11.03 am, Monday, 4th April
Royal and General Bank, Liverpool Street
Alex sat in a barber's chair and tried not to flinch as a woman in a lab coat shaved off his hair.
He had spent the previous day back in that windowless concrete room, where a nameless agent had brought him three meals and the bastard who'd injected his tracker had checked him over once and proclaimed him "fit for duty".
Alan Blunt himself had collected him this morning to debrief him - a mysterious death of a multi-millionaire, a boating accident in the Black Sea, and a finishing school in the Alps with far too many coincidences - before bringing him down to whatever the hell they called Q Branch in the not-bank, where his entire appearance had been promptly destroyed.
He could still feel the piercing in his right ear throb underneath the temporary stud that had been added earlier in the day, and even as he watched, the last of his hair was shorn off so close to his scalp that he almost looked like a skinhead. He'd been given new clothes, too - a t-shirt cut so low that most of his chest was exposed, a baggy checked shirt, frayed jeans, and a leather necklace.
According to Blunt, he had to look like a rebel, the rich son who wanted to live life by his own rules.
Alex only wished that he could rebel for real.
"You'll be playing the delinquent son of David Friend" Blunt said, standing behind him, "He's a very private person and we've created the sort of son no father would want to talk about - so there should be no suspicion about your existence. Sir David and his wife, Caroline, don't know what to do with you. So they've enrolled you in the academy. And you've been accepted".
"And Sir David has agreed to all this?" Alex asked, wincing as the lab coat prodded his earring with the shaver.
Blunt sniffed. "As a matter of fact, he wasn't very happy about it - about using someone as young as you-"
"I can't imagine why".
"-but I spoke to him at some length and, yes, he agreed to help" he finished, ignoring the interruption.
"So when am I going to the academy?"
"Five days from now" Mrs Jones said, standing on his other side, "But first you have to immerse yourself in your new life. When you leave here, we've arranged for you to be taken to Sir David's home. He has a house in Lancashire. He lives there with his wife - and he has a daughter. She's one year older than you. You'll spend the rest of the week with the family, which should give you time to learn everything you need to know. It's vital that you have a strong cover. After that, you'll leave for Grenoble".
Alex had spent a year in Austria, back when he was eight years old, and he had many fond memories of Ian teaching him how to snowboard in sub-zero temperatures. Somehow, he didn't think that his next visit to the Alps would be quite so carefree.
"And what do I do when I get there?"
"We'll give you a full briefing nearer the time-" of course they would "-but essentially, your job is to find out everything you can. It may be that this school is perfectly ordinary and that there was in fact no connection between the deaths. If so, we'll pull you out. But we want to be sure".
Mrs Jones ran an eye over Alex as the lab coat woman took a step back.
"Your new appearance, at least, will make you look the part".
Blunt nodded once, and something very similar to a smirk briefly flitted over his lips at the boy's shorn haircut, roughed-up clothes, and ear piercing.
"From this moment on, I want you to start thinking of yourself as Alex Friend, the fourteen-year-old son of Sir David".
Alex stared at himself in the mirror, hardly even recognising the face that stared back at him.
He distantly wondered if he would ever get to be Alex Rider ever again.
11.21 am, Wednesday, 6th April
Royal and General Bank, Liverpool Street
Standing outside the Royal and General Bank, Ian was irritated to find himself feeling oddly nervous.
He knew why, of course - just as he knew that Alan fucking Blunt had something to do with Alex's disappearance. There were too many coincidences for that not to be the case, and as the bastard himself had once said - there's no such thing as coincidence, only conspiracy. But by confronting Blunt, by speaking to the man directly, he risked being kicked out, arrested, or even worse. The Head of MI6 didn't take kindly to people interfering with his "work" after all.
There was a time when Ian swore that he'd never step foot back in this place.
But he also knew that he owed it to Alex to at least try.
Walking into the brown marble lobby, he headed straight for the desk, annoyed to realise that he didn't recognise the man sitting behind it. He'd been hoping to be able to go straight up, or at least to be taken seriously, but this stranger had no reason to believe he was who he said he was and that was only going to slow things down.
"Ian Rider to see Mr Blunt".
The man behind the counter blinked.
