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Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age. Yassen mused as he moved to study the teen through his scope then just as quickly flicked back over to his true mark.
Investment banking did not usually invite assassinations, but the target had been at the heart of an investigation that exposed illicit dealings of several major players in the industry. They wanted him gone before anything further could fall on them. And they wanted it done publicly to send a message.
Yassen could accommodate.
His mark made it easy. He was habitual - dangerous in Yassen’s line of work but not unusual in the man’s own. Punctual coffee at a particular shop to finish out the workday and even a standard table.
Textbook. Perfect for a beginner. He hoped that was not why Alex was here. He doubted it. A coffeeshop in the financial district was not the space for a teenager in a school uniform. Not with an average of age of twenty six at best. So he felt he could safely rule out ‘aspiring assassin’.
Yassen had planned to finish the job tomorrow. Make this a dry run, take a closer look at the thickness of the glass of the coffee shop. Likely standard for a high street skyscraper but he had made the mistake once, early on in his career. He hadn’t intended to make it again but he had the perfect shot now and, more importantly, there was obviously something interesting going on. After all, Alex Rider was acting uncharacteristically.
He obviously knew who Yassen was after, given he was sitting two tables over from him. But perplexingly he had taken no actions to warn the man of his presence. It had always only been a matter of time before the morals Alex Rider clung to were swept away by the grim reality of the world he found himself in. Perhaps this was a sign that they had been… or maybe he thought that his presence would stay Yassen’s hand, if only to find out what Alex’s play was.
Alex was wrong.
With a gentle squeeze of the trigger the man and his chair were knocked backward by the explosive punch of the bullet through his forehead. Yassen waited precious seconds to confirm the kill - body splayed on the floor, blood pooling and very, very still. And then everything was in motion as everyone began ducking and scrambled around the room. Before he jerked away from his scope to begin collapsing the rifle and make his escape he noticed that Alex Rider didn’t look shocked in the slightest. Interesting.
He caught sight of the teen on the fringe of the morbid crowd and then he was gone. Yassen grinned to himself: the chase was on.
He stepped through the crowd with ease - suit and briefcase making him fit in perfectly among the swarm of young men trying to climb the corporate ladder. Alex, on the other hand, had perfected the sulky teenage look of ignoring his parent, guardian. Whatever. They finally caught up briefly at a crosswalk and just when Yassen had managed to squeeze through the crowd to land a hand on Alex’s shoulder he had darted out into traffic. Tossing a haughty look back across before he took off toward the Tube station. Fine by him, gave him plenty of time to fish his pass out from this wallet in his pocket.
The light turned green and then he was following Alex who had taken to sliding down the banister of the stairs. And sure enough he caught a look at the blue lapel turning back to him from in front of the cork board and the next he was sliding in between the closing doors of a train. Yassen could follow and get his answers in person, but Alex had left something behind. A possible indication that all was not safe, he would not put it past him. Alex had a soft spot for him - that Yassen had spared him a thousand times over despite numerous orders might contribute to it. Alex had returned the favor and had even saved him from capture by his employers. Their relationship was an odd one that couldn’t really be put in words.
Yassen did not want to try.
He found a piece of paper on the board with an address, room number, time and date. Normally he would ignore what was so obviously a trap but given that it was Alex, it merited at least a cursory glance. A quick look up of the address confirmed that Alex wanted to meet him at his school tomorrow. If it was a trap, it was a poorly constructed one. The windows to the rooms were broad and open and the meeting time would give little opportunity for a strike team to set up. Some surveillance put in the room tonight and a stakeout tomorrow would be enough to put those fears to rest. But should he? His plane wasn’t wasn’t scheduled until Saturday and moving it now seemed pointless. He could humor Alex. The teen had gone to the trouble of finding him, determining his target, and location. It would be a shame to waste that kind of effort. Besides, he needed to know how the teen had done it when his employers hadn’t.
