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Ian stood by the custody desk in Wandsworth police station as Alex walked through the door accompanied by a policeman who managed to look about twice the size of the boy. Alex caught his eyes and looked half-relieved half-scared to see him. Then Alex spotted Crawley standing beside Ian and looked confused.

Ian reached out an arm to pull Alex close to him and walked towards the exit. That was as much as he was willing to display in front of Crawley. He left the other man to sort out the release formalities and guided Alex to the station's car park.

'Ian, I'm sorry,' Alex said.

Ian turned Alex to look at him. 'What were you thinking? Do you know what you've done?'

'I was thinking I was sick of drug dealers around the school!' Alex said.

'And you couldn't call 999?'

'I was just following them. And then they went in the barge and I saw the crane and it just got out of hand.' Alex looked up with the hint of puppy in his eyes. 'You're always saying I need to take responsibility for things.'

'For age-appropriate stuff!' Ian yelled and then brought his voice under control. 'You know, getting your homework in on time, cleaning your room, doing the washing up, not taking on drug dealers!'

'What's going to happen?'

'You should be charged with criminal damage and grievous bodily harm,' Ian told him.

'GBH?'

'The men in the barge are in hospital, Alex.'

Ian could see the fear in Alex's eyes. 'Am I going to prison?'

'No. Your name came up on the police computer as someone to contact MI6 about. Blunt will make sure this goes away.'

'That's good then?'

Ian shook his head. 'He's going to want payment.' He grabbed Alex by the shoulders. 'You've put yourself in his power again, Alex. You didn't enjoy it the last time.'

'Can't you...?'

Ian sighed. This was a rock and a hard place territory. Alex was in for a custodial sentence if this came to trial. On the other hand, Blunt was going to make the most of this opportunity.

'Let's see what Blunt has to say. Then we can make a choice.'

Alex nodded. Then he brightened. 'Maybe it won't be so bad,' he offered.

Ian shook his head. 'You are so like your father,' he told his nephew.

#

'The Home Secretary is very unhappy with you, Alex,' Blunt said.

'I'm sorry,' Alex said.

'He wants to throw the book at you,' Blunt continued as though Alex hadn't spoken. 'I had to do some very quick talking to get him to back off from his righteous anger.' He glanced towards Ian. 'I have had to promise to help him out of a difficulty in return for his agreement to ignore your unfortunate actions today.'

'What difficulty?' Ian asked.

'A certain young Royal is unhappy at their current school. So unhappy their parents are looking for a new one.'

'Brooklands is great!' Alex said.

Ian nudged him to keep quiet.

'The school at the top of their list is Sloebank School near Pickering in North Yorkshire.'

Ian recognised the name. 'Isn't that the one with the drugs scandal?'

Blunt nodded. 'It was five years ago, but yes, there was a major drugs scandal there. There's a new headmaster now and no hint of anything untoward since, but that's the first area of concern.'

'There's more?' Ian asked.

'Sloebank has acquired a reputation in Russia for being a good place to send the sons of oligarchs. There are three there at the moment. Yuri son of Andrei Zhirkov. Dimitri, Roman Golovin's son and Maksim Sobolev.'

'Dodgy?'

'There is no other kind. Sobolev's father, in particular, has links to the Russian mob.'

Mrs Jones spoke for the first time. 'Maybe there's nothing in it. Maybe they like the facilities and the curriculum. Maybe it's reassuringly expensive. Maybe not. Either way, we need to know before we send a young Royal in there.'

'A bit of weed behind the bike sheds is neither here nor there, but a Royal with links to the Russian mafia? That's a disaster waiting to happen.'

'Let me guess,' Alex said. 'I go in. I look around. I don't take any risks.'

Neither Blunt nor Jones cracked a smile.

'That's correct,' Blunt said. 'I want to know what these boys are doing at the school. If they are model pupils, then that's fine. If not, I need to know what they're up to.'

'I don't speak Russian,' Alex said.

'You don't need to,' Mrs Jones said. 'The other boys should know what's going on. Rumours and gossip are as valuable as anything else.'

