2.30 pm, Wednesday, 16th March

Brookland Comprehensive School

Ian took a deep breath as he approached Brookland Comprehensive School. The modern, redbrick building loomed before him, its facade seemingly unchanged despite the fact his entire world had been turned on its head.

He had spent Monday on the couch, drinking himself into oblivion, and then spent yesterday in the shower, downing painkillers and water, before finally picking himself up off the floor and deciding if the police won't do anything, then I bloody well will.

Making his way towards reception, he found the secretary sitting behind her desk, engrossed in paperwork. He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention, and she looked up, startled, but with a generic how-can-I-help-you smile on her face before she suddenly recognised him.

"Oh". It was as if all breath had been knocked out of her, and he found that he could relate to the sentiment. "... Mr Rider".

"Miss Bedfordshire" he returned, "I'm sorry to turn up unannounced, but I was hoping to have a quick word with the Headmaster if he's available".

"... Yes" she replied belatedly as if still shocked by his presence, "Yes, yes, of course! Uh, please, right this way!"

She hurriedly stood up and stepped out of the office, leading him towards the headmaster's room instead. After a quick knock, she stuck her head around the door.

"Sorry for the interruption, Henry, but Mr Rider is here and he said he'd like a word".

"Mr Rider?"

"Yes".

"Here?"

"Yes".

"Now?"

"Yes".

Safely out of sight, Ian rolled his eyes at the unusually flustered man - no doubt worried that he was going to sue the school or such rot over letting those "police officers" take Alex.

"... Right. Well. Uh, send him in".

Miss Bedfordshire turned back to him with a slightly strained smile.

"The Headmaster will see you now".

"Thank you".

He went to step around her to enter the office, but before he could, she placed a hand on his arm.

"Mr Rider… if there is anything we can do-"

"That won't be necessary" he interrupted, hating that absolutely horrifying look of pity in her eyes, "I'll see myself out once I'm done".

Headmaster Bray, as predicted, was looking distinctly uneasy, and he quickly stood as Ian stepped into the room, holding out a clammy hand in his direction.

"Mr Rider, I am terribly sorry about what has happened to Alex. I assure you, we're doing everything we can to assist the police in their investigation".

Given that the police in question were no longer doing much of an investigation, it was little comfort to him.

"Thank you" he said anyway, "I appreciate your support. I'm actually here to ask if it would be okay for me to empty Alex's locker, and collect his bike, too, if that's alright?"

"Yes, of course, that's no problem at all!" The man was practically tripping over himself in an effort to keep him happy. "I can have Miss Bedfordshire show you where-"

"No need" he said, cutting him off, "I remember the way".

"... Right. Well then, if there's anything else I or the school can assist you with-"

"I'll be sure to give you a call".

That much, at least, seemed to placate him, and the Headmaster smiled as he sat back down behind his desk - and Ian wasted no time in leaving him to it.

Alex's locker was easy to find - the day that the boy had first been assigned it, he'd rushed home after school with a massive grin on his face because "It's number 1302, Ian! Like my birthday!" The four-digit combination lock posed no challenge - after the year Alex was born didn't unlock it, he tried his own birthday - 3103 - and it came off with a click.

He couldn't help but smile. "Getting sloppy, Alex".

He'd timed his visit well, ensuring that all the kids would still be in class as he started taking out books and adding them to the backpack he'd brought. Algebra, geography, French… a folded piece of paper caught his eye, tucked away in the corner of the locker.

Curiosity piqued, he unfolded it and found cursive handwriting reading "I think you're pretty cute. DM me?" followed by what he could only assume was an Instagram handle - no doubt a note passed in class from a particularly brave student in Alex's year.

His smile turning sad, Ian carefully placed that in the backpack too, before shutting the locker door after double-checking that he had emptied it fully.

He found Alex's bike in the shed outside. It was a Condor Junior Roadracer - Ian had it custom-built for him on his twelfth birthday. The boy was already starting to grow out of it, but he loved it so much that he kept delaying Ian's offer of getting it replaced.

Here, his nephew's caution wasn't slacking as he found not just one, but two locks on the skinny frame.

