PART III: A CALL TO ARMS

It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen.

Aristotle

Friday 17 March, afternoon
The Grid

Harry watched a kaleidoscope of emotion play across his son's face. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of the exasperated look Adam gave him over his shoulder, but he ignored it. He wondered whether this would count as undermining the operation, whether Juliet would use it to suspend him. But he suppressed that too; the horse had bolted.
Graham finally settled on righteous anger. "So it is you," he said, eyes bright with fury. "I should have known. Every time something goes wrong you are there, lurking somewhere in the shadows." He refused to give Harry the honour of calling him 'dad' to his face; the man before him was not worthy of that title.
Harry bristled at the accusation. "Yes of course," he said tetchily, his resolution not to get into a confrontation with Graham promptly forgotten, "it's always somebody else's fault isn't it? You have no responsibility for the mess your life has become."
Adam observed the exchange carefully. His initial annoyance at Harry barging into the interview dissipated as he observed the open animosity between the two men - perhaps he could get something out of it.
Graham laughed; a harsh, grating noise. "You know what your problem is?" he demanded. "You still think Catherine and I are children, that you can order us around and control our lives." He leaned forward and stabbed a finger at the table for emphasis. "I am not one of your shady spies. You have no claim over me. So leave me alone!"

Harry flinched and Adam felt sorry for him. He hoped that he would never have to hear those words from Wes, and resolved to make more time for his son. When Harry spoke the fight seemed to have gone out of him. His voice was flat and weary, and Graham almost missed the softly spoken words. "I am your father, Graham."
The words deflated the younger man's anger, but it did not weaken his resolve to hold onto his grievances. He merely said, "No. You are not. Not any longer. You abdicated that right when you abandoned us for your only true love. The Intelligence Service."
Harry closed his eyes and the look of devastation on his face actually shook Graham. He had finally dared to say the words to his father's face, but it did not bring the feeling of liberation he had expected. He'd thought that saying it would feel good, like a victory. But it did not. Seeing the effect it had on his father, it left him feeling strangely deflated and empty.

Adam judged the time right to step in. "Graham," he said, bringing the attention of both Pearces back to him. "You are not here on your father's orders. You are here on mine."
Graham looked between the two spooks uncertainly. His father, in his mind, was always the one in charge, the one who pulled the strings. Surely this younger spook could not be the one calling the shots; it had to be a set-up. He was not inclined to believe a single word from either of them, so he waited, not saying anything.
Adam continued, dropping his bombshell without batting an eye. "I believe you can assist us in preventing a terror attack on London, but he –" he jerked a thumb towards Harry, "did not want you involved." He saw the uncertainty in the young man's eyes as he looked at his father in surprise, and felt like a heel for what he was about to do. But it had to be done. "Because," he added, resolutely not looking at Harry as he did so, "he does not believe you are up to it."

There was a stunned silence and Adam could feel Harry's resentful glare bore into the side of his face. He wondered whether he was irreparably damaging his relationship with his boss, but then he saw again, in his mind's eye, the twisted and broken bodies of those killed by Shining Dawn's bomb not too long ago, and he steeled his resolve. He would do whatever it took to prevent it from happening again.
Graham smiled, a cynical, bitter smile as he looked at his father, and though he said nothing it was clear that he was not at all surprised by his father's lack of confidence in him. Adam saw it and relentlessly drove the nail home. "But you see, Graham, I do believe in you. I believe you can help us stop this attack by being our eyes and ears in your AA chapter."
Graham paled and his eyes darted to the younger spook and fastened on his face. "What do you know about my involvement in AA?" he blurted, and in that one question all his self-doubt was laid bare, and Harry's heart broke for his son. How had it come to this? How had his son, his flesh and blood, become a drug addict? Why had he not been able to prevent it? He had failed Graham, and that knowledge brought a lump to his throat. I'm sorry, he wanted to say, but before he could get the words out Adam spoke again.
"We know you have been attending the Clapham North AA chapter for the last year and a half. And now we need someone in there to tell us what is going on."