'What's his cover?' Ian asked.

'We're working on it,' Mrs Jones said. 'We'll probably go with parents called away to the Far East or something, they don't want to take their son with them, so he's put into Sloebank for the rest of the year. There are six weeks until the end of term so that should be plenty of time for Alex to find out what we need to know.'

'What do you think, Alex?' Ian asked.

Alex didn't look happy, but he nodded. 'As long as it doesn't involve clones, I'll be fine.'

Ian turned to Blunt and Mrs Jones. 'What about backup?'

'I hardly think that's necessary for an English boarding school,' Blunt said.

'You're sending an agent in undercover,' Ian told him. 'And Point Blanc was just a French boarding school until it wasn't.'

'Alex will have a panic button,' Mrs Jones said.

Blunt looked sour but didn't contradict her.

'When do I go in?' Alex asked.

'Monday,' Blunt said.

#

Back at their house in Chelsea, Ian wanted to give Alex another choice.

'Are you sure you want to do this?'

Alex shrugged. 'I have to, don't I?'

Ian shook his head. 'Look, I can get a good lawyer. It's a first offence. We stand a chance. You don't have to do this.'

'I made a mistake, Ian. I have to fix it.'

'It's adults' job to fix the mistakes of children. Not the children's.'

'An adult is fixing this,' Alex said. 'It's just Blunt.'

Ian pulled Alex in for a reassuring hug. He just wished he knew who he was reassuring.

#

Alex returned home barely two weeks after going to Sloebank School. Ian was told that Alex had pressed his panic button and that Ian was to wait for him at home.

Alex arrived mid-morning wearing jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt that belonged to someone much bigger than him. He looked tired, with traces of tears on his cheeks and somehow younger than his fourteen years. He walked past Ian and Jack and went straight up the stairs.

Ian watched him and then turned back to Mrs Jones who was standing on the doorstep. 'What happened?'

'That's classified,' she said. 'He's unhurt.'

Ian scowled at her and shut the door in her face.

He went up the stairs after Alex and arrived in Alex's bedroom in time to see the boy disappear under the duvet.

'Alex? Are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' the lump under the duvet said. Then, 'I just need...'

Ian suppressed his worried reactions. 'Okay. Take your time.' Ian left the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Jack was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

'He's in bed,' Ian mimed pulling the covers over his head.

'Should he be alone?'

'Sometimes you just need time to decompress and process. I know I did sometimes. You know, let things settle a bit.'

'He's been crying.'

'I know,' Ian checked his watch. 'Look, let's leave it until after lunch and if he hasn't surfaced by then I'll go and check on him.'

Jack didn't look convinced, but she nodded and went into the living room. Ian followed trying not to show just how worried he was. What had happened at that school?

#

It was nearly two hours later when Ian heard sounds of movement from upstairs followed by the sound of the toilet flushing. He and Jack waited but when Alex didn't appear, Ian got up and walked slowly up to Alex's room. He tapped on the door and put his head around it. Alex was back in bed, but his face was visible on the pillow.

'Can I come in?'

Alex nodded.

Ian came and sat on the side of the bed. 'You okay to talk? What happened?'

Alex stared at the ceiling. 'The school was okay. Like a normal school but you lived there. I couldn't find anything weird, at least not like Point Blanc. We had our own rooms and everyone was friendly really. Then last night, after lights out, Allen, one of the prefects, came into my room to check I was all right. He'd done it before and we'd just talked a bit and he'd gone away. Only this time Mr Warburton, who was on night-watch, came in and said it wasn't allowed and we'd be punished. Only he had this smile on his face and so had Allen.'

Ian's blood went cold. There was a terrible inevitability about what he was going to hear.

Alex's face was twisted in misery and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. 'I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what to do for the best. And then, I don't know how it happened, but they got me naked. And...'

It took all of Ian's training and self-control to keep his voice calm. 'Did they rape you?'

Alex shook his head. 'No. It was just touching. They touched me and made me touch him. I didn't want to. I didn't know what to do. And... and they said it looked like I wanted it. I didn't... but...' Alex turned on his side and buried his face in the pillow.

