Life was getting complicated. Alex was sick of the sham he had become, hiding and having moulded himself to be Alexei's son, a replica of Vladimir. A dutiful Soviet citizen, only Alex was nothing like Vladimir. He was no patriot, not even a loving child. His innocence and sense of wonder long destroyed. He wanted to be Alex again. Hanging out with Tom, Playing football with him and James. Going home to Jack for weird food, crappy TV and a half arsed attempt at schoolwork. He even missed Brookland. Only that life was over, destroyed by Alan Blunt. His life had been way to complicated since the death of Ian Rider on the 9th March 2001. Hard reality had hit back will a vengeance, only Yassen was not the bogeyman. He was a real human, one Alex could relate to. One who saw the real Alex, a broken boy in the process of metamorphosis. Alex smiled to himself as he acknowledged that. Yes the assassin was as scary as hell, but he had told Alex more about his father, his real father, than Ian ever had. It was as if Yassen had known John Rider better than even his younger brother Ian.

His father, the MI6 hero. His father who had cut ties with the army when he served time in Wormwood Scrubs. A man who had killed for Queen and country and for Scorpia. No one cared he had been a decorated soldier, with an Military Cross hard earned during the retaking of the Falkland Islands. Everything good and true about his father destroyed by Blunt. Yassen had known John was an undercover operative, one who had juggled duty, patriotism, a wife and working as an assassin, but the man had been betrayed by his best friend and the bitch Julia Rothman. Yassen had spoken about the fact Alex did not have to worry about those people. The Russian had already cleaned house. Scorpia was a lot leaner now, after the assassin had liquidated the committee members that had betrayed his mentor.

Alex looked at the shadows on the ceiling in the bedroom. Dimitry was snoring beside him on the thin mattress. The room was dimly illuminated by the light still on in the other room.

Yassen looked in on the boys, before returning to check at his emails after being off line for three days. The assassin planned to catch up on his correspondence, then exercise for two hours before resting himself. He had long trained his body and mind to require just four hours rest. There were two requests for his specialist services and a note requesting he contact Alexei Sarov. The old general wanted John's son back . Yassen smiled at the games that man was playing. The general had just let the FSB know he had contacts with Scorpia. That would be the old man's downfall. The assassin had suspected the security services of using Alex to control and weaken the suspected traitor. Alex had stated as much, as he did not trust the Russian Security Services anymore than the CIA or MI6.

Yassen knew there were no innocents where the higher echelons of the Russian establishment were concerned. Those in power in Modern post-Glasnost Russia were the same corrupt and power grabbing bastards that had murdered all in his village many years ago and erased his own existence with a stroke of pen. All in power had the blood of his parents on their hands by the mere fact Estrov was still wiped from history.

The Russian had not expected Alex to ask for help, or for the son of General Ivanov be so loyal to the English boy. Alex, so like his father, in more than looks. Fate had made his childhood more like the Russian's own. A pawn of the security services in Britain, America and now Russia.

He would do nothing without the approval of John's son. It was likely Dimitry would go back to his school and his life as a pampered rich boy, but for the life of him Yassen had no idea what Alex would choose. It was electrifying, Yassen wanted to keep Alex close. He felt more alive than he had in years. He thought back on the bitter lessons John had taught him during those months in 1986, the months when he had become a man. He was tempted to guide Alex on his path as a freelance operative. JOhn's son would make a fine apprentice.

...

Dimtry did not know what to do. He wanted Alex to return to Alexei, so he could have his close friend, but he knew deep down Alex was not the same boy who he had met in Grenoble. Last year, Alex there had been pretending to be Sir David Friend's son. Here he was pretending to be General Alexei Sarov's son. Was Alex copying him? He had a sneeky feeling tha during the last 24 hours he had finally got to see the real Alex. Alex had changed subtly yesterday, it was if he had relaxed with this killer. The only other times he had seen Alex relaxed was when they had played football together, unobserved by the General. The russian boy, listened to the soft snores of his friend in the early morning. Thos was Dimitry's favourite time of day, listening to your neighbour's wake as Moscow came to life. It was about 5:30, normal waking up time. He knew if he moved Alex would wake. The teenager did not want daylight to come. Yesterday, he had listened to the stories Yassen had told, of an English assassin. The truth was Alex's father had been a spy, a soldier and a killer for hire. Alex had already proved he was a boy who could be comfortable with a life of lies. Dimitry knew he would most likely leave in the morning, hopefully with Alex accompanying him to the life of comfort, only Alex was not Russian, only held here by threats and promises made under duress.

