Chapter One – Time Stands Still For No One

Alan Blunt had no flowers laid over his gravestone.

There had only been two people at the funeral, excluding the clergymen. A colleague and a young boy. The colleague was now dead and the boy was now a man. Time stands still for no one, not even Alan Blunt.

Nor did time stand still for Alex Rider. Cold and miserable didn't seem to do justice to the emotions flooding through his body and the long coat and leather gloves he was wearing seemed pathetic battling against the cold, wintery atmosphere.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..." The words, embellished with the steamy breath of the speakers, floated into the cool mist, disappearing almost as soon as they had come. Alex joined in, more out of politeness than faith and wriggled his fingers inside his gloves, trying to keep the circulation going.

The coffin was slowly lowered into the snowy ground before the being completely obscured by a mound of snow covered earth.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On Earth as it is in heaven...."

The coffin carrying the body of Ms Tulip Jones settled down upon the bottom of the large, rectangular hole and was slowly obscured as soil was shovelled on top of it.

"...Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us...."

She had stayed on at MI6 until the very end. After Blunt's death she had taken over as Director and had continued in that role until her fatal heart attack. The doctors had said she had brought her own death along, that she was piling too much stress upon herself and that she would have had a few more years if she'd taken it easy, yet Alex knew she wouldn't have had it any other way.

"...For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory...."

After all, that was what it all boiled down to wasn't it? Choice. Jones' decision had led her to killing herself over her job. She'd had the option. Alex had never really had that choice. Fifty-eight years ago, sitting in Blunt's office, he had never had the option to leave and forget it all. He had never had the chance to walk out, and maybe that was why, at seventy-two, he was standing in the middle of a cemetery, mourning the loss of someone he had never really cared about anyway.

"...Amen."

There was a moment's silence as everyone stared at the grave, supposedly grieving. Alex shook himself out of his reverie, realising he was going to have to make conversation with people in less than a minute. There was another pause before everyone started to move, gathering themselves together in little groups and talking in a respectful monotone. Only Alex remained still, staring at the grave of the woman he wasn't sure he liked or loathed.

"Alex." A voice called to him, cutting through his thoughts. He turned to find Bruno Markenbury smiling at him. Bruno was a friend and colleague. They'd worked together on various occasions after Bruno was drafted from a branch of the SAS. Now, both in retirement, they'd lost touch, only communicating through Christmas cards, or indeed funerals.

They shook hands. Although now nearing his eighties, Bruno's handshake was still strong and fierce and Alex smiled broadly, glad of a friend in the dismal wintry afternoon.

"What do you think then?" Bruno asked, gesturing towards the newly dug grave. "The old bag finally popped her clogs. About bloody time." Bruno had never really liked Ms Jones.

"You can't talk." Alex replied, averting to the sort of serviceman banter they were both so skilled at. "Ever thought about Botox, you old sod." Bruno rolled his eyes.

"Everyone's going over to the Red Lion for drinks." Bruno gestured over to the group of mourners behind him. "Coming?"

"Alright." They joined the group and slowly made their way to the pub, scarves and coats pulled closer to their bodies to prevent the cold from finding a route in between their layers.

The pub was fairly quiet and the funeral party soon found themselves a group of tables near the entrance. Alex and Bruno moved up to the bar to order their drinks, opting for a little more privacy.

"So, how's life?" Alex asked.

"Fine really." Bruno said, sipping his whiskey thoughtfully. "Gemma's gone to university now and Simone keeps trying to out-do me with the fees." Simone, Bruno's ex wife was cause for a fair bit of the irritation in his retirement. "She does my head in..." Alex smiled privately into his beer.

Having never been married, Alex found it hard to empathise with Bruno's argument. He had children and now plenty of grandchildren to visit him in his old age. Alex however, had no one.

"What about you? Still got that dog?" Well, almost no one. Alex's Alsatian, Sam was his antidote to all the stress that seemed to float him way.

"Yeah." They were silent for a few moments, sipping their drinks thoughtfully. When Bruno spoke again, something seemed to have changed.

"Been in the office lately?" He asked, his tone suddenly serious. Alex shook his head. Occasionally ex servicemen such as himself or Bruno were called upon to help out with a mission, normally just cover as a parent or grandparent of an agent, nothing too serious.

Bruno glanced towards an empty booth and Alex took the hint. He grabbed his drink and casually strolled over to it, Bruno following.

"What is it?" Alex asked. Bruno fiddled with a button on his jacket before continuing.

"I'm not sure exactly." He said, looking up. "There's something wrong....and I think Jones knew. That was why she didn't want to leave." Alex studied him over the top of his beer.

"What do you mean?"

"You know the new bloke, Martin Haynes?" Haynes was Ms Jones' predecessor. He'd been at the funeral although hadn't come along to the pub afterwards. Probably had to go and save the world or something.

"Yes."

"There's something going on..." Bruno paused. "The missions just seem to be getting dirtier and dirtier....we're dealing with known terrorists...letting them off the hook because they're helping us out. MI6 is profit run now, things are happening....dangerous things...." He shook his head. Alex frowned.

"How do you know all this stuff?" He asked. Slowly, Bruno looked up at him.

"My last job for the company was in October. I was working with Jamie Niccols." He explained. "It was just a cover job, you know...smile for the camera...pretend to be a batty old man obsessed with jammy dodgers..." There was something bitter in his tone and Alex privately wondered if he felt humiliated by the tasks he was offered, if he missed the glory days of being the main man in the mission. "It was simple really...get in, find the terrorist at the dinner party, get out...but of course it wasn't that simple." He paused and took another swig of whiskey. "Anyway, we get in, I give Niccols his cover, he finds the terrorist and contacts Haynes. Only Haynes decides that he wants to talk to him. We stay in cover and Haynes flies over and talks to Niccols." Another swig. "Turns out Haynes want to do a deal. The terrorists hand us their weapons and their source and we give them freedom..." Bruno looked positively revolted. "...We're doing deals with these people, Alex." He said, shaking his head. "When will it end? Soon we'll be getting all comfy over hot chocolate...."

Alex had to admit, Bruno had a point. This certainly was dodgy, yet they were hardly in a position to have a say about it.

"I dunno, Bruno...." Alex said. "I would leap into action but I'm afraid my arthritis will stop me." Bruno snorted.

"Life's a bitch..." He said. "Get over it."