Another shortish chapter, but I hope you appreciate finding out about Alex between Scorpia Rising and the present day. As always, please read and review!

The birdcage checkpoint occurred Birdcage Walk met Queen Anne's Gate. North into Green Park was barricaded off by three metre high fencing, as it had been to the south, almost to Lambeth Road. It had been a massive operation, and Alex wondered how the bomb had managed to make it across the river at all, given that the checkpoint was on the other side.

If he was to guess, he would have said it was an inside job, given how tight the controls had been. Nobody could have simply driven in, but someone very well could have posed as an arriving dignitary and with the right identification, could have made it through. The only puzzle was the delayed detonation, given that everyone of importance was out of range at the time the bomb went off.

Alex was given no more time to ponder this, as he arrived at the checkpoint. He could see Sienna Atherton cringe slightly further into her seat as they drew closer. The whole affair was extremely embarrassing for the security services, and particularly MI5, so the big guns had been called in.

Manning the checkpoint were the members of the police force who had been there before, but they were all looking slightly overawed as they drew closer, and well they might. The National Counter-Terrorism Security Office had sent a unit to each checkpoint, to liaison with the Counter Terrorism Command personnel that had already arrived, and had brought the Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear team, or CBRN, with them.

The CBRN members, decked out in white and orange hazmat gear, combined with the black counter-terrorism units and the empty streets, gave the whole situation a very eerie feel.

Alex pulled to a halt fifty yards from the checkpoint.

"What are you doing?" his passenger asked.

"This is serious. They've brought in the national terrorism unit, and these guys are paranoid. Like shoot you if you look at them funny kind of paranoid. We need to identify that we're aren't a threat, and exactly what we're doing."

"Surely you can just call them, or something."

"Shut up, and get out of the car. Slowly. Then, don't say a word. If they think we're communicating or planning, all the blonde hair and cleavage in the world won't save you from being turned into Swiss cheese. Lose the jacket as well, they're terrified of suicide bombers. Al-Qaeda has a lot to answer for."

Alex opened his door slowly, presenting his hands over the top. He knew he would immediately be seen as the threat, so he had to tread more carefully. Not too many blondes who wore low cut dresses were terrorists or bombers, despite what he'd just said.

As smoothly as he could manage, his arms still raised, he moved out from behind the door and began to walk towards the checkpoint. He stopped when they covered half the distance, tracking the blonde's shaky progress alongside his own.

"Stop!" came the instruction from some sort of speaker or megaphone. "Identify yourself and your intention!"

Alex, despite the situation, was in no hurry to identify himself to a street full of officer plods from the Westminster constabulary as an MI6 agent, so he compromised.

"A4a-b5J-Z90-a4Z. Transport mark no.3 to safety," he said loudly and clearly. The code was his database identification code, and he hoped there would be someone senior enough back there to actually recognize what he'd just told them. If nothing else, he was hoping they would punch it into the database and get a notification that to access his file they needed clearance several times higher than their pay grade.

It took several minutes for anything to happen, and Alex stood completely still, as his mark shuffled uncomfortably on her feet.

"A4a-b5J-Z90-a4Z and mark no.3, proceed slowly through the checkpoint on my command."

Alex turned, as Sienna Atherton let out a heavy sigh. He had left the engine running, because he knew that despite the immediate assumption that any bomb was a kill-switch detonator that would explode once the engine was stopped, he couldn't afford to have to re-jack the car.

They proceeded to the vehicle, and slid into their seats without a word. Alex released the handbrake, and the car rolled forward slowly.

As he did so, all but a few of the officers on the checkpoint moved to the side, around the back of the makeshift office and headquarters that they had set up for the event.

"What's going on?" his passenger asked, sounding puzzled.

"None of them have the clearance to be informed about me, and MI6 spend a lot of time and money making sure my face is recognised by as few people as possible."

"Do I have clearance?" asked the surprised blonde.

"They'll make you sign an amended Official Secrets Act I imagine, one that specially refers to me. MI6 don't mince words. You'll have it shoved down your throat."

"Put your hands on the dashboard, just as a precaution. Make sure they are visible," he instructed his charge.

Alex cruised through the checkpoint slowly, keeping his own hands at the top of the wheel, and he was watched intently through the window as he passed. The two men in combat uniform he recognised, and the third, who was wearing a biohazard suit, Alex was fairly sure he knew also, simply from a rough estimation of height and weight.

He knew the car was being scanned by the infrared,

Other than them, the road was deserted, and Alex waited until they were a hundred yards further down the road before he sped up again.

"Why didn't they check us for bombs or anything? I thought you said they were completely paranoid?" Sienna Atherton asked, and once again Alex was struck by how varied her emotional state was. Sometimes she was extremely observant, other times Alex wanted to throttle her to make her stop talking.

"They did check us. That grey wall runner on the rail, between two power poles..."