Graham's eyes flared. "The AA is a sacred and confidential organisation," he burst out. "Why would I betray it to you people?"
"Because it's the right thing to do," Adam said with all the conviction Harry had come to expect of him, and he had to admire his Section Chief despite not being particularly happy with him at present.
"The right thing," Graham parroted bitterly and shook his head. "That's exactly what he would have said," he sniped and pointed at his father. "Do you think because I'm his son I will be the same? Well let me divest you of any delusion – the Newton Principle does not apply to me."
"The what?" Adam asked, confused, and Graham fastened angry blue eyes on him.
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," he explained impatiently, "and it fell on Newton's head. Just because my father will sell his soul for the Intelligence Service, you expect me to be willing to do the same. But I am not. I believe it is more important to be a good man, and I will not spy on my friends."

Harry watched his son sadly. Only someone who had not seen the horrors of terrorism up close could hold such a world-view and on some level he was thankful that it applied to Graham. But it was naïve, and he knew that this innocence was about to be ripped apart. Without looking at Adam, he spoke softly. "And what if your friends are no longer good men, Graham? Would it be morally acceptable for you to help us then?" Adam glanced at Harry in surprise, before he recovered and gave a nod of respect, aware how much it had cost the older man to utter those words.
Graham, however, looked increasingly uncertain. His first inclination was still to mistrust everything his father said. "What do you mean?"
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away, tacitly handing back control of the conversation to Adam, who understood; Harry would play no further part in convincing his son to enter their dangerous world.
"Have you seen this man around, Graham?" he asked, pushing the photo of Imad Tu'mah across the table. He observed the younger Pearce closely and saw the flash of recognition as he picked up the photo and looked at it. Graham was not nearly as schooled as his father in hiding his reactions; in that sense he was definitely not a chip off the old block.
"What's he done?" he asked, evading Adam's question, and the spook let it go.
"That's what we're trying to find out."
"Oh I see," Graham said bitingly, looking at his father as he spoke. "Just because he's a Muslim you think he's up to something. Well I won't help you pin anything on him."
Adam ignored the barb. "I never said he's a Muslim," he stated, eyes intently on the other man's face. "So you do know him."

Graham blushed, embarrassed at how easily he had been outwitted. He was suddenly painfully aware how far out of his depth he was and before he could stop himself looked towards his father for help. But Harry was leaning against the back wall, staring at his shoes, and Graham knew that no help would be forthcoming from that quarter. It was a microcosm of his whole life, he reflected bitterly, before squaring his shoulders and looking Adam in the eye. "I'm not saying anything further until you explain what is going on."
Adam smiled, pleased by the show of defiance. There was still a back-bone in there somewhere, buried beneath the self-doubt. He nodded, and proceeded to explain about the multiple terror threats against London and Imad Tu'mah's possible involvement. "So you see, the matter is quite urgent. Easter is a few weeks off and we don't have much time." He had the younger Pearce's full attention and he pressed his point home with brutal efficiency. "If this Tu'mah is planning something, he will be going around recruiting converts to Islam among the people attending your AA chapter. He will be offering them redemption through religion, and he will be telling them the ultimate redemption they could obtain is by becoming suicide bombers."
A look of alarm spread across Graham's face and Adam cocked his head. "You've noticed something like this happening?"
But Graham would not let go of his loyalty to his friends so easily. "There has been a couple of guys that converted to Islam, yes. But that does not make them terrorists!"

