Midnight, four zeros were illuminated on the cheap digital radio alarm signalling the New Years Day, 2020. It had been 17 years since he'd gone by Alex Rider, and over a year since he'd been Sasha Makarov. Today there would be no gifts nor any friends to celebrate with. Echoing 2003, before Manfred and Maria gave him a life raft to cling to. Life had become an ever changing legend, as his name and background changed every four to twelve weeks. Always on the move, effortlessly shifting legend and morphing his appearance, avoiding all connections to his past. His present abode was more hostel than hotel, budget digs for foreign backpackers, at least he had a single room with tiny en-suite. Luxury after travelling constantly for eighteen months.
Laid on the bed, listening to other guests settling in and going out for the past three hours, he was kidding himself calling his inability to rest, delayed jet lag. He'd travelled to St. Petersburg, via Finland four days ago on a Dutch passport with tourist visa, as the real Pieter Van Dekker was in Johannesburg, boringly normal, working and with full residency there after cancelling his travel plans. The identity thief would be someone else before the document was reported stolen. He had already secured his next assigned identity, with a backup, though he was tired of running. Skipping out on the mobster, who was closer to hell than reliving of his life at fifteen. Roman had tried to channel Maria, but she had mothered him with full understanding of survival at all costs. Maria had never dealt with him at his self destructive best. Roman had handed him to a specialist, as he delegated, knowing he had neither the life experience nor temperament to deal with one of Alex's bad days.
The ex-dancer got up and went into the bathroom, no longer pretending to rest. Twenty minutes later the mid brown dye was stripped to reveal his natural blond hair, in need of a cut. He rubbed his stubble and pondered the fact he was bone tired. Over a year of stolen phones and no real possessions. A man he thought of as a friend, the man who'd fucked Sabina over as well. He was going to find out if Dimitry had enough emotions left to feel sorry.
…
The clock slipped past 08:30, the Head of Directorate 1 had never known Colonel Ivanov be late for a departmental meeting, then his personal mobile rang, it was his errant second in command on FaceTime. Only it wasn't, it was a gaunt face of the missing presumed dead Sasha Makarov on the call. "Uncle Andrei, Dimitry has been a very very naughty boy and is not coming into work today. It's OK, I won't harm him much, I would not deprive his son of his father. Only because Sabina is very much my sister and this cunt should have married her not knocked her up and left her holding the baby. Anyway, I'll drop him off sometime, somewhere when he gets the point that he should not have shafted me with a man I'd turned down flat in 2006. The cunt you were after offered Paul McAllister mega bucks for my ass then. I've been running for the last 13 months to keep ahead of his trackers, he wants me back bad and I rather run than be owned or modified into his type of henchman. Had enough of rapists after Miami and I never ever would be one myself."
The phone connection then shut off. The worried Head of Internal Security tried to reconnect through several platforms and finally tried to message the phone probably already destroyed. Dimitry, in his quest to bring down a traitor, had burned his friendship, not with just Sasha, but all Sasha's and his own friends, including the mother of his 18 month old heir. The general called Paul Roscoe, unsure if the man would even answer. Desperate to try and save not only Dimitry, but Sasha too.
…
Tea with his grandmother, Hester van Loewe was normally a staid affair of polite niceties and correct manners. Today she had done a lot of talking, praising him for being a good boy, but rambled that some things were better done like the old country. He had a wife and her great granddaughter to protect above all else.
The bonds his grandmother had on the table, had been removed from her safety deposit box. They were untraceable, worth millions and most likely obtained through shady dealing or out right theft. How his grandmother had obtained them, Paul had no idea, she never spoke of her parents, nor her childhood or her first two husbands. Her third husband been the right sought, if you cared about such things. His mother's father had been a trader on Wall Street before the eighties excess, no hint of anything less than kosher. He had just assumed she'd been born into high, if impoverished, society. Somewhere along the way, this society hostess had learned, who you took tea with to arrange for a contract killer. She had been adamant, her grandson did not get his hands dirty.
