Jerry Harris had grown to like his new flat mate. Tom's best friend was neat, tidy and not a bad cook. He had also helped out with the accounts, had redesigned the website for Jerry's freelance work and had blagged some great deals on advertising. The extreme sports instructor was going to ask Alex to come back next year for the next season, as he dared not ask Alex to join him in Verbier as the damp pained the eighteen year olds hands. He had suggested Alex try out for work in Thailand, Cambodia or Vietnam. Hopefully the tropical heat would help with his slow recovery. The kid was careful to keep active, but not push himself too hard, keeping up with swimming, Pilates and yoga rather than joining in with Jerry's more strenuous activities. From the few games he'd seen at Brookland with the dream team of Tom and Alex, the blond had been a natural athlete and a cert for playing professionally. His goals now were maintaining a decent range of movement, being fit and well and avoiding crippling arthritis in his recently repaired bones and joints. This morning Alex was in the courtyard moving with the slow precise movements of Tai Chi to improve the flow of the life giving properties.
"Lola brought in fresh pastries, I've made coffee. She's already out with her kayaking group. I have a group for parasailing this afternoon, but I'm moving north next week. Are you going home to Germany or visiting Tom in London?"
Alex entered the kitchen and boiled the small kettle for a ginseng tea rather than indulge his love of thick black espresso. "Going back to Germany seems like the best idea. I phoned Tom, he's got his hands full with his full on Wag girlfriend, he doesn't need me to be a third wheel. I've got an apartment lined up in Frankfurt. Also a part time job in a book shop. Thanks for the glowing reference by the way, not that I've been working much here, just staving off boredom. You do need to pay more attention to your appointments and accounts, with a decent plan of action you could expand really easily."
The dark haired handsome twenty-six year old laughed and drained his coffee, "Maybe I'll get my act together next year. I like my bohemian way of life, just following my passions, only working to fund my sporting interests. I'll think about getting more organised and actually put my savings to good use. I have spent the last eight years working to indulge myself, now I need to put down roots." Jerry Harris then looked at Alex, who had become a friend of sorts, although he was never sure if he saw the real man, there were too many masks in place to cover the hurt and pain. "I'm leaving on Monday. If need a lift, I can take you as far as Switzerland. You can stay overnight then get the train north."
"Thanks, I can even share driving, if you like."
….
After two weeks in Frankfurt, Alex had reached the decision it had been a mistake to move here. This had been the last place he had been happy, during those few days living with Yassen, as lovers. He, in the slim hope of catching up with the Russian, had cautiously checked out Yassen's apartment to find it was now occupied by a young couple. He did not dare go to Paris, not after finding out from Wolf that MI6 had staked out Dima's club last year.
He now only left his sparse lodgings to help out at the bookshop, where he worked. The weather was damp and cold and the dull throb of pain in his bones never let up. He was happy to work cleaning up and stock taking rather than interact with the public, four hours five nights a week was not too onerous. Gustav, the boss, was happy with Alex, as the place was spotless and he caused no problems. His contact with his friends were either brief calls or emails that were short and to the point without any details or witty repartee. He was fine, well he was getting by. He wished for warmth and a life without aches and pains, he thought half heartedly about taking some classes to catch up on school, but that could wait until the New Year. At least his working schedule, meant he only got three days off over Christmas, time he was duty bound to spend with James and Dieter and the financier's stiff and formal friends in Dusseldorf. He was almost tempted just to contact Jerry and borrow his room in Verbier as he knew the Londoner would be home in London between the 24th and 27th. The only time Jerry made time for his parents.
…
Late November and the first flake of snow arrived while Alex was at work. He left at 10 and walked home. He now knew his hometown well, varying his journey to and from the bookshop with detours north and south, expanding his knowledge of this city with every trip. Tonight, he walked east via the shortest, most direct route into the bitter wind; a large fur lined hat on his head, a scarf covering his lower face and his hands protected by two pairs of gloves, his feet in sturdy winter boots and his body with a second hand ski suit. His flat was a single pokey room with a minuscule shower room attached for 350 euros a month. He slept in a sleeping bag and washed his clothes in the tiny kitchen sink. It was about the same size as the Venetian holiday home belonging to Yassen. That room probably also sold off as the ever cautious assassin covered his tracks to protect himself from all that Alex could have told Mossad, the Insurgents in Iraq or MI6 during his recovery in London. All, the same reasons why Alex lived by himself in a city with no friends or attachments. He would not return to Baysdale, London or San Francisco. He had cut connections completely with his former homes. Frankfurt was almost familiar, untainted by bad memories or any chance of his past catching up with him. It was a life in limbo. Just an ordinary kid working to pay the bills and get by.
Alex was half frozen as he walked the last few metres to his front door and had already planned to go straight to bed with a mix of ibuprofen, a sleeping tablet and a glass of cheap brandy. As normal, he made a note of the parked cars within the last three blocks, where all the usual cars in the usual places dusted with snow. The usual lights were on as his neighbours were home. He welcomed the relative warm of the hall out of the wind. He had tried to make no sound entering the building, but the wind had whipped through the hall and alerted Frau Loris of his safe arrival back. As he made it to his door at the rear of the hall, his landlady opened her door. "Good Evening, Frau Loris. Its very bitter out tonight. The roads are icy."
"Good to see you back safe Alexander. You have two bills. Your uncle Dieter called to ask after you. You must call him. He stated your mobile has been on answerphone all week. He was worried you were ill, but I reassured him you were at work every evening. You are just like my Daniel. He never calls, never visits. Young people today."
Alex smiled as the woman scolded him. James' father had an annoying habit of calling both his landlady and his boss to keep tabs on him. "I will email my uncle. My mobile is not working, I haven't been able to replace it yet." He changed his phone sim card monthly and needed to send Dieter his new number.
He closed the door before switching on the light and immediately noticed the blond man sat on the far chair facing the door.