July 21st 2016

The waves lapped the sides of the small motor boat, normally hired for pleasure cruises around the Caribbean waters off Santiago. The security officer pretending to be the captain of this boat observed the famous English actor as he tipped the container of ashes over the side into the waters off Cayo Esqueleto. He recognised Tony Fletcher from American television, he had played a cynical and sarcastic pathologist. The major in state security remembered his son as a gravely ill torture victim, when Scorpia still been a player in espionage and terrorism. He was here to see if Cossack made an appearance. So far it had been the Englishman on his own, ever polite to staff and guests, not visiting as a tourist, but to lay his adopted son's ashes to rest in the place the CIA agents had died.

Alex's list of requests in his will had been short, to post this letter had been a postscript. That evening Tony Fletcher hand wrote a letter to Colonel Herman Troy, US Army retired.

Dear Sir,

We have never met nor corresponded before, but I am compelled to forward you a letter my son wrote many years ago, but was unable to send himself due to the national security restrictions of the Espionage Act of 1917. He was gravely injured during the covert CIA operation that cost your daughter her life and disabled my son. Alexander died as a result of complications of his injuries three weeks ago.

I have scattered my son's ashes in the place where your daughter died with two other agents in 2001. Her final resting place is a beautiful bay near Santiago on the north coast of Cuba. The priest here will be performing mass for them, in lieu of any permanent memorial. I cannot tell you any details of what happened during that operation, but I can only offer you my heart felt condolences as a fellow father who has lost his only child to an untimely death.

Yours in grief and mourning

Anthony Carruthers Fletcher, OBE

He handed the envelope to the concierge at the hotel for posting airmail to Wyoming. Tomorrow, the actor was flying to Canada, to quietly mourn his son and take his granddaughter to see the ballet for the first time.

…

Herman Troy walked out to his mailbox by the road. He knew it would be either bills or junk, as he had no family anymore and his friends saw him often enough at the store, at church or in the local bar and letters were now deemed old fashioned. One of these days he would be missed and a neighbour or friend would drive up to find a stiff, decaying corpse. His wife had died in mysterious circumstances while an Embassy Cypher clerk in Berlin in 1984. His daughter had gone to college and been lost to him long before her actual disappearance in July 2001. He picked up a letter written on top quality parchment, the address hand written with a fountain pen. The sender's address a hotel in Cuba.

Inside was another envelope with his address written in pencil on a poor quality brown envelope.

Pastor Andrew Michaels was weeding his small vegetable plot, when he saw the battered SUV belonging to Herman pull up. He stood up and walked over to see his old friend had been crying. "Thirty years I defended this country. I never pressed for answers about Belinda, not after the bullshit they told me after Candice died. Rather not know than be lied to. My girl died in Cuba, pretending to be a tourist with a fake husband and teenage son. The boy wrote me a letter, but could not send it. Dated October 2001. Bastards at the CIA tied his hands and held his tongue with threats over National Security. Some a-hole's job in Washington not to embarrass those that send good people to their deaths. The fake son was fourteen and he was there to act as cover. Kid lost his legs, then was tortured for weeks. He died last month and his father has passed his letter on. Read… read what child abusing a-holes at the CIA did, what my precious Belinda was responsible for. I don't care about missing plutonium or terrorist conspiracies. That boy's life was ruined". His own daughter was responsible for a FUBAR, leaving a kid to face demons without a care. "Come to Smokey's with me, Andy; cause I need some hard liquor, tonight."

Sober and reflectful the next day, Herman Troy began to make a note of all the details in the four page letter written at the instance of a long dead Russian General, the man the CIA were tailing. He borrowed a friends laptop and sat in the cafe with free Wifi to uncover details of how Alexander John Rider became the adopted son of Anthony Fletcher, a respected and decorated British actor.

…

September 2012

Alex was sat next to Paul and watched the fireworks at the Closing Ceremony of the Paralympic Games at the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Stadium. In three hours, a private jet would be taking the pair of them to New York for a board meeting and then on to LA, the next day. Tia, his daughter and goddaughter in turn to the other spectator, was already in Bel Air with her grandfathers, being spoilt rotten. Gerard had semiretired and Tony was hand picking parts that only needed him away from home for less than a week. The nanny Alex had hired spent most of her time shopping or sunning herself by the pool. He liked Miss Bluebell Granger, a young woman who had impressed Paul during a gruelling hour long interview, after a full background check. After everything he had decided to move within two blocks of Gerard's place. A house rented for two years, for a nominal rent from friends of Gerard's who were on a round the world retirement trip.

His relationship with CC had become amicable with visitation agreed every six weeks, as he could afford to foot the bill for his ex to fly to the US. A full time live in nanny meant no visit was unsupervised, a stipulation of the custody deal in the family court. His two year old daughter would be in daycare at Roscoe Communication three days a week. His life planned out, home, family, friends and stability. Life without a lover but not without love.

"Everything has changed for both of us. Aren't you crapping yourself about the amount of upheaval we are about to drop on a multimillion dollar industry. Full strip down and rebuild. Its terrifying."

