Mrs Jones had come to St. Brendan's House in Kensington to give Alex Rider a birthday card. Tomorrow was his 18th Birthday. She also had to break the bad news that the money held in trust for him was to remain in trust despite the original plan to release the funds left by his parents and Ian Rider on Alex's majority. In the past year, he had left his placement with the Pleasure's, to return to London. He had not had a good time since he had last crossed paths with Mrs Jones. At sixteen he had spent several months in a Psychiatric Unit, after a breakdown at High School, and his relationship with his foster family had gone from trusting and nurturing to cold and confrontational as Alex would not accept his on going problems had needed him to be hospitalised against his will. Life in London had seen him assigned a social worker and had been assessed with Serious Mental Health Issues and placed in assisted living bedsit. The shelter offered semi-independence and ensured the young man took his prescribed medication and attended his therapy sessions. So, far there had been no relapses in self-harm and controlling behaviour. Alex was improving, but the social workers had advised against giving Alex access to the money from the investments and the freehold property at Cheyne Walk, which generated a considerable sum every month.

The Director of Special Operations had followed the ex-agent's progress. She had spoken several times to the manager at St. Brendan's, Alex's Social Worker and his psychiatrist. "You are going really well here. I spoke to Mr. Marchant and he thinks you should go back to college, now you're settled here."

Alex looked at the woman he truly despised. "Aren't you here to give me back the keys to my house in Chelsea. I've been here long enough. I've proved I can cope. Its been nearly two years since my last bad turn."

"Cheyne Walk has been rented since you were fostered by the Pleasures. The current tenancy does not run out until 2009. I spoke to Miss Curran at Kensington and Chelsea Council, she has stated your placement here is not under threat. This will be your home until you start work or go to college."

"I completed my High School Equivalency before I left California. I see no point in NVQ's or A Levels. University is a complete waste of time. I was hoping to rent out rooms in Chelsea and live on the proceeds. Maybe get a part time job teaching karate or work at home doing translations." Alex exhaled, upset that his hopes of escape had been scuppered once again by those bastards at the Bank, who still controlled his future. "The last time I asked about a Housing Association Flat, I was told no way, unless I got some bird pregnant. I refuse to procreate and I don't date anyway." Alex looked at his wardrobe where he had placed his rucksack, already packed for his expected escape from this hell. He hated the fact he was living with druggies and ex-cons. Liz and Edward did not know how to cope when he'd stopped sleeping or eating, started cutting and self-medicating. He had left more out of need to escape pity and their attempts at trying to make him normal. He was broken and had no wish to be a productive member of society. Not when getting well, just would put him back in line for 'helping' MI6 with situations he was trained to deal with.

"I'm sure I could get you a scholarship for university. You are bright Alex. Ian got a first. Within a year you could get A Levels in Modern Languages and study at London. If you continue to improve you could come back and work for us. We need analysts with your expertise."

Alex then got the fact, they controlled his inheritance, continue to jump through the right hoops and you can go to uni, then work for them. Do that and you get your money. "I do not need you mothering me. I do not want anything to do with you or anyone at the Bank. Keep your card, Tulip. I already sent Sabina's and her parent's gift back. You already know I haven't spoken to Tom since Cairo. You made sure I can't have friends. No chance you shooting them to get me to jump to your tune. Just fuck off back to your nice secure world where you do no wrong."

The woman left with one look back at the young man sat on his single bed. The room was small with no adornment. Alex had not attempted to make this room home. His bedroom in San Francisco had also not been personalised. It was as if Alex considered these rooms are temporary, never home. He was clinging fiercely to the past, when home had been a house in Chelsea with Jack. Tulip Jones had the sinking feeling that Alex was not recovering and would never bounce back from the horrors he had survived. He discussed past torments avoiding details of operations. The world of secrets and national security meant this child operative could never fully explain the situations that had broken him.

…

6AM on 13th February 2005, the duty sergeant at Kensington Police Station took a call from St. Brendan's House. The duty manager was reporting the disappearance of an at risk eighteen year old with serious mental health issues. Alexander John Rider had disappeared from the half way house during the night, taking all his belongings with him. The security system had been disabled.