Alex spent the rest of the morning in his room. He'd taken another shower, stared into the bathroom mirror until his legs forgot that they were supporting him and then sat on his bed messaging Georges from St Albans School. It couldn't hurt, he'd reasoned. Neither MI6 or the CIA had mentioned him having contact with any friends that he might make at the school. The fact that they hadn't expressly forbidden it and that he hated their guts right now, led to him deciding to message the boy and damn the consequences.
Georges was very like Tom. He'd noticed it at his brief stay in the school. Georges english was a little broken, though his time in America had evidently widened his vocabulary. They discussed football, recent films and their families. Alex had to make up a lot of information and he felt guilty doing so but the other boy seemed pretty happy with his answers; he found Alex's resentment of Fiona hilarious. Georges himself was an only child and he'd lived with just his mother until he was eight. She'd remarried to a brute of a man who Georges didn't get on with but he was away for work a lot of the time which gave the pair some relief.
Alex was so engrossed in his conversation that he didn't hear the knock at his bedroom door until it was too late. He started violently as Anatolievich strode into the room, a smile playing about his thin lips.
"Ah, Alexander." He greeted pleasantly, "have you eaten?"
Alex's stomach gave a slight throb, now that he thought about it, he realised he was hungry. He'd forgotten all about lunch. He shook his head. "I forgot"
"Nevermind, nevermind." Anatolievich said distractedly. He looked around Alex's room and his smile turned into a look of exasperation. "Really Alexander, you've been here less than twenty-four hours, how could you have made this much mess already?"
Alex looked at his room, now that Anatolievich mentioned it, it was a bit untidy. His towel laid over the chaise-longue at the foot of the bed, his stachel was thrown on the chair and several t-shirts which he'd been considering wearing were strewn over the floor.
"Sorry, Sir."
There was a glint of something in Anatolievich's dark eyes.
"There's no need for that Alexander, just tidy this up and meet me in the hall. We can grab food on the way to the theatre."
"The theatre?" asked Alex, surprised.
"Yes," confirmed Anatolievich, smiling again, "It was Lindsay's suggestion, there's a play called 'The Mousetrap' on. It's english, I thought that you'd like it."
"It's written by Agatha Christie isn't it? It's the longest initial running play ever."
Anatolievich looked at him interested, "You amaze me again Alexander. I know that your father wanted me to hide you away, but I don't think this little excursion will hurt."
Alex nodded. Nothing would happen, of course, the threat against Alex Friend wasn't real. Mainly because Alex Friend wasn't real. Anatolievich turned to leave but Alex called him back,
"Mr Anatolievich?"
"Please Alexander, call me Pytor."
"Pytor - what should I wear?" Alex asked, wide-eyed. He would be the perfect picture of innocent he knew. He looked exactly like what Anatolievich wanted. He'd appear younger like this, sat cross legged on a wide bed, mobile phone in his hand, surrounded by a mess of clothes and textbooks.
Anatolievich took a second to reply, breath catching in his throat. "That-that's fine Alexander, there's no need to change." He nodded curtly and headed directly for the door. "I'll see you downstairs"
The russian left and Alex relaxed. He hated this. Even though there was no cameras he felt like he was being observed under a microscope every time Anatolievich looked at him. He hated that without even doing anything, he appealed to the man's sick tastes. He sent a message to Georges, saying that he'd just been caught with his phone in class and had to go. He walked to the mirror, tousled his hair and checked his watch: 1pm. He'd forgotten the pills. He filled a glass from the sink with water, put two pills in his mouth and threw it back. He made eye contact with himself in the mirror but looked away a second later. He was poisoning himself. He could just run away. There was no reason he had to stay here, nothing was stopping him from just... leaving. An overwhelming emotion he couldn't quite place swelled in his chest. His heart began to pound fiercely in his chest. He was going to leave. Right now.
He turned, grabbed his phone and the satchel and was halfway to the door before Mrs Jones' words rang in his ears:
"You'll be condemning thousands of people to lives or misery, hundreds of people will die from the result of gun violence, HIV, drug abuse"
He stopped abruptly, one hand stretched toward the door handle. He couldn't just leave people in Anatolievich's control to suffer. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was the best suited to the job. He was exactly what Anatolievich wanted without even trying, ergo he was Anatolievich's weakness. He could get away with things that others couldn't. His hand dropped to his side and he set his satchel back down onto the chair. He would just play his part, however much it frightened him, he would ignore the looks the russian gave him. He'd get the damn diary and get out. His resolve thickened, he slipped his phone into his pocket and left the room. He'd tidy it later.