The old woman said something low in Latin, which had sounded like "our victor is family." Then in English continued "Sasha is a darling old soul, sends me wonderful tokens for New Years, silly things, like he was serious about courting me. A girl likes to feel special. Took me to a little Italian trattoria, in Queens of all places, after your 18th birthday. He was a true gentleman. We danced to the folk tunes played on the accordion of all things. If I'd been ten years younger he'd have been invited for coffee." She then dabbed her eyes on a handmade Maltese lace handkerchief. "Now I have to go talk to my first husband's cousin about her grandson. My networking pre dates computers, when you had to actually know and speak to people. No paper trail then. Word of mouth is hearsay and inadmissible in court. I'm just a batty old broad anyway. Going to Oysha Gerham's to talk about the old days." Her bonds were placed in her large Italian handmade leather handbag and then off she went to plan revenge like in the old country.
Paul's would never tell anyone about this tea. He had an awful, if unlikely thought, it might not have been Grief who offed his dad. His grandmother had been adamant all her grandson's problems could be solved by gentle handling by her, not some school for scoundrels in France. Family problems were dealt with by family. No, she'd have never hurt Paul, even if Michael Roscoe had earned her ire.
…..
Alex briefly looked at the destroyed phone and then when back into the warehouse, as a train went past. Dimirty looked shit scared, mouth taped shut and taped to the chair surrounded by twelve of Lazrov's goons, the floor wet and sticky with their blood.
"Do you probably think Uncle Andrei will send the cavalry? Roman Lazrov has been chasing me since I gave that bastard the slip after a month of watching, waiting and hoping you'd come and get me. You sold me out to that sick fuck. I hope you're happy that Sasha is dead and gone. No more dancing. No more crazy sexy cool Alex. Just the Angel of not so Accidental Death left. Gordon Ross called me that. He liked my trail of destruction from Cornwall to France, Cuba/Russia and London. Then it carried on to Outer Space, Bangkok, Australia, then Cairo. Central and South America was a glorious bloodbath. I did not use dance to contain the demons in my head, but to stop my itchy fingers, killing everyone that fucking annoyed me." Alex then went behind his former friend. The Russian state Security Apparatus was not known for subtlety nor the empathy for the underdog. "So, you get to live my life, just until I get bored of your dead weight. Time to move, time to change everything. Fun, isn't it!" With a press of cloth on the FSB officers nose, Dimitri knew no more.
…
In a shitty Fiat, Dimitry woke with a start. In an unknown location, an eerie forest, cold and dark. Alex pulled off the tape. "Eat, drink, you might want to change your soiled incontinence pants as well." Dimitry was still handcuffed, his legs in shackles And no idea where here was. Army issued emergency ration bars and warm beer were his breakfast, dinner and lunch combined. "Cheer up it could be my fucking awful Hunter's stew. Maria learned to made it in Leningrad from the scraps of the dead frozen in the streets. They'd eaten all the rats, all the dogs and cats. A potato was true riches and gold was trash. She was a realist, broken and brutal. She met Marek when he was looting and butchering corpses, like everyone else. The only reason he did not butcher her for stealing his potato was the fact she had dancing shoes around her neck as a good luck charm. The only reason Manfred even saw me was the fact I was a dancer with flowing form and extension. Misha would have been a greater dancer than either me or Vladimir." Then Alex looked at his former friend. "Cat got your tongue? Eat. Drink or do you want to get clean first?"
Dimitry stripped and washed with cold water and wet wipes, unable to run even after the handcuffs had been removed. There was no traffic noise here and nowhere to run. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I fucked everyone for this stupid job. We were tracking the plane, but we lost the transponder over the Himalayas. We did get two leaks in the department."
