PART II: THE PRODIGAL SON

May God defend me from my friends: I can defend myself from my enemies.

Voltaire

Friday 17 March, morning
The Grid

There was a stunned silence that lasted all of two seconds, before a number of things happened at once. Ruth sucked in a sharp breath and exclaimed "Adam!" and Harry stood so suddenly that his chair scuttled back and banged against the wall.
"No," he said with chilling emphasis, his eyes focussed on the photo, and Jo, Zaf and Fiona exchanged puzzled looks.
Adam ignored all of it. "He is ideally placed-"
"I said no!" Harry was shouting now, and Ruth looked at him worriedly.
"Adam," she said again, pleadingly, but Adam's focus remained on Harry.
"The decision is not yours," he said evenly. "Juliet has authorised the operation."
Harry's gaze snapped to his Section Chief, and Adam was thankful that looks couldn't actually kill but it was a close-run thing. When Harry found no mercy in the blue eyes that held his glare unwaveringly, his gaze moved away, darting from one face to another around the table. Finally it settled on Ruth's features with such desperation that she flinched, before he turned on his heel and stormed out.

Jo watched on, flabbergasted, and once Harry was out of the room she implored, "What is going on?"
Adam didn't say anything, and it was Ruth that eventually answered. "Graham Townsend is Harry's son," she said, looking at Adam accusingly.
Jo was dumbstruck. "Jesus, Adam," she gasped, and he turned his cool blue eyes on her.
"In a few weeks multiple terror attacks could take place in London, and we have an opportunity to get the necessary information to prevent it. It is our duty to do so, regardless of any personal considerations that may be involved." He looked each of them in the eye, testing their resolve, lingering longest on Ruth. "This is happening, and there is nothing Harry can do to stop it. So let's get cracking. Fiona, Jo, go and invite Mr Townsend for a chat. Whilst he is our guest here I want his flat wired – Malcolm and Colin take care of that. Zaf, I want you to nose around Clapham, see if you can find out whether Graham is particularly close to any of the others in the chapter." Lastly he turned to Ruth. "And I want a full background check on young Graham." When she merely stared at the table mutinously he pressed, "Soon as you can," and looked at her until she nodded shortly. "Good, get to it then," he stated and stood.

Fiona fell into step with him as they filed out. She waited until everyone else was out of earshot before saying, "Could you not have broken the news to Harry a bit more tactfully?"
Adam looked at his wife. "You think there is a tactful way to tell someone that we're going to exploit their son for our own ends?" When she didn't respond he sighed and changed tack. "You think Harry would have bothered with tact if it were anyone else's child?"
Fiona didn't feel qualified to comment on that – she had been working in this Section for only a few months and didn't know the Section Head well enough to predict what he would do in any particular scenario. Instead she said, "You could at least have forewarned him."
Adam stopped and turned to face her. "If I had, where do you think Graham would be now?" He looked around to make sure no-one was in earshot before continuing in a low voice. "If anyone warned me that they intended to use Wes in this manner, I would make damn sure that he was as far as possible from here; somewhere he could be of no use to the Service." Fiona looked into his eyes and knew that he was right. Her first impulse upon witnessing Harry's distress had been, thank God it is not my child.

o0o

Half an hour later

She found him on the roof. When she stepped through the door he stood at the railing, shoulders slumped, clutching the rail. Ruth hesitated, unsure whether her presence would be welcome, but when he lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes her feet propelled her forward almost involuntarily. Her need to comfort overwhelmed all other consideration, and she cleared her throat when she was a few paces away to alert him to her arrival. Harry glanced briefly at her before resuming his contemplation of the city-scape. She came to a stop next to him and swept her gaze over London, the threat against it looming large in her thoughts. It was their job to protect it – but at what cost?
"You okay?" she asked, and he took a steadying breath.
Instead of answering her question he turned to her, and her heart broke at the naked anguish on his face. "Did you know?" he demanded roughly. "Did you all know?"
"No." She emphasised the word, wanting him to understand that she had no part in this, in something she realised he probably viewed as a betrayal. "Only Adam did."
He kept her pinned in his gaze, testing the truthfulness of the words, before turning away again. "Graham is not suitable for this," he said stubbornly, and she watched his face carefully.
When she responded she felt her way gently. The regard of this man had become important to her, perhaps too important, and she did not want to say anything that would damage it. "You thought that about Catherine too, and she turned out to be much stronger than you gave her credit for," she reminded him, and his head snapped round to her.
"This is different," he said desperately, "Graham is different. He is w-" He checked himself, then amended, "He is fragile."

