promised results in three months. James pondered if three maybe four years with the friars doing hard manual work might have been a better idea. James still had nightmares about his imprisonment. It was one of the reasons his father gave for not keeping in contact with Alex. A nice quiet life in Germany, going to the local public school had sorted James out. His mother even came to stay here. His father worked less, learning to delegate. James flicked ash on his organic breakfast. He was so tempted to break into his father's office and get off his head on Dieter's 40 year old cognac. His musing was disturbed by his father stoping dead by the door.

"Why are you smoking inside" the banker then dramatically looked at his Omega Precision time piece and visibly bristled "You are meant to be playing tennis at the Schroeder's"

"I cancelled. Something came up." James then lifted the paper to show his father the headline.

Is Alex Dead?

Mystery of North Yorkshire abduction of troubled teenager from Church Retreat.

"It says 'Triad involvement suspected'." James watched a flicker of guilt cross his father's face. James put the paper down and sighed, " I gave you a card to send to Alex in February. Did you send it? You told me you had contacted his guardians in California and he was happy and settled. Doing well in school. Funny in September last year he left a hotel in central London, where he was staying on holiday and disappeared. The press are speculating that Alex was abducted then and forced to take drugs and then into prostitution by the triads. He was hospitalised in February. Alex was at Baysdale for rest and recuperation after detox and eight weeks in a secure unit. So why lie, Dieter. All you had to tell me was that Alex was a head case. Not a great leap from dysfunctional, depressed, unhappy after Jack, his guardian died in mysterious circumstances in Egypt."

James then stood up and crossed the room to look directly in his father's eyes. "I have a confession to make. I last spoke to Alex last July, just before his holiday to London. He said he was dreading it. He hated San Francisco but he hated London more. Too many reminders he said. He told me he was drinking, smoking dope, taking pills. He asked my advice on how to stop. I told him to cause a family intervention, get caught. Only it did not work out so well. Alex left. Sixteen and totally alone, no back up. I wish he called me again. You'd have paid for detox and rehab, wouldn't you. We'd both be dead if not for him. Or don't you care."

James wanted his father to lie and say everything would be alright for Alex, they'd get him back. The young german knew his father had thought Alex was out of control. The silence in the room was now oppressive. Finally James stated completely defeated "I'm going to bed."

Sabina was in her bedroom crying. Liz was trying her best to comfort her distressed daughter. Edward Pleasure was at a loose end. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and if Edward could go back in time he would have cancelled his visit to his sister's, sobered Alex up and got him into rehab or sectioned. Edward had believed the psychiatric reports that Alex was handling his grief and PTSD well and any problems were due to not settling in at High School. Liz had suggested the trip to England as a break and possibly changing Alex's school to a Military Academy. His handling of Alex during his lowest point had possibly been the worst thing he could have done. He regretted his angry words so much.

Edward has originally felt like a burden had been lifted when Alex disappeared and they had enjoyed the trip to Oxford. Only Liz had been worried and had called the sort list of three people who Alex called friends and had bothered to keep in contact with. All three were living abroad. Edward had brushed off Alex's disquiet at returning to London and had dismissed it as moaning. Looking back he knew things were very wrong within two weeks of Alex starting High School. He had been slowly becoming more relaxed and part of the family. Alex had suddenly become secretive, non communicative and terse. His wife, not Sabina, had the best relationship with their foster child, but he even stopped talking to her, disappearing for days on end. Edward had thought Alex was hanging out with friends, but it then turned out he had got a job at the fish-market working nights. It had been the first of a series of one sided arguments. Edward had thought Alex had decided to drop out of school. It was after Alex left and they were putting Alex's belongings in storage they had found out the boy had signed up for a distance learning high school course.

Smithers studied the intel on screen about Alex Rider's disappearance. Derek Smithers had transferred to Interpol in 2002 working attached to their Anti-terrorism unit in Lyon. Alex's Disappearance had shown up as an alert across all member countries. Smithers had the alert poster pinned on his action board. A few of his colleagues queried this, as this was technical support not investigations; but then noticed the array of postcards from Alex also pinned to the board. He had told them of working with his uncle Ian in London and getting close to the the boy in the eighteen months afterwards. He had been pleasantly surprised by the emails and postcards Alex had sent. He had lampooned his class mates, Edwards attempts at parenting and various misadventures he'd had in California. The contact had continued when Alex had been on the streets, just to let him know Alex was surviving. The last communication was from Baysdale. A proper letter with photographs. Alex had seemed calmer, and definitely in a better place.