Anatolievich was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He'd neglected to change too and was still dressed in this mornings dark suit.
"Ah, Alexander," he said, eyes raking over Alex unashamedly, "I trust you're ready?"
"Yes, Sir."
The russian's eyes flashed as he smiled, white teeth shining in the relative darkness of the hallway. This time he didn't tell Alex there was no need for formalities. They walked outside, Anatolievich taking the lead, Alex trailing behind. Anatolievich slid into the back of a shiney black limo, the door held ajar by the driver Alex had met the previous day.
Alex gave him a wide smile "Hi, Joseph."
Joseph smiled back at him, surprised; he looked tired. "Hey kid, how's things?"
Alex opened his mouth to reply but Anatolievich cut across him, getting back out of the car. He was considerably taller than both Alex and the driver. "You will not speak to Alexander in that familiar manner" he spat, glaring at Joseph. The other man looked frightened. "You will remember your place and address him as Sir."
Joseph nodded, looking pale. "Yes, Sir."
"Sir," Alex began, "It's all my fault really, I told him not to call me Sir when he drove me here yesterday. I take all the blame."
Anatolievich looked down at him, a small smile creeping onto his enraged features. "That's admirable of you Alexander but it is no excuse for an employee forgetting his place.'
"But-"
"No." Anatolievich said sharply, eyes narrowing. He slid back into the car and motioned for Alex to follow him.
Once inside he continued in a lower tone. "I trust you understand that I cannot have insubordination amongst my staff, even the slightest disobedience could compromise your safety." He leant forward to address Joseph. "You will drive us to the theatre and you will conduct yourself with the amount of decorum for which I am paying your salary for."
"Yessir." Joseph said hurriedly, fumbling to turn the key in the ignition. His cheeks were red and flushed and Alec felt desperately sorry for the man.
"Sorry about that Alexander," Anatolievich said kindly
"It's my fault really." Alex protested weakly.
"Hush Alexander, I will not hear another word on the matter."
Brad entered the living room looking beyond sheepish. His hands were twisting in his shirt and he was sweating unattractively.
"I-I look, Mr Pleasure, I-"
"Don't worry Brad. I don't blame you." he turned to Sabina who didn't meet his eyes. "My daughter on the other hand…"
"Dad, I'm sorry," she started before her father could speak, "but Brad's just as involved as we are now I couldn't just leave him upstairs without knowing the truth."
"Sab-"
"And I know he's only been apart of it for the past-"
"Sab-"
"Few days but-"
"Sabina!"
She looked up at him, chest rising and falling quickly as if she couldn't breathe. "Yes, dad?"
"You do know that you signed an OSA after Air Force one don't you?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in a challenge.
"Yes, Dad."
"Well then, would you like to explain to MI6 how you breached your contract or would you like me to do it?"
She looked up at him, hands behind her back, eyes as wide and as innocent as they would go. "But dad, I technically didn't tell him anything. He just...overheard."
"I'm not sure it works like that Sab darling."
"Of course it does." she said promptly, "now, we need to discuss what Sir David's just told us."
Her father looked at her resignedly. "Do we Sab? Can I at least get a whiskey first? I'm not sure I can hack it sober."
"Nor me." Sabina agreed readily, earning another raised eyebrow from her father.
Three shots of whiskey later and Brad, Edward and Sabina were sat close together on the sofa in the living room.
"So," said Brad finally after a long silence. "What Friend's told us is that Alex is in Florida and he's being force fed pills which stop his growth."
"Pretty much." said Mr Pleasure dully. He stared unseeing at the wall opposite the sofa, where a picture of Alex, Mrs Pleasure and himself was hanging. It had been taken a few months after Alex had arrived after Egypt. His eyes were still sad in the photograph, but there was a slight upturn in his mouth which hadn't been there previously. He looked young in the photo even though the hair was shorter. The sight of Liz' arms around his neck and his own hand on Alex's shoulder made him appear like any normal child.
"It's sick." said Sabina loudly. "Alex wanted out from that life, and he's been dragged back in. I remember Alex telling me how happy he was that he'd grown, he said he'd be less useful to them. And now, now he's being forced to-" She broke off, eyes watering. "It's just awful."