Ruth continued to regard him steadily. He wasn't sure what he expected to see in her eyes, but there was only compassion. There was no pity, and that was important to him. Harry could not abide the thought that others pitied him. "Because of the addiction?" she asked quietly and he dropped his gaze to his hands, ashamed. He didn't know what of – his son and his weakness, or himself, who had failed the boy so spectacularly? Maybe both. "He has dragged himself out of it," Ruth reminded him, smiling slightly. "That is one of the hardest things to do in life, or so I've read. It shows strength of character, doesn't it?" She saw surprise flicker across his face at her knowledge of the trials of addiction. Did he think that she had snooped on his family? Hastily she explained, "I know someone who is an alcoholic."
Realisation dawned on Harry. "Oh yes, your step-brother, isn't it?"
It was Ruth's turn to be surprised, and a little suspicious. But then she realised that he would have had to read her file before giving her the position in his Section. "Yes."
Something passed between them – a shared pain that neither wanted to express in words, and he marvelled yet again at how comfortable he felt in Ruth's presence. She soothed him, and that was a rare thing in this hard world he inhabited. "But he's only been clean for little more than a year," he found himself saying, "and I've read that recovering addicts should avoid excessively stressful situations in the first two years of recovery." He smiled ruefully. "I'd say being drawn into a terror plot would count as excessively stressful. Wouldn't you?"
She conceded the point with a dip of the head. Her eyes focussed on his hands, still clamped around the rail, and she fought the impulse to reach out and touch him. "Adam will look after him," she assured, aware of the inadequacy of the platitude even as she uttered the words and Harry huffed indignantly. He began to turn away and she grabbed his arm, holding him in place. "He will, Harry. We all will," she implored, and his gaze returned to her searchingly. She couldn't hide it any longer; she cared, and he could see it plainly in her eyes.

His anger deflated and his shoulders relaxed. "Thank you," he murmured, touched by her resolve. "But that should be my responsibility. I'm his father." He could not hide his self-reproach and she felt for him, knowing that she would have reacted exactly the same in his shoes. It was a trait they shared – this tendency to take responsibility for events that weren't always completely in their control.
"Yes you are," she responded, smiling gently, "but Graham is no longer a child. He is a grown man, and he should be afforded the opportunity to decide his own destiny."
Harry sighed. Ruth was one of very few people he knew that could out-reason him. What surprised him, however, was that it didn't bother him in the least. Before he realised what he was doing he reached out and grasped her hand. "You're right. As usual." He smiled into her eyes and it took him a second to recognise the surprised expression in their blue depths, and hastily released her hand. He could have sworn that she was disappointed that he'd done so, but before he could dwell on that the door banged open and Jo appeared.
"Harry, Juliet Shaw is here," she said, and if she noticed how close her boss and his analyst were standing together, leaning into each other, she did an admirable job of hiding it.

o0o

Juliet waited in Harry's office, arms folded, and watched his progress across the Grid. She observed with interest that his analyst - what was her name; Rhonda? No. Ruth. Ruth Evershed – trailed a few paces behind him. Harry's face was set and she braced herself as he strode into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. She thought it best to pre-empt the coming tirade. "I came here so that you can yell at me on your own turf. So let's get it over with." She sat down on his sofa and crossed her long legs, looking at him challengingly.
Harry glared at her. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and balled them into fists until he felt his nails gouging into his flesh. "You conspired with my Section Chief behind my back," he accused icily, and she had the decency to look contrite.
"Yes. Adam thought it best-"
"My God!" he interjected, his control over his anger slipping, "now you're going to blame it all on him?"
"No." She watched as he began to pace to and fro in front of the desk. "It was my decision, and I take full responsibility for it." She waited until he came to a stop and faced her again before she continued. "Adam made a compelling case not to forewarn you. He's a father himself, and he was concerned that you would do something drastic if you were told."
"Christ," Harry muttered, resuming his pacing, "what a steaming load of bollocks."
Juliet took a breath in an effort to curb her annoyance. It would not do for her to lose her temper as well, then they would get nowhere. "Is it?" she asked shrewdly. "Are you telling me that the moment you heard about your son's involvement, your first impulse was not to warn him, to get him out of our reach?" He cast a baleful look in her direction and she continued, "Because that would be a steaming load of bollocks."