"Its necessary. Roscoe Mobiles are a laughing stock, my dad must be revolving in his grave. Where did you find your assistant anyway, Ms. LaRoux scares the shit out of me."

Alex smiled "Fine looking woman isn't she. I'm sure her glares could actually kill. I just happened to poach GCHQ's top recruiter. A woman who has a talent for problem solving, recruiting talent and squeezing the most from a minute budget. She's dating a guy at JPL and its getting serious and there's no space industry in Gloucester."

"And her green card?"

"I might have got us an NSA contract. They wanted to play ball big time. That's going on the table tomorrow with the board, the software and hardware upgrade for a small facility first then the whole smash if it goes smoothly. One move on the chess board and your division is back in profit. That'll sweeten ditching the mobile phone manufacturing and sales." Alex smiled having pulled one over on Mr. Wheeler Dealer himself.

…..

"Happy birthday, Grandpa Gerard. My present to you is an all expenses paid trip to Bonny Scotland for Charity Pro-Am golf tournament at St. Andrews, not on my team though. You get to partner Paul for Roscoe Communications. Me and Jamie are forming our own team sponsored by Dieter. I have booked us a genuine castle to stay in."

"You don't play golf. Do you?" Gerard asked his stepson, the sporty young man skied, cycled and swam, but had not once been to a driving range or golf course in all the years he had known him.

"Well, I play really badly. My new legs mean I can swing, wobble about a bit but not fall over. I tend to concentrate on staying upright and not on what the ball is doing. I played with Jamie and Dieter last May. I was exhausted by the time we got to the eighteenth hole. Its the taking part not the winning thats important."

….

Alex could almost cry as his daughter dressed in tights, leotard, tutu and dancing pumps. Three years old and off to dance class. He loved watching CC perform, thought she was a modern dancer, she had started with ballet, tap and jazz. He took her picture as she smiled brightly. Another moment in Tia's life missed be her mother. The adoring father looked at his watch, his papa would be here in five minutes as he was not going to miss this monumental day, with a ballerina in the family.

The XO of Roscoe Communications knew his limitations. He had a good team, which meant he could work from home two days a week, kept business trips to a minimum as Paul was happy to be the public face of his division of the huge global conglomerate. The decision to downsize their mobile phone enterprise to just providing and not supplying hardware had been cutting away dead wood. Alex had found his strength lay in managing teams, motivation and providing incisive paths for problem solving. His job fulfilling, but being a parent came first. His game plan was to be successful but to never imitate Ian in any shape or form. Jon, Tony and Gerard were examples of work, success and happy families were achievable. Why had Ian always put training first but had no time for nurturing or any genuine interest in his nephew? Emotionally unable to connect, a psychopath. Had John Rider been any different? Probably not.

"Daddy… Papa's here. I'm a princess like Sleeping Beauty."

"Yes you are. Today you get to dance with lots of other princes and princesses."

…..

"So, how am I doing, Doctor Lau?" Alex asked after his third medical for Roscoe Industries.

"I have concerns over your blood pressure, its a bit high. No headaches?"

Alex had noticed a few. "Only occasional ones. Had my eyes tested and now have reading glasses. I only have the occasional twinge regarding my cardioversion. You have all the details from my last check up with the cardiologist."

"I will recommend you work fewer hours, maybe another day at home. Dare I suggest you step down?"

"Already planned after the next annual review in four months. Our market share is back up, we still are only number three in service providers but the margins suggest with improved data coverage and bandwidth we will get back to the number one spot. Six months max and I'll step down to be a board member only." Alex flexed his arm and then sighed. "I have two weeks off for family holiday in Italy. Those are never exactly stress free, but it ensures my daughter has some sort of relationship with CC. Cassian is coming as well and that always causes fireworks. How my ex can be jealous of my other ex is beyond me?"

"You are lucky to be civil with you ex-wife. I'm still leaving messages wth Deirdre's lawyer."

"Say your sorry and mean it. Only works for me, because I would take her back, but I know it would all go sour again. I might suggest she provide a sibling for CC and see how that pans out. Maybe I'll just ring up Harry and get his family to join us for the weekend. That really will piss off my ex. Happy families are her idea of hell."

…..

Alex sat in his wheelchair, not the entrance he had wanted to make for this press conference, but just wearing his prosthetics for cosmetic reasons was killing him today. Boils on both stumps had been lanced cleaned and dressed, meaning tender skin rather than the agony of nerve pain. He rubbed his temple, he had taken painkillers. A quick look at his watch gave him a view of his current vitals. Heart rate elevated as was his blood pressure. He closed his eyes and meditated.

Three slides to go on his presentation and Alex stopped talking. His train of thought completely lost and he was slumped over the side of his wheelchair. He tried to sit up but was as weak as a kitten. Using his left arm he pulled himself upright, but his head was still leaning over.

Sylvie LaRoux was on the podium. Alex tried to ask her to finish but just dribbled onto his shirt. This was proving to be as embarrassing as his adoption party. "Alex, paramedics are on their way. We are going to lie you down, OK? Don't try and speak, slight nods or shakes of your head, OK?"