"Didn't you not think you needed to abort your shit operation when I got shitfaced. Lazrov tried to buy me in London. Even my pimp Paul won't take that payday. He knew darling Roman was lowest of the low cause I told him that he'd been the one to order a whole factory and three villages wiped from the maps. Two witnesses to that. Misha was imprisoned just for having lived there. Yasha escaped the bombers by the skin of his teeth and was then a slave to Sharkovsky. Lazrov also sold the fucking fissile material to Sarov. I could have told you where the skeletons in that man's cupboard were, though I'm too close to being a very unreliable witness. I refused him once and I'd wanted to drink myself to death rather than be his little pet. Even my gilded cage with beautiful Niall was to close to a fucking trap. You can only run so far."
Alex looked at the tears on his former friend's face. "Your cock sucking traitor took me to Dr. Three." Alex looked at the trees and smelt the air. This area had been near human free for nearly forty years. No homes, no farms beyond this dead end road. "What was Estrov is now all forest. Not much left after the napalm and phosphorus bombs." Alex looked impossibly sad. "Bit like me now, what's left is a mish mash of memories after devastation. I need a million sessions with Annie. Lock me up and throw away the key. I think I'll only stop running if it's me sedated in a fucking padded room. Bring me in Spooky."
…
The crap fiat, had enough petrol to make to the nearest militia station, 70 clicks east of that track leading to nowhere. Alex had been silent since his speech. He was the one now wearing the handcuffs and shackles, he'd insisted on it. Colonel Ivanov showed his ID, then stated in cold tones, "two female officers with my material witness. Speak softly, with kindness. I will take a statement when we get back to Moscow."
Dimitry then rang Paul first, not his boss. For the first time since their massive fall out, Paul answered the call from Russia. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but Alex needs a secure hospital and you need to alert Annie. For what our friend has said he was raped as part of personality modifications, the cause of major memory loss and was partially successful resurrection of the killing machine alter. I will get help when we get back to Moscow. There is a suitable clinic in Switzerland, we, as in the FSB, use. Very discreet, I will pay all fees. I will let you know when he is transferred after …." Dimitry faltered at this point.
Paul then stated "the word you're thinking of is debrief or is it full interrogation?"
The Russian spy knew what was meant to happen, done to every detail "I will try to protect him, for it to be gentle as he's devolving. I think he's stopped himself as he has not harmed me. Nothing like I deserved anyway. Better he's in a clinic, not facing multiple counts of murder, though it was self defence and I will testify to that."
The billionaire knew exactly what devolving meant after a psychotic break. "Keep me in the loop. Call it in now." He rubbed his face, he was on paternity leave and seriously frazzled. Dimitry was still a bastard for putting rules first, not friendship. His daughter was three weeks old, little Sura, looked like her mother. For two days they'd known Alex was alive and appeared to be out for a truck load of revenge. Dimitry was compromised and Alex was in the worst place possible for care and understanding as a 'material witness" in the Lubyanka.
…..
As Aleksandr Makarov was stripped and assessed, Andrei stood guard. There was no hazing, nor brutality from the female officers. The General had ordered in the departmental doctor and psychiatrist to be in attendance as well. The former dancer was docile, even though no drugs had been administered yet. The psychiatrist muttered "fugue state, no alter in control. If it's the child aspect during the interview, we may get little to no useful information. None will be admissible in court."
Andrei had a rye smile on his face. "The current contract on Roman Lazrov is €2.5 million in untraceable bonds. The payday is for a slow, videoed demise to be posted open access, half if it's a quick kill and a quarter if it looks like an accidental death. I give it 2 maybe 3 weeks before that video nasty is posted online by Gordon Ross himself. Nothing will ever be going to court. " Andrei had a bet with the President himself that the traitor would be spilling all his secrets to Dr Three or one of his chosen. That man had never failed to re-educate a subject. Roman had obviously insulted the most lethally effective interrogator on the planet, one whose work was seen on Alex as there were three parallel lines scarified over his bullet scar above his heart.
…..
