You're Never Too Young to Die...

Buried Secrets

AUTHOR'S NOTE/

Alex only refers to Yassen as Yegor, but his real name will be used when he is mentioned throughout the story.

Alex's friends and peers will refer to him as Dmitry except for both Yassen and Ash.

I sincerely apologize if this has caused any form of confusion.

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"Yegor?" The man in question hummed in acknowledgment. "What was my father like? You said you were a friend of his."

He folded the newspaper he had been reading. "What brought this up?"

"Ash said that I seemed a lot like him and I wanted to know what it was." His expression softened at the boy but placed a mental note that he would need to talk to Ash at some point.

"Well, your father--" he paused at that. What did he really know about John Rider? His mentor. The man who had betrayed him at the end of it all. "Your father was a man of incredible resilience..."

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Later that night...

The dining room was dimly lit. Yassen sat at the table with a mug of warm tea in his hands, Ash sitting on the opposite end.

"Alex deserves to know."

"Not yet. It's too risky. You know our world. I won't allow him to be dragged into it."

"It's only a matter of time before Scorpia or MI6 come knocking on our door. Scorpia never forgives, and Scorpia never forgets."

"Don't you think I know that?!"

"And he is starting to ask questions. The other day, he asked me why he had to tell his friends that his name was Dmitry and not Alex."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that it was because it was because he looked more of a Dmitry than he did an Alexander! That isn't going to fool him because even I can see the absurdity in the answer. The boy has had martial arts and rock-climbing training because he liked it when I know you were only doing it because he needed to know self-defence. It won't be long before either side realises that the son of John Rider is alive and well."

Yassen had made sure that Alex was off to bed, but even then, he kept his voice barely above a whisper.

"There was a message. I tried to trace the number, but I think it was sent from a burner phone."

Ash showed him the screen. On it, it read:

WE ARE WATCHING

Yassen's eyes narrowed.

"Could it be Scorpia?"

"No. They wouldn't do something like this. They'd make an example of it, put a warning out. This is something else."

"What are we going to do?"

"I need to make some calls."

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Alex POV/

(Conversing in Russian)

"Are you sure about that, Dmitry? Maybe you've misheard it, is all I'm saying." Alex shrugged, his bag pack slung from his shoulder as he and his best friend, Tomas Sergey Topalov, fell into step beside him. They were on the approach towards the entrance of their school, Alex having had to recount what he heard the night before when the adults thought he had been asleep. To be fair, he was in bed, but he had gotten thirsty and had gone down for a drink of water when he heard them talking. Even then he couldn't help but listen.

"I know what I heard, Tom. They were talking about some sort of person called Scorpia or something. And they kept saying I wasn't safe, that this Scorpia person was out to get me."

"But didn't you say your father was an international banker?"

"Exactly. So why would they be talking about something that sounds it came right out of a movie?"

"Maybe they're spies? You know, like in those James Bond movies. 007!"

"Don't be silly, Tom. My father's the most boring man you can imagine. He has a routine, for God's sake. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I don't know. But wouldn't that be cool?"

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The person on the other end of the receiver picked up on the third ring, "Yegor?" A raspy voice replied.

"Danil," Yassen greeted. "We need to talk."

"Why? Has something happened?"

"Yes, but I can't tell you what over the phone. Someone could be listening in. It is time."

8,750 miles away within FBI headquarters in Oregon, Portland, Director Danil Fyodorov received a call from a burner phone somewhere in Moscow. Born and raised in Russia, Sochi, he had moved to the United States to pursue law at Harvard at the age of 18, having graduated cum laude with a masters in criminal justice at his belt. He had practiced for some time before going on to apply for the FBI, commencing his training in Quantico not long after. He had risen through the ranks and now he was Director. No one questioned his authority.

Once he got the phone call, he knew that things had to be put in motion. It was time.

He called for his secretary, "Janine, get me file 568. And patch me through Director Marshall."

"Is there a message you'd like me to relay, sir?"

"Tell him... tell him that we have a code Delta on our hands."