"I'm sorry sir, but there is no Mr Blunt-"
"Sure there is" he interrupted, with a disarming smile, "Alan Blunt, the chief executive of the Special Operations Division of MI6. Can you tell him I'm here? Or, even tell Mrs Jones for that matter. I'm sure she'd love to catch up with an old friend".
The receptionist was looking decidedly… uneasy.
"I'm sorry sir" he repeated, "But I'm afraid I don't know who you're speaking of".
Above his head, Ian watched as a security camera slowly swivelled to face him.
"That's alright" he replied, waving up at it, "I'm sure you're about to find out".
A second later, the man's phone rang. Glancing down at it, he paled, no doubt recognising the call as coming from the sixteenth floor. Swallowing thickly, he reached for his headset and answered.
"... yes sir … no sir … of course sir … shall I- … yes sir".
He hung up and Ian felt his grin widen at the fearful look the man gave him.
"... Mr Blunt will see you now".
"I thought he might".
Stepping into one of the three brass elevators, he stood perfectly still as the concealed camera scanned him for weapons before moving, and distantly wondered what would have happened if he had been carrying.
Getting out on the top floor, he followed the familiar halls down to the surprisingly plain wooden doors at the end, throwing them open without bothering to knock.
The reptile inside hardly deserved his politeness, after all.
Alan bloody Blunt hadn't changed one bit - and neither had his office. He was as grey and dull as ever, anywhere from forty to sixty years old. The room was featureless and boring; unimaginative abstract art on the walls, and everything else metal and white and beige.
"Ian" he greeted, seemingly unfazed.
"Alan" he returned, just to see the bastard's eye twitch.
"To what do we owe the… pleasure of your visit?"
Standing behind his chair and just to the side was Tulip Jones - the only thing that had changed in the past decade, given the strands of grey he could now see in her dark hair, and the wrinkles on her forehead that told a tale of many sleepless nights.
"Oh, you know" Ian replied, forcefully calm as he looked around, "Just wanted to check in, see how things are doing, take any wayward teenagers off of your hands - the usual".
To be fair, the man didn't so much as flinch.
"Any wayward teenagers?" he parroted back, a convincing frown on his face, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand".
"You sure about that? Cause from where I'm standing, things are pretty bloody clear".
"Are they? How… odd" Blunt replied lightly, "Perhaps you can explain, then, just why you stormed into my office as if a pack of feral dogs were after you".
Ian took slow, careful steps until he reached the front of the metal desk; both to give himself time to calm down but also to unsettle the bastard - who did, in fact, shift ever-so-slightly in his chair as he approached.
"I may be out of the field, Alan" he said, quietly, "but that doesn't mean I'm out of practice".
Blunt opened his mouth to reply, but Ian cut him off before he could speak.
"Where is he?"
"... Where is who?"
"You know exactly who!" He slammed a hand down on the desk between them. "Where the hell is Alex?"
"Alex?" His frown deepened, as if genuinely confused, but Ian didn't buy it for one second. "Alex who? Alex- Oh! Alex. Your brother's child".
"Yes, Alan, my brother's child. My child. Where is he?"
"How on earth should I know? It isn't MI6's problem if you lost the boy, Ian-"
"Don't play games with me, Blunt! I know you took him. So where the fuck is he?!"
Lifeless grey eyes studied him almost curiously.
"... Perhaps you ought to calm down, Mr Rider, before your anger is seen as a… threat. A lot of people have been arrested for far less, after all, and especially inside these halls".
"Whatever you have done to him, wherever you have sent him, I will find out" Ian whispered, "And I will make you regret the day you ever even glanced his way".
"You always were a dramatic one, weren't you? All of these… emotions. You would do much better without them, you know".
"And turn into you? No fucking chance. Where is he?"
Blunt sighed and clasped his hands lightly together on top of his desk.
"Now, Ian, I really must insist that you stop these delusions at once! What on earth would I need a normal fourteen-year-old boy for?"
"Alex isn't a normal child!"
"Hmm". His head tilted slightly to the side like the reptilian bastard he was. "Well then… Perhaps you shouldn't have trained him so well if you didn't want someone to take advantage".
"Why you-"
He had lunged across the desk and grabbed a hold of his tie before he even knew what he was doing.
"Ian!"
For the first time that afternoon, Mrs Jones spoke up.