Glancing around to make sure that nobody was watching, he pulled out a small black leather lock-picking set from a pocket inside his jacket, and after only a few minutes, he was adding the open padlocks and chain to the backpack too.

3.06 pm, Wednesday, 16th March

Chelsea, London

Half an hour later, Ian was home, and already the silence surrounding him felt suffocating. Turning on the radio to distract himself, he found a notebook and pen and sat down at the kitchen table.

If he was going to be conducting his own investigation, then he needed to make a plan.

Nothing had stood out to him while he'd emptied Alex's locker, and his bike had been untampered with too - exactly how everything should look if Alex had been escorted from the buildings by two police officers, znc further proof that this kidnapping had been planned. It was a theory that he'd been toying with over the last few days, and one that was unfortunately becoming more and more likely by the second.

Why else had those men targeted Alex? It couldn't have been for money - the lack of ransom notes aside, there were plenty of wealthier children in the nearby private schools; Ian had only sent Alex to Brookland because it'd be more of a challenge. The police had been right when they said he was a well-liked kid, and smart and handsome too - but if anything, Ian would have thought that that would deter kidnappers, knowing that more people would be looking for the popular kid rather than the nobody.

Everything was just too… clean to have been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Those disguises had to have come from somewhere, and the police car too. They had known Alex's name, who he was related to, and even Ian's car make and model, if what the Headmaster had said was true. They had been researching them, watching them, for a while.

He jotted all of this down on a blank page and thought. His mind was filled with a jumble of information and it was difficult to make sense of it all. He needed more information.

But who else could Ian ask? He'd already gone to the police and they'd failed him - failed Alex - and the secretary and Headmaster had already told them all that they remembered. He didn't know of anyone else that could have more details than what the school provided other than-

Oh.

Oh no.

Ian could have kicked himself.

Quickly rooting through the backpack, he pulled out the class schedule Alex had taped to the door of his locker. On Monday at three o'clock he would have been in English class - and his best friend took English too.

Jumping to his feet, Ian grabbed his coat and headed for the front door.

With any luck, Tom would already be home from school by now.

3.37 pm, Wednesday, 16th March

Chelsea, London

Ian knocked on the door and a few seconds later, there was the faint smash of something ceramic in the distance. Another minute after that, the door was pulled open by a very pale and very red-eyed young boy.

"Ian". He sounded surprised, and the man forced a smile. "Hey, Tom. I, uh… I take it you've heard?"

"Yeah. Yeah, the… the police came to the school a few days ago. Said- Said that Alex had been-"

He cut himself off, and there was another smash from behind him. Tom glanced back inside over his shoulder before shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to Ian.

"Hey, do you mind if we, uh…"

He gestured towards the road, and Ian nodded, stepping back.

"'Course. Parents still fighting?"

Tom shut the door behind him and they started walking down the street.

"You could say that. If you're able to fight with someone without speaking to them. No, it's, uh… it's just a lot of broken dinner plates these days".

"What about your brother? I thought he was filing for guardianship?"

"He's still going to". Tom shrugged. "He just wants to get a stable job in Italy first so the review board can't say he isn't able to provide for me or some shit".

A split second later, he seemed to remember who he was talking to, and he quickly gave Ian a wide-eyed look. The man couldn't help but laugh, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something lighten in his chest.

"Don't worry, kid, I've heard a lot worse from Alex".

He smiled, briefly, before shifting uneasily from one foot to the other as they both automatically turned into Chelsea Common where Tom and Alex usually played football.

"And, uh, speaking of… I'm guessing the police still don't know anything?"

Ian sighed heavily. "The police have closed the case".

The boy froze.

"What?! No! No, they- they can't! They haven't found him yet! They- They're not allowed to- to just close it, what about Alex?! What about-"

He held up his hand to stop the rambling and then gestured at a nearby bench. Tom obediently sat down, looking, if possible, even paler than before.

"They just… They can't just close the case" he finished quietly, and Ian slowly nodded. "I know. So much for justice and all that".

"Justice?" His head shot up. "You think- You think he's-?"

"No" he said firmly, "No, I- I can't believe that he's dead. I refuse to. Not until…"

He trailed off, but they both knew what he was going to say.