Silence settled on the office as they retreated momentarily to their respective corners. Harry rubbed his forehead wearily and Juliet felt a stab of sympathy. She was fond of him and she didn't enjoy putting him in this position, but it had to be done. And she was certain that deep down he knew that, but his pride would not allow him to give in without a fight. And the least she owed him was to allow him this show of defiance. So she said, "I wanted to put you on enforced leave for the duration of the operation, but Adam argued against it." Harry had swung towards her, face flushed in anger, but she did not wilt in the face of his fury. "So you remain on the Grid for now, but make no mistake: I will suspend you the second I become aware that you are undermining us."
Harry stared at her with a cynical smile. "I knew your real colours would show eventually," he sniped, but she would not be baited.
"Don't pretend you would have done any differently, Harry." She held his eyes. "Do we understand each other?"
"Oh, yes. Perfectly."
"Good," she said, even though they both knew the words would mean nothing if Graham were ever to be in danger. "Now, the US Intelligence Advisor arrives next week. Shall we go over our approach for the meeting?"

o0o

Two hours later

Fiona led Graham into an interview room and left him there with Jo for company. She joined her husband in the observation booth and they observed the young man through the two-way mirror. "What do you think?" Adam asked without taking his eyes off Harry's son.
"We told him we were Police, that we required his assistance with a drug-related inquiry. He came along meek as a lamb – frightened out of his skull." She paused before adding quietly, "He's hiding something."
Adam frowned; this was not good news. "You think he's using again?"
She shrugged. "Can't say. I'm not an expert on drug addicts, and I don't know Graham. There's no way of telling whether he is acting normally." Her eyes moved to Adam's face. "There is somebody who could probably tell, though."
"Harry?" Adam said, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "History has shown that he doesn't know his children, Fi."
Fiona conceded the point. "But he would still know his mannerisms. People don't change those from childhood, unless they are trained to do so. He would know whether the boy is simply nervous or whether there is something more."
Adam prevaricated, uncertain as to the best course of action, before capitulating. "Fine. Go tell him his son is here and that he can listen in on the interview. And tell Ruth to dig into Graham's police record; perhaps they'd picked him up before."

o0o

Harry stepped into the observation booth with trepidation. His stomach fluttered nervously – something that didn't happen to him often nowadays. Not for the first time he wondered how he had managed to become a stranger to his children. At least Catherine seemed to have forgiven him his failings – they had actually spoken on a number of occasions in the last year. His heart warmed at the recollection. She had turned into quite a wonderful young woman, and he was proud of her even though he knew he could claim no credit for it. But Graham… He had never understood the boy, had struggled to connect with him even as a young child. It was as though they had nothing in common, and as he scrutinised the features of his son now he was hit with the same feeling again. The boy was a mirror image of his mother, and Harry could find little of himself in that face. The marriage had already been in trouble by the time Graham had been conceived, and Harry wondered whether the foetus could have absorbed some of the resentment Jane had felt towards him. Or perhaps that was looking for excuses – maybe the reason they had never connected was simply because Harry had been absent most of the time.

Adam entered the room and Graham straightened in his chair. His hands were clenched together in his lap and his face was pale. But he did not display the tell-tale jitteriness of a user coming off a high and Harry felt a stab of relief. "I don't think he's using," he said quietly, not meeting Fiona's eyes. "Probably just nervous."
Fiona leaned across and keyed the comms to relay the information to her husband, before retreating again. The situation was rather uncomfortable and she would have preferred to leave Harry alone in the room, but that was not an option. Adam had made it quite clear that they had to keep an eye on their boss at all times, and now it was her turn.

In the interview room Adam stepped over and held out his hand. "Mr Townsend, thank you for coming," he said smoothly.
Graham eyed the hand suspiciously and did not take it. "You didn't exactly give me an option," he stated flatly.
Adam ignored the barb and got straight to the point. He wanted to keep the young man off-balance; did not want to give him time to fortify his resolve with righteous anger. "I have a confession to make," he announced, watching Graham closely, "we are not the Police. We are MI-5."
Harry watched as the remaining colour drained from his son's face and he worried that the boy would faint. His hands balled to fists at his sides and he resisted the urge to step into the next room and throttle his Section Chief. But he did not. For somewhere, buried deep under his anger, was the shameful knowledge that he would have handled the interview the exact same way.

Graham grasped the edge of the table as he stared at the intelligence officer. He should have known, of course. He could trace every black moment in his life back to this place, who had been more important to his father than his children. A red mist descended and he stood, looking around wildly. "Christ. It's him, isn't it?"
"Sit down," Adam said, but Graham ignored him. His eyes slid to the mirror and he took a step towards it, his face contorted with hatred. "Dad!" he shouted, "I know you're there! You can at least have the courtesy to face me, you fucking coward!"
Harry's jaw clenched; Graham had always been adept at pushing his buttons, and before reason could intervene his feet took him out of the booth and around to the interview room.
"Harry!" Fiona called helplessly, but he did not hear her. She lunged for the comms but before she could warn Adam, Harry had stepped through the door behind him and came face to face with his son for the first time in many years.
"Hello, Graham."

tbc