Another set over, 2am and Alex was finally on his way home. Luckily none of the John's wanted a private dance. Alex was knackered.

Alex's life was now completely under the radar. He working for a hood who ran a club in Soho. Marco had picked Alex up when he lived on the streets. Running away had been a particularly shit decision on Alex's part, but he'd reached the point that he had actually considered topping himself. Eight months previously the Pleasures had returned to England for Christmas and Alex had just left, sick of shrinks and the pitying looks.

Marco's club was part of the BDSM scene, Alex's scarred body fitted in after Marco had showed him how to be a good submissive. Alex was very good at keeping still, he didn't mind being hit, hurt, gagged or tied up. It was all rather tame really.

Everyone at the club never questioned his age, he was 19 on his fake ID, not his actual age of 16. Alex had started college three days a week doing A Levels. He was still expecting MI6 to turn up, but fuck them. He'd already made plans with Marco, made contacts for working in other clubs in Milan, Berlin or Paris in case he had to run. He was just a piece of meat to the people here.

He lived with two girls, who worked as escorts. Trisha was home, an unusual event for a Saturday night/Sunday morning "Your date not turn up?" enquired Alex.

Trish actually laughed, "Bloody teenage virgin, I got my fee for precisely 40 minutes and three fucks. If only every night was this easy. Did you make much?"

"Enough" Alex had already made enough this week to make this months rent and bills, the next two and a half weeks were pure profit, hidden away for his get out quick safety net. "See you in the morning, no make that afternoon. I'm completely shagged."

"Of course you are. Been in the back room tonight?" Trisha loved to get all the details of what the sick fucks wanted.

"No. Just my sets. Thank God" said Alex as he retreated to his room.

With the lights, dark room and loud music. Alex was on stage kneeling as George threatened him with a large whip. Alex reacted when the whipped cracked, suggesting agony. This set always made money. Alex was blindfold, gagged, nude and hard, his hands tied behind him. George was in a PVC gimp suit and totally intimidating at 6'5" and huge.

George tried to engage Alex in conversation afterwards. He'd been a social worker before he'd gone into the entertainment business. He'd noted that Alex was a loner, his body too scared to be explainable even if into the scene, which the kid wasn't, and totally uninterested in relationships. Someone had abused and broken the kid. George was sure he was underage as well despite the worldly attitude and muscled body. Alex ignored the twenty questions until Marco called Alex into his office.

"I have a problem." Marco asked in a low serious voice.

Alex was worried "Someone been asking about me?"

"No, no, Alex." Marco then stood up and sat on the edge of the desk, his body language open and non-threatening. "You know I have fingers in many pies, well a russian colleague has requested entertainment. I have to deliver. Either I pick up another kid off the streets or you could earn a couple of grand by wearing school uniform and pretending to be about sixteen and clueless." Marco knew Alex owed him and Alex was game for anything, but this was stretching Alex's careful boundaries. "I know you don't do anal intercourse but this is a special favour."

Alex closed his eyes. Marco came up to him and gently touched Alex's arm. "We have all put two and two together. You've survived a fucking awful childhood. I won't ask for anything from you again. Most of the other strippers are into the scene. Maybe you can move over to security after this as a break from the sickos."

Alex stared at the tacky art on the wall before looking at the floor "For you Marco OK. I might be a bit of a headcase if this mafiyaski is a total bastard."

"I swear it'll be a nice private clinic, paid for my myself if he does a number on you." Marco smiled meaning every word.

"This guy must be something to have you running around." Alex never asked Marco any details when he was asked to drop things off, pick something up, check out a location for surveillance or some other simple task. This job was just the same. If Marco was running scared the less Alex knew the better.

"You know I don't use kids." Alex wondered at this, reminded of another dangerous man from Alex's dim and distant past. No, Alex had not been an innocent kid since Ian died. He'd almost lost his humanity after Jack had been murdered. His life had slowly been brought back under control thanks to Marco. Many moons ago, Marco too had been a homeless kid, working his way up from drug runner to crime boss with his own turf in south-west London.

Alex dreaded the answer to his next question as he watched as Marco shifted his body language to display a slight nervousness "Is it tonight?"

"You can use my private shower, there's clean razors, toothbrushes and the like in there. No aftershave nor scents. Do not prepare yourself either. You have to be nice and tight." Marco said again all business.

"Don't worry I am, just like a virgin" Alex shivered at the thought of going all the way. He knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have be asked to. He'd actually expected to do some hardcore porn film. Marco had always assumed Alex had been fucked by a complete bastard not that he was a virgin. While on the streets he'd sucked cock and done hand jobs but never anal intercourse. Some had tried to intimidate him but Alex could look after himself and after putting three guys in the hospital nobody pushed him again.