"So Alex really is a spy then?" piped up Brad from the end of the sofa. "He really does work for MI6?"
"I'm afraid so." came an unfamiliar, weary sounding voice.
In unison, their heads snapped up to look at the door. A tall man with a greying beard in rumpled army fatigues stood in their doorway accompanied by Mrs Pleasure. She looked frightened. He looked deathly pale and was slightly hunched over, his left hand pressed tightly over his right side.
Mr Pleasure got to his feet quickly, sharing a panicked glance with Mrs Pleasure "Who the devil are you?" he exclaimed loudly.
"Lieutenant-well," he broke off, looking at his shoes, they were heavy duty - military issue. "former Lieutenant Stanley. I used to run operations at Fort Bragg"
"Right." said Sabina slowly, "that honestly doesn't make things much clearer, but nevermind that now, why are you here?"
"Look," began the man tiredly, inching towards the armchair to his right. "can I at least sit down or could I trouble you for some water perhaps. It's about Alex and I've come a long way."
"You can sit down once you've told me where you got our address." Mr Pleasure said sternly, fixing the man with a suspicious gaze.
"Dad-"
"No Sab, I don't like people just wandering-"
"He didn't wander in, Mum let him in!"
"Regardless-"
"DAD!"
As she shouted, Sabina ran forward to catch the stranger as he fell. She caught him just before he hit the floor, but the man's weight was too much for her and her knees buckled with him, sending both of them to the ground.
She looked down at the man whose head was in her lap. His eyes were closed and his breath was coming in short sharp bursts.
"He's unconscious." she said, bewildered.
Brad, who had moved so he was crouching next to her, nudged her and pointed at the man's midruff "I think I know why."
A dark red stain was spreading over the man's white vest shirt. The wound had been hidden by his fatigues whilst he stood, but the jacket was now splayed wide open. There was a gasp of horror from Mrs Pleasure and the sound of Mr Pleasure's footsteps as he ran for the phone.
Sabina looked down at the blood spreading over his chest. She could hear the man's breathing loud in her ears. She didn't know what to do. A man lay dying in her arms and she didn't know what to do. What would Alex think of her? She shook herself mentally. What would Alex do if he were here?
"Brad!" she said quickly. "Go grab some towels from the bathroom."
He looked at her strangely.
"Hurry!"
He stood and ran from the room. Sabina let out a breath and looked over at the rest of the man. There was another stain on the upper arm of his jacket. She beckoned to her mother.
"Mum, help me get his jacket off, I think he's injured his arm as well."
Together, they prised the sleeve off his jacket off the uninjured arm and then the injured one. The man shifted in her lap and let out a low moan.
"Careful."
Once the jacket was completely off, they examined the wound. It wasn't too deep, but it was big. Stretching from his elbow right to his shoulder, a thin red strip marred the skin there.
'We need to elevate his arm." Sabina said, lifting the man off the floor, "Help me bring him nearer the sofa."
They used cushions to prop his arm up on the sofa and a second later, Brad came running back into the room.
"I've got some towels. I'm sorry, but I could only find white."
Sabina ignored this. "Great. Now put them on his side and press down."
"Press down?"
"Yes, Brad, put pressure on it."
He nodded and did as he was told. Immediately, red seeped into the fabric. Mr Pleasure walked back into the room.
"An ambulance is coming. He'll be alright."
Sabina raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"He'll probably be alright."
"Dad, he's bleeding out."
"So will you be if you don't be-"
"Edward!" interrupted Mrs Pleasure
"Sorry Liz but-"
"Not that, Eddie, he's walking up."
Sabina looked down at the man in her lap once. His eyes were indeed open.
"Mr Stanley?' asked Brad nervously.
"Alex" he breathed, his chest protesting, "he's with a man-" he coughed wetly. "a russian, Peter Anatol, he-" he coughed again, and this time blood dribbled out over his chin. The sound of sirens began in the distance. "he's in Miami, there's these drugs-"
"We know," Sabina cut across him, "Sir Friend told us."
Stanley nodded, "Good. Good." blood dribbled out again. "They - blackmail."
"We know that too." said Edward kindly, "save your strength. The ambulance is coming."