"Let him go or I shall be forced to detain you for treason!"
After tightening his hand just enough to see the prick squirm, he let go, took a step back, straightened his jacket, and then turned his glare to her instead.
"And you! You're just- what? Perfectly okay with this? Kidnapping John's child?! Using a fourteen-year-old boy like this?!"
She stared back at him, older and more exhausted than he could ever remember seeing her before, with something deeply sad in her gaze. After a moment, she looked away, silently, and Ian felt a pang of disappointment. However brutal and callous and heartless as Blunt could be, he had never imagined Jones following in his footsteps.
"You won't get away with this" Ian said, turning back to him, "Mark my words, Alan fucking Blunt - one day, you will get what's coming to you".
The man looked almost bored.
"Are you quite finished? I'm having lunch with the Home Secretary at twelve and I'd like to go over some documents before then".
Ian couldn't ever remember hating someone this much before - and he'd taken down drug lords, human traffickers, and contract killers.
"Yes" he bit out, "I'm finished… for now".
11.21 am, Wednesday, 6th April
Lancashire Countryside, England
The week seemed endless.
After only two days, Alex had never felt more isolated. The estate went on for as far as the eye could see, and the Friends seemed to have no connection with the real world. Sir David himself had disappeared to London, Lady Caroline did her best to avoid Alex, and Fiona - his so-called "sister" - had made it clear from the start how much she disliked him.
"I'm going shooting" she told him. "I don't suppose you want to come?"
Alex shrugged. He had memorised most of the details in the files Mrs Jones had given him and figured he could easily pass as a member of the family. Now he was counting the hours until the woman from the academy arrived to take him away.
"Have you ever been shooting?" Fiona asked.
"No" Alex lied, not wanting to turn this into a bragging contest but to no avail.
"I go hunting and shooting" Fiona said, "But of course, you're a city boy. You wouldn't understand".
"What's so great about killing animals?" Alex asked.
"It's part of the country way of life. It's tradition". Fiona looked at him as if he were stupid. It was how she always looked at him. "Anyway, the animals enjoy it".
The shooting party turned out to be young and - apart from Fiona - entirely male. Five of them were waiting on the edge of a forest that was part of the Haverstock estate. Rufus, the leader, was sixteen and well-built with dark, curling hair. He seemed to be Fiona's boyfriend. The others - Henry, Max, Bartholomew, and Fred - were about the same age. They gazed at Alex with barely concealed contempt. Fiona must have already told them about him. The city boy.
Quickly, she made the introductions. Rufus stepped forward.
"Nice to have you with us" he drawled. He ran his eyes over Alex, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Up for a bit of shooting, are you?"
"I don't have a gun" Alex said, privately thinking and it wouldn't be animals that I'd shoot with it either.
Rufus nodded at one of the other teenagers, who handed Alex an old, somewhat rusty shotgun.
"You can use this one" he said, "And if you're very good and don't get in the way, maybe we'll let you have a bullet".
They all laughed at that. Alex privately wondered if shooting a teenage twat would be enough for Alan fucking Blunt to fire him.
11.42 am, Wednesday, 6th April
Royal and General Bank, Liverpool Street
Turning on his heel, Ian stormed out of the office, his heart heavy with anger, frustration, and worry for his nephew. He knew he had to regroup, to find a way to confront Blunt and MI6 without putting Alex in further danger - because who knew what that bastard would do to his kid if Ian started to inconvenience him.
Stepping out of the elevator back on the ground floor, he headed straight for the door, expertly weaving his way through the throngs of people leaving for lunch. He was beyond furious, furious at Blunt, furious at Jones, furious at himself.
Perhaps you shouldn't have trained him so well if you didn't want someone to take advantage.
Was that really what Blunt thought he'd been doing? Training his nephew to follow in his footsteps? In his father's footsteps?
A tall dark-haired man bumped into him just outside the door with a quick "excuse me".
Was that what Alex thought? Did Blunt manage to convince him that Ian wanted him to go to Brecon Beacons? To investigate Sayle? To join MI6?
No.
He couldn't have.
Alex knew that his uncle loved him, loved him as if he was his own child - surely the boy wouldn't even consider for one second that he'd want him to endanger his life like this.
A phone started ringing as he reached the car park and the irritated part of his mind wished that somebody would just answer the damn thing.