Alex looked at himself in the school uniform Marco had supplied. Alex in this disguise looked scarily young. Marco handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged Alex to add to the charade of a misused school kid.

Alex decided against sniveling and went for false bravado, always his preferred modus operandi. His blindfold and gag were removed to reveal a penthouse with views over the city. Marco and Gerald the bouncer-cum-heavy were flanking him.

The Russian hood came in the room and Alex almost collapsed. His shocked gasp was echoed by the surprise in the assassin's eyes. A gun appeared in an instant and Alex jumped forward shouting "Wait, wait, Yassen. I work for Marco. I agreed to this. Please don't kill them. Its all cool, OK?"

Yassen looked at Alex and cocked his head. "Mr. Spinelli, you have exceeded my expectations, I'll be keeping your gift. You may go."

As the hoods left, Marco dropped the handcuff keys on the floor. Alex was waiting for Yassen to order him to strip or kneel, but the russian just watched intensely before asking "Are you still a virgin, little Alex?"

"I wanked and sucked people off, but never had anal intercourse either as top or bottom. I've never got beyond groping and kissing with girls." Alex answered truthfully.

"You have been on the streets?"

"I was. I've worked for Marco for nearly eight months. Stripping mostly."

"But you also allow people to touch you, to hurt you."

"I have no problem with pain. Its like an old friend." Alex knew he could be opening a can of worms with that statement, for all he knew Yassen could be into torture.

Yassen left the room, when he came back in he skirted around behind Alex. The next thing the young man knew was the cloth on his nose and mouth and the russian's stone hard lean body and other arm pinning him as unconsciousness took him.

It had been four days since Alex had disappeared. Trisha was worried. She knew Alex made too much money to just be a stripper. Alex had left his ID behind on the kitchen table. She sat in his room and was shocked by how little Alex owned. The majority of his possessions were his newly bought stationery and text books. There was nothing personal. Trish made her decision and put on her coat and went to Westminster Police Station.

"So your flat mate has not come home for four days. His name.." enquired the incident officer, having already gotten Patricia Morcroft's name and address.

"Alexander Schmidt. About nineteen. 1.78m tall, white, blond (natural), brown eyes. He has scars on his body. Burn scars on his back and a funny white scar on his chest, just above his heart."

The Detective looked at the ID, an international driving licence, which was worn and broken. The picture had been crudely stuck in. It was a crummy fake, not even a quality forgery. The cop was sure the missing young man had done it himself. The CID officer then looked through the other handful of photos. The kid looked familiar but he could not put a name to the face. At some point he had crossed paths with this boy. The photos were scanned and put on the system. Chris Dennis did not expect to get any hits without knowing some more details. Whoever this kid was, Chris hoped his family noted he was missing and called it in.

The new missing person report was noted at Interpol and the officer filing the casework immediately noted a match. Jules Santiago's younger brother had disappeared eight years ago. Christoph had probably been picked up by some sick fuck and likely long dead. Each case was personal to him. He was a driven and lived for his job. Alexander Schmidt matched Alex Rider. The kid was on top of his intray with the with three security alerts on his file. No wonder the investigator remembered this kid. Jules dutifully called it in.

Trish opened her door to a dark haired, suited stranger who flashed an ID too fast for her to read. She answered the questions and then left Mr. Daniels to search Alex's room. She had told him Alex was very private, no boyfriends were ever invited round.

Ben carefully started his thorough search of the room. Alex's passport and a load of cash were the only finds concealed. Alex was not into drugs and appeared to be trying to study for A Levels. Trish had given the name of the club Alex worked for. It was likely Alex has been involved in more than just taking off his clothes judging by the savings he had amassed. Ben felt old and tired it looked like at 16 Alex stripped and worked as a rent boy. Being young was a bonus in that business.

Marco Spinelli was a well known as a slippery bastard. Marco was all smiles and business as the two gentlemen pretending to be police questioned him about Alex. Alex had warned Marco of his checkered past and that he'd crossed paths with the type of people who never to let you go. Marco never questioned whether it was some cult, mafia or worse. Considering Alex had known that Russian dude it was definitely worse. These stony faced men talked of an Alex Rider, 16, a mentally disturbed runaway. Marco was sure his guests were about to leave when photos of Marco and his russian contact were produced.

"Look I was only contracted to provide some guy with entertainment. He wanted something very specific. Young blond, inexperience London kid and Alex agreed to go. I thought the bastard was going to kill me OK, but he took Alex as a gift. You know the score. Alex is as good as dead. I checked out the apartment the next day. It was completely clean."