Three agents missing, two presumed dead. It was definitely not a good month for Joe Byrne. He had heard from MI6 that a bomb was headed to Russia on the Presidential plane Plane after Sarov had left Cuba, but the Russian had surrendered in Murmansk and were all were blaming the Assassin Conrad for the whole plot. General Alexei Sarov was under house arrest but intel from his contacts in Russian Federal Security Services stated the man had been a victim blackmail and was not considered to be the protagonist of this attempted coup. The plutonium bomb had been disassembled and the fissile material handed over for proper regulation with the International Atomic Energy Agency. None of these events had made it into the press. Belinda Troy and Tom Turner had disappeared on Cuba three weeks ago and Alex had last been seen on the plane at Edinburgh Airport with General Sarov a week later, where the boy had been described as the General's son.
Now he had a mountain of paperwork to shred. The files for his Missing agents went in storage. He would deny everything if questioned. All who worked for Black ops knew that. Fuck up and you were on your own. Die and that would be it; no burial, no funeral, no enquiries or investigations. Byrne then looked at the photograph of Alex used for his fake US passport and had an uneasy feeling that the Russians had the kid. If this became public there would be hell to pay. Byrne always knew there was the chance his dirty, underhand and illegal operations may lead to prison time, but America's defense and security were worth it. Even the life and liberty of a child.
...
Roman Petrushkov sat in the back of his limousine as it made its way out of Moscow and north for a house call. In the file were the results of DNA analysis proving Alex Rider was not the biological child of Alexei Sarov. He would be breaking this news to his old friend very gently. The proud and formal General had been deceived. This was not the fault of the child. Alex Rider had been used and left to rot by both the CIA and MI6, it was now in the hands of Federal Security, what to do with this brave child who had been tortured, beaten but who had remained defiant and had been willing to give up his life to save Sarov and to prevent nuclear catastrophe on Russian soil. The boy deserved more than prison as a agent of a foreign power engaged in espionage. Then again, Sarov already loved the child and the boy had nothing to go back to. The agencies involved in the boys misuse would have covered their tracks and would deny everything if these events became public. The whole incident was being kept secret, they would not even use Alex Rider to discredit the American Central Intelligence Agency.
The old spymaster mused on this problem. The boy with his background could be used to control General Sarov and keep that wily old fox in line. Petrushkov had read the psychological profile of the child, maybe keeping the boy in the clinic was after all the best idea. Alex Rider was deeply disturbed and had been diagnosed with paranoia, PTSD and possibly of dissociative personality disorder. The staff at the clinic stated the child had horrific nightmares, flashbacks, no appetite and mistrusted all acts of kindness. Such a child would keep the General's hands full and keep him out of politics.
"I don't care if the child is not my biological son. He is the image of Vladimir. It is fate that boy crossed my path. My life will be whole again." Sarov exhaled loudly and relaxed before sitting again. All signs of his temper and upset gone. "He looks like his mother, Helena. I was such a fool that summer in London." Alexei shook his head. "We were both married but unhappy so. If she had told me she was pregnant then, I would have accepted the child. My marriage to Galina at that point was on paper only. She was already upset that Vladimir was a Military College, following in my footsteps. She wanted him to go to University and be a cultured scholar." The man smiled and then confessed, "Alexander looks like his mother, he has her spirit, her smile. Even as her friend, should I not love her son like my own?"
Roman gave a slight incline of his head, as if he was considering his old fiend's point of view. "The boy needs a father. Alexander has no hope, no trust. He will be a handful, but I think you will become young again with a fine son to mould. We, and you know I mean the entire government, want the boy on a tight leash but he does not deserve detention. I may let our friends in London and Washington think we have imprisoned the boy. Keep him safe, Alexei. He is a little hero." The Director of Russian Federal Security watched Alexei closely. He knew that the English boy had given a fuller and more detailed account of the plot to destabilize Europe. Sarov was a more embroiled in these events than he had made out. However, Petrushkov was not unhappy with the fall of President Kiriyenko. Russia needed a fright to shock the establishment of of its complacency and it had just had one. A strong leader would be better for the country. Sarov had given Russia a push in the right direction rather than return it to dictatorship and the dark days of Stalinist terror.
...
The clinic was in the countryside, near Vladimir. Federal Medical Mental Health No. 11 was used by the Security Services. It was high security and evaluated both their own agents and those dissidents who needed long interrogation after disappearing for their own good. Alex had received long head shrinking sessions as well as interrogations. He had not been tortured but he had endured sessions under hypnosis and using truth serums. The drug had given Alex bag hangovers with headaches, nausea and drowsiness. The nausea had not helped the fact alex had no appetite recently. He was loosing weight and was now, with the lack of exercise considerably thinner than he had been at the beginning of the summer. His hair had grown to be a short fuzz. He could feel his healing scar on the side of his head, jagged from staples and stitches. Without a mirror, he guessed he looked a bit like Frankenstein's monster. He had gotten used to the fact he was always cold, but that may be a side affect of not eating properly.
After three weeks, he was taken to the patents lounge. There waiting was Alexei Sarov, dressed casually in a jumper, slacks and ankle boots. The man practically beamed on seeing Alexander.
The general moved forward and hugged the stiff and tense teenager. "Darling boy, you look ill." He stepped back and noted the dark circles under Alex's eyes, his pale skin, and too thin frame. The child no longer a fit and healthy English boy, but a frail prisoner in need of TLC. I have some good news. You have been cleared to come stay with me. I have a private physician, a French chef and have hired some tutors for you. First I think maybe a holiday is needed. I have a house on the Black Sea. The weather warm and sunny to put colour back into your cheeks."
Alex looked at the man and attempted to smile before bursting into tears. He had expected prison or worse being forced back to face the music in London. Alexei pulled the boy back into a hug and held him close, stroking his short hair. "Shhusshh, Its OK. We have much to talk about. A new start for both of us. We can move past our previous mistakes. You need rest and recuperation. A home. The we can decide on the future, but only after our holiday."