Not until I see the body.

"Did Alex say anything to you?" Ian asked instead, "The day he disappeared?"

"I already told the cops everything I know, which… well, it isn't much". He shrugged. "It was about three o'clock, we were almost finished English class, and Miss Bedfordshire came in, asking for Alex to go to the Headmaster's office. He seemed surprised, gave me a confused look like he had no idea why Bray was calling him, and then packed up and left. Fifteen minutes later, English was over, and I went to wait for him by the bike shed like normal, but…"

"He never showed" Ian finished grimly, watching as a group of teenagers played frisbee across the park.

"Yeah. So, I texted him, and asked if everything was alright, but got no reply… It was kinda weird though".

Ian immediately turned back to him.

"What was?"

"The messages" Tom replied, "We both have read receipts turned on and- and even though Alex didn't reply, the app says that he saw at least six or seven of them".

At Ian's puzzled expression, he fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Here, look" he explained, pulling up their chat history before handing over the mobile, "See how those check marks are blue? That means he read the message. They'd stay grey otherwise".

Ian gripped the phone ever-so-slightly tighter than necessary and stared at the brightly lit screen.

*Hey what did Bray want?* 3:18 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Alex?* 3:18 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Hellloooooo?* 3:19 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Ok, dude, seriously, I no u read these* 3:20 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Al, come on, talk to me here* 3:21 p.m. Blue tick mark

*R u ignoring me for some reason?* 3:21 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Guess we're not meeting at the bike shed then*3:22 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Dude, ur bike's still here* 3:23 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Wait, shit, did something happen? Like… something bad?* 3:23 p.m. Blue tick mark

*Al, come on, man, ur freaking me out* 3:37 p.m. Grey-

Grey tick mark.

So whatever had happened to him, had occurred between three twenty-five and three forty.

3.48 pm, Wednesday, 16th March

Chelsea, London

Ian slowly held back the phone. "Did you show this to the police?"

"Yeah" Tom replied, pocketing it, "They said they'd look into it, but… I wasn't getting a very helpful vibe from them, you know?"

"I know, kid, believe me" he replied dryly, turning back to the teenagers playing frisbee, who were now taking a lunch break and tearing up handfuls of grass to throw at each other.

"So, do you… do you think you can find him?"

He sounded almost hesitant, and Ian gave him a bemused look.

"Do you think I'll find him? The police closed the case, Tom. What makes you so sure that I can find him if they can't?"

"Because you're you!" he shot back, "You're- You're Ian Rider! You're like this- this cool older brother who lets us drink alcohol and- and tells us about that time you killed a mountain lion with your bare hands!"

He snorted, amused. "Okay, well, first of all, I only let you drink alcohol in small amounts when I'm around to supervise you. And secondly, that wasn't a mountain lion, it was a coyote, and I didn't kill him with my bare hands, I scared him off with a shotgun".

"But still" he said petulantly, "I bet you could've killed him".

"With a shotgun? Sure. Without a shotgun? Not so much".

"Still!" he repeated, sullen and adamant in a way that only teenagers could be, "Anyway, my point is, the cops are shit at their job, but you're not".

"I'm not a cop".

"No, but you're… you're you! There's no way you're just gonna let this drop, and- and if you did, then- then I'd punch you on Alex's behalf because you never give up on anything and you- you definitely wouldn't ever give up on him!"

Ian smiled sadly before finally nodding.

"You're not wrong, kid. I'm, uh… searching for Alex in my own way".

"Good!" he finished firmly, before, "So you got any suspects?"

He let out a bark of laughter.

"Any suspects? What is this, Law and Order?"

"I think you mean Peaky Blinders, old man". He smirked. "Law and Order's been over for years".

"No, Tom, I do not have any suspects".

"But you're going to find him, right? And- And them? The guys who took him? Cause this… this wasn't random".

He gave him a curious look. "What makes you say that?"

"Ian, I'm not an idiot!" he shot back, "The cops said that two guys pretending to be cops came to the school, told Alex that you'd been in a car crash, and then took him to the morgue to identify your body. Random kidnappings don't have that level of detail, man. I mean, they knew both your names, for fucks sake! The entire thing was planned from start to finish; this- this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment type thing!"

