Well it's the start of another fic. This one has been lurking around in my head since Easter! It's just taken a while to get it together.

It's set between 5.4 and 5.5. Basically so I get the chance to write for Ros and Ruth. I guess the next fic will be a series 8 one.

I've enjoyed writing this; I only hope that you enjoy reading it. As always, it's great to hear what you think.

Martin O'Dowd raised his head from the newspaper he'd been reading as he heard the familiar tread of heavy boots heading in the direction of his cell. He'd been in the prison long enough to be able to determine the difference between the sounds of the various officers. Whilst they all believed that they had a uniform measured step, O'Dowd knew different - he could tell the junior officers from the old hands and the corruptible from the straight. He dropped his attention back to the paper and waited to see if the footsteps would halt outside his door.

"Mr Russell," he turned the page of the newspaper casually as the key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open on its slowly rusting hinges. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

The tall bearded officer in the doorway frowned, but refused to question how O'Dowd had known it was him. He simply threw the empty plastic bin bag he was holding in O'Dowd's direction.

"Get your stuff together. You've got five minutes."

O'Dowd snatched at the bag and sprang to his feet, his eyes narrowing. "I know my rights," he snarled angrily. "You can't do this."

"We are all more than well aware of your knowledge concerning your rights," the sarcastic reply came back. "Now just get on with it."

O'Dowd shook his head as he moved to the dented grey metal locker that sat against the far wall. "I've not caused any trouble and you've got no reason to move me," he protested as he wrenched the door open with more force than was necessary.

"Well you can stay here if you want," Russell told him flatly. "Although after all this time I would have thought that you would be keen to get out of here."

O'Dowd paused and turned away from the meagre contents of his locker. "Out of here? Do you mean out of here as in out of here forever?"

Russell looked at him, a half-smile on his face. "If you don't pack your stuff up as I've told you to, you are never likely to know."

Jo Portman had never been a fan of the early morning meeting. It was one thing to gather in the meeting room at with a much needed mug of coffee and a croissant. It was something else entirely to be yelled at the moment you came through the doors, and barely be given enough time to put your bag on the floor before you were ushered into the meeting room.

As she took what she'd come to think of as her usual place at the table, she thought ruefully about the soaking wet umbrella that she'd been forced to abandon sitting on the top of her bag. If the meeting dragged on, as meetings on the grid had a tendency to do, then the breakfast she'd grabbed from the café on the corner was going to be soggy as well as cold.

The day had not started well. The weather was miserable. Rain had been falling since the early hours of the morning from the dark grey clouds that seemed to engulf the entire capital. The dreary weather had had its usual effect on the world-weary early morning commuters and Jo had had to fight her way onto the train; barging past a woman sporting an oversized golf umbrella. Quite why the woman thought that the crowded city streets were the place for a large umbrella was something that she'd been quite tempted to take issue with her about. A jab in the back from a fellow commuter had been enough to push her forward and make her forget about the annoyance.

She pushed the thoughts of her commute from her mind and crossed her feet at the ankles trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of wet feet. There were spare shoes beneath her desk, but Ros had decreed that there wasn't the time to waste whilst she changed.

Jo scowled inwardly. Ros, or course, looked the picture of perfection. Her hair wasn't dripping with rain water at the tips; and she knew, without looking, that her colleague's shoes would not show the tell tale white marks of rain damage. She shook her frustrations out of the way as Adam entered the room. The expression on his face was enough to make her realise that something was up.

"I want to know how this got out!" Adam dropped the newspaper down in the middle of the meeting room table and glared in turn at Ros, Zaf and Jo. "It's bad enough he's getting out, without having the press crawling all over the situation."

All eyes turned to the front cover of the tabloid. 'Maniac released' screamed the headline. The text was accompanied by a grainy indistinct picture of a man in the back seat of a car.

"Where did they dredge up this piece of creative writing from?" Ros asked drily, reaching forward and picking the paper up. "Who in their right mind thinks that the Government are ever going to release Martin O'Dowd?"

She scanned the first few lines of the article before raising her eyes and meeting Adam's gaze. "This is some kind of sick joke; isn't it?"