"Friend - he doesn't know everything." blood was now a steady flow from his mouth, "He's looking for Alex- I told him-another russian. Prison-escape-"
His eyes closed again, his breathing laboured. The Pleasures looked at each other, confused.
A second later, three paramedics rushed into the room with a stretcher.
"Move back, move back."
They did so, and watched as the three paramedics mounted the man onto the stretcher and wheeled him out of the house, applying white patches and tubes to various parts of his body as they went. Sabina looked down at her hands, they were covered in the man's blood.
"Here." Brad passed her the towel which had been covering the man's wound. Some of it was still white and she wiped her hands on the clean bit.
"Thanks."
"Who do you think he was talking about? Another russian looking for Alex?" asked Brad
"I only know one other russian and he's dead; Yassen Gregorovich" said Sabina, nonplussed.
"Maybe it's someone who knew him, this other russian?"
"Could be," Sabina said thoughtfully, sitting down on the sofa. "But I don't know why they'd have an interest in Alex. It's not as if-" she stopped mid sentence and clutched Brad's arm tightly.
"What? What is it?"
"What if they blame Alex for Gregorovich dying? What if they want revenge?" A cold shiver went through her as she spoke her suspicious aloud. "What if they know this Anatol guy too? What if they're working together and Alex doesn't know he's been found out?"
She looked up at Brad. His pale and scared face mirrored her own.
"We need to find Alex." he said grimly, "before it's too late."
The next day dawned bright and way, way to early in Eagles opinion the following morning as K-Unit trudged down to the canteen. B-Squadron were already there, tucking into large bowls of what looked like porridge.
"Hey Eagle!" called Gun when there were only a few metres away, "ready to get your ass kicked?"
"Despite what Bear says, I don't think my arse would benefit for being kicked." he replied jovially, sliding onto the bench next to Apache. "It does well enough as it is, thank you."
"I'm sure it does." muttered Apache absentmindedly.
"What's for breakfast?" Bear asked, ignoring the comment from the american.
"It looks like porridge." said Snake suspiciously, frowning at the container.
"If it looks like porridge, smells like porridge and tastes like porridge, it's usually not porridge in my experience of SAS cooking." Eagle said, peering at the substance.
"Well, you've not had Delta Force cooking," said Charge grinning, "it's porridge I promise. There's just one reason why us americans are better than you brits."
"You're right," said Wolf, cutting across Charge and spooning the porridge into his bowl, "there is just one reason why you're better than us."
"Oh yeah?" challenged Ghost, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah, the only good thing about america is the sun."
"That is not true, we have way better things than you do." protested Apache loudly.
"Like what?" said Eagle, folding his arms
"Cronuts." said Apache simply
"Yeah, well we can drink at 18."
"We can drive at 16."
"We have the Queen."
"Some old lady in a hat? Dude, please, we have the real queen; Beyonce."
"Apache, your gay is showing."
"Well, we have Greggs sausage rolls."
"Who the hell is Greg?"
"And English breakfast."
"We have broadway."
"We have the Westend."
"We have Lin-Manuel Miranda."
"We have Andrew LLoyd Webber"
"We don't have a housing shortage."
"We don't have gun crime."
"We-"
"Eagle, Apache, enough." said Wolf finally, putting his hand on Eagles shoulder.
"But Wolf-"
"No, enough's been said, it's obvious we're better than them in every way. There's no need to rub it in. Besides-"
"Now hang on," said Ghost, interrupting. "That's"
"I'm glad to see you're all getting on so well." came a voice from above them. They looked up to see Lieutenant Carmicheal standing there, his arms crossed. "But I need to see Ghost in my office immediately."
"Sir, yes Sir."
He walked away, beckoning for Ghost to follow.
Ghost looked at them all, resigned, pushing his empty bowl of porridge away. "I better go see what he wants. It's probably not anything good. Once you're finished breakfast you can all head down to the gun range. You don't need me for that, but I might be back anyway. Good luck boys." he patted Gun on the shoulder, "No pressure of course Gun, but just know, if you don't beat the Brits, you're sleeping outside for the next week." He gave Gun a cheery smile and a wave before heading off to follow the Lieutenant.
Well, I've not been around for a good while, sorry. I'll try and be more frequent with uploading but honestly, I have so much work to do. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, exciting things are coming I promise. Have Brad and Sab got the right idea about Alex or are they completely wrong? Who knows? Have a very Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and if you don't have a wonderful day anyway.