Ian, filled with rage he was barely keeping under control, knelt beside the bed.

'Of course, you didn't want it,' he said. 'But did you get an erection?'

Alex looked up, shame and confusion clear on his face. He nodded.

'Do you want a hug?' Ian asked.

Alex reached for him. Ian put his arms around him and pulled him close careful to watch for signs of discomfort in the boy. He rubbed a soothing hand over Alex's shoulder blades.

'Oh, Alex. That's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just nerves and your body reacting. It's got nothing to do with what you want. It's just, you know, dicks react. And those two knew it. They want their victims to be confused and ashamed. You were being manipulated. And adrenalin can do weird things to your body as well. So it's nothing to be worried or ashamed about. Any more than you should be ashamed of a wet-dream.' Ian pulled back slightly and looked into Alex's face. 'You're not ashamed of wet-dreams are you?'

Alex attempted a smile and shook his head.

'Thank God for that!' Ian pulled him back into the hug. 'What happened then?'

'I didn't know what to do. I didn't want what was happening, but I didn't know if I should let it because I was undercover.' Ian felt him tremble under his hands. 'In the end, I couldn't take it, so I fought them off. I pushed the panic button on the phone and I ran and hid. Was that right?' Alex pulled away and looked into Ian's face. 'I knew Blunt would be angry. He was.'

Ian had to swallow his fury before he could answer. 'You did the right thing, Alex. I've been an agent and I've handled agents. You were in danger. That's what the panic button is for. And I'm not saying this because you're my nephew. I would say this to an adult agent as well. You did the right thing.'

Alex looked a little brighter. 'You're sure?'

'A hundred per cent. And you completed your mission. Who cares about Russians in a school when you've got a paedophile teacher? That'll keep the Home Secretary happy.'

'What about Blunt?'

"Leave Blunt to me.' Ian brushed the fringe away from Alex's eyes. 'You did well, Alex. I'm proud of you.'

'Really?'

'Yes. I always have been but especially now.'

Alex's smile was a little tentative Ian could feel that his body was relaxing. It looked like things were going to be all right for now. It just left the future for Ian to sort out.

#

'What are you going to do?' Jack asked.

'Keep Alex off school for the rest of the week,' Ian said.

'That wasn't what I meant.'

Ian knew it wasn't. He had explained what had happened to Alex and they had spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between verbally abusing Blunt and MI6 in general and sitting in moody silence listening for signs of life from Alex upstairs. Ian knew what he needed to do but was still going through other scenarios in his head in case a better solution presented itself.

The doorbell rang and Ian got up to answer it glad to be spared a discussion on the options available to him.

A large, black man with a bushy beard stood on the doorstep when Ian opened the door.

'Ian Rider?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'I'm Wolf, from K-Unit. I came to see how Cub, Alex, is doing.'

Ian put two and two together. This was one of the SAS troop who had come to Alex's rescue.

'Come in,' he said, stepping back to let the soldier into the house. Wolf, who filled most of the hallway, squeezed past him and went into the living room. Ian followed in time to see Jack's rather startled face as the big man entered the room.

'Jack, this is, er, Wolf,' Ian said. 'He's one of Alex's rescue team.'

Jack smiled at the information. 'Pleased to meet you.' She gestured at a chair. 'Grab a seat.'

Wolf sat down in an armchair. He looked a little uncomfortable. 'I'm not supposed to be here, but the team wanted to make sure Alex was okay.'

He wants to be sure we know what happened to Alex, Ian realised. 'I've heard what happened,' Ian said. 'Alex is okay. He's upstairs.' There was a sound from the doorway and Ian turned to see Alex standing there in his dressing gown. 'He was upstairs.'

'I heard someone at the door,' Alex said. 'Hi, Wolf.'

'Hey, Cub. The team wanted to know you're all right.'

'I'm fine,' Alex sat on the sofa next to Jack. He still looked tired and his dressing gown was too small, Ian realised.

'I've been trying to persuade Alex that he did the right thing in pressing the panic button,' Ian said.

