For the fourth day in a row, Ludmilla Schmidt had been given the run around by both the Australian Embassy and the Department of Immigration and Border Protection in Sydney about the confirmation of a Distinguished Talent visa for Aleksandr Makarov. She phoned for an appointment with the Consul General, for herself and Sasha.
Her back up plan was that she had put out feelers and five ballet companies would take Sasha if the Australians continued to drag their feet.
"It will be fine, Aleksandr. Charm offensive remember. Its not your fault, whatever happens it will be for the best. Just think the ENO, the Royal Danish Ballet, the La Scala Ballet, the Berlin State Ballet and the National Ballet of Canada have all stated they would welcome you as guest principal artiste at the drop of a hat. The Canadians have stated you would be invited as principal and maybe junior choreographer. There is no reason for these problems."
"Its security… I have a dodgy past." Alex said sullenly.
"You were a child, that is no reason for them to be so difficult. If they stall, we will back out and you can go Ontario with your head held high."
Alex had to admire the woman, who would try every avenue and open any door. Her grey hair piled high in a top knot, her make up dramatic and her entire ensemble exuded power, from her four inch heels to her Chanel suit, blouse and scarf, accented with flashes of gold. The weather too warm for any of her fur coats. He was wearing a highly fashionable tightly tailored dark blue silk suit and t-shirt with his lucky trainers; going for rock star rather than dancer. Looking younger than his 25 years.
Mags Cannock reread the security report before her guests arrived. A file with lots of blacked out lines, but she could do the maths, Covert Action Division of ASIS had used a child to infiltrate the Bangkok triads, who had exposed an illegal donor hospital and a major threat to Australia's national security and how did ASIS respond, with a block on this hero's visa application ten years later, because as a fifteen year old he had a complete breakdown and was still suspect. Her hands were tied, as she could not grant visa's personally, but she could play just as dirty as those spooks. She knew four department heads who were already aware of the near environmental disaster at Dragon Nine and she had a name for the operative who saved their fragile reef system ecology from destruction. That kid's visa was a matter of national pride and she would make sure her memo stating that made it into every in-tray in Canberra. Mr. Makarov deserved the highest honours Australia could bestow, not a cold shoulder for his alcoholism and past cocaine habit. She would brainstorm with Ms. Schmidt and use that woman's press contacts as well.
…
Gregory was shuffling and kept trying copy the tricks he had seen Sasha and his brother do effortlessly, but several cards slipped through his fingers.
Alex was teaching the Stavenkov brothers how to place poker. "Split the pack, do half at a time. That's how I got the hang of the Faro shuffle. Overhand is fine. In fact the messer the better. Make everyone think you can't play then you can fleece them, good and proper." He stood and then said "Chips or popcorn? Soda water, milk or orange juice?"
Date night for Luci and Mira meant Sasha was baby sitting. Nina was already asleep and later the boys would make him watch a bad movie with robots, aliens, super heroes or worst of all three. Pyotr joined him in the kitchen "I heard dad told you to choreograph something for that charity gig for the Arts Centre next week. I'm meant to be helping. I'm not going on stage, so what do you suggest?"
"Video something for a background projection or help with staging, costume and make-up? I'd have suggested working as a stage hand but you got stuck working with me."
"Yeah, stuck with the complete loser. So, where does mom hide her Hersey bars?"
Alex scoffed. "Come off it. I do not want to be on double chores for giving away state secrets. Anyway, I've got some genuine swiss chocolate in my room which is a million times better than Hersey bars. Hidden behind my iPod dock, in the box with my throwing knives. Do not touch the knives. I will know if you have. They are sharp enough to amputate limbs and I'm sure Luci counted yours before she left."
….
Alex had volunteered to drive the Pleasures to the airport on Tuesday morning, having been handed the keys to Vladimir's beautiful black Range Rover.
Edward was surprised Alex was going back down under after his short unofficial stay as a teenager. "So, Australia? Didn't Ash leave you his apartment and ill gotten gains?"
A whole portfolio inherited on his 21st birthday which was still handled by Marc Damon. "I'm going to look into it when I get there. The apartment was being used by ASIS, last I heard. The money just sitting in a bank account." Over 2 million Australian dollars of bonds and untraceable laundered money uncovered after the death of Anthony Howell, hidden in his apartment. Alex had been named as the only beneficiary in the man's will. It was like the ultimate joke really, the man had hated him and all he represented; the spawn of the great and heroic John Rider.
As they stopped in a queue of traffic, Alex flexed his neck, to see that Liz was snoozing in the back having really enjoyed her time in Manhattan. The dancer grinned and asked his one time foster father "Want to know a secret?"