He wasn't wrong.

Ian studied him for a moment, taking in the red eyes that spoke of nights spent crying with no sleep, the rumbled clothes that suggested he hadn't changed in a few days, the pale hollow face that meant he hadn't been eating well either.

Tom cared. Tom was Alex's best friend and he cared and it was killing him not knowing what had happened to the boy.

Just like it was killing Ian knowing that his suspicions were now confirmed.

"Tom" he started cautiously, "Kid, listen, I… I'm about to tell you something that I haven't even told Alex, and I need you to hear me out, and I need you to shut up until I'm finished, and then I need you to never tell another soul what I just told you. Alright?"

"... Alright" he replied slowly.

"Tom, I mean it. This information getting out could put us all at risk. You cannot tell anyone. Not your parents, not your brother, not your friends, no one! Do you understand?!"

"Yes! Yes, Ian, of course, I understand, I won't- I won't tell anyone, I swear!"

"Good. Cause all jokes aside, Tom, you will go to prison if you do".

The boy blanched and swallowed thickly, and Ian felt a pang of regret for putting even more weight on his shoulders.

"I don't come from a wealthy family".

"But you said-"

Ian gave him a pointed look and raised his eyebrows. Tom blinked, and then immediately looked sheepish.

"Sorry. No interruptions. I promise".

"I don't come from a wealthy family" Ian repeated, keeping his voice low despite the improbability of them being overheard, "I know that's what I always told Alex to explain why I didn't have to work that often, but… truth is, my parents were actually poor. That's why me and John; Alex's father, signed up for the army the first chance we got. It put less strain on our parents, and… well, we were patriots, after all. Seemed like a win-win. After three years in the British Army, I was selected for the SAS, and after a year in the SAS, I was selected for… a different department. I made a lot of money working for them and learned a lot of things too. When my brother died and I became Alex's guardian, I quit. Any questions so far?"

Tom was staring at him with wide almost disbelieving eyes.

"... You know, Alex and I always used to try and guess what you did. I mean, the money from rich parents was one thing, but… dude, you know, like, five languages and- and can do karate and- and that Brazilian martial arts thing and- and you know how to shoot and rock climb and surf and… I don't know, those just… aren't normal things that people know". Tom shrugged, before suddenly snorting. "Alex actually suggested that you might be a spy, once. I think I laughed at him for like a week after that".

He turned to him, a grin on his lips as if expecting the man to laugh at the idea as well. When Ian continued to stare back at him, completely serious, his grin slowly fell away.

"Holy shit".

He blinked like he was seeing a whole new person in front of him.

"Holy shit. Are you- I mean, you- you were, like- like you were literally James Bond?!"

He grimaced. "Not quite. In all honesty, it was more paperwork than anything else".

"... Holy shit" he repeated, "You're… You're literally an ex-spy?!"

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed, glancing around, "But yes, Tom, I used to be an intelligence agent".

"For- For who?!"

"For England, you idiot! Who else?!"

"Well, I don't know! Alex said that you guys moved a lot when he was a kid!"

Ian took a deep breath and slowly released it.

"Tom, the second that I decided that I was going to be the one raising Alex, I retired. Up until that point, I'd been a paratrooper for the British Army, a sniper in the SAS, and… and an agent for MI6. Alex's father was too".

"... Is that why he died?"

"Yes" he said simply, "And that's partly the reason I quit, too. Alex had already been orphaned once… I wasn't going to do that to him again".

All traces of the boy's amusement was long gone as he finally started to realise the gravity of the situation.

"So… So if you were a spy and… and this wasn't a random kidnapping, then…"

Ian nodded grimly.

"Yeah. I don't know for definite, but… there's a pretty high chance that this whole thing happened because of me".

"But- But it's been fourteen years! Surely whoever the hell you pissed off wouldn't hold a grudge for that long!"

For a brief moment, SCORPIA came to mind, but Ian quickly dismissed that thought. SCORPIA's vendetta had only been with John, not him, and even for a terrorist organisation, they wouldn't stoop so low as to kill John's kid over a decade after killing him. Even criminals had a code, after all.