Wolf looked surprised. 'God, yes! Of course, he did! Who's been saying otherwise?'

'Guess,' Ian said.

Wolf rolled his eyes. 'Alex, you were in danger. We'd have come whether you were fourteen or forty any day of the week. Taking out a paedophile was a bonus!' He turned to Ian. 'Did he tell you what he did to them?'

Ian shook his head.

Wolf grinned. 'Left the posh lad with a black eye.' Wolf put his fist over his left eye to indicate the size of it. 'A classic shiner. And the nonce of a teacher had a dislocated elbow.'

Ian and Jack winced in unison. Alex looked worried.

'Those two will think twice before they do it again,' Wolf continued. 'They picked the wrong boy to try their tricks on this time, eh Alex?'

'Suppose so,' Alex said.

'Nice job!'

Ian watched the effect of Wolf's uncomplicated admiration on Alex. The boy sat straighter and his shoulders looked much more relaxed. It would help if Alex could see himself as less of a victim and more of a survivor or even winner of the situation.

Wolf didn't stay long after that. Ian went back into the living room after seeing the soldier out to find Jack and Alex arguing over which pizza to order. Ian watched them for a second from the doorway. It looked like Alex was going to bounce back from the day's trauma. Now it was down to Ian to make sure he never had to go through it again.

#

Ian got up at his normal time for a workday. He had stayed up late the night before getting everything in order, so his first coffee of the day was very welcome. Jack came down and watched him make his breakfast in silence. He smiled at her.

'Are you sure?' she said.

'Yes,' he said feeling the rightness of his decision in the pit of his stomach. 'I should have done this as soon as I got out of hospital.'

'Alex would be in prison if you had.'

'Maybe. Maybe not.' He put his mug down. 'At least I won't be part of it anymore.'

She nodded.

'Keep Alex off school today,' Ian said. 'They won't be expecting him back anyway. We can see how things go over the weekend.'

She nodded again. 'Good luck,' she said as he left the kitchen.

#

Ian was already at his desk working when Blunt came into the office. Ian ignored him until Blunt stood near his desk.

'Where were you yesterday, Rider?' Blunt spoke loud enough to be heard around most of the office.

'Looking after my nephew,' Ian said, matching Blunt's volume. 'You know, the one who'd been sexually assaulted while working on one of your operations.'

Blunt's lips tightened. 'My office,' he hissed.

'Just a sec,' Ian said, hitting the print button. 'Just printing this out.' He stood and walked over to the office printer which was cooperating for once and pushing out a sheet of paper. Ian picked it out of the tray, checked it over and folded it carefully before putting it in his inside jacket pocket. He got to Blunt's office door at the same time as Mrs Jones and he ushered her through ahead of him.

Blunt waved Mrs Jones to a chair. He didn't offer Ian the same courtesy, so Ian took one anyway.

'I didn't tell you to sit,' Blunt said.

'I know,' Ian stretched out his legs and looked as relaxed as he could manage. 'That's the problem with dealing with people who've been on interrogation courses, they know all the tricks.' He paused. 'You wanted to see me?'

'That mission was not a success,' Blunt said.

'Really? The Home Secretary gets a solid reason to keep the royal kid out of the school and out of the headlines? Isn't a paedophile on the staff good enough for that?'

'Alex only brought back a fraction of the intelligence we need on those Russians. We're no further forward.'

Ian was trying to keep his temper but the thought that Blunt and Jones had debriefed a frightened child victim of sexual assault rather than offer help and counselling put an edge to his voice. 'Well, maybe can do what you should have done in the first place and send an adult in to do an adult's job.'

'Easy for someone flying a desk to say,' Blunt sneered.

Ian could spot his cue when he saw it. He reached in his jacket and pulled out the sheet of paper. 'Not even that,' he said and put the paper on the desk in front of Blunt. 'I resign.'

He smiled at finally making Blunt look surprised.

'I'm on a month's notice. I have eleven days annual leave owed me. All things considered, it's probably best if I take the other nine days as gardening leave, don't you think? All my projects and operations are up to date.'