He spent the night setting up surveillance and the day scoping out the school. Alex was tense, it showed in all the little ways - the square of his shoulders, the clench of his hands when someone came just a little too close, the far too practiced casing of each room and the subsequent sizing up of his classmates. It could be a sign of a trap but Yassen doubted it. No one else saw the behavior as odd and Alex made no secret out of knowing exactly where Yassen was. Too many times in a sniper’s scope tended to give you a sixth sense about them. He could have alerted someone then, but he didn’t. This wasn’t a trap then, but what other reason could there be when they could have easily and discreetly talked yesterday? There was only one way to find out.
One look at his phone confirmed that the room he was to go to was clear of any operatives - military or otherwise. A case of the building over the last twenty minutes confirmed that none of the others were either. There was still a chance they could be brought in but that would be elaborate even for MI6. The room was not clear of others. Alex was sitting before the desk of what must be the headmaster or perhaps a deputy. She was a kindly looking woman with gray hair pulled tightly into a bun. On anyone else it would look severe with the pitying look she was giving Alex it was softened noticeably. Yassen listened outside the door to the faint sounds of conversation.
“....sorry, we had to reschedule it’s just with his work…”
“No problem, dear,” a warm female voice returned. “Will he be able to make it?”
“He hasn’t texted me yet but he might be in traffic,” Alex hedged. He knew Yassen was watching and likely listening but he didn’t take it as a guarantee that the man would come.
That was a fair assessment.
Yassen wanted nothing to do with what was obviously a conference of some sort, especially when he would be forced into the role of a guardian. But it said something that Alex thought having him attend was the best approach. Teenagers were known for making stupid decisions but Alex Rider was not. Mainly because his decisions had too many lives on the line. Even now he was potentially risking the life of this woman. It would be nothing for him to kill her and leave it to MI6 to clean up the proverbial mess.
Alex knew that. Which was another question, why wasn’t MI6 here? They could handle whatever trouble Alex got into easily. Which meant whatever this was, it was something he didn’t want MI6 to know about. There was something more going on here. Yassen had made it this far, he may as well indulge his curiosity. He knocked politely on the door.
The woman looked up with a warm smile “Mr. Rothman, thank you for joining us.”
He shot a look at Alex, being called that name was definitely trying his patience. The teen obviously knew that since he was pointedly avoiding his gaze.
“My pleasure, thank you for having us,” he said smoothly, taking a seat.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before...” She trailed off. He could say he was a social worker. She would likely buy it even if he was a bit casually dressed. But Alex had put him on the spot, it would do well to make him squirm.
“I’m a friend of his fathers. I look after him when I can, unfortunately work can get in the way sometimes.” Alex shot him a discrete look but Yassen kept his eyes locked on the woman.
“And what do you do Mr. Rothman?” She asked conversationally.
“I’m a sniper.” Alex twitched. “In the military,” he finished.
“Oh, thank you for your service.”
“Of course.” Credibility established, he pressed on. Alex was fortunate that Yassen wanted this meeting finished as much as he did or he could make this very, very painful for him. As it stood, he had a general idea of the situation from the records he had pulled last night. “I’m sorry for all the trouble Alex has been. He’s been taking it hard since his Uncle passed. I’m trying to help with that but you know how difficult these things can be...”
The woman nodded with the understanding that only someone dealing with teenagers all day could have. “Unfortunately, Alex hasn’t had it very easy here either, with all of his absences the bullying has increased. We are aware of it and are doing our best to address it with the other students,” she assured him, “but we do have a zero tolerance policy.”
So that’s what this is about. Alex was getting expelled? That would be something he would want to hide from MI6 but something he would know he would not be able to. It had to be something else then.
“Alex was fighting again?” He did his best to sound resigned. It wasn’t difficult to fake.
“I’m afraid so. This meeting isn’t an official reprimand since Alex didn’t fight back, but we are concerned. Another strike and we will be forced to expel him.”
Yassen nodded politely, that made more sense.
“We would suggest considering a transfer. Having an expulsion on his record would make it difficult but if you were able to move him before then…”
He looked to Alex who was staring into his lap, looking earnestly embarrassed. He imagined having his school record explained to Yassen would be mortifying but he had invited this on himself. “We will look into it.”