Alex felt Dimitry shift in the small bed. "Its too eraly to wake, Dima."

"I've been awake since I heard the people upstairs start to prepare breakfast at 5."

Alex drew the covers tighter around himself and then let out the truth of his life with Alexei. He was going back as he could not break a promise and spoke for the first time of the truth of his life as the son of General Sarov.

"He has not had me beaten since Murmnsk. I have to admit I was in a bit of a state after my stay in the clinic in Vladimir. A month of interrogation, but I did not crack. I still think they know the truth, that Alexei was the man behind the coup, not Conrad. I saved my friends. I still have nightmares about what might have been. England, most of Europe a radioactive wasteland, millions of deaths and Alexei like Stalin." Alex only stayed because he had gambled his own life to stop Sarov posioning Europe. Alex had told Dimitry the awful truth of his guardianship. Alexei Sarov was a monster.

...

Yassen listened to the boys talk. He was a paranoid bastard, the room contained a digital recorder. In that short confession, Alex had condemned Alexei Sarov. Whether Alex returned or not, thee hand over of Dimitry Sarov was bound to be used to give State Security enough ammunition to make the old man disappear. He would have no trial, just a sudden illness, and a large funeral. Alex had nothing to go back to.

...

It was a silent breakfast of store cupboard food, cake, biscuits and hot sweet tea. Alex picked his slice of cake into crumbs, not eating.

"You do not have to go back, Little Alex. I can get you a place in a school in Switzerland, you will be safe. I can get you papers, a good legend."

Alex smashed his tea glass back n the small table. Undrunk hot tea slopping a mess on the cheap vinyl floor. "I am Sarov's Son, legally in Russia and in Britain. Are you suggesting I go back o be Blunt's puppet? Even though I have no freedom, no choice, here is better than that. You cannot offer me a life, you work alone. You have no need of a stupid child. You told me to go back to school to forget your world. I will go back to my life here. Forgt about me, Yassen. You are not my guardian angel."

"You are not a child, Alex. This last year has proved that to me. I too grew up fast. I lost everything a 15. At sixteen I made the choice to be an assassin. I escaped Russia to train at Malagosto."

Alex laughed bitterly, the choice of training to be an assassin, to destroy, to kill, to become a ghost. "I am the son of a traitor. I cannot follow that path."

Yassen wanted to reassure Alex , give him hope, but he had no words. Life was hard and you walked your own path. John had been brutal in his lessons to Yassen to drive that point home. Cold, ruthless, meticulous and efficient.

A pair of expressive brown eyes locked Yassen's hard stare, as if a battle of wills was taking place. Alex touched Dima's hand "Please give us some privacy, then we leave. I promise." The other teenager went to sit in the small bathroom. "What aren't you telling me, Yassen?"

"State Security will arrest Sarov as a traitor. I know he contacted Dr. Three to leave me a message to give you back to him. He has proved to those in power he had full collusion with the attempted coup despite your silence and his protestations of innocence. You can prove your were coerced, beaten and blackmailed into submission. Your promise to stop him detonating those bombs does not bind you to him forever. Use this situation t your advantage now Blunt has lost his final manover to get you back under his control. You can gain control again. You can walk away or stay with your Dima."

"Is that what you want, me to come with you?" Alex asked bluntly, for a year he had squashed his own wants and desires, but he did not let Yassen answer. "This is not a black and white situation. I have to hand it to the Russians, they've played the game brilliantly by cutting Blunt out of my life legally. I will stay here, whether with Alexei or in a state orphanage until I graduate upper school. Then, I'll be free to make my own decisions. Can you wait for that?"

"I can wait, Alex."