Harry and Adam shared a worried glance before Adam continued. "No it doesn't," he agreed, "but we cannot simply take this on good faith. There is evidence pointing the other way and we have a responsibility to all those possible innocent victims to follow it up. So help us, " he implored, "help us prove your friends innocent. Or if they're not, help us prevent an atrocity."
Graham hesitated as Kenny's face flashed before his eyes. Kenny, who had been so supportive during his recovery, who had been there to bring him back the one time he had slipped, who had sat with him for three days as he went through the hell of withdrawal. As though sensing this Adam continued, "If we are right they are being brainwashed. But it's not too late – we can help them, we can bring them back from the brink. If you help us."
There was a long silence as the young man processed these words. Eventually he lifted his gaze to his father and asked, "What would you want me to do?"
Adam felt a thrill of exhilaration; he knew they had him. But it disappeared quickly when he looked over at Harry – the older man had dropped his gaze resignedly, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

o0o

Ruth was not happy. She hated doing this – digging into Harry's past. Well, young Graham's, really, but it amounted to the same thing. The one could not be separated from the other. She scrolled through the documentation that mapped every citizen's progress through life – birth certificate, inoculation and other medical records, school records. Graham had been relatively healthy until he reached his late teens, when presumably the drug addiction began. From then there were sporadic hospitalisations, vaguely described as treatment for 'chest infections', which Ruth assumed was a euphemism for detox. Similarly, his grades were quite good until more or less the same time, before they fell away dramatically. She sighed, saddened by the waste of potential of such a bright young boy, and wondered what had led to the drug use. His parents' divorce? And yet, Catherine had gone through the same experience without losing her way, so was there something else at play? Or was that merely her desire not to blame Harry talking? As she pondered this she kept an eye on another screen, where the software was running through the police records, looking for any mention of Graham and/or Townsend and/or Pearce. It was the second run she was doing, and this one did not search only the official records, but also the site reports submitted by police officers after returning from their patrols. Ruth knew all too well that the official records were sometimes altered – MI-5 had been involved in their fair share of doing so after all, so she did not trust the initial search result that showed only a couple of parking tickets against Graham's name.

As she waited for the search to complete, she scanned the divorce papers briefly, feeling like a voyeur as she did so. Filed by Harry's wife, Jane, she noted. Not Harry. She had stipulated irreconcilable differences as the reason, and asked for custody of the two children. Harry had not disputed it, and had received the standard one-weekend-a-month visitation rights. Thinking about their work schedule she couldn't help but wonder how many times he had cancelled that, and what his children had made of these cancellations. Almost directly after the divorce had come through, Jane had also filed an application to change the children's surnames to her maiden name, Townsend. She had apparently made every effort to erase Harry from their lives as thoroughly as possible, and Ruth felt a stab of sympathy for him. It must have been painful; no wonder he never talked about it. The computer beeped and she turned her attention back to it. It showed a site report that indicated a 17-year old male had been brought in under the influence of controlled substances, who gave his name alternately as Graham Townsend and Graham Pearce. The officer could not confirm whether either of these was correct as the boy had not had any identification on him.

Ruth tapped her pen against her chin thoughtfully. There was no mention of this in the official reports, which means he had either not been charged with anything, or the record had been expunged. Would Harry misuse his position to expunge his son's arrest from the record, she wondered? To her shame she had to admit that she wasn't sure of the answer. She wanted to believe only the best of him, this man who had become so important in her life, but on some level she was aware that he was capable of actions that she would find hard to justify. If he had expunged the record, how would he have done it? By calling in a debt from someone on the Police Force? But that would mean that he would in turn expose himself to possible manipulation, and Harry would not willingly put himself in such a position. There was another option of course – by simply hacking into the Police records and removing it. But there was no way that Harry the Luddite would be capable of that; he would have needed help. She looked around for Malcolm.

o0o

She found him in the forgery suite, conjuring up false documents for Jo. When she closed the door behind her, he looked up curiously. "Hi Ruth. What's up?"
She wrung her hands together, not quite sure how to broach the subject. "Adam asked me to look into Graham's police record," she began circumspectly, and immediately his expression became guarded. It was a dead give-away and she knew that her hunch had been correct. "I found an anomaly," she continued, going for the direct approach. "Someone has altered the official record."
"I see," Malcolm responded, trying for nonchalance but not quite succeeding, and Ruth pressed on.
"What did Harry ask you to do?"
He looked at her, startled. "Harry? Nothing." When he saw that she didn't believe him he reiterated, "Harry did not ask me to do anything about Graham."
"Then who did?" Ruth queried, confused. Her theory had been derailed and she wasn't sure how to get it back on track.
Malcolm's eyes flitted around the suite as though looking for an escape hatch, before he sighed in defeat. "No-one, Ruth. I did it on my own initiative."