“If there’s anything we can do to help we, of course, will. There’s several schools that would be able to give him the one-on-one attention he needs.” She seemed entirely too earnest about the idea, tapping a folder, presumably his records with aplomb. “Alex was a star student, given a fresh start, I’m sure he would thrive.”
“Of course, Alex is exceptionally bright, if a bit reckless. A firm hand could help get him back on the right track.” The teen winced.. Good he knew a threat when he heard one. “If there’s nothing else...?”
“No, that would be all Mr. Rothman. Thank you for taking the time to come down here. It’s nice to know that someone is looking after him besides a social worker.” MI6 agents only then. He looked back to Alex, he was aware that the teen had lost his housekeeper. It shouldn’t surprise him that he had nowhere else left to go besides MI6’s care.
“Of course. And thank you for your concern for Alex.” He smiled disarmingly and stood, resting a hand on the teen’s shoulder. She likely saw it as endearingly paternal. What she couldn’t see was the vice-like grip that he was ensuring would leave a bruise. He wanted it clear that Alex would not be getting away from the follow up discussion they were about to have.
It didn’t take long to locate an empty classroom. He pushed Alex in and locked the door, drawing the small blind over the window.
In the field, Alex was all confident if not cocky energy and biting remarks. Right now, with his shoulders hunched and one arm crossed holding the other elbow, he looked every bit his age.
Normally he would say he was faking it. It would make sense given Alex likely knew that he was at the end of Yassen’s patience. But even in the face of that Alex wouldn’t be this…vulnerable. It was too earnest.
Which meant he wasn’t dealing with Alex Rider the spy right now, was dealing with Alex Rider the fifteen year old.
If he wanted answers about why Alex thought he was the best solution for a parent teacher conference then he would need to start easy and get him back into the more familiar mindset.
“How did you find me?”
“You found me first,” the teen pointed out.
He wasn’t wrong. It was a potentially dangerous habit that every time he came to England he checked on Alex. It helped that he knew the teen’s routine like the back of his hand. Disapproved of it. But Alex wouldn’t have survived this long without knowing just how potentially deadly it could be. His time at Malagosto alone would have spelled it out quite clearly.
“How did you know?” Yassen was actually interested in that. Had he lost his edge or was Alex coming into his?
“You didn’t do much to hide yourself in the cafe,” Alex accused. “A menu and a hat are hardly a disguise.”
They usually were, even to someone watching. For someone of Alex’s caliber it would have been insulting. But Yassen had worn more - contacts, makeup and even a beard. A fairly advanced disguise for a simple recon. Alex had still seen him. “It is enough to hide from your employers.”
“Not hard,” Alex huffed, then sighed. “It’s your hands.”
How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands. Yassen arched an eyebrow but made a note that the next time he found Alex outside the field to wear gloves or at least have them occupied enough to be hidden. Unlike many of Alex’s enemies, he was never opposed to learning new things, even from a teenager.
Alex knew that too.
It was why he was rarely surprised to see Yassen on mission. After he had caught the teen, quite by accident, the first time he had slipped in under the body of a truck, he had ensured infrared scanners were a part of every operation. Even when he had no need to infiltrate, Alex knew which meant he always checked. The thought was more satisfying than he would ever admit. Yassen could order more discretion but preferred that the young spy know what exactly he was in for.
Both of them hated failure.
But they had come to a gentleman’s agreement of sorts - if Alex was just there for information, Yassen would allow him free, sometimes help if the client was particularly obstructive and it would not impact his reputation too greatly. If Alex was good enough to get the information through Yassen’s security then he perhaps deserved the victory. If he wasn’t there for information, and Alex always said that he was, he would find himself bloodied and bruised but relatively unharmed somewhere he could safely be found.
Not retrieved, because the first time Yassen had activated his beacon he had been more than a little exasperated to find him still there twelve hours later.
As was industry standard, he had a distaste for intelligence agencies, mainly because they were just as, if not more, bloody and ruthless than the people they went up against. Alex was a prime example of that. For two people in such a large arena they met too often for his comfort. Which either meant MI6 sent him to every operation they suspected Yassen of being a part of or Alex spent more time in the field than anyone, most especially a teen still in school, should. Neither option appealed.
