Alex sighed and tried to relax; not an easy thing while waiting for a ghost from your past to meet you. Here he was sat in a rather nice french restaurant on the Strand drinking a glass of house red, passible house red at that. He'd actually expected swill, not that Alex was a wine snob, he like red, really liked Italian wine, liked the stuff in California especially Pinot Noir, Shiraz less so. Maybe he was a wine snob. Most kids his age drank lager, alcopops or god forbid shots. Alex watched as a couple entered and were shown to their place by the waiter with the bad french accent. Alex had caught the bastard out by asking for a large glass of house red wine in french when asked to order by the surly bastard. The guy had just stared at him. Alex had relented and then spoken English. It wasn't as if he was asking for anything unusual in a bloody restaurant but hey, it was slightly entertaining to know Tom spoke more french than this guy. Then again Tom knew how to order food and drink in most European languages, nothing else mind you. Come to think of it, Tom probably knew all the tacky chat up lines as well.

The door opened again and a tall thin, man with thinning hair entered. He was wearing a very nice suit and had a mac over his arm. Smithers worked in the Tech Division at SIS HQ. Alex had kept in contact, Derek Smithers and his wife Leanne had visited the Fletcher-Smith house often, Alex had not seen him for over a year, not since Jon's funeral. Alex had come back from California two weeks previously and was living in a room rented in Clapham. Nice enough area, near to the tube and decent shops. He'd tried to get a summer job working for the London Olympic/Paralympic bid team but no luck there. He'd got an email from Smithers about working as a tea boy for him. Go figure. Something about keeping an eye on Alex so he did not disappear again. This was an informal interview ahead of the formal one tomorrow at HQ along with exam, head shrinking session and medical. Just for making tea.

"Good evening, Alex. You look well"

"So do you. I still can't get over the fact you used to wear a fat suit for work. What happened with the Royal and General?"

"Promotion Head of Technology and Ordnance, Deputy to Q himself."

"They really have a Q?"

"Yes since the nineteen twenties. Old habits, Q, M and such"

"Crickey Double O's as well?"

"That comes under Royal and General."

"Less said about that the better."

"Still bitter?"asked he irishman.

"Still getting my head shrunk about it. Fucking CIA labelled me with Stockholm Syndrome after Yassen caught up with me last December. Would you or would you not, if confronted with a Grade A Psychopath and international hit man do everything he said to stay alive?"

"Yes I would."

"So I'm just normal not in love with him. I've been in love I know the difference." Alex sat back and drank his wine. "Christ your not taping this or the spook squad isn't listening, cause I just described myself as normal. I'm nothing like you normal freaks, I'm 300% way better than you lot."

"I agree, you are the one and only Alex Fletcher Smith and no we are definitely no being overheard. I have a pocket scrambler in my jacket which I built myself. No one bugs me." Smithers smiled at the waiter who spoke in a low voice but with a Estuarine accent asking if Sir required a drink. Smithers ordered a G+T and then looked over the menu. "God, Alex is the food OK for you here?"

"Chips, green salad and grilled seabass, white bread. All without butter or lactic fluid. What are you having?"

"Steak and chips. Maybe some ratatouille as a side. A bottle of Bourgogne?"

"Is this on expenses cause if were splitting make it house red." Alex had to watch his pennies, disability benefit covered nearly everything, but he did not want to touch his other rainy day fund, as he called the full service pension he started to receive at 18.

"My treat, Leanne is visiting relatives. I tend to eat out. I really am useless at cooking."

"If I get the internship, come to my place tomorrow. I'll cook my veg curry."

"A deal." Smithers then put down his menu and looked at Alex. "You already have top secret clearance Alex, as a state secret yourself. I want you to provide a different persective to our R&D department. You have field experience and can also hold your on in an arguement. Too many timid geeks are interns. We need solid objections. Not enough money for fuck-ups or wasted time."

"Get any feed back from agents in the field."

"Some not much useful. You yourself gave good feedback with the little amount of kit you got."