"I'm afraid not."

The conversation halted as the door to the meeting room was pushed open and Ruth bustled in, a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand.

Adam frowned at the intrusion before continuing. "The reports are correct as far as we can make out."

"What?" Ros's tone was incredulous. 'I thought O'Dowd was given back to back life sentences?"

"He was," Ruth replied; entering the conversation before Adam could get a word in. "O'Dowd's legal team have been battling it out with the European Court of Human Rights for the past ten years, seeking for a reduction in his sentence. The Court ruled yesterday that the heavy sentencing of O'Dowd was unlawful, and that he has served time that is in proportion to the charges he was convicted of. As a direct result of that he was released from Belmarsh in the early hours of this morning and transferred to Thamesmead Police Station, he'll be held there until such time as safe passage out of the country can be arranged for him."

Jo raised a hand before Ruth could plough on with her explanation. "I'm sorry....Martin O'Dowd?"

Ros rolled her eyes at the remark. "Where were you in 1987?"

"Miss Davies' class at Boxgrove Primary school!"

Ros scowled, whilst Ruth did her best to suppress a smile as she placed the papers she was carrying down on the table and picked up the remote.

"I searched these out this morning as soon as I was alerted to the news." She clicked the remote and a series of grainy stills appeared on the plasma screen. "In the early hours of Friday 13th of November 1987, a coded warning was received at Bishopsgate Police Station, indicating that an explosive device had been planted somewhere in the City. Despite promises that further calls would be made, detailing the location of the bomb, no more information was received and a device left in a lorry on Leadenhall Street duly detonated at 0830. Five people were killed in the explosion, with three more dying later in hospital from their injuries. Over forty others were admitted to hospital. The death toll would have been higher but for the fact that a second device planted only a short distance away failed to detonate." Ruth clicked on the remote again and a new series of images flashed upon the screen. The first was of a young man in his early twenties, his dark eyes glaring back at the camera with undisguised contempt. "Martin O'Dowd, a known associate of an IRA splinter group and long time subject of surveillance by this particular department, was soon implicated in the bombings. When found and questioned, he made no attempt to deny his actions, but claimed that he was acting alone and not under the orders of any paramilitary group. In the days that followed the bombing, no group came forward to claim responsibility and so it was accepted that O'Dowd, for whatever reason, was acting alone."

"Has he ever voiced remorse for his actions?" Jo wanted to know.

Ruth shook her head. "If he's said anything, then nothing has been reported. The trial that followed was swift. O'Dowd was recommended to serve a minimum of thirty years for his actions that day. Complaints from his defence council regarding the... somewhat over-zealous actions of the police meant that some evidence was deemed inadmissible, otherwise the recommendation might have been much higher."

"And he wasn't considered for release as part of the Good Friday Agreement because?" Ros questioned.

"Because he wasn't affiliated to any of the groups who signed the treaty in Belfast. Acting as a lone wolf, he was deemed to be outside of the parameters agreed upon for release," Ruth replied smoothly.

"So why all the fuss surrounding his release?" Zaf wanted to know. "Surely it would be in everyone's interest to get him out of the country with the minimum of fuss?"

"That was the plan," Adam confirmed, stepping back into the conversation. "We need to find out how the information was leaked to the press. If we have a wagging tongue in here, I want it stopped."

"The families of the victims were alerted to O'Dowd's impending release as a matter of course," Ruth continued. "No-one wanted them to wake up this morning and find out the news in the same way that the rest of the country did."

"So it's possible that one of them made the news known to the press?" Jo surmised.

Adam nodded. "It's certainly something we need to look into. There's a support group that has been running since the event, organised by some of the survivors. Whilst it's going to be impossible to put someone in there undercover...Jo, I'd like you to go and see Fraser Matthews who runs their website. Put some of your journalistic skills to good work. Ruth has the details."

"I asked Malcolm to check back at the activity of the website and hits have gone through the roof in the past twelve hours," Ruth interjected, selecting a folder and sliding it across the table towards Jo. "There have been no new members to the group in the last six months and the traffic on it was steady enough until last night. Then it went into meltdown and took the server out for an hour this morning."