“Would you like to explain why I am here rather than one of your handlers? Even MI6 is competent enough to sweep a schoolyard fight under the rug.” Yassen rested against the teacher’s desk. Fitting, he supposed. .
“They are...” Alex hedged but stopped.
Yassen waited for the silence to lapse long enough to press for more. “Alex.”
The teen sighed and Yassen couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed at the bout of teenage frustration. Any other child, certainly. But Alex Rider had been forced to act outside his age far too early, Yassen was inclined to indulge him.
“Look…” he scuffed his shoe against the floor, “they said if I got into another fight they would pull me out of school.”
“Perhaps that would be for the best. With your… schedule it would be difficult for you to get the marks needed.” That was more gentle than the situation deserved. He knew what Alex’s grades were already. He was not impressed, but could not put the fault at the teen’s feet.
“My ‘schedule’ would be worse. I would be at their beck and call. There would be no illusions to maintain anymore. School doesn’t do much but it does mean there are some outside eyes watching me that need to be satisfied.”
“If you were so concerned then perhaps you should not have gotten into a fight.”
“I didn’t want to.” The frustration was back in his voice, and in the taut lines of his posture. “I never want to but whenever I get back they always try and start them.”
The words from the meeting came back. ‘Bullied’. Alex Rider was not someone who should be bullied. Teenagers were merciless but he was handsome and could be charming when the situation called for it. Glimpses of his father that should have shielded him from the scorn of children his age. It also did not take a practiced eye to see that he was able to defend himself and that was, perhaps, the problem right there. Teenage boys were always itching for a fight to test their developing strength. Alex would be the perfect target - obviously competent and not around enough to dissuade any from thinking that they could get one up on him.
“They may start the fights, but you are capable of finishing them quickly.”
“Yeah, if I want to do MI6’s work for them and get expelled, zero tolerance and all that,” Alex muttered mutinously.
Which is why he was bruised. It would be frustrating to be capable of taking on entire units of guards but to have to fall to a teenager to preserve what scrap of normalcy he could. “I am impressed at your control.”
The teen’s head snapped up at the compliment, eyes wide. He imagined that in Alex’s life, with no meaningful guardians left to give it, he was starved for them. Yassen could use that.
“Don’t be, I sent one to the hospital last month,” he murmured, averting his eyes back to where he was scuffing the floor.
Last month was when Yassen had seen him in Istanbul. A means to keep him out of the way until they could clear things up or a punishment? Knowing MI6, likely both.
“You should have better control of your instincts by now.” It came out as more of a lecture than he truly intended it to.
“I know,” Alex said tightly, “but it’s not like school is the safest place for me either.”
“I suppose not, all the more reason to get you out of it.”
Without further steps to protect the school’s electronic records it would be a matter of time. He had no doubt MI6 watched. This time he had been spared since it was not on record. The teacher had said this was informal because Alex hadn’t fought back, given that an agent hadn’t been here when he arrived he was inclined to believe her. The next time he would not be so lucky.
“It’s all I have left, you told me to go back to school with Sayle. I’m here, I want to stay. I just needed a little help today.”
Alex had probably rehearsed that but it was no less sincere for it.
“Had you listened back then you would not be in such a predicament.”
“I didn’t have a choice. Still don’t. But I’ll have less if they take me out of here.” That had been the subtext of the entire conversation. Dragged into the harsh light of day it was not entirely surprising but just as disturbing.
Alex was trapped with MI6. Did not want to be, but there was nothing that could be done for that - even if he wanted him to, Alex would never agree to come with him no matter what assurances he made.
“This was only a bandaid, you will not be so lucky next time,” Yassen pressed. The obvious solution was to leave but Alex hadn’t ran away. He had, instead, ran to him for a solution. He wouldn’t find one. This wasn’t his problem to sort out. There were plenty of people who would pay far better than Alex for solutions from Cossack.
“I know, I’ll figure something out,'' he said, desperately. But it was obvious that he didn’t believe that himself.
