So here we are … the story is finally getting started. I hope you've enjoyed the introductory chapters. Thanks for all the lovely reviews – some of your comments have been very useful in helping me shape this story in my mind. Although the plot itself is already clear in my mind, the details are much more flexible. So please let me know what you like and dislike … let's kick on!

o o o

o o o

ANOTHER CHANGE

o o o

With the millions of people crossing the Victoria Station concourse every, it took two full weeks for a clear CCTV image of Yassen Gregorovich to be confirmed. The camera caught him coming out of the underground station and heading right towards the ticket office. Then Yassen disappeared into the crowds once more. For Mrs Jones, it was like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders – her greatest fear had been that Yassen had taken the Circle Line into Kensington, which was much too close to Alex's house for comfort.

"At least we can now be sure he's left London," she said, as Alan Blunt stared at the CCTV image of the Scorpia operative.

"Probably," he agreed shortly.

"How should we proceed with the manhunt? It could take us weeks to find Gregorovich. Maybe even months. Shall we reduce our men in London? We also need to consider the possibility that he might have slipped across a border. That man is a chameleon."

Alan Blunt didn't seem to be listening to Mrs Jones. He had put down the pixelated image of Yassen and was now examining a printed document.

"Alan? Are you even hearing me?"

Blunt finally looked up. He looked surprised to see Mrs Jones staring down at him. "Tell me … are you still worried about the Rider thing?"

"Alan, I haven't stopped talking about it. You know I won't rest easy until Gregorovich is either captured or killed."

"Hmmmm. Maybe you're right. How about we send Alex away for a while?"

Mrs Jones studied Blunt's face carefully. As usual, the man gave nothing away. His eyes had gone back to the paper in his hand.

"Ok Alan, tell me why you've suddenly changed your mind about this?"

Blunt waved his paper toward Mrs Jones. "I have just been sent some interesting information concerning our most notorious arms dealer. We've been given an exclusive opportunity to gather some information. Alex would be just the man- boy – for the job."

Mrs Jones started to protest. Emotionally, she wanted Alex to have a break from spying, to let him be a normal boy while he recovered from the Snakehead mission. But a more selfish part of her wanted Alex far far away from London and Scorpia, and so she bit her tongue.

"Will it be dangerous?" she asked.

Blunt dismissed her concern. "Oh no, quite safe, as always …"

o o o

Blissfully removed from secret plots and conspiracies, life at Brookland school had been going on as normal. Alex knew he should take advantage of every minute at school. After all, it would only be a matter of time until MI6 yanked him away again with some pathetic excuse about needing him to save the world. With the help of a private tutor, Alex was finally catching up his missed lessons. His teachers were impressed at his progress and encouraged him as best they could. Everything seemed to have settled back into its old routine and was going well.

Or at least, outwardly it looked as if things were going well. Inside Alex was fighting a never-ending battle against oppressing mental and physical tiredness.

Even if it felt like a lifetime ago, it had only been a few weeks since Alex had been shot and almost killed. The repercussions of his injury were far from over. While gallivanting around South East Asia on his last mission, Alex had been running on pure adrenalin – fear, urgency and more immediate physical afflictions has masked the longer term effects of the bullet wound. But now things were different, and while settling back into his normal school routine, Alex was beginning to understand just how long it would take for a full recovery. The constant feeling of weakness left Alex feeling ill tempered and snappy.

"What's wrong?" Tom kept asking, becoming increasingly offended when Alex refused to answer. But what was Alex to say? Tom would never understand that Alex felt bone tired and emotionally exhausted. Tom still thought being a spy was glamorous and exciting. He wouldn't be able to understand Alex's constant fear of everything being ripped away once more.

With every passing day, Alex's anxiety amplified; he expected to find MI6 waiting for him behind every corner, and his sleep became even more disturbed than before.

Jack was better placed to understand what was going on in Alex's life. She was old enough to understand that her ward's nightmares and poor appetite were a manifestation of post-traumatic stress.

Like Alex, Jack also knew that it was only a matter of time before MI6 turned up again. They wouldn't care that Alex was tired and under weight. They wouldn't stop to ask for his opinion. They would just take him and use him, like they always did. Helpless and angry, Jack looked after Alex as well as she could until that day came.

o o o

It was storming outside when the knock came on the door. The first knocks must have been masked by rolls of thunder, as by the time Jack had got out of bed, pulled on her gown and come down to open the door John Crawley was already drenched. Jack was tempted to slam the door straight away, but it would only have delayed the inevitable.

"Leave him alone," she snapped, not giving Crawley the time to say anything, nor offering him to step in from the storm.

Crawley wiped the rain from his face. "We have a bit of a situation," he said. "Someone is looking for Alex. An assassin. Alex needs to come with me right now. We're taking him into protective custody."

Jack felt the blood drain from her face. "You have got to be kidding me. Why would anyone want to kill Alex?"

Crawley frowned. "There's an organisation Alex humiliated. They tried to kill him once already, but they failed. They're not going to give up easily."

Crawley lied with a straight face, not showing any other emotion than what looked like concern for Alex's safety. Jack was not fooled. "Can't you people leave him alone?"

"I'm afraid it's out of my hands, Miss Starbright. It's really vital we get Alex to safety quickly."

"Where will you be taking him?"

Crawley looked down. "Somewhere safe," he muttered.

Jack knew she was beat. Angrily, she stepped back and finally let the MI6 man into the house. He stood in the corridor, dripping, while Jack went upstairs to wake up Alex and share the bad news.

o o o

Protective custody turned out to be Eldemere secure facility for criminally dangerous boys. Alan Blunt briefed Alex about the facility, which was little more than a prison for Britain's most dangerous young repeat offenders.

"You'll be quite safe, from the … euh … assassin. He'll never find you there, and of course you'll be under cover. Quite safe. And while you're there, maybe you could … euh … do us a little favour?"

Alex sighed. He'd known right from the start that this was coming. He wondered if there was any assassin at all, or if that had merely been a lie to make him come quietly.

The "favour" was to spy on another inmate at the facility. The boy was the son of an international arms dealer. MI6 needed to extract some information from the boy, preferably without him ever realising he was being interrogated. As always, Alex was absolutely perfect for the job.

Blunt watched Alex carefully during the briefing. Alex had lost a lot of weight in recent weeks, but he still looked healthy enough. If anything, the wiry slenderness fit the image of the young ruffian Blunt wanted Alex to impersonate. As far as Blunt was concerned, it was all falling into place, and both he and Mrs Jones were getting what they wanted. The undercover mission would keep Alex off the streets until Yassen Gregorovich was located and eliminated. The plan was absolutely foolproof.

o o o

To be continued …