"I trust we were able to find a way in?"

Ruth smiled at Adam's question. "Of course. Malcolm is at this very moment sifting through the chatter, trying to work out if there's anything we should interest ourselves in."

Zaf frowned. "Where's Harry this morning? With all this going on, I would have thought he'd be here."

"He was," Adam explained. "He was summoned to a Downing Street conference early this morning."

"Ouch," Zaf winced. "That's never good."

"Now I'm sure this is all very interesting," Ros cut in, her tone blunt, "But why the history lesson? What has any of this got to do with us?"

Before Ruth could answer, the door to the meeting room opened and all eyes turned to regard the new arrival. Harry's face was set in a neutral expression. He glanced at the others as he crossed the room and removed his coat, slinging it over the back of the chair next to Ruth.

"You're all here. Good," he began, cutting into the conversation without bothering to greet any of them. "That makes the next thing I have to say to you much easier." He stared round at each of them in turn. "There are times in our lives when we all have to do things we'd rather not; attend family functions, go to the dentist ..." Harry hunted around for a third example.

"...Sit through long boring meetings." Zaf suggested with a smile.

"Yes...Well this is another of those unpleasant tasks, but one that we are obliged to carry out with the minimum of fuss and with the utmost professionalism," Harry continued, taking his seat and not letting Zaf's interruption distract him. "I take it that you have all been making yourselves familiar with current events."

Ros glanced down at the headline on the front page of the paper and then up at Harry.

"Don't say what I think you're about to say."

"Such matters are not of my making, they are simply handed down the chain of command and we are duty bound to carry out the appointed task."

"You sound as though you're quoting," Zaf remarked, not having picked up on the look that passed between Ros and Harry.

"What's going on?" Jo voiced her own concerns, taking in the expressions on the faces of the people around her.

"The British Government in its infinite wisdom has decided that Martin O'Dowd has paid his debt to society and is now ready to be released into the welcoming arms of the world at large," Harry announced in dispassionate tones.

Ros let out a long breath. "And I'm guessing that people are even now queuing up around the block to kill him."

"Well it's our job to make sure that whilst he's in the country they don't get the chance."

Ruth shook her head. "They have got to be joking...there was enough chatter on the wires this morning to send the system into near meltdown."

"Now that the Great British Press has seen fit to inform the world that O'Dowd is about to walk amongst us, it falls upon our shoulders to ensure that no-one gets close to him. We are to maintain 24 hour close protection until such time as a passport can be conjured up and a country found that is willing to accept him."

"Close protection work is hardly within our remit," Ros protested. "Isn't that what we have the police for?"

"Seeing as they were the ones who put him away in the first place, it was thought that it would be politic to assign someone else to the task."

"And we drew the short straw," Adam added onto the end of Harry's comment. "When does this farce begin?"

Harry pulled a face. "Right now. Any plans you thought you had for the week ahead ... consider them cancelled. We will be working in pairs, with Malcolm co-ordinating operations from back here."

Harry raised his hand to silence the protests that immediately followed his announcement. "If any of you have any issues with what I've said, then I suggest you make your way directly to 10 Downing Street, as that is where the order originated. Take your problems up directly with the Prime Minister, as I am certainly not interested in hearing them."

"I had tickets," Zaf protested. "Good tickets...the sort of tickets you stay up all night to purchase." He looked pleadingly at Harry. "I don't suppose..."

Harry shook his head. "No that's right, you don't suppose. You read the briefing file, you check the timetable that has been drawn up and then you spend the appointed time in the charming company of a convicted killer." He looked round at the group. "I trust you all understand me? ... Good. Adam, Ros. Malcolm has organised a safe house and I want the two of you down there straight away, ready to receive our guest." Harry looked at the motionless figures. "This is not a subject that is open for debate. I suggest that you all get on with it. Ruth, I want to know exactly where these stories about O'Dowd came from and I also need a list of all those who are likely to be queuing up to kill him...see if you can't narrow the list down to a nice round hundred!"

Ruth opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. She switched off the plasma screen as the others began to file out. Turning around, she was somewhat surprised to see Harry still standing there.

