Edward Pleasure was having a hard time being objective over his latest investigation subject: Alan Blunt was a hard man to emote with on any level. The former Head of MI6 Special Operations was hated and reviled by his colleagues and counterparts; a man who most stated deserved a taste of his own medicine. The journalist was not alone assuming spies had no morals, but using a child in espionage broke every rule of decency and of law. His new book followed on from his last investigation connecting McCain to the murder of fellow journalist, Harry Bulman. A man who had been aware his time was up, as Bulman had sent a back up of his files to Edward, including a stack of information on MI6, SCORPIA, including information on Sabina's one time friend, Alex Rider. The list of suspects for that murder were Blunt, SCORPIA and McCain.
The freelance journalist had become a bit of a celebrity after his exposes on Damian Cray and Desmond McCain. He now employed an ex-SAS sergeant as a bodyguard, due to the fact he was lucky to be alive after two failed assassination attempts. In 2001, he had written his bestseller after piecing together the real face of the popular musician. He had followed up Cray's death; when most had assumed the man had been abducted by the mercenaries blamed for the firefight at Heathrow, in an attempt to hijack AirForce One. The reality was a mass murderer, who had tried to kill Edward and his wife. The insane musician, drunk on fame and deluded to think he could reshape humanity after triggering a nuclear holocaust as the head of his own personality cult.
Then there was his follow up, Desmond McCain had caused disasters to fund his own charity, killing thousands in the process. The man who had been executed in India last year for crimes against humanity. Another celebrity mass murderer, who failed in his attempt to kill Edward, purely by his afore thought in hiring a bodyguard.
In his current work folder, the journalist had files on all the kids rescued from Point Blanc Academy in Grenoble in 2001, as he followed up on all the details from Bulman. Unexpectedly, there he had recognised Alex, now the adopted brother of Joe Canterbury. However, there was a strange gap in his records. Where had Alex been between June 2001 and May 2003? The adoption records were sealed. The main odd coincidence in the timeline was the Canterbury abduction, followed within two months Blunt had taken early retirement out of the blue. The journalist knew that was not happenstance.
…..
Alex was nervous. He tried to rationalise that he should not be, as he sort of knew the journalist from life before. He'd been on holiday with him and his family in 2001. Edward had been everything a dad should be. Sabina had been a real daddy's girl; probably still was. Sab had been a good friend in that time when he had lost all his connections to normal in Chelsea, in the six weeks after Grief and before Cuba, before Sarov, before he disappeared. Now he was meeting the man who had the thankless task of writing Blunt's biography, luckily a very unauthorised one.
His breakdown four weeks ago had been caused by the revelation the emotionless bastard was in the process of reinvented himself as a political pundit for the hard right, a mere two years after getting retired rather than sacked for gross professional misconduct. The man had friends in high places. Well connected enough to survive and thrive as a mover and shaker. Currently, the man was advising the shadow cabinet on security issues.
Any background check would give the impression Sasha Canterbury had no connections to MI6, nor to Alex Rider; an orphan who had disappeared in 2001. The Russians had buried the adoption paperwork and his files in London were sealed. He was officially the son of Mimi and Charlie Canterbury, formerly Aleksandr Alexeyevich Sarov. Only a handful had crossed the path of the former teen agent. Edward Pleasure had known him as such and would be able to corroborate the truth about the Royal and General Bank with the Russians and the CIA. The eighteen year old had been guaranteed anonymity as a source after being contacted by Edward seven days ago. He had taken the first steps into his grand plan for shafting Blunt, an interview that would see one abuser get what was long overdue. The British Press had a long history of vilified child abusers.
As Edward sorted through his notes and set up for the interview, the tall, skinny young man looked out of the window of Hotel Harrington, from the fourth floor suite onto the street below. Nothing of note on the street, no vans or blacked out sedans, no spooks eavesdropping. He had already scouted the room for bugs. The downtown tourist hotel was mid range and bland. A place he would not cross paths with anyone who knew him or the Canterbury's. His parents were out of town with Joe. His brother looking over Stanford, where he was studying in the Fall. Alex had rain-checked the road trip and was meant to be finishing his own coursework staying with Lola, which was a little white lie as he had submitted his final assignments yesterday, a week ahead of schedule.
The teenager stopped looking at the traffic below, letting the curtain fall back into place, and crossed the room went to the fridge, pulling out a cold bottle of coke. Stocked with snacks and sandwiches, ahead of this in depth interview. He had already noted the journalist already had redacted copies of his FSB and CIA files. Alex was sure his friends in Russia were happy to oblige the journalist in getting back at Blunt. Proof in black and white from outside agencies on his abuser's guilt. He was unsure Joe Byrne had provided the redacted files, as Alex doubted the retired CIA man had allegedly developed a conscience. More likely, Byrne was stabbing Blunt in the back for purely personal reasons.