But if Alex wasn't doing this willingly, then why hadn't he run away yet? Liverpool Street was only half an hour away from Chelsea if he took the tube, and even shorter if he hailed a cab. So just why the hell was Alex still doing Blunt's dirty work?
Reaching his car, he put his hand into his pocket to take out the keys and-
Huh.
Ian stared at the strange slim black phone in his hand which continued to ring loudly.
Okay then.
Unlocking his car, he slowly sat in and flipped open the cheap, prepaid mobile - obviously a burner phone. The caller ID just showed the number that was ringing with no name or other contact details. But how did he-
Oh.
The man who'd bumped into him, leaving the bank. He must have slipped it into his pocket as he passed, and Ian was simultaneously impressed at the stranger's skills and annoyed that he hadn't felt the drop. But given that the only person he still knew at '6 was Lee...
Taking a deep breath, he pressed accept.
"Agent Daniels, I presume?"
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
"... Fox works too. Or you can call me Ben if you like".
"What I'd like is to hear every single scrap of information you have about the boy you know as Cub".
"Ah". He had a faint Liverpool accent. "So that's what this is about".
"What did you think it was about?"
He could practically hear the man shrug.
"No idea. But a… mutual friend of ours told me to get in touch. Quietly, mind you - and when I saw you today at the bank, it seemed like fate".
"Fate, huh? And do you always carry an extra burner phone around with you because of fate?"
"Hey, better to have and not need than to need and not have!"
Ian decided he quite liked Agent Daniels.
"So, what's this I hear about Cub? And how is an ex-spook like you involved anyway?"
Spook.
You could take the man out of the SAS…
"Alex is my nephew. His parents died when he was a few weeks old so I'm his legal guardian too" he explained, "About a month ago, he was kidnapped. I did some digging around and it turned out that a boy matching his description showed up in Beacons about a week later with connections to your current employer… The sergeant and your old unit confirmed it".
"... Well fuck".
"My thoughts exactly".
Through the windscreen of his car, Ian watched as an exhausted-looking woman juggled three shopping bags and two young children.
"... There's been a few rumours" Fox said suddenly, "Nothing concrete, and nothing that anyone would confirm for me, anyway, since I'm still the newbie, but… well, a few people have whispered about seeing a blond kid around HQ, fourteen or fifteen maybe - but this isn't exactly a workplace that you take your kids to".
"Do you know if he's still there now?"
Because MI-bloody-6 or not, Ian wasn't above doing a full-scale frontal attack on the Royal and General Bank if his nephew was being held captive there.
"Last I heard, he'd been shipped off somewhere up north after a rather dramatic change of appearance... but that's all I know".
Blunt had sent him on another mission, it had to be - and only a few days after he'd finished the last one, too.
"Right" Ian replied belatedly, "Thanks… Listen, I know you don't know me and you hardly know Alex either, but-"
"-if I hear anything, I'll let you know" he finished, "If the SO really are using Cub like this… No kid deserves to be made a part of our world - So I'll do what I can to get him out".
12.03 pm, Wednesday, 6th April
Lancashire Countryside, England
Thirty minutes later, Alex knew he had made a mistake in coming. The boys blasted away left and right, aiming at anything that moved. A rabbit spun in a glistening red ball. A wood pigeon tumbled out of the branches and flapped around on the leaves below. Whatever the quality of their weapons, the teenagers weren't good shots. The animals they managed to hit were only wounded, and Alex felt a growing sickness, following this trail of blood.
They reached a clearing and paused to reload. Alex turned to Fiona.
"I'm going back to the house" he said.
"Why? Can't stand the sight of a little blood?"
Alex glanced at a hare about fifty feet away. It was lying on its side with its back legs kicking helplessly. Without saying another word, he turned around and walked off.
It had taken him thirty minutes to reach the clearing, but thirty minutes later he was still stuck in the woods, completely surrounded by trees and wild shrubs. Alex realised he was lost.
He was annoyed with himself. He should have watched where he was going when he was following Fiona and the others. The forest was enormous. At the same time, the spring foliage was so thick that he could barely see ten yards in any direction. How could he possibly find his way?
Alex sensed danger before the first shot was fired.
