Of all the crappy jobs the rookie transfer from the Met to MI5 could be assigned, Dave Lancaster had drawn the ultimate short straw, tailing the teenage son of the former President of the Russian Federation. His supervisor had smirked when he gave him this plum job. So far this week, his daily contact reports noted the kid had been out for several runs, eaten in several nice restaurants in Knightsbridge, been round several flats with the son of Dieter Sprintz and the agents bending over backwards for the substantial commission on the high end property sale considering the flats in question were well over a million pond bracket . The most onerous bit was keeping out of site the security detail tailing the billionaire's son.

Today the ever so boring seventeen year old was eating lunch in his hotel, as his boyfriend was off to visit his yummy mother. The agent was sat at the bar, having ordered the cheapest sandwich on the menu and an extremely over priced coke, when he noticed the Head of MI6 Special Operations arrive and then sit at the table with the kid. The basic contact report was no longer boring, but a puzzle. Last week there had been the report of Joe Byrne in Glasgow, when the poor bastard assigned that tail had lost his mark for six hours. This kid had been in the same neck of the woods. What kind of kid moves in these circles? Without taking his eyes off the bar mirror, he phoned this in.

Tulip looked at her main course, making note of every ingredient and agreeing it was visual and fragrant culinary masterpiece. Her appetite today was lacking considering her preoccupation with her nightmare last night. Overindulgence of cheese nor alcohol had no part in her overactive subconscious, which had conjured a lunch with Yassen Gregorovich, a man she'd had met just once, after he surrendered to the Presidential Secret Service Agents in 2001. The killer with a mind like a trap, thinking seven moves ahead, as taught by Hunter. Anyone at Malagosto could have moulded a teenager into a thug, but it had been her friend while undercover, who had treated that lost teen as a protege, teaching him to excel in a world of death and destruction and to stay two steps ahead to thrive at SCORPIA. Cossack had learned from Hunter's mistakes, so no flirting, no friends, no lovers and trusting no one to survive and move on from the promise of revenge and reprisal.

It was a wonder the dream had not been about Hunter's only sibling. Years ago, a teenage John Rider had raised his brother to treat survival as a game where the pair practically raised themselves as their paranoid father took security jobs around Europe to get a first at Cambridge. Ian had then raised his nephew to be a spy, rather than nurture the boy as his son, taking after his father rather than John prioritising skills not stability. Did Alex think this lunch was a game? To her shame her first contact with Alex had been Ian's funeral and then failing to prevent Blunt abusing a vulnerable orphan. Her instincts told her this invitation was to mediate by a very polite teenager was using everything at his disposal to avoid becoming like his father or uncle. The psychologist treating Alex in Moscow was a world renown expert on developmental and traumatic dissociative disorder. The lunch where Sasha Kiriyenko, reinforced the truth that whole raised to excel at the Great Game, being adopted by a Russian politician had taught him new tricks to balance blackmail with compromise, unlike Blunt capitalising carrot rather than just stick.

The waiter attended to refill their water glasses and looked dismayed at the untouched food. "Is their a problem, madam?"

Years at the sharp end meant Tulip Jones was expected to never wallow in failure, but here she was faced with the bitterness of compounded mistakes. First trusting Ash and Blunt to protect John Rider, then by trusting Ian to raise his nephew and contributing to the neglect her friend's only child, never realising Ian's nefarious training scheme, then finally letting Blunt and Crawley use the teenager as an undercover agent not once but four times. All resulting in the final nail in Blunt's career of forcing a child to renounce his family name and nationality, as their was no comeback to claiming his birthright and his family legacy. Fiddling with her napkin, she took a sip of the chilled water and smiled at the young server, "just enjoying catching up, it's been several years since I last saw my old friend's son." Practiced at noticing small details to assess situations and evaluate threats, she was aware Alex viewed her as a threat and was anxious and managing his fear with controlling his environment. She was aware of the damage done by using Alex when he was fourteen, that this was a relationship she needed to recoup on a personal level and not let slide. Crawley had insinuated a possible future working relationship, but she was not as cold and as ruthless as her deputy nor an undisputed ruthless bastard like Blunt. Her internal promise was not to negate her responsibilities for past mismanagement and admit her failure to protect him. "I came to apologise for my past shortcomings and a promise that you are not a person of interest. So, to new horizons, health and happiness." She saw the distrust in the young man's eyes as he watched her drink alone. She also noted the MI5 newbie at the bar, doing a poor job of blending in. He should have vacated line of sight as soon as she sat down. Mistakes like that got agents killed when their mark was really the opposition.

"Toasts are made with good vodka, Mrs Jones. Something my sisters and father taught me. I also learned that Ian was a shit parental figure and knew nothing about love, support and raising children. Thank you for letting me stay in Russia and having a real family, not drag me back to dance to Blunt's tune." He looked at his half eaten food and carefully placed his cutlery down, trading clearing his plate for eating a full portion of pudding. Without the need for threats, he was free. "So, the Neanderthal at the bar is not your security? I know he's not FSB or CIA. Too green for graduation to real fieldwork."

Mrs Jones savoured her salad, then Stated without guile, "Special Branch, did a stint undercover on human trafficking, on a fast track promotion. Probationary with MI5. I think this might be his first time out on his own tailing a person of interest. As the son of a Boris. Blunt was efficient in covering his arse after Murmansk." She sighed, "The last time I counted a colleague as a close friend was your father. Blunt removed me as his handler as soon as John insisted on extraction from SCORPIA." Tulip finished her entree as work meant she did not have the luxury of a leisurely lunch. "Let me know if Crawley approaches you. He's not been the same after being kidnapped and tortured by outside agency over information about you when you were in Murmansk. I may have to place him on administrative leave if his obsession over you continues, it might be signs of programming our psychologists failed to pick up. You have to be aware of the threats by others, especially SCORPIA and other agencies. Keep alert, let me, Byrne or your watchers at the FSB know if you feel threatened. We owe you that. I will also arrange a full residential visa for you, if you wish to settle or study here. No strings attached. Next time we lunch, it will be my treat. Probably a sandwich or a cheeky curry nearer the office. Though leaving John to fully take the reigns for a few hours now and then is healthy for me. I chose this life, Sasha after I lost my family. No longer the revenge it was at first, but keeping other families from my pain. Most of our agents have no family, John was an exception. No, Helen was exceptional, though I suspect only because she was kept in the loop. Your father always played by his own rules."

Alex had his poker face on, but he was genuinely surprised, as Tulip Jones had gone for open dialogue. Here not as a spy or to control blowback, but as his father's friend first and foremost. He was empathic to understand in her position she could not have friends, yet he was a burned agent who had survived and thrived as such. Her olive branch was to have his home back with the occasional lunch in the future. She got that he was striving for as close to normal as possible.

With their plates cleared away and both studying the dessert menu, Tulip enquired "You might want to visit the School of Russian and Eastern European Studies, with your A Level grades, I can confirm your straight As, you are a shoe in for a place through clearing since James is studying at UCL."

"Err, I already contacted the Open University. I start home studying in September. They have a place for me even if I go travelling or go home to Moscow. Much more my thing."