Sorry for the looong delay since the last chapter – I've torn a ligament in my knee, and haven't really been able to concentrate on anything. Hopefully updates should be a bit more regular again. Thanks for reading!

== o == o == o ==

== BACK TO WORK ==

== o == o == o ==

Yassen Gregorovich sat tight in his Brighton hotel after his escape. He had a new identity and enough money in cash to tide him over, but he did not want to risk going out onto the street and potentially being seen by a policeman or caught on CCTV. He knew all too well that the UK had the most extensive CCTV network of any country in the world … and he also knew MI6 agents would be scouring the nation for him, both physically and digitally.

He also had another good reason to sit tight, however; name, Scorpia had not instructed him to do anything else. Scorpia did not tolerate failure, and while Yassen's near death and capture by MI6 did not constitute a failure as such – after all, it was a client of Scorpia who had shot him – it was also certainly no success. Scorpia would expect a proper debriefing. They would expect Yassen to be available to them at all times.

Alone in his hotel room, Yassen allowed himself to think of the mess he had got into. It all came down to Alex Rider – over and over, their paths crossed in unpredictable ways. There was no way Yassen could ever have hurt Alex. In the end, he had even been willing to die for Alex.

Yassen sighed. Alex was too much like his father.

MI6 had been so proud of John Rider – their star operative, the first successful infiltrator of Scorpia! And then MI6 called their agent back to London, supposedly to retire him from the Scorpia mission. Yassen remembered saying goodbye, thinking then that John would become the first Scorpia double agent inside MI6, not realising that John's death warrant had already been signed, that his defection to Scorpia had been found out …

Yassen rubbed his eyes. These were not pleasant memories. He remembered with a fresh wave of pain the shock at being told of John's death on Arthur's Bridge, the numbing pain at the loss of his mentor, friend, lover. And then the overwhelming pride and affection that had flooded him when he first saw Alex. The intensity of his own feelings had taken Yassen by surprise. He wasn't used to such emotions, but he accepted them, and accepted Alex.

For John.

Yassen sighed again. Despite their wonderful shared moment in Air Force One, he would not go looking for Alex. Alex was too young to understand the politics of spying. He held childish ideals of right and wrong.

Their paths would cross again, and when they did, Yassen hoped that Alex would be mature enough to understand his father's decisions. Hopefully he would understand … unlike Ian Rider. A true patriot, Ian was. Yassen was not sorry to have been the one to kill him.

A few days later, the monotony of the hotel room was finally broken. The envelope was hand delivered, but the messenger left as quickly as he had appeared. The envelope contained only a scrap of paper with an address scribbled on it. But no other information was needed. It took Yassen less than ten minutes to collect his meagre belongings, and then he was finally on his way. After using his new credit card to pay for his room, Yassen hailed a taxi on the street. He handed the scribbled address to the driver.

"You taking the piss, mate?" the taxi driver turned around to ask.

"What do you mean?" Yassen wanted to know. He looked past the taxi driver and observed his own reflection in the rear view mirror. His face help no expression, his eyes were cold.

"That's a Croydon address. You want to call a minicab. It's going to cost you a fortune on the meter. We don't normally go that far without a booking."

Wordlessly, Yassen reached into his bag and pulled out a wad of £20 notes. "Will this be enough?" he asked coldly.

The driver shrugged. "It's your call, mate." He put the car in gear.

It took them just under an hour to reach the address. The Satellite Navigation system directed the taxi to a block of custom built flats on an industrial estate in East Croydon. The area looked mostly deserted, and the streets had clearly not been cleaned for a long time.

"You sure about this, mate?" the taxi driver checked, looking around the dark estate.

Yassen did not reply. He handed the fare to the driver and walked into the darkness without so much as a goodbye. He waited until the car's lights had disappeared into the distance before approaching the building.

== o == o == o ==

Yassen had been under surveillance from the very second he had stepped out of the taxi. This time it was not MI6 that was watching his every move however, but Scorpia. Zeljan Kurst observed Yassen Gregorovich's approach. "Buzz him in, bring him to me," he snapped when the assassin finally reached the building.

Several minutes later, Kurst and Yassen sat opposite each other in a soundproof room. "It's good to see you, Gregorovich," Kurst said, "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"It's good to see you too, sir. I am very grateful for all you have done for me." Yassen nodded toward the bag in his hand – it contained his new identify.

Kurst's lips twitched in a small smile. "You have been loyal to us for a long time, Gregorovich. Scorpia always rewards loyalty."

"I live only to serve Scorpia."

"Of course you do. That is why Damian Cray's betrayal was unforgiveable. Never have we seen a client turn on one of our agents before. We should never have accepted his assignment."

Yassen looked down respectfully. "Damian Cray was an emotional man. His behaviour could not have been predicted."

"Nor could Alex Rider's involvement."

Yassen looked up sharply and held Kurst's gaze steadily. "No. That also could not have been predicted." He felt ashamed at his own transparency. "Please forgive me for sending the boy to you. I am sorry he did not turn out to be as good as his father."

Kurst continued to hold Yassen's gaze. The smile had returned to his lips. "He is pretty good," he admitted. "Unfortunately he is not yet ready to join our organisation. But that is not what I called you here to discuss. Rather, I am going to brief you on a new mission. Scorpia has been asked to take charge of a security operation in Yorkshire. I would like you to lead this operation. It should take two weeks at the most, and then we will be flying you back to Malagosto where you will teach some of our newest recruits. Unfortunately we have lost some of our best agents recently. Replacing them is a top priority."

Yassen relaxed as Kurst continued speaking. He had not wanted to continue the discussion about Alex Rider. He could not trust his own opinion on the subject.

The security operation sounded fairly straightforward. Yassen would be in charge of organising the arrival and transfer of weapons from Columbia to a warehouse in Yorkshire. The warehouse belonged to Eric Bastillo, a high profile arms dealer who had frequently employed Scorpia for similar jobs. Yassen would be in charge of warehouse security while the weapons were assembled and modified, ready to be shipped out into the Middle East.

Yassen was grateful for such a straightforward mission to return him to active service. At least he wasn't likely to run into Alex Rider in Yorkshire!

== o == o == o ==

To be continued …