"Which wall?"

Not that observant then.

"I deliberately stopped directly between it. It is US Transport Security Administration x-ray technology that they developed to check for drugs, weapons and bombs in cars entering airports. It's called a 'RVACIS' and it is most commonly used for checking semi-trailers at borders for illegal imports. However, the US army has developed a version for detecting IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan."

"How did someone get a bomb in this evening then?" Sienna Atherton asked, and Alex could tell she was relaxing. They'd cleared the exclusion zone, and at the next intersection Alex could even see another car, travelling through the south London streets in the early hours of the morning.

He considered the poignant question for a second before replying.

"It's a good question. Again, I'd be guessing, but I say either the relevant vehicle arrived early, or the security agencies went the economical route and only hired machines to scan employee, security and media cars. Each of those setups costs nearly two million pounds."

"So what are we doing now?" enquired Sienna Atherton.

Alex was momentarily flummoxed, and drove in silence for a moment.

The awkward pause was punctured by the vibration of Alex's phone in his pocket, and he pulled it out and entered the key code to field the call. There was none of this single button lock bypass with his phone.

"Blunt," Alex said emotionlessly.

"Agent Rider. I've just received a report on your conduct today. You are expected to report to Liverpool Street at the conclusion of your other commitments tomorrow for a debrief."

Alex winced. That wasn't promising.

"I have my primary objective safe, what are your instructions?"

"Take her to your safe place, since you've broken all established protocols already."

"But sir!"

"No argument Rider. She will be collected from your care by her parents. They have asked to do so personally. Make sure you are presentable when that occurs."

Then with a click, the phone line went dead. Alex swore, and rammed the phone back into his pocket. Disobeying the chief of regional security indirectly was one thing, but the Head of Special Operations at MI6 was quite another. The suggestion was abhorrent though.

"What's going on?"

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, as he swung south toward Kensington.

"Apparently, you're going to be my house guest so your parents don't have to travel to some military base to collect you," Alex replied angrily.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I can count the number of people who have been into my current house on one hand. My housekeeper, my best friend, and the three separate security specialists that I hired to do each layer of my security setup."

"Why would you need three people who do the same job?" she asked, playing with the ends of her blonde hair.

"To ensure no individual except me is aware of every element," Alex replied, "next question?"

"Alright, so where do you live?"

"Normally if I was going to do this, I'd blindfold you, drive you around to disorientate you, and then only release you once you were in the underground bunker, but I doubt your parents will hold up on their end once they got you back again."

"Aren't you just a little paranoid?"

"My paranoia saved my housekeepers life. Didn't stop her running back to Washington, but it ensured her return wasn't made in a coffin. I live in Knightsbridge now, although you won't find my address anywhere in public records, the house officially doesn't exist, and my public file still has me living in my uncles home in Chelsea."

"You used to live there?"

"What is this, twenty questions?"

"You asked me what my next question was, didn't you?"

"Yes, originally it was my uncle's house, which I shared with him and my housekeeper. But he died when I was 14 years old trying to complete the same mission I was later given as my first ever assignment. My housekeeper, Jack Starbright, she lived with me up until nearly my 16th birthday, until someone kidnapped her brother in the United States."

"Why would someone do something like that?"

"To get to me. They had personal details and everything, MI6 had done a less than exemplary job of hiding my whereabouts, so my housekeeper was easy enough to find. Fortunately she'd been assigned a guard at this point, so with none of my family remaining to target, they went for the next best thing."

He heard an audible intake of breath.

"Who are they?"

"A particularly unlovable organization that used to be known as SCORPIA. It's an acronym, which always made them slightly less intimidating in my eyes. Especially since it doesn't actually work as an acronym."

"So what did you do?" she asked, as Alex pulled on to Brompton Road, passing the Knightsbridge tube station.

"Well, they demanded I hand myself over if we wanted Tom Starbright back alive, so I went to Venice, extracted Tom Starbright, and killed all seven of their new members they'd elected since we routed them last time, with a little assistance from the SAS."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry; I doubt they'll be making a grand come-back. We froze their assets throughout Italy and Spain, and lo-and-behold, a dozen companies went under. If you hear companies named as the cause of the central European financial crisis, 50/50 chance of it being because they were attached to Scorpia."

A sentence that Alex had thought would be reassuring made his charge look very white, and clench the dashboard tightly.

He didn't have time to ponder this strange reaction, however, as he pulled the car into Onslow Gardens, and navigated his way into the only gated residence in the area, that had been specially designed for his needs.

Home sweet home.

Alright, I'm not sure I like the idea of Sienna going back to Alex's house, but it will be good to see him out of his comfort zone. I also hope you noticed his slight lack of awareness about Sienna's reaction to his history; it's because of this that he is able to act like he does. He doesn't think of it as abnormal.