"You're a handsome boy, aren't you Alex?"

The morning of the twelfth of October had been a dreary one. The sky, like atmosphere had been distinctly grey. London, and in fact most of Britain, had seen a month of this dull, wet weather and the general mood of Alex's school had been low. The autumn term at Brookland Comprehensive had, for once seen Year 12 with a full set of students, much to Alex's delight. He had had almost a month of school after the summer break and though not all of his teachers conceded, at least some of them thought he might scrape a few A-Levels. Mr Grey was especially thrilled to see Alex back at school. His little stunt in Venice had worried the teacher more than anything else, but a whole year had gone by and Alex was proving a more punctual, more attentive student than he could ever have hoped.

Alex had relaxed into the monotonous pattern of school life, doing his homework, turning up for classes, having lunch with his friend Tom. Tom had been one of the few happy to see Alex back at school. Most of his year had either been too busy to notice him, or just didn't care but a couple of his old friends had even smiled at him in the corridor and he doubted they knew just how happy that made him. But of course, the peaceful month had ended abruptly on the Monday morning which was the twelfth of October. Alex had been dressed for school, black trousers and blazer jacket, a somewhat ruffled white shirt which looked like it needed an iron and a dark burgundy tie. He had missed the uniform. Wearing gave him a sense of belonging and normality. But there was nothing normal about the phone call he had received just as he was heading out the door.

The phone call had been from MI6, stating that he was urgently needed for a meeting, and could he please take the car waiting for him outside rather than the tube.

Alex had almost decided to be contrary for the sake of it, but he had looked outside at the pouring rain and thought that he would be mad to shoot down an offer of a free lift.

The driver had taken him to the familier building which was the Royal & General Bank on Liverpool street. When they passed the waterlogged section of pavement just outside, his chest throbbed painfully. Minutes later Alex found himself sat opposite Alan Blunt who as just as grey as they day outside and several other important looking men in business suits. Alex recognised some of them. The Minister of defence was there and so was the head of MI5. They had not been introduced to him and Alex was left guessing as to who the other three were.

"You're a handsome boy, aren't you Alex?" Mr Blunt asked him enquingly.

Alex blinked slowly. Though he wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it. He didn't say anything. There was silence. It was Mrs Jones who spoke next.

"We have a problem Alex. One which we think you may be rather good at solving."

"Unless it's algebra, I'm afraid I'm not interested. You'll have to find someone else." He rose to leave but the two security guards by the door moved to stand in front of it, blocking his exit.

"Alex please sit back down." Mr Blunt said, sounding mildy exasperated. Seeing no other option, Alex sat, folding his arms angrily. They had never kept him here by force before.

"We have a problem which has been ongoing for a while now, but we fear you may be the long awaited solution." It was the head of MI5 who spoke this time which surprised Alex. He had never heard him speak before, he always seemed to follow rather than lead.

Alex's eyebrows furrowed "What's the problem?"

The head of MI5 looked at the man next opposite him and the other inclined his head. Alex did not recognise him.

"For some years now there has been a high amount of underage prostitution in cities all over the UK. We think that these rings are connected with several other rings in several other countries. Our Intel shows us that there are at least three countries in Europe who are part of the same organisation." He passed Alex four files, all with the word PIACERE stamped on the front in bold lettering. Alex opened them one by one to reveal that they all were files on suspects. As he read, the man he did not recognise continued. "There are representatives from each country who we have spotted meeting together. Miguel Santos, Italy, Jean Baptiste Laire, France, Daniel Franc, the UK and Malachai Donatello, Russia." He paused "Donatello seems to be behind it all, or at least, he may have been the one to expand his organisation." He pointed at the lettering on the front of the file. "PIACERE into other countries."

Alex looked up from the pictures of the four men.

"And you want me to what? Steal pictures or documents from them or something?" He knew as he said it, this would not be what they wanted him to do. The extra security on the door told him that.

Mrs Jones bit her lip. "No Alex," she began quietly, "we rather hoped you could infiltrate-"

Alex cut her off with a derisive laugh. "Mrs Jones, if you're going to ask me to whore myself out and then tell me it's for the good of the country then you can save your breath."
There was silence once more. Then Mr Blunt spoke.

"Alex, we are not going to ask you to 'whore yourself out' as you put it, rather you are going to, whether you want to or not."

"Alan!"

"Mrs Jones, I do not enjoy being so forthright but you see Alex, you're the only one who can do it. As I'm sure you've noticed, you're the only one here under the age of 18."

Alex rose to his feet. "So get someone else to do it, get someone to be a customer or an investor. I'm sixteen Mr Blunt." Alex's ears grew hot. "I haven't even had sex yet and you're asking me to have my first time with some fat, middle aged pedophile, just so you can get another win to help save your failing career. I won't do it."
Surprisingly it was Mrs Jones who spoke next. And what she said shocked Alex, she had always been the one to stick up for him, to protest against Blunt's orders but this time, she offered no such resistance.

