Simon had had a relaxing Monday, pottering about the house. His next shoot was Wednesday and he was in London for a meeting regarding an exhibition about his work recording Soho and its nightlife tomorrow. This afternoon he had sorted through several thousand photos to select out one hundred of his favourites; from those thirty to forty would be selected to be giclee printed at large scale and then framed for most impact. One of the chosen images was of a confrontational and truly beautiful Alex Rider with the Old Compton Street sign clearly visible, standing with a group of four teenage rent boys. He would get that one printed just for his office either in the house or at his studio. He then thought about getting Alex to sit for him or maybe some photos of both of them. With a remote shutter release that was possible. In twenty-five years as a professional photographer, Si had never taken any self portraits.
At five, he was making a pot of tea, Alex would be back from college within minutes. Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays doing his NVQ's and Construction Skills. Alex had explained it was all for the necessary accreditation to get insurance and a card for Site Health and Safety. Alex was hedging his bets to be either a sole trader doing household maintenance or going back to Murphy's as a Roofing Supervisor. He was sat down attempting the cyptic crossword in the morning's paper when he heard the gate open and click locked and Alex descend the stairs to the cellar kitchen.
The blond smiled as he saw the love of his life and moved in for a hug and a kiss, lingering on the delicious body contact, before going to pour out the perfectly brewed tea. "Ahh, another intense day of stuff I already know. How I have missed you and intelligent conversation. Surrounded by a bunch of teenagers all glued to their phones and iPads. Half of what they talk about stuff I have no idea about. I must look completely gormless. The rumour doing the rounds is I'm ex-army retraining. Do I look like a squaddie? If I do, I need a make-over."
"Its how you move, observe, answer questions concisely and hold yourself. You still enter a room and access all exits, lines of sight and vantage points. It's a good habit to have, I still do it in unfamiliar places. Might save us one day." Si smiled at the fact intense training and reflexes honed in combat and sheer terror never really left you.
Alex watched his lover slowly muse over and right down answers or carefully rearrange possibilities in the margin of the paper as they both drank the tea. The younger man was certain that before he moved in Si would have had a beer, G & T or a glass of wine at this time, but his own addiction to tea had changed the daily routine. No alcohol before dinner was on the table, water as well as wine and coffee afterwards, nothing stronger except on weekends. The ex-officer was also loosing weight, as Alex cooked meals and had banished the microwave ready meals and takeaways Si used to rely on.
"Paella Ok tonight?"
Si answered without breaking his concentration, "Superb idea, darling. Using those lovely prawns and mussels?"
"Yeah, freezers are fab for that sort of thing. Good quality seafood anytime. Must cook the crispy chilli squid sometime. Need to go to the fish market for that, get some with lots of lovely tentacles."
Si looked up to see a mountain of veg had already been cut up. "Thats a lot of food, love. Are we expecting guests?"
Alex had put the pan on the stove and started browning the chorizo before sharing his fears. "Might be. There was a car parked on Gorst Road this morning and the same two goons were in it tonight, one was photographing this house. I guess that Joe Byrne let the Bank know I was living with you, though I doubt it. He was far too amused that he found me first. My super paranoia about emails is more likely, as I did email my old school chum from France, Joe. I would not be surprised if the Bank keep track of all the Point Blanc Alumni. So, by the time this is all cooked either Jones, Crawley or maybe even Fox will be popping in for a chat. My bet is on Fox, the none scary face of the Bank."
"I think you might be right. I did make note of the White Escort van, with two blokes in cheap suits. I had a good discussion about then when I was chatting to Mrs. Lewis two doors down. She thought they were TV Licence Detector Vans, but I reassured her that we were fully legal." Si explained, trying to down play the fact Alex had a tendency to jump to worst possible scenario first.
"Shit, I never thought of that. Me, paranoid much. Well, we can have leftovers for lunch tomorrow."
….
As Si set the table for two, pouring out two glasses of crisp Sauvignon Blanc and thinking a slice or two of the nice sourdough bread would be a great accompaniment, the door bell rang. "I'll get it. Probably someone collecting for charity."
The retired Captain, drew himself into his no-nonsense full military bearing to see off the unwanted cold callers.
As he opened the restored Oak door with stained glass panels he saw a tall man in dark blue M&S suit with dark hair, sunglasses and a very official SIS ID. "Good Evening Mr. Carrington. Would it be possible to talk to Alexander John Rider?"
The army man wished he could fob this man off, but Alex's paranoia was spot on tonight. "Please come in. We are about to have supper in the kitchen. You are most welcome to join us, Mr. Daniels."
"Thank you, for your cooperation."
Alex had served up two generous platefuls, and had telepathically sensed that Si hankered after a couple of slices of bread, which were in the centre of the table in a small basket.
"Just in time, love." Alex stated as retrieved he butter from the fridge. Turning towards the table and then standing stock still, enraptured by the MI6 agent now invading his home.