A seven hundred page epic on the depravity of an ultimate psychopath. After three years of research, Edward Pleasure was about to start the final chapter of his book on the life and death of Roman Nobikov. He had started his research, not to write a book but to find his foster son, who was not dead. The journalist had no doubt when the former Deputy Director of Covert Operations at the CIA was the one who had told him Alex was alive and an associate of that Russian Mafia Kingpin.

He had not found a trace of Alex, not that he expected to. The teen spy had broken cover in 2005 to alert Joe Byrne that a deep cover agent had been compromised. Anyone that crossed Nobikov could expect a long slow, excruciating painful demise. Alex had probably reinvented himself several times over the five years since he 'died' in Moscow.

Finishing this book, would be Edward's closure over failing Alex. He was very curious over the LAPD Detective who was rumoured to have killed Novikov. Charlie Crews had given no interviews and was likely to have signed a non-disclosure agreement as part of his multi-million dollar settlement after his exoneration.

The man was impossible to talk to, almost a recluse. He had finally talked to the man's financial advisor, a convicted money launderer and embezzler, Ted Earney. Another man Edward would like to interview, from billionaire to skid row via State Penitentiary. If Crews agreed to talk to him, he may persuade him to talk about his own life.

…..

Lynne arrived at Charlie Crew's huge house with her daughter, Donna and was surprised with the open empty space that greeted you on entering. Alex and Rachel showed their guests around the house as Crew's prepped the barbecue. The tour of the house showed a sparsely furnished den, a gym and kitchen and no other furniture on the ground floor in the mansion style house. A sparsely furnished master bedroom, a homey room for Rachel and a guest room as sparse as the master bedroom and three other empty rooms with adjoining bathrooms. Rachel then stated they had only had a den furnished since Sasha had moved in.

The guests were given glasses of iced fruit punch and they lounged on the patio, which had wonderful views of the desert hills.

…

Sasha was clearing up after a lovely dinner. Everyone had enjoyed the evening. Rachel and Olivia were spending the evening enjoying a rom-com on DVD in the den. Ted and Charlie were still sat on the patio enjoying another glass of Pinot Noir.

"Great wine. Fermented grape juice. I'm looking into buying into a vineyard. Maybe in Napa, but maybe in France or Italy. I think Sasha and I will go on a holiday summer. I was thinking Hawaii. A nice beach side cottage somewhere not too touristy. I think it'll be like a honeymoon, just the two of us. You should take Olivia somewhere nice."

Ted thought about it. "I'll think about it. I got an enquiry today from a journalist, he want to talk to you, even off the record about Roman Nebikov. His foster son disappeared in 2002, he got info that the kid crossed the Russian's path in 2005. He's trying to find this kid. Its more than just a story. You may help him, but he said this was his last hope. The guy writes good stuff. Exposed some mean people, I think he'll write a book about Roman as he's been investigating him for three years."

"I don't think I can help him, but arrange a meeting. Make sure Sasha is home as well. I'll invite Reese over. She's better at handing out bad news. No sightings or news for four years means the kid is likely dead." Charlie Crews drained his glass, using the pause to think that no amount of zen made up for the fact life was hard, unfair and a struggle for survival. He had found Rachel, she would want for nothing and be spoiled and loved. Sasha had also been so lucky to find family. Charlie was thinking of the two scary ex-marines as family as well. He was damn sure he would never introduce his lover to his own father. "Not next saturday, we'll be at the bake sale Ding is organising. You can come if you want. I'm going a mixed fruit compote for Rachel's cheesecake. Sasha is making brownies and blondies, his dad's favourites."

"I can't bake. I'll be shop bought cupcakes or donuts from me. This bake sale is at the Academy isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm going to stick close to Ding and Carlos. Keep my mouth shut and not make waves. Its a good cause, Sasha says we only have to show our faces." Charlie reached over to fill both their glasses, finishing the bottle and proposed a toast "To life."

"Life, family and love." The financial whizz drank to 2009. He would consolidate Charlie's holdings and start thinking about long term investments and a series of charitable donations and funding of business start-up programmes.

"Life is good, Ted. This is wonderful. I have finally a sense of home and this place is no longer just a place to sleep and eat. I can also understand Sasha completely. It is hard not to fear the bogeyman spoiling this. You get too happy, something is going to happen to fuck it all up." Charlie then reached forward to touch the bark of his newly acquired lemon tree. "I need a million lucky charms now. Invest some of my money in escape plans, a couple of hideaways, maybe even in some alternative travel documents or a yacht. Just in case we need to run. You, me, Sasha, Olivia and Rachel. You can make money disappear, use fake companies as cover. I want no one to get wind of this. It is just belt and braces, but we might need it. Sasha owes a house in Mexico, I think he had about ten grand hidden there as well. He knows how to leave everything behind and to start again. Talk to him if you need help or ideas. He's more a chameleon than either you or I."

…..

LA was so different to San Francisco. Edward now considered California his home after living here for nearly six years. He and his wife Liz had driven down and were staying with an old friend who lived in Topanga Canyon. The artist and photographer was more than happy to entertain. Edward was still in exile after surviving a hit by Yassen Gregorovich. In his working life, he had made more friends than enemies, but those he had pissed off had almost killed him, his family and had succeeded in making his foster son disappear. He was a realist, Alex was a survivor and surviving involvement with people life Alan Blunt, Tulip Jones and John Crawley was a brutal business. Those scum had threatened those Alex cared about most, Edward, Liz and Sabina. No wonder Alex had stayed away. The price of safety was playing dead.

He pulled into a cul-de-sac and parked his SUV on the spacious drive. The house was on the edge of a very recent development overlooking arid desert hills. It was very high end, with large villas in spacious plots and detached garages. The place must have cost close to a million bucks. It was rather sterile with it classical southern touches and no character whatsoever.

…

Ted Earney answered the door. He had enjoyed getting to know the respected author and freelance journalist. He had read three of his best sellers. A man who had exposed several nefarious characters. The ex-Wall Street broker was in that club himself. He had not wanted to rule the world or recreate it under his vision, but had merely been greedy, careless and convinced of his unvincibility; that the bubble would never burst. He had over extended his portfolio and lost his investors their hard earned cash. "Hi, Edward. Come inside, Charlie is getting ready. He's been working nights and wanted a few hours rest before you arrived."