"Alex, you've got to understand, there are young children there, being forced into that life. It will destroy them. The trauma they go through, their childhood's being ripped away from them by men and women three, four times their age. Alex, you can help them."

"Don't you dare manipulate me like that Mrs Jones." Alex was on his feet again. "You forced me into this life, a life I didn't even want. You say that it will destory their childhood? You've already done that to mine. You're no better than them Mrs Jones, so don't you dare pretend you are. Making me do this will destroy me, I've gone through enough for a lifetime and I just got out. You cannot force me back in. Take PIACERE down another way. Mrs Jones, please."

The emotionless mask which was her face did not crack. Blunt took over.

"Alex, you're the best hope those children have got. Once you see what they go through, once you live through it, you'll want to help them." Blunt sounded if he was pleading with him, but the words were emotionless and Alex, who had never feared the man in his life now felt something akin to horror and fear. How could the man be so emotionless?

"I won't do it." Alex strode over to the door, but the security men still barred the exit. "Let me out." he said to the man on his left. The security man shook his head stoically.

"You can't be okay with this," Alex pleaded him, trying to meet his eyes. "They're going to send me to Russia to be raped, to have my virginity and what's left of my childhood stripped away all at once," The security man met his eyes at last. "Is that what you want?" Alex whispered. Doubly flit across the man's features and he locked eyes with his partner. He too looked doubtful, then, the man from MI5 spoke.

"If you want to keep your jobs, your families, your education, your money, even your names." The man said forcefully, "then you will guard that door with your life."

The men nodded at each other and then looked away from Alex deliberately. There were tears in Alex's eyes now and he let them fall. He tried once more. "I'm only sixteen," he said, his voice cracking "you know this isn't right." He gestured to his uniform. "I'm still at school for God's sake." The men did not budge and Alex gave up.

He looked at Mrs Jones and the rest of the room. They were all watching him carefully.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked resignedly.

"Get close to Malachai Donatello." Mr Blunt said briskly "Find out where all the brothels are, who owns them and where they find the children. We suspect most are refugees, but there are still a good amount who are actual citizens of the country they're being held in. We're sending you to one of the bigger ones in Russia. You do speak Russian don't you?"

Alex nodded. "I learnt at Malagosto."

"Well then. The plane leaves in two hours." Blunt clapped his hands. He sounded so business like it made Alex sick.

"Lead the way"

The whole room stood and out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw they guards at the door leave. He extended his hand to the head of MI5.

"I'm glad to be working with you" he said innocently. The director took his hand it was then Alex struck. He stepped forwards and jerked his hand upward, letting his hand hold the very tips of the directors fingers so they were bent backward uncomfortably. The man cried out in pain and Alex grabbed his wrist, dragging his arm out to the side so the older man was off balance. He used his left leg to sweep the director's right and sent him crashing to the floor. Alex followed quickly and before the man could raise a hand to defend himself, Alex pressed his knuckles into each side of this neck, choking him.

"Alex!" It was Mrs Jones. He looked up at her innocently. He felt the man's fingers scrabble at his fists and he pressed harder.

"Mrs Jones." he said, calmly

"Alex, release Mr Grundy now or-"

"Or what, Mrs Jones?"

The security guards must have heard the sound of the body hitting the floor as a second later, they came rushing back in, aiming their guns at Alex. He released the newly dubbed 'Mr Grundy' and placed his hands in the air by his head.

"Don't shoot!"

It was Mr Blunt who had shouted.

"Don't shoot," he repeated, "we need him healthy." Alex scowled at him.

There was a tense silence. The MI5 man was still on the floor, wheezing and clutching his wrist. Alex was breathing hard. He wouldn't go without a fight.

The door swung open and in walked a man of about 50, with a graying beard and a startlingly bald head. He was wearing a white coat. A doctor then.

"Where is the patient?" he asked expectantly.

Blunt pointed to Alex.

Alex readied himself into a fighting stance but he had been so focused on the doctor, he had not noticed one of the security guards move behind him. Alex had stepped back onto the guard's right foot and two, thick arms now embraced his chest, lifting him from the ground. His arms were trapped. Alex kicked backwards with his feet and tried to hit the man holding him. His feet met only air. He yelled in frustration and felt a hand over his mouth. He screamed louder. The doctor approached cautiously and pulled out a needle. Alex struggled harder. The man made shushing noises and Alex glared at him, switching to trying to kick the needle instead. The guard simply moved so the doctor was on the struggling pair's side.

"This won't hurt, just try to relax"

Alex could feel tears making their way down his cheeks once again and he screamed as loud as he could against the hand covering his mouth. He felt the right arm of his blazer being pushed up to reveal the skin of his forearm and felt the prick of the needle.

There was nothing he could do. He was helpless in the hold of his captor. He looked up at Mrs Jones but she would not meet his eyes. He started to feel drowsy. His arms were released and he felt himself lowered carefully to the floor.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the dull, grey face of Alan Blunt, who was smiling down at him, looking triumphant.