Marshall Productions had offices in a tall, generic, glass office block in Culver City. Today was the quarterly review meeting discussing future productions, distribution deals and the pre-tax audit. The company specialised in smaller films, some for TV but most went straight to DVD/video; but unlike some of the larger companies, it had returned a profit every year for twenty years. Gerard liked giving money and a start to young talented and driven individuals. He was a tough boss and made sure the directors understood that underbudget was expected and making a film was more about managing money and people than creative vision. Missy had left the room to network with Dianna the company secretary in the outer office as the Board members relaxed after business had been completed.
The tall, blond southern PA was sipping a glass of Italian spring water when her phone rang, her eidetic memory meant she knew the number was Gerard's bratty step-son. She still answered, as it was bound to be oh so important. "Shouldn't you be asleep, Alex darling, it must be well pas midnight in Cambridge?"
"Good afternoon, Missy, my love. Last minute revision, got an exam tomorrow afternoon, my last one but I'm sure you have my timetable memorised better than I do. I'm not ringing for a chat. You organise Gregor's life to the millisecond... I bet you booked the plane ticket and couriered it to me. Its just a query about destination. Sydney? I was expecting a few weeks in LA?"
"Blame your dear Papa... his film shoot is over running. Another three weeks in Oz at least. Reshoots ordered by the Studio. Gerard is going over as well. I sent you a full itinerary and Tony is expecting your arrival on the 25th."
"I don't need you to organise my life as well. I've cancelled the stop over in Singapore. I've spoken to the airline and they are cool with the changes I've made. I've texted Papa's PA the details. I'd guessed his work schedule had gone to pot. Its just, I'd rather not go to Australia... bad associations. Well, I'll get over all that shit I guess. I can go piss on my godfather's grave. I'm racking that up as my favourite past time, since I regularly go piss on Ian's in Chelsea."
Missy was about to tell Alex to hold so she could get Gerard to talk to the slightly manic sounding trouble maker but the line had gone dead already. Her boss was laughing at a joke, so Missy went back to talking with her friend, putting Alex's rant down to exam stress.
...
"You don't have to take me to Heathrow, Aunty Sylvia. I can get a taxi or the tube."
Sylvia watched the young man carefully fold and pack his bag for his summer visit to see his pa. "I won't see you until August. I'm taking you so I can wave you off. Its always exciting going to the airport. George and I used to visit just to watch the planes in the good old days when you could watch from the terminal roof. We went to Spain together a couple of times, flew from Gatwick. I don't like flying much myself."
"Neither do I, Aunty. I get claustrophobic. Think of all the things that can go wrong. Funny, Tony says I should take some flying lessons to get over hating it by being in control. I have enough problems with manual cars. I much prefer automatics." Alex was already feeling sick, his stomach churning at the thought of the twenty hour flight.
"Have a few drinks, you are booked in business class. Regular glasses of champagne will make it go all the better. That's how my George got me to relax. He bought those lovely little bottles of fizz. Wonderful, made the hop to Alicante pass like a dream. Enough talk of tomorrow. I've already ordered a takeway from the Bengali place on the King's road. All vegan... not too spicy. Tell me about college."
Alex shrugged at Sylvia's attempt to distract him. "Classes are good. Hate group therapy on Wednesdays. Though a couple of the girls there are fun. I've been for a few dates with Kay... you know to the cinema and for drinks. I asked Delia out but she's a bit shy."
"I take it, its this Delia who you fancy?"
"Its not that simple. Its group therapy for survivors of child abuse. Delia had.. has anorexia. I hope we can at least be friends. Kay.. well I think she is trying to protect Delia as well. Who knows I might meet a great girl in Oz."
"No boys catching your fancy?"
"Only the really annoying ones. Some of the Blues are real tosspots. None are a patch on Cass. I was stupid letting him go. He's dating some guy he met at UCLA. I was hoping to hang out only I'm off to the other side of the world not Bel Air." Alex had no interest in diving or surfing anymore. Going to the beach was a long shot, not when he'd googled the fact the waters were teeming with sharks of all varieies. He'd started having nightmare after reading about one surfer's near miss.
Sylvia Smith's constant banter and jolly enthusiasm was the only thing keeping Alex grounded. She spoke of coming on dates his her husband just to see Concorde. Alex had decided to take his wheelchair. He had to walk around and exercise during the flight as he was at risk of deep vein thrombosis. At least there were no queues to deal with thank to Gerard's generosity. At check in, the ground crew dealt with his luggage with quick efficiency as Slyvia took over answering all the annoying questions.
"Relax darling. Everything will be fine. I'll go with you as far as security, then you go straight to the gate. The ground crew will stow your wheelchair when you get there. They will bring it to the gate at Sydney. Your meal plan requirements are confirmed, everything will be dairy free, they have every thing in hand."
...
Alex drank three glasses of champagne and slept most of they way to Singapore. Helped by the mixing of alcohol with the painkiller he'd taken. He'd sat and read during refueling and crew change but could not sleep on the final seven hours to Sydney. He started to worry about his last conversation he'd had with Marc Damon after his stay with Yassen, when he'd spilled the beans that Ash had been a Scorpia mole, working for Major Yu. The Australian spy had asked where Alex had gotten this information. Alex had been sure that the espoinage world was small enough that if the CIA knew about him spending time with Cossack that everyone else knew. Only the Australians hadn't been kept in the loop. Alex had wondered on what the fallout of that revelation had been. In the travel package from Missy, she had obtained his visa, he would never have dared enter the Australian embassy himself. He wondered about just how much that woman knew about his past, probably everything since Tony and Gerard treated her like another siibling.
He arrived at 5 am on Monday morning, drained but ecstatic to be off the plane. He bit his nails as he went through customs with the extensive double check on his luggage, medical certification but no questions from state security services. Alex smiled as he saw his papa waiting for him in Arrivals.
Alex clung onto Tony. "I missed you. Its been a horrible flight."
"Come on. Luckily I'm on night shoots. I have a car with driver to take us to Gerard's townhouse at Darling Point. A light supper then bed for both of us." Tony said, wheeling his son to the exit.
"Does Gerard's place have a bath?" Alex loved having baths after travelling. A soak in steaming hot water worked out all the tension.
"Better, he has a hot tub. Gerard and Missy arrive on Wednesday. The film should, finger's crossed, be wrapped by then. He's planned a holiday at some resort in the Blue Mountains. Thinks we all need to unwind."
...
The manager of Customs at Sydney, escorted the 'customs' agent who questioned Alex Fletcher-Smith out of the Customs Hall and into the locker room. "Why are you spooks interested in that disabled kid?"
"You know you retired from the CAD, Mitch. Remember need to know and all that. All I can tell you its a routine contact assessment. You worked with Howell, that kid was his godson. You know the one that ran away after Damon spoke to him."
"Yeah, I heard the rumours flying after Ash's funeral. Then again, I never took him for the suicide type." Mitch had worked as an undercover operative for three years before transferring to a secure job in Airport security after his first child had been born.
"Well, neither did we." The spy straightened his tie and put on his jacket to go back into the office and write up his negative contact report. The department had kept a tight lid on the fact Anthony Sean Howell had been a traitor to both MI6 and ASIS. For the past eighteen months a team had been back tracking over the blowback and other possible Scorpia moles put in place by Howell.