The admission caught her by surprise and she appraised him anew. This was something novel to the strait-laced Malcolm she knew. He looked abashed at being caught breaking the rules, but there was also a spark of defiance in his eye that said he would do it again. She took a step closer to him and dropped her voice. "I think you better tell me about it."
Malcolm hesitated. "If I do, can we keep it between us?" he pleaded, and it was her turn to be caught off-guard.
"Adam will need to know-" she began, but Malcolm shook his head.
"I'm not asking to protect myself," he persisted stubbornly. "It's for Harry." That brought her up short, and Malcolm noticed that. "I'm trying to spare his feelings," he explained, and Ruth looked at him sharply. She was now caught between a rock and a hard place; should she do her duty and hurt Harry, or should she listen to her heart and protect him? He came to her mind's eye, standing alone on the roof, his shoulders slumped, and she capitulated.
If it will have no impact on this current operation, I will keep it between us," she agreed a little shame-faced, and Malcolm nodded in relief. She waited, not saying anything more, and he told his story.

"It was about a year before you joined us. I monitored the police records on a daily basis, looking out for any politicians or Intelligence personnel that did something silly, something that could be of use to us." Ruth nodded; she was doing the same now that she was here. "I noticed it quite by chance; the seventeen year-old brought in under the influence of a controlled substance. I knew about Graham's drug problem – I had picked it up through my monitoring of hospital admission records – so the name triggered an alarm bell." He paused and his gaze slid away from her. "He was picked up in Asherton alley," he continued and Ruth's heart dropped. That alley was notorious; many a prominent politician had been caught with his pants round his ankles and an under-age rent-boy servicing him. Malcolm added quietly, "The initial charge sheet had an added item: solicitation." He looked at her sadly. "I didn't think that was something a father should know about his son. So I got onto my contact in the Police and hinted that Graham was one of our assets. They let him go and I erased the charge-sheet."
Ruth blinked against the emotion. What a horrid mess. The poor boy; how desperate he must have been to resort to that… And she was eternally grateful to the man in front of her for doing what he did. She nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you," she murmured, "I will keep it between us." And she walked out, determined that Harry would never find out about this incident.

o0o

Interview room

"All we want you to do is to pay attention to what is going on around you, and to get us the names of the people who have contact with this man," Adam tapped Tu'mah's photo, "and who have begun the process of converting to Islam." He leaned forward to emphasise his next words. "I don't want you to take any chances, to start asking questions that will draw attention to you. Understand?"
Graham nodded, his eyes on the photo of the Syrian on the table between them. "But what if I could ask those questions without drawing attention to myself?" he asked quietly, and Harry raised his gaze to his son in alarm. It took every ounce of self-control not to intervene.
Adam, well aware of the sharpened interest from Harry, kept his voice cool and even. "How?"
The young man smiled wearily and lifted his eyes to Adam. "One of the people you are looking for is Kenny. Kenny Norton. He's my sponsor, and he asked me to consider converting myself."