"Always, I'm an investigative journalist and you provided me with the story of the century and I can't publish most of it, without causing multiple international incidents and possibly going to jail for treason."
"In the glove box is a memory stick, on it is Cossack's life story. Yassen left it for me with Misha. Misha and Yasha were cousins, their mothers were sisters. That's why we met in San Francisco. Only I had already left you and he offered me a job, being lovers was only meant to be a fringe benefit. I was working: information gathering, surveillance, body guard and then I settled into the role as all round entertainment, a nice warm and very compliant body. MI6 never officially used me as a raven. Only Misha thinks they sent me to Cornwall as just that, to get to Yasha, because I look just like dear old dad." Alex paused, "Yassen, the cold assassin, did fall in love, or obsession, with me. Sabina missed his death bed confession. That stick contains his horror story. Read it, publish it, it's a tragedy before you just dismiss him as just a psychopath. He saw his friends, family, everyone he knew die, then he was used and abused. Write about John and Ash. I don't care if there's blowback. I want closure. I know you have Bulman's notes and I left you my journal. If I do something really stupid, then you get first dibs on the exclusive."
The journalist furrowed his brow, suddenly worried at what Alex would confess, "What do you mean by stupid?"
"You know I just walk into situations and react. Games, its all games. I'm not a pawn, just a player. The trick is to never be played. Even, sex and love is a game." Alex said as the car moved off.
Edward sighed "You know, love is not like that, it is comfort and support, dynamism and strife, give and take and I do not mean that just in a physical sense. You know Dieter had you checked out back in 2005, you were so happy, settled and together with Manfred. That is love, Sasha. That is exactly what Liz and I have. Don't sell yourself short, you deserve happiness."
Alex wondered on the grim fact that being whole and happy had never been part of Ian's game plan. Driven, cold and calculating was his ideal for his nephew. He was stuck in limbo, neither operative nor normal. He often looked at lovers, partners and parents and felt detached, alone, a freak. "Doing something stupid… I fear the darkness in my soul will consume me. I… I have bad days. Work keeps me going, keeps me real. Even with Manfred, it was the fact it was everything together, it was frenetic, intense and all consuming. He slept as little as I did, we filled our hours with creating and fucking. God, that man was the best lover I have ever had. Even, Tania paled compared to him and she's one hell of a girl. I do like strong women. Shame Liz is besotted with you. She could do with a younger model."
"No joking about my wife. Every day I know I blessed with the fact she puts up with me." Edward sighed, "Sabina has yet to find Mr. Right. You're both still young and as the saying goes there are plenty of fish in the sea. You probably aren't half as picky as Sabina. Although you still fit her main criteria for future husband, having both money and being famous."
"Infamous… serious bad boy, remember. First rule of being a good father is do not let a cokehead anywhere near your daughter."
…..
Marc Damon scowled at the photos on the centre pages of the Sydney Daily News of Sasha Makarov with the Australian Consul General on the UN steps. The young dancer was speaking to the sub-committee at UNICEF on child exploitation and trafficking. The Director of CAD, the black ops division of ASIS, was being out manoeuvred by Ludmilla Schmidt. He had to hand it to her for getting the diplomats and Department of Foreign Affairs on her side. That woman should be in charge of the CIA not a merely a theatrical agent. Playing up on Sasha's dark past, making their objections for his visa look like groundless extreme prejudice.
The threat assessment posted by their allies' analysts suggested that it was likely Alex Rider, AKA Sasha Makarov, was an assassin and if so, then Breskin was likely to be controlling him. Only no one had seen or heard anything about that Russian since early 2003. The kid had been a mess after Cairo and had only dug himself into a deeper hole by running. Damon sat and wrote the memo cancelling his objections to the visa on principal but then put together the paperwork to interview MI6's dirty little secret when he arrived in Sydney. The Bank's spook squad in London had kept a close watch on Makarov and had concluded that the dancer still had close ties to the sex industry; as he had remained close to his former pimp and even closer to his former bodyguard/driver. He had been copied into the surveillance images of those liaisons.
As an operative who had survived over twelve years in Covert Operations, he had a hard outlook on fellow players, but Alex was an exception; that kid had been destroyed by the games other people had played. He had witnessed the blank acceptance of a kid who had seen his own godfather killed in front of him. Only months after the Russians had reported that Alex had been catatonic and severely psychologically damaged after witnessing the suicide of Sarov in Murmansk. He would handle this spy-dancer-assassin with kid gloves and offer full support. Hoping better late than never was the right way to play this, with understanding and openness they might be able to break a cycle of misuse and dangerous interactions.