"That's what I thought too" he said instead, "The timing is… weird, to say the least. But as you said, those so-called police officers knew Alex's name, knew my name, and knew enough about us to make Alex believe that they were telling the truth. This wasn't random. This… This was related to me, somehow. Whoever took him…"

"Took him as revenge" Tom finished quietly.

"Most likely, yes. I mean, I can't imagine Alex having enough enemies to warrant this level of planning".

Tom snorted. "Well, you never know, he's not too popular with the school bullies these days".

"Maybe one of their parents owns a costume store; let them rent out a few police uniforms".

He laughed, the severity of the situation momentarily disappearing from his mind, and Ian was glad that the kid, at least, could briefly forget about it all even if he himself couldn't.

"I'll get him back, Tom" he heard himself promising, "Even if it's the last thing I do".

2.24 am, Friday, 18th March

Brecon Beacons, Wales

"I swear to god, I'm going to stab Alan fucking Blunt even if it's the last thing I do!"

Alex didn't care if the bastard himself was listening right now and instead continued to wriggle his way through the dark and slimy tunnel, cursing himself for ever suggesting that he be the one to explore it. RTI surely couldn't be as bad as this, right? But then he remembered the blood on Fox's teeth and the bruise on the side of Wolf's cheek and decided-

Maybe it actually was better if he continued trying to find an escape.

The circular opening was hardly bigger than his shoulders. He knew that he was only a few metres underground, but even so, he felt as if he was buried alive and he had to force himself to breathe evenly, not to panic. The floor of the tunnel was wet and slippery - but at least that helped him a little, making it easier for him to slide himself along. But the stink of ancient chemicals made him sick. The torch Snake had given him was clamped between his teeth and he could feel the bile rising in his throat.

He wanted to scream.

Alex reached the end of the tunnel and twisted his head around, trying to look up. Somehow he managed to get his hands above his head and felt what appeared to be a manhole cover. He pressed upwards with all his strength and was rewarded by a grating sound as it came free.

Delicious night air flooded in through a crack and he saw the glimmer of moonlight. He dropped the torch, letting it disappear into the darkness. If there was anyone up there on the surface, he didn't want to advertise that he was on the way - the stupid little glowing red dot in his wrist already put him at a disadvantage.

Filthy and gasping, Alex emerged into the night air and took in his bearings. He was still dressed only in a t-shirt and shorts - he'd been asleep when the Green Jackets had grabbed them for this little "exercise". The building where the rest of his unit was being held was right in front of him, but it had a massive padlock on the door - even if Alex managed to break it open, he'd make too much noise. They'd all be captured again before they had time to move.

But what if he got rid of their captors?

There was a strangely shaped vehicle parked on the slope to his right. On an impulse, he hurried over to it, crouching low, still afraid of being seen. One of the windows was open. He heard voices coming from inside.

"-what about the kid? I say we start with the kid. He'll be easy to break".

Uh, rude.

"Yeah - break his neck!" someone said, and they all laughed.

Alex knew he didn't have much time. He quickly examined the truck, the fat tires, resting on chocks. The brake lever at the back…

The idea came to him instantly.

Releasing the lever took some time, but as soon as he heard that click, he rested a shoulder against the back of the truck and pushed. He was lucky. The soldiers must have parked in a hurry. The slope was fairly steep. It only took a little effort and the wheels began to turn.

Alex distantly wondered just how many breaks the Green Jacket pricks were about to have themselves.

He watched the vehicle roll down the hill, picking up speed. It bounced through the long grass and smashed into a hedge. There was the sound of branches scratching against metal - but there was no way the hedge could hold back anything so big. It continued through and - moving faster than ever - disappeared into the night.

Alex had already turned his attention to the dipping shed. He found a piece of metal and used it to snap open the padlock, then dropped it and opened the door.

Wolf was the first out. He took a look round the deserted farm. Then he turned his eyes back to Alex.

"Where is everyone?" he demanded.

Hello to you too, Alex thought, but he wasn't suicidal enough to actually voice it out loud. Instead, he shrugged.

"I think they've sloped off".