Adam glanced at Harry. This was an unexpected bonus and he intended to grab it with both hands. But his boss would not like it one bit. "When, Graham? When did he ask you about that?"
"A couple of weeks ago."
"And what did you say?"
Graham shrugged. "I told him I'd seriously think about it. I must still give him a final answer."
Harry could no longer contain himself. "And are you seriously considering it?" he asked, his voice sharper than he intended, and Graham looked at him mockingly.
"That would really get your gall, wouldn't it? The son of the great Harry Pearce, bastion of the fight against terrorism, converting to Islam. I might do it for just that reason," he needled, and Harry's face darkened in annoyance. Why was it that the two of them had this uncanny ability to rub each other up exactly the wrong way?
"Graham," he warned, and there was something in his voice, a note of steel that hadn't been there before, that made Graham watch him uncertainly. That darkness he had always sensed in his father, a hidden capacity for violence – perhaps that was what he had just got a glimpse of, for he sobered and turned back to Adam.
"No, I'm not seriously considering it," he said flatly, suddenly weary of playing games with his father. "Religion doesn't interest me."
Adam nodded, satisfied, and very definitely did not look at Harry when he spoke his next words. "Well, you are now. Seriously considering the conversion."

o0o

Ruth lifted her head as Adam strode back onto the Grid. She had come to know his mannerisms by now, and he had that determined glint in his eye and the purposeful step of a man on a mission, and she knew that he had got what he wanted from the younger Pearce. Harry followed in his wake, slower, almost unwillingly, and paused momentarily as he stepped onto the Grid and let his gaze wander over the space as though he was seeing it for the first time. Something akin to despair flitted across his face before he hid it away, and she couldn't help but wonder what the Grid represented to him in that moment. Was he reminded of every innocent he had ruthlessly used to his own ends– No, not his own, she amended. The country's ends. Harry had never doubted the justification of those actions, but things were not as black and white if the innocent was someone you knew, someone you loved. A shadow loomed over her and she blinked, realising that Adam stood in front of her desk.
"Did you find anything?" he asked, and she looked up at him.
"Nothing," she lied, shamelessly and seamlessly. "Only a couple of parking tickets."
Adam's gaze probed her face but found no chink in her armour and he nodded, satisfied. "Good. Listen, do me a favour; take Harry out for a drink or something tonight."

She stared at him, flabbergasted. "I'm sorry?!"
His eyes twinkled at her mischievously. Adam was no fool, and she realised for the first time that people might have noticed her growing feelings for her boss. She blushed. "I'm not asking you to sleep with him," he continued, smothering a grin, "although that is entirely up to you." Her fingers fiddled with her pen in extreme discomfort and he relented. "Look. I don't think he should be alone tonight. Just keep an eye on him, will you?"
"I don't need a bloody baby-sitter," Harry's voice cut in icily and Ruth dropped the pen in alarm. Even Adam jumped a little; he had snuck up on them unseen and Ruth wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
But Adam swiftly rallied. "Well you're getting one. It can either be a burly stranger instructed to tackle and handcuff you if you step out of line, or it can be Ruth. Your choice."
The two men glared at each other and Ruth could practically smell the testosterone, and for a moment she feared Harry would lose it and punch his Section Chief. She actually saw his fist bunch, but he reined himself in with a supreme effort. "Fine," he snapped. "Ruth, get your coat. We're going for a drink." With that he swung on his heel and marched off to his office to collect his own coat.

o0o

By the time Ruth came to grips with the situation she found herself in the lift, standing next to Harry. He was still fuming silently and she shuffled her feet uncomfortably. He glanced at her and sighed. "Don't worry, I won't force you to spend an evening in my company," he said, his voice carefully devoid of emotion, "I'll drop you home and tomorrow we'll both tell Adam what a good time we had together."
"…Oh," she responded, disappointment knifing through her, and he looked at her in surprise. Did she actually want to go for a drink with him? The thought was comforting, dangerously so, and the alarm bells started clanging again in his head, loudly and insistently. He blithely ignored them.
"I am going for a drink, though, if you wanted to…?" he ventured hesitantly, and it was her turn to look at him in surprise. For the first time that day she saw something other than despair or anger on his face, and she was incapable of dashing it.
"I want to," she murmured and they stared at each other, aware of a crossing of some line in that moment. Not quite as momentous as the Rubicon, perhaps, but it was up there. Then the lