Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

I know I have been missing for a few, but I hope this makes up for it. Again. and again... Enjoy.

The meeting had been short. Too short in Tom's opinion.

They had just arrived at Jack's house when Tom's mobile rang. He held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Tom, it's Cathy. We need you down at the station."

Tom flipped the mobile shut. He looked at Yassen.

"Tell Jack that I'm sorry, but something came up. I need to go."

Tom turned to leave, but Jack was already on the door step. Tom shifted uncomfortably as she walked toward them.

"Tom! Good to see you. I need help with the TV…"

Tom held up his hands. "Look Jack I really have to go. Cathy called. It has to be important."

Jack frowned. "Fine. But Yassen can go with you. He has nothing better to do."

"Actually…" It was Yassen's turn to look uncomfortable.

"He would love to come." Jack glared at Yassen. "I'm going to a meeting. Have fun."

They walked along the road, Tom muttering angrily. Alex tuned him out. Inside, he was packing. Jack thought he was dead. Good. She didn't recognize him. Also good. Tom being alive? How the bloody hell did that happen?

Alex looked at his former best friend. How old did he seem now, that Tom treated him like someone Jack's age? He sighed. This assignment was turning out to be difficult. The worst part was, literally his head was on the line. Alex would need to get into Brookland quickly, and quietly. Going in as a teacher would be bad. So would acting as help. The school had a tough mandatory background check he had to pass. He would have to go in as a student. Could Tom help him?

"Tom, could you help me with something?"

"What?" Tom sounded annoyed.

Alex pretended to be uncomfortable, and shifted his weight a few times. "I'm not as old as Jack thinks I am."

That got Tom attention. "Really? How old are you?"

"You know that residents of the UK can voluntary enlist into military service when they are 16 with parental consent?"

"Yes."

Alex pretended to be relieved. "There you have it."

Tom looked shocked. "You're sixteen?"

Alex nodded. "Yes."

Tom looked worried. "Is it legal? After all, you're lying to a government agent."

Alex resisted the urge to laugh. A government agent? But then he remembered that was the common term for police officers as well.

"So, you're an agent." How strange the word felt, coming out of his mouth! And he had been one so long ago. "Where is the station?"

Tom pointed at a building across the street. "Here we are."

When Alex walked in, the first thing he saw was the sectary. His breath caught. She was twenty five, perhaps. Fit, and trim. But her most disconcerting feature was her movements. Alex saw it at once.

"Yassen, this is Cathy."

Alex smiled and shook the woman's hand.

She glared at him. "I have heard of someone named Yassen."

Tom beamed. "Do you know each other?"

Cathy sneered in disgust. "The Yassen I heard of was a murderer. And he is dead."

Alex felt his mask slip on. He looked coldly at the woman. "Do I look dead to you, Israeli?"

"Would you like me to fix that Ruski?"

Tom stepped between them. "Hold on. You didn't call me down to argue with a stranger, did you?"

Cathy shrugged. "Fine. Meet with Nick. He's in the back. "

Tom left the room, Alex hot on his heels.

Cathy grabbed his arm. "Listen Ruski. I'm watching you. "

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the Mossad. "

With that Alex left the room.

The projector wheezed in the back of the room. Nick banged on it with his fist.

"I know it's not perfect, but it's all we've got."

Nick turned to the screen, meter-stick in hand.

"Here is our problem." The stick tapped an older looking man, in his late forties. He was obviously homeless. He stood in the crowded room of a metro station. The strange part was, even in his decrepit state, he was surrounded by people. He had seamlessly slotted himself into the crowd. And he stood still, doing nothing.

"Here's how he works." Nick tapped the figure on the screen. "He stands there for hours."

"Then," Nick paused to change the screen, "he gets a pick up." A younger woman approached the vagabond. Nick rapidly began to change the slides.

The woman approached the man. She bumped into him. She twisted away, shoving into another man in a long trench coat. The commuter shoved her rudely back, sending her stumbling into the homeless man. The young woman hurried away

Nick rubbed his face. "We have been looking for her for days." He turned to the two men. "What do you think?"

Tom shrugged. "Once you nab her, she'll spill. We just need to find her. If she is this involved, she must be addicted."

Nick stared. "What do you mean involved?"

"A drug mule. She has the drugs, gives them to the man, and the man sells them."

Nick nodded. It made perfect sense. "Of course! She's a mule. In and out, easy."

"No."

Nick turned to look at the other man. What had Tom called the guy? Yassen? Some Russian name. "Look mate, this is our job. What are we overlooking?"

It was a rhetorical question. Everyone in the room knew it. Nick had no idea how the man had enough balls to answer.

"She's not involved. Look."

He reached over and clicked back a few slides. "She bumps the dealer. He drops the drug into her pocket."

Click. The dealer's hand slips into the girl's jacket pocket. "The buyer walks into her."

Click. The commuter. Now that the pane was frozen, Nick could see the commuter's hand reaching into the girl's jacket pocket. "He trades the drug for money, and shoves her back at the dealer."

Click. She was shoved into the dealer. "The dealer grabs the money, lets her go, and neither the dealer nor the buyer are connected."

Click. All three are seen going their separate ways. They would never see each other again.

Tom nodded . "Good call. Now how do we get him?"

Tom left the building two hours later. The sun was beginning to set, but the moon was nowhere near rising, and the streets were filled with a murky glow. He was frustrated. "You solved it in three minutes. We have been on that case for months. And even after you explained it we spent more two hours getting nothing done."

Yassen shrugged. "You know how he works. That will make it easier."

"Sure." Tom snorted. "And we will spend five months deciding how exactly to nab him, by which time, he will leave the country!"

"What would you do?"

Tom sighed. "Honestly, the easiest thing would be to kill him, but he'd just get life. Besides he can smell a cop coming from a mile away. The closest we every got was an undercover, who walked past him, this close." Tom stretched out him arm to tap Yassen's shoulder. "But the undercover agent was busy, and couldn't nab him."

Tom yawned . "While that was fun, I need to get back home. Have to keep my grades up so I can officially join the force."

It was nine in the morning. Alex slipped down the metro , mingling with the morning rush hour. He spotted the dealer at once. A grubby man, dressed in a ragged long coat and fingerless gloves. His hair was long and greasy, hanging in his face. Alex settled himself of a bench holding a cup of coffee. He wouldn't drink it. It was almost as greasy as the man he was watching. Over the next two hours Alex saw at least five transactions. Possibly more, but Alex constantly had to move. Just because the target could stay still didn't meant that he could.

At eleven o'clock, Alex made his move. He remembered how close Tom had said the undercover had gotten. An arm's length away. More than close enough. Alex walked toward the target, his hand tightening in his pocket.

Tom glanced at his mobile. It was rare that he was ever contacted in school.