"You have something to add!" Coming from Harry it was a statement rather than a question, and Ruth coloured slightly.

"It's just ..." she looked around, trying to find the right words. "It's just a little unusual for something like this to come down to this department."

Harry regarded her for a few moments. "I couldn't agree with you more."

Ruth was about to apologise when she realised what Harry had said. She glanced around to make sure that no-one was within earshot before continuing. "Really!"

Despite himself, Harry smiled. "You should have a little more faith in your gut instinct."

"I thought you distrusted gut instinct?"

Harry chewed his lip. "Not when it comes to the sort of meeting I had this morning. This wasn't a hastily convened affair; not for the others there. I had the distinct impression that they were simply playing out parts they'd been rehearsing for weeks."

"Meaning?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know yet, but there's something about this whole affair that doesn't sit right."

"What do you want to do about it?"

"Tread carefully!" Harry pushed the door closed; ensuring that what he said couldn't be overheard. "The only other person at the meeting who seemed as surprised as I was by the announcement was Oliver Mace."

Ruth shivered involuntarily at the mention of the head of the JIC. Nothing that he'd done in the time she'd known him, had left her with anything other than an impression of him as an oily individual, whose only mission in life was to advance his own career; whatever the cost to those around him.

"And Oliver Mace being upset is something that bothers you?" Ruth couldn't help but ask the question.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched. "When something comes as a surprise to the head of the JIC, then it's something I think we should be concerned about. Whoever it was who was involved in organising O'Dowd's release didn't think to consult him."

Ruth's eyes darted to the newspaper that was still sitting on the meeting room desk. "You mean that it looked as though the press found out about O'Dowd before Mace did?"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "It certainly looks that way. Now I'd call that interesting … wouldn't you?"

"What do you want me to do?" Ruth was there with the question; certain that Harry had some plan in mind.

"I want you to make some enquiries - as discretely as you can – see if you can't find out who's been pushing for O'Dowd's release. We've seen murderers released back onto our streets with less fanfare; I want to know who's been championing this particular cause."

"And if I find anything...I should ..." Ruth let the sentence drop away; wanting Harry to confirm her suspicions.

"If you hear anything then I want you to bring it to me... quietly. There's no point in bringing attention to this line of enquiry unnecessarily."

Oliver Mace cupped his hands together and blew on them; tying to banish the biting cold. He had never understood the propensity of certain officers to want to meet in parks. To his mind there was nothing to be gained from standing around in cold, windswept environments where anyone with a half-decent listening device could eavesdrop on a conversation from the warmth and comfort of their own car. He rubbed his hands together and then thrust them into his pockets. There were places he should be at this present moment in time; places where his absence would be noticed and questions raised. He glanced up at the clock on the wooden frontage of the old pavilion and sighed heavily. The local Neanderthals had been at work and the hands of the clock were now missing; the white facing of the timepiece smashed beyond repair.

"Oliver," a voice from behind greeted him, and he turned to see the man he had been waiting for. "I think you and I need to take a walk," the man continued, not breaking pace as he passed Mace; forcing the latter to rush to keep up with him.

"I had no idea that this was coming," Mace didn't bother with a greeting; knowing that the man he was with was more interested in finding out exactly what was going on.

"You should have known Oliver. With something like this goes down, you should be the first to know."

Mace pursed his lips. "There was no way for me to know. There was no file requested on O'Dowd; no word that there would be another representation to the courts."

The man clicked his tongue against his teeth. "This wasn't just the legal team getting lucky; they knew before they presented their case that it was going to succeed."

Mace halted and stared after the suited man. "You think someone helped him out?"

"Of course," the sneering reply came. "We just have to make sure that O'Dowd doesn't get the chance to open his big mouth. If you'd been on your toes then we could have arranged an unfortunate accident at the prison. Now; now we'll have to be a little more creative."

Mace took a moment to digest the information and then set off after the retreating figure. "He's with 5; there's nothing we can do."

The man smiled and turned to face Mace, taking in the look of panic on his colleague's face. "There's always something you can do Oliver. Surely if I taught you nothing else; I at least taught you that."