The car sped through the landscape of the dingy grey tower blocks and low industrial buildings making up the suburbs south of Moscow. Alex guessed the car was stolen. Yassen was far too careful to give anything away. It was a very nice BMW 7 series with Moscow plates. The teenager gripped his friends hand, his delusions of normal had been shattered. He had played being General Sarov's son, but Blunt was not letting him go. He given in to primal fear, fight or flight. Running had been the only sensible thing to do. Being with Dimity proved he was the real Alex. Both boys knew the creepy characteristics of their twins all to well.

The blond Russian boy noted Alex was shivering. He leaned over to hug his friend, using body heat to warm him. He daren't talk. He did not want to antagonize the man driving. Dimitry was well aware that they were under close observation by the man with the emotionless face and cold blue eyes. A most dangerous man, one who moved with purpose and without noise. A man trained to pass unnoticed. One very like his late father's Special Forces bodyguards, men who killed those that dared to cross them. Dimity had noted Alex call the man Yassen. This was the same assassin trained by Alex's birth father. The only son of the late General Ivanov was Alex's only friend, one who had been party to the truth and who knew exactly who the boy used to be. He trusted his friend, he really did; but this situation could either be a kidnapping at best and treason at worst.

The car stopped by a graffiti covered steel gate, Yassen got out and opened the secure barrier before driving through and into a covered garage, before closing and locking both the gate and the garage door. Dimity, like Alex was looking for exits and escape routes.

In accentless English their tall, blond rescuer spoke in soft even tones, "We walk to my apartment from here, then we can talk and make plans."

The two boys followed as the Assassin walked briskly out of the rear door of the garage and down the deserted street, across a patch of scrub land and into a block of flats, climbing the stairs to Apartment 401, on the fourth floor.

Yassen bolted the door securely and walked past his two guests "I will make hot sweet tea. Please sit and make yourselves comfortable."

Alex looked at the small homely living room with two sofas and a low coffee table and large brand new TV set. He immediately picked up the remote and switched the TV to the local news station.

Alex was looking for any information on the events of last night, not that he thought the Russian media would be privy to such things. He felt sick with worry.

"Talk to me, Sasha. What's going on in your head? You are thinking too much." Dima whispered.

"Its all shadows and lies. I... I wanted a home... to belong so much... I love it here with Papa... The General... All lines have been blurred. He was the enemy but Blunt is. Blunt sent Grief here. I want to run and hide. Need to run and hide. I'm sorry I should not have dragged you into this, but Yassen protected us last night, watched over us. He... He's not the bad guy, not really. Funny I can say that in a world where everyone is." Alex paused. "General Sarov has been most generous and most loving, but I have seen his real face. He is a man like Joseph Stalin. I fear that I can never live up to his image of a good son."

Dimitry Ivanov frowned. "Alex... Sasha... you are treated like a prince, most beloved by the General. He knows you have problems from how you were used before, that you need a home, need to be kept safe. Grief's bastard being here has spooked me as much as you." Tears welled up in Dimitry's eyes. His voice cracked... "That thing would not fool the General. My father never loved me the way Alexei Sarov dotes on you."

In the small cupboard like kitchen, Yassen listened to the soft voices of the two boys as they both spoke of the horror that befell them at a School in the French Alps. Yassen had hoped Alex was safe, healthy and unaffected by the past year, but the boy was damaged. Yassen felt the two of them were living mirror lives, he could relate to the fact Alex's life had been a nightmare of uncertainty and misuse since Ian Rider's death.

...

Julius Grief's nose dripped snot and he shifted with the small amount of movement available on the chair he was secured to, to try and alleviate the discomfort from the handcuffs pining his hands behind his back. He could hear talking in the next room, but his Russian was not good enough to understand what was being said. Julius knew his body posture, his gestures and flat southern English accent were perfect imitations for Alex Rider, his hair short cropped yesterday to the exact same length as observed on his mark and with clothes from Alex's own wardrobe in London. Sarov's had not been fooled for an instant. The man had assaulted Julius when he saw him in Alex's room. One blow had incapacitated the young imposter. Russian soldiers were swarming through the building, Julius was trussed up and being guarded by two of the General's trusted staff. Julius sniffed again. His head throbbed, his mouth taped shut. Those creeps from MI6 had left him here.

The door opened and a fifty something year old dark haired slightly overweight man came in smoking a cigarette, not caring that the General forbade smoking in his home. The man with no pretense of gentleness ripped off the tape on Julius Grief's face. "Good morning Mr. Grief. I would suggest you tell me precisely who has taken Aleksandr Sarov and Dimitry Ivanov, if you value your continued well being."

Grief had no loyalty to MI6, so spoke of all he had been party to. "We traveled in a car from Poland, after the private business jet landed small airfield near Chelm... I was instructed to take Rider's place here, to become General Sarov's son. Blunt wanted his little spy back. There was a small team of operatives. My handler went by the code name... Fox. He was backed up by a team of mercenaries. I was not told about the escape route but we stayed in a shack about 20 minutes drive west of here for the twelve hours before the planned swap. Thats all I know."

Colonel Levchenko had met Alex twice and shook his head in disbelief if they had actually thought this clone would have fooled the General, as he himself could clearly see the differences, despite the excellent plastic surgery.

"That is not good enough, Mr. Grief. We need detail. Why was Dimitry Ivanov also taken? Was it to force Alex to comply to your friend's demands?". That scenario would most likely lead to the torture, imprisonment and possible death of his good friend's son. Levchenko was Dimitry's godfather, one who would move heaven and earth to protect his good friend's son after all had failed the boy last year. Dimitry still did not trust, nor confide in anyone close to his father. He had pushed for the two boys to become close, as bother were victims of Grief's machinations, mostly to help Dimitry deal with his father's murder. "Your... brood brother, the one with Dimtiry Ivanov's face was shot last summer. We are civilized here, we have abolished the death penalty. It was a shame he tried to escape detention." The cold Russian watched the boy digest that information. The boy had no rights here. There would be detention, but no trial. He did not exist. Julius Grief was a non-person, one who was about to disappear.