Perhaps it was the snapping of a twig or the click of a metal bolt being slipped into place. He froze - and that was what saved him. There was an explosion - loud, close - and a tree one step ahead of him shattered, splinters of wood dancing in the air.
Almost immediately there was a second shot and, just behind it, a whoop of excited laughter. And then he realised what was happening: They hadn't mistaken him for an animal. They were aiming at him for fun.
He dived forward and began to run. The trunks of the trees seemed to press in on him from all sides, threatening to bar his way. The ground underneath was soft from recent rain and dragged at his feet, trying to glue them into place. There was a third explosion. He ducked, feeling the gunshot spray above his head, shredding the foliage.
Anywhere else in the world, this would have been madness. But this was the middle of the English countryside and these were rich, bored teenagers who were used to having things their own way. Somehow, Alex had insulted them, and they had decided to teach him a lesson - and they would worry about the consequences later.
"We don't bother with rules in the countryside" Rufus had said.
If Alex was badly wounded - or even killed - they would somehow get away with it. A dreadful accident. He wasn't looking where he was going and stepped into the line of fire.
Two more shots.
A pheasant erupted out of the ground, a ball of spinning feathers, and screamed up into the sky. Alex ran on, his breath rasping in his throat. A thick briar reached out across his chest and tore at his clothes. He still had the gun he had been given, and he used it to beat a way through. A tangle of roots almost sent him sprawling.
"Alex? Where are you?"
The voice belonged to Rufus. It was high-pitched and mocking, coming from the other side of a barrier of leaves. There was another shot, but this one went high over his head.
They couldn't see him. Had he escaped?
No, he hadn't.
Alex came to a stumbling, sweating halt. He had broken out of the woods but he was still hopelessly lost. Worse - he was trapped. He had come to the edge of a wide, filthy lake.
"He went that way!"
"No… through here!"
"Let's try the lake".
Alex heard the voices and knew that he couldn't let them find him here. He had a sudden image of his body, weighed down with stones, at the bottom of the lake - but that gave him an idea.
One minute later, Rufus appeared at the edge of the lake, his gun still hooked over his arm. He stopped and looked around with eyes that knew the forest well. Nothing moved.
"He must have doubled back" he said.
The other hunters had gathered behind him. There was tension between them now, a guilty silence. They knew the game had gone too far.
"Let's forget him" one of them said.
"Yeah…"
"We've taught him a lesson".
They were in a hurry to get home. As one, they disappeared back the way they had come. Rufus was left on his own, still clutching his gun, searching for Alex. He took one last look across the water, then turned to follow them.
That was when Alex struck.
He had been lying under the water, watching the vague shapes of the teenagers as if through a sheet of thick brown glass. The barrel of the shotgun was in his mouth. The rest of the gun was just above the surface of the lake. He was using the hollow tubes to breathe. Now he rose up - a nightmare creature oozing mud and water, with fury in his eyes.
Rufus heard him but he was too late.
Alex swung the shotgun, catching Rufus in the small of the back. Rufus grunted and fell to his knees, his own gun falling out of his hands. Alex picked it up. There were two cartridges in the breech. He snapped the gun shut.
Rufus looked at him, and suddenly all the arrogance had gone and he was just a stupid, frightened teenager, struggling to get to his knees.
"Alex…"
The single word came out as a whimper. It was as if he were seeing Alex for the first time.
"I'm sorry!" he snivelled, "We weren't really going to hurt you. It was a joke. Fiona put us up to it. We just wanted to scare you. Please…"
Alex paused, breathing heavily.
"How do I get out of here?" he asked.
"Just follow the lake around!" Rufus said, "There's a path".
Rufus was still on his knees. There were tears in his eyes. Alex realised that he was pointing the silver-plated shotgun in his direction. He turned it away, disgusted with himself. This boy wasn't the enemy. He was nothing.
"Don't follow me" Alex said and began to walk.
"Please!" Rufus called after him, "Can I have my gun back? My mother would kill me if I lost it".
Alex stopped. He weighed the weapon in his hands, then threw it with all his strength. The handcrafted Italian shotgun spun twice in the dying light, then disappeared with a splash in the middle of the lake.
"You're too young to play with guns" he said.
Killing is for grown-ups and you're still a child.
Alex walked away, letting the forest swallow him up.