The journalist finished his phone call and observed Alex, then he corrected his thoughts as he had to call him Sasha. The bright, energetic, sarcastic boy he had known was now an introverted, troubled young man with dozens of scars on his arms. Self harm and suicide attempts were a reality in the past four years.
The bored teenager was tempted to turn on the TV as the silence in the room was oppressive. He put down his beverage and smiled broadly, quipping "Am I about to poke a sleeping dragon? Would it be better to remain silent? To continue to pretend I'm just an orphaned Russian kid. Not British, not a spy, not a victim."
Edward knew if Sasha had any doubts he would never have answered his email. "Abusers should always be confronted, brought to justice. Its part of my job that makes it worthwhile and not just flowery prose. Blunt deserves to die in prison for what he did to you." The journalist then started to play his last video interview. "Jack sends her love. Funny that she lives in Florida near her parents. She's a lawyer in Tampa, working mostly on immigration cases."
After viewing his former guardians perspective on those horrible months, a tear escaped those tired brown eyes, quickly brushed away. It was hard to remain calm as he digested the awfulness of the blackmail they had endured. Jack had been threatened as he had. "I miss her most of all. It was so hard knowing I can never contact her. Blunt used her to get me to jump through hoops. After Sarov, I knew I could never go back to London; that Alex Rider was really dead. The past is another country, quite literally in my case. She knows I'm alive I take it?"
"Yeah, she was told by the State Department you'd been repatriated in 2003 and placed with a foster family. No details, so she thinks you're in witness protection in England." The journalist had liked the lawyer, a woman with no qualms about going to press about Alan Blunt. Her testimony alone would sink Blunt's political ambitions.
The video camera was soon positioned, tested and turned on, with the light placed to keep his interviewee in shadow. With the first question all trace of an American accent was gone as the anonymous source started to talk. The flattened slight estuarine tones of a middle class Londoner spoke about his abduction by Blunt and his short career as a fourteen year old operative for MI6.
….
It was well after 2AM, when Sasha returned to Lola's studio apartment. She was sat reading a copy of Vogue, not at all impressed that her friend had not been there when she had returned from work. "Well, you are grounded, sunshine. I told your mother you were asleep when she rang. You have to ring her at 6 and pretend you've had a serious migraine." She stood and turned down her sofa bed.
Alex shrugged, "Sorry, I got caught up with an old friend from the old country."
Lola was too tired and just assumed her friend had met some former school friend from Russia.
Sat on the window, Alex was too wired to sleep, feeling more alive than at any point since his slip up before Easter. He picked up his phone, knowing Joe would pick up.
"Hey bro, feeling better?" Joe sounding like he knew Sasha had been out on the town with the lamest excuse possible.
Knowing he could not be exactly truthful over the phone, he spoke in his own code for sure thing, you know me I get away with minor misdemeanours. "Sure, I'm fine. I might go back to the farm later today. Can I take your car?"
"Right, sure thing. No problem. Drive carefully and call when you get there."
Alex already had his brother's car keys in his pocket. He went to lie down for a few hours sleep. Grandma Graylow was keeping herself busy these days organising the protests against the proposed pipeline route across southern Pennsylvania. Plans were on show and the local farmers were seeking fair compensation for loss of crops, disruption to pastures and distribution. More than a few were more concerned over the environmental impact on the woodland, water tables, local fauna and flora; concerns barely mentioned in the glossy gas company promotional material. Alex was going to learn from the master with fifty years experience on organising campaigns and civil disobedience.
…
After four days working like a demon to reshape the text considering Alex's input, Edward travelled to Manhattan. The rough draft had been devoured by his American editor by the next morning Ellie gushed, "My God, this will cause a sensation on both sides of the Pond. This kid, how the hell did you find him?"
"You're to smart to fall for pure chance." Edward did not mention the connection to his daughter. "I have promised complete anonymity. His name is not in my notes. We can never to reveal his current identity, though I'm sure that MI6 know precisely who and where he is. His safety ensured by the fact he was adopted by a very well connected and high profile couple in Washington. One of the reasons the CIA are so amenable to shafting Blunt."
The woman connected the dates within seconds, "The Canterbury kidnapping. The latest gossip is Mimi Graylow-Canterbury will be offered Secretary of State position. Didn't Sasha have a short stay in clinic recently?"
"Yeah, he's emotionally fragile." Edward sat back and pondered the art on the wall. "Jack Starbright described a completely different kid." The journalist took a sip of his tea. "I spoke to a specialist on childhood trauma, for perspective. There are certain points during your life you wish you could make more of a difference than just reporting abuses of power. Keeping Sasha safe is my main priority. I will erase my notes and manuscript if there's even the slightest chance he'll be put in harms way again." Edward Pleasure was sure that Sasha was strong to have made it to 18, after two years effectively under house arrest in Russia.