And wasn’t that interesting. Alex was not asking for help, well, not going forward. Pulling Yassen in had likely been an act of desperation. It was to his credit that in return, he had answered Yassen’s questions and endured his lecture. But he did not expect Yassen to fix his problems. “You will need more than that.”
“I know.” He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ll handle it. I just haven’t had the time to figure it out yet.”
“You won’t be able to on your own.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. Many people had been proven painfully wrong when they told Alex Rider he wasn’t capable of doing something. They were alike in that respect. This would not be one of those times.
“Even if you were to be able to keep MI6 from being alerted via the records or a phone call you will still need an adult to attend the meetings. It would have to be someone reliable, too many guardian changes would be suspicious and withdrawing the money needed to hire someone would garner attention. If you had someone in your life not connected to MI6 who was sympathetic I expect you already would have asked.” Alex likely knew all this. Having it spelled out would be painful but it was necessary.
“I’ve been pulling out some money slowly since they started paying me.” Yassen’s lips pinched, he did not like what that implied. “It should be enough for a few times, I think. I haven’t really had the chance to look. It might be hard to find someone good enough who is willing to help but I’ll figure it out. I have to.”
Despite Yassen obviously being willing to talk it through with him he still did not ask for more help.
And maybe that was why he offered it.
“I will handle any meetings and shield your records from MI6.” He should make him handle the records too, but he doubted Alex had the finesse to hide such things from his employers. His hacking skills relied very much on just getting in to get the information not covering it up. Yassen was more experienced in that. He doubted the system was advanced enough that he would require help with it but if it proved problematic his contacts would enjoy the challenge of facing off against MI6.
It might put Alex in more danger for anyone to know he had Yassen’s attention. He probably already suspected that when he brought him here but Alex had been desperate. In their field that was dangerous. Yassen would be remiss in allowing that to go unpunished.
The problem was there wasn’t anything that he wanted from Alex. Yassen did not need his money, meager as it likely was, and Alex didn’t have the freedom to offer his time or expertise. Nor did he have enough information to be useful. He could, perhaps, extract a favor to be repaid in the future but from their interactions there was very little that he could ask that Alex would not already do for him for free. The things that he wouldn’t do, Yassen was capable of on his own.
The only thing he truly wanted from Alex - that he leave MI6 - he would not and could not give. To demand it would defeat the purpose entirely. But there were other ways to accomplish it, maybe not immediately, but Yassen was a patient man.
“For a price,” he finished.
The teen didn’t seem surprised by that. “Name it.”
A bold statement but he supposed that from Alex’s point of view anything would be better than putting him directly under Jones’ control.
“Your marks are not acceptable.” Alex flushed and was about to speak but Yassen cut across him, saving them both the stuttered half explanation to follow. “Not through any fault of your own, I suspect. You will have the chance to prove that to me. I will arrange for the resources to help you catch up. In exchange, you will put forth every effort to do so.” It was absurdly parental, especially from the perspective that he was an elite assassin telling a highly accomplished spy this, but neither of their lives had ever really made sense or been fair.
Yassen expected Alex to bristle, to tell him that he wasn’t his parent. The teen didn’t even blink, “I will,” he said firmly, then softened. “Thank you.”
“I will arrange for it, then. You remember the cover story?”
Alex nodded, but he could see the teen mentally going back through it in his head just in case.
“You will do your best to ensure I will not need it, but should I be called back in for a meeting I will expect you to update me on any additions you have made to it.” Blowing this cover would rest solely on Alex’s head, the consequences were far lower stakes than he was used to and could be danced around, Yassen just did not want to shoulder that responsibility too.
“Yes, sir.”
What a gift - an unprompted honorific from Alex Rider.
He took it for what it was - a sign of just how much this meant to Alex and just how much he knew that Yassen did not have to give it. He supposed he could reward that as well. Alex responded well to praise, affection would likely go the same way.
“I am certain I will see you soon. Try to behave until then, Sasha,” he ordered and left the room firm in the knowledge that somewhere fate was laughing.