Alex had not recognised either Paul or Olga Roscoe when they had visited Switzerland, he had invited his new friends to play catch with his nurse. Annie had done her best, but the child alter was in front most of the time in this ultimate safe place. There were two personal nurses with their fragile but deadly patient at all times, one as cover as the other had close interaction. The days spent colouring, sports and games, like it was one long holiday, but unlike Alex's actual childhood, all the adults here were 100% attentive and kind.
The ex dancer had movement class, art therapy and group, which tended to be a bit boring and he day dreamed or on the few occasions words connected with memories Alex had flashbacks.
…..
There were a years worth of visitors booked for over the weekends. Most who visited did not find the change in Alex to be heartbreaking, but took solace that at one time, before his fifth birthday, he'd been happy, undamaged, carefree, just lonely, before the first cracks in his psyche appeared.
Sabina had left her son with her parent's at the hotel, when she came to see her brother alone. She had not forgiven her ex lover for his part in damaging Alex beyond repair. Ivanov's name was not on JJs birth certificate. Money from generous child support payments was placed into a trust for her son to decide on at 18. The family court in London had sided with her regarding custody. Dimity had the right for supervised visits, after the bastard had proved he supplied the genetics for conception, the only problem was his inability to get a visa as a person of interest in her brother's kidnapping from France.
Her brother's girlfriend still lived in his house in Brittany, waiting for his return, knowing it was a fools hope. The ex postal worker kept a myriad of pets, from rabbits to goats and chickens, geese and ducks. A real farm again, producing cheese for the markets and local restaurants. Sabina understood why Maya did not want to see the damage done to her perfect and gentle lover by the abduction and rapes.
The dark haired woman was escorted into the pristinely attended gardens, too formal for her tastes. She smiled when she observed Alex laughing at Bernd blowing bubbles, catching them as they floated near him, in the game of follow the leader. Noticing the new visitor, the blond haired man dressed in the distinct scrubs of the secure unit stood for a moment and ran to Sabina. Then stood staring at her. "Is it time for school, Sab."
She smiled, "no babe, we need to have a serious talk. I need your help."
Alex smiled looking concerned "Anything, for my favourite sister."
She looked into his tired sad face, noting every line that had not been there, before Ivanov ruined everything. "I've tried to persuade Vladimir and Luci to allow Nina to visit, but it's still a hard no. Pytor has left home and is living with Dave as a sort of Assistant at the moment, though he's still doing the guerrilla dance livestreams and has been to a few of Paul's parties. He's been cast in the movie of my book. I hope your not mad."
She smiled when he shrugged, knowing she alone had so far been able to have a decent conversation with almost-Alex. Sasha appeared to be gone for good and that broke her heart, even though they had been far from close. "I'm pregnant again. This time a donor, no dicks involved." Sabina looked at her brother from another mother, who even if he remained lost in the memories of his child self, he was as wonderful as they day she met him. Even then he'd trusted her with knowing locked away parts of himself.
Her brother made the briefest of touches to her dark hair. He did not do hugs or any touching now. "I could never be mad at you, not for long. Your friends at school though. Told you they were of the fair-weather kind. Both of us have been burned by those types of a-holes. Show me some pictures of John-James then? Your mum did not stop talking about him yesterday, I'm sorry that I only observed, but it's safer all round if everyone thinks I'm a full time fruit loop. I pick and choose lucidity, no one else." He smiled and breathed deep. "Don't be sad. This is a great place to stop running. Even if I can't control my alters anymore, who fucking cares. I'm safe and no one will hurt me again and when, not if, Annie gets me sorted I have a lovely woman waiting for me. She writes and I write back, after a fashion. My handwriting is atrocious as is my spelling."
Alex sat down on the grass. "I should never have come back to London in 2005. If I'd stayed put, waited for Lola to notice me and run that club with her. I'd have been happy. Though I was happy in Novisibursk before the blackmail. If I'd really fought back, Tanya and I would have used a donor, but I was always overreact to blackmail. I did not want her hurt. Once bitten twice shy. Ditto for Maya. Not that I believed deep down that Dimitry could or would hurt her, but he still threatened." With an almost tap on his sisters hand, "you need to find someone like Maya. Or maybe you should just get a girlfriend, sorted. No more less than perfect boyfriends, though there is a chance of a doozy of a girlfriend still."