"Umm. I'll see if I pass my psyche test first." The meal was ordered and they talked of Tony and his blossoming career in La-la land. New TV series was being filmed with him as main character. He'd just finished another low budget art film for a young talented director and was dating a hot shot producer of bad blockbusters. Alex ate the food which was really good. There was nothing on the sweet menu was remotely dairy free, so the meal finished with black coffees for both men.

Alex was put in a foul mood as soon as he got to the security screen the next morning. Metal detectors and prosthetics do not mix. Alex was wearing his best designers suit as well, he looked like a model for Tom Ford. At least there was someone from upstairs to vouch for him and he stripped in a room with three security guards rather than in the hall for all to see and his prosthetics were checked and x-rayed and he was given a very personal once over.

In a bland corridor upstairs, Alex waited with four other well groomed fellow prospects for the interviews to start. Alex nearly died when John Crawley walked up to him. "Morning Alex, How are you?"

"Spectacular, How are things at the bank? Still murder, mayhem and complete snafus all round?"

"Everything's super." said John with a brief emotionless smile.

"So are you interviewing or just here to pull my chain?" Alex was trying to be on his best behaviour still prickly bit no outright swearing. He really did want to tell Crawley where to shove it, but this was just another interview and he had to learn not to allow his winning personality to destroy any chance of a job except McD's.

"I'm afraid I am on the interview panel." said Crawley with his usual blank face.

"Blunt and Jones as well?"

"Afraid not. Come on through Alex. Your first up this morning." Crawley stood back and earned some brownie points for not trying to help Alex up.

Crawley was the only member of the interview panel Alex recognised. Alex smiled and said good morning and the games began. The first ten questions were about the internship and his placement at Cambridge from a man with salt and pepper hair and baggy ill fitting suit, Alex pegged him as R+D or maybe Q himself. Then the fifty something man with sleeked back brown hair suck the knife in.

"You are the only retired full agent to ever apply for an internship in another department."

"Well its not like I can go back to doing fieldwork now is it, bit difficult being a cripple and all. Do your colleagues all know about the crap you put me through at 14?"

The woman with grey hair answered "One of Alan Blunt's less than stellar decisions. You were a very good field agent."

"Until I met that shark." Alex quipped.

The next sly question from the bastard was "Are your computer skills still up to scratch?"

"By which do you mean have I hacked any other security agencies database? No just yours. Reading Hunter's file was very enlightening."

"Are you still physically fit. It states you no longer participate in training at the National Swim Centre."

"I got binned after my last bout of anaphylactic shock. I have to carry adrenaline around with me so I would automatically fail a drugs screen with that in my system. I still swim, cycle, weight train. I do some Pilates and yoga as well. I have no problems with core strength or general fitness apart from my lack of lower limbs and allergies. I'm still as fit as I was at 14."

"Very few younger prospects even pass fitness training at Brecon. Our youngest field agent at the moment is 19" stated Crawley.

Alex could not help but cut in "Did he or she have a bastard uncle who trained him up to be an agent from the age of three?"

"We also are fully aware of Ian Rider's treatment of you." said the woman trying to defuse the awkwardness of the situation. Alex had purposefully dragged his dirty baggage to the attention of everyone present.

"By treatment you mean abuse. Try not to pussy foot around what a complete bastard Ian Rider was, but then again isn't it a prerequisite for working at the Bank. I know I'm such a delightful individual really." Alex exhaled loudly and then looked hard at the two serious members of the interview panel "I came here to interview to be a gopher-cum-teaboy. I know I have other skills. I bet I'm one of the few experts on Scorpia interrogation techniques as utilised by Yassen Gregorovich."

John Crawley then tried to be the voice of reason, "Calm down Alex. We'e not here to cross examine you about that bastard. We know you're still in therapy after your last meeting with Cossack."

"I really am an expert on torture. Yassen taught me all he knew, hands on practical lessons and full detailed explanations."

"We know Alex. I think you can go to medical now for your assessment there"

Alex was surprised at that. He thought he'd already blown his interview. Maybe they wanted their interns to have a bit of back bone.