Blunt grunted as he picked up Ian's resignation letter.

'I'll take that as yes, shall I?' Ian turned and left the office without waiting for anything further.

#

Of course, in a big bureaucracy like MI6, dramatic exits are rarely quite so quick. Ian had to spend at least an hour with HR dealing with pay and pensions. The equipment he had signed for had to be returned to Q branch and checked. And his car had to be handed back to Logistics. So it was nearly lunchtime before he stood by his locker and picked up his personal effects.

Mrs Jones appeared beside him.

'I'm sorry you're going,' she said.

'I'm not.'

'People don't leave the department.'

Ian turned to face her. 'What are you talking about, Tulip? People resign from MI6 all the time!'

Mrs Jones shuffled her feet.

'Blunt? Is that it? You're warning me about Blunt?' Ian closed the locker door. 'No need. I'm way ahead of you there.'

'Take care, Ian,' she said and left before he could reply.

Ian shrugged and picked up his backpack. He walked through the foyer of the fake bank without a glance to either side. Once through the doors, he hailed a black cab. A cab home was an extravagance for a newly unemployed man, he knew, but sometimes the grand gesture was what was required. And besides, it was a door he got to slam.

#

Six weeks later Ian stood in the entrance hall of the Athenaeum Club, one of the most prestigious clubs in the UK, and waited for one of the most powerful men in the country to come and meet him. He wished he knew what it was all about, especially as Sir Graham Adair was known to be a friend of Alan Blunt.

'Ian!'

The voice came from a grey-haired man who was halfway down the imposing main staircase. Ian stood up as Adair reached him.

'I'm glad you could make it,' Adair said, shaking Ian's hand. 'Come up to the Coffee Room and we'll have a bite of lunch.'

They were seated by the windows overlooking Pall Mall. The room was half-full and Ian recognised some of the occupants. This was the heart of the establishment. Power was on the menu here just as much as the steak and kidney pudding. Invasions were plotted here between courses and the fate of nations decided over cheese and biscuits.

Ian and Graham chatted about trivial matters until the main course had been served and then Sir Graham fixed Ian with a penetrating gaze.

'How's Alex?'

Ian wondered how best to answer.

'I read the file on the Sloebank incident,' Adair encouraged him.

'Alex is fine,' Ian said. 'He was subdued for a week or so after, but he seems to have put it behind him. I'm keeping an eye on him, of course, but I think he's going to be okay. Yesterday I found him and his friend Tom making stink bombs in the garden.'

'Stink bombs?' Adair smiled. 'That takes me back! I don't think I've smelled a good stink bomb since I was a monitor at Grants'.' He became serious. 'I'm glad he's recovered. I believe Blunt was wrong to use Alex and I have told him that. I can only hope he listens.'

Ian shrugged. Hopes didn't help him, but he didn't say so.

'How's the job hunting going?'

'Not brilliantly,' Ian said. 'The major security firms with intelligence sections aren't being exactly enthusiastic about recruiting someone who has fallen out with Blunt.'

'I thought that might be the case. It never fails to amaze me few secrets there are in the Secret Service.' He put his knife and fork down. 'That's why I wanted to meet you.' Adair reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card. 'I hold a non-executive directorship with Christie's auction house. There is room in their security section for a man of your skills.'

Ian felt pleased but wary. 'I know nothing about the art market.'

'The skills you need to track smuggled arms are the same you need to track smuggled artefacts. And in some cases, it's the same people involved.' He handed the card to Ian. 'Give Matthews there a call. He's expecting to hear from you. He's ex-Counter Terrorism Command himself, so he knows what you can do.'

Ian recognised this for the lifeline it was. 'Thank you. But why?'

'Your brother saved my son's life. And that was a major factor in John's death. A debt like that can never be repaid, of course, but if I can help a little when things get sticky that goes a way toward salving the conscience.'

'Thank you,' Ian said. 'It means a lot.'

'The Rider family is not without friends,' Adair told him.

Ian put the business card away. He felt more hopeful than he had done in a long while. Maybe this was going to be his freedom finally.