Sabina laughed and joined Alex on the grass to take in the Mountain View, you just had to blank out the two rows of high security fencing.
…
Gordon Ross was your man to take down a complex security set up, to our smart the opposition, to track the sneakiest and the most paranoid, to kill with precision or more likely a large amount of well placed explosives. He could torture, but he was brutal and impatient. Hunter had been proficient and detached, his finesse showed in his only apprentice.
Out of retirement did not mean he was slow or in his dotage, he was no fool, but he knew his limitations. For this special job, he had subcontracted two specialists. Both Kidon operatives, trained by the good doctor personally. They laughed at his jokes and drank whisky like they'd been born on Speyside like himself. His Hebrew was a bit rusty, but they were learning to swear in Gaelic. The Kidon boys, went by Max and Dave, also had orders to squeeze Roman Lazrov dry and they had learned expertise in tracking from the wily old fox of SCORPIA.
Max was resting, breaking a person with keen intellect and with training was a game in its self. With three, you had enough leeway to keep your subject guessing. Gordon was learning a few things too, patience was one of them.
The old man wanted a drink desperately as he chatted at the sleeping information retrieval specialist on his 10 minute break, "in Malagosto we had two gems to polish. You knew Cossack, slow on the uptake at the beginning, no sense of humour but always professional. Hunter's boy was cracked and cracking. Once Rothman made her play to kill the bairn, me, Yermalov and Binang left, quit, goodbye. Anyone decent in SCORPIA went back to the doctor. The teenage wonder boy told us what she was up to. Crazy bitch. This after the yanks went postal over 9/11. Using planes as bombs, stupid. Just made it all the harder for all us who ply this trade. Rothman threatened fucking NATO with a weapon of mass destruction, no quarter taken or given."
Gordon noted the sly bastard was listening, "If he'd been Scottish, the bairn's nickname would have been Sandy Rider. He didn't do many jobs, but the Kremlin one was pure magic." That dancer cover was insanity in its self. Gordon rubbed his stubble, he fucking hated beards. "When you've had your fun. No quick demise. Then I get playtime. That school in France run by Grief, they'd threatened Sandy with live vivisection. That's our end play. You can stick around or take your leave, but Roman's end is going to be magnificent revenge. Discussed it with Li before I took this contract. I don't need the money. My cut will be 10%. You two are doing most of the graft, anyway. What a load of bullshit from that bastard's mouth. Day after day, yak yak yak. Tongue out first, cauterise it, then paralyse his vocal cords. No endless screaming then. Fun. Something to look forward to. Like the old days." Then he laughed before going back to do Dave's bidding.
….
There was a list of who and who not could visit. Annie herself had spoken to Graham, Paul in London, Victor and Vitaly to state that her patient was too fragile at the moment, maybe after the violent flashbacks stopped, but most male visitors caused problems, even Edward was only allowed to view from a distance. She had asked Paul McAllister to deal with the ex husband. "He's never going to be on my approved list. Sasha is buried deep and the Sergeant is an abuser to Alex. No love there now. I don't know for sure, but Alex became dominant again in France, hence his tragic love affair with Maya. Only tragic because Dimitry had threatened her to get Alex to dance to his tune. I've not gotten even close to finding out why Roman thought gang rape was needed as a trigger to gain control."
…
The pandemic had passed, after two major lockdowns in the UK, poor Alex hadn't had visitors for months, but Paul McAllister never expected to be allowed to see that broken boy, not after what Roman had done. Annie had been stuck in the states and there had been another hush hush specialist looking after her case in Switzerland.
It was an early snowstorm, wet and blustery, so everyone was indoors. Paul was shown through, not to the high security, but the bit of this clinic that could have been a five star hotel. No locked doors, no being signed in, no list of rules to adhere to. Even his driver, Mitch though it was swanky and relaxed. His old friend was once again dressed in his own clothes, no scrubs as seen in the girl's photos. Alex was reading Sabina's second novel, Moscow Sunset, about falling for a handsome guy and him being scum of the earth. It was sticking the knife into her ex good and proper. He also had his left leg elevated after surgery to reassess the damage.
"Hey hey my best boy, I here your girl Maya's been visiting."
Alex laughed "she's been more than visiting. Poor Bernd, clocked an eyeful, her Fanny and my Prince Albert sunk into her arse. You need to go visit her on our farm. Take Graham with you, yes I heard you two queens had moved in together. Nice house in Petersham as well, swanky."
"Pytor is a little minx gossiping about everything. He's gonna be A List, Cass' mom has got him some amazing auditions. Vladimir is directing stuff for Amazon. But you know all the goss. So, you getting out of here?"
"Yeah, in a few weeks, maybe. Need to do a few interviews with the Feds about some bonds and Gordon being Gordon. Like WTF, I could never afford that man, way out of my league. I only dabbled with loose change, playing the markets with Paul and his grandmother, Dieter and Rudi gave us pointers, but we were small time. Few hundred grand nothing more. It's all on my tax returns, well up until 2018. Paul's Grandmother has being doing mine since I went awol and then loopy."
"So your new shrink is really a miracle worker?"
"Yeah, really he has been but he's back in Macau now, retired. I think I prefer Annie anyway." Alex looked at his old friend, who had sold on his clubs and had a protege doing most of his fixing.
The retired man of leisure admired the view, it was a nice place, but he could tell Alex was itching to get out. "So did you get all your rapists during your world tour?"
"Yep, every last one. Funny how the last bunch ran back to Moscow. Andrei told me off for just offing them. Said twenty to thirty years in the gulag would have been a better send off. The two Departmental traitors were sentenced by internal military tribunal, into the prisons no one inspects." Dimitry was a cert it make it to the top of the pile of corpses in Russia. A lonely place when you throw everyone under the bus to get there. Surrounded by enemies on all sides. Paul had shared a cell with him at Point Blanc and they were only ever going to be politely cordial now. His grandmother has bought the chateau near Fougeres. Country air, more like two steps in front of something dodgy in her past or maybe related to her accepting the Friend of Israel award. There's a woman who reinvented herself four or five times. Another smart move on his part was to flirt and court her.
The former fixer pondered the firm heterosexuality of his former pansexual player, but if he'd been gang raped he'd be sure and not want any cock as well. "Sabina had a little girl. Home birth in London with her mum and dad there. The midwife was a friend of your mum's, back in the day. Don't know if you want to follow that up."
"Trixie o'Brianne, yep we've had a lunch or three. I recommended her, before JJ was a certainty." Alex was relaxed. He could be a fixer but the constant socialising put him off. "Heard from Maya her ex husband had a not so small accident. Know anything about that?"
"That cunt was a bit too gobby to one of Dimitry's or Roman's underlings. Won't make that mistake again. Neither will anyone else, the message was sent loud and clear. Think it was your mates in Miami for that. Paul's grandma got her coffee direct from your suppliers. She was a bit of a fixer herself in the days of the Cold War, not spooky, freelance. Never lost her touch."
Alex then gripped his friend's hand, "I have a not so small favour to ask you. My dad's lockup, I know you know about it. Clear it out, sell everything. Give it all to charity. I have all I need in Brittany now. You can keep anything that catches your eye. I won't be visiting anyone. My rolling stone days are done. My door is open to all friends, even Niall and his new squeeze. Hope he treats this twink better."
…..
They had driven back to Brittany, Maya and Alex sharing the driving. Picnic in Versailles then a late return to the small farm. A life he should have enjoyed with his Parents, during his dad's planned quiet retirement. His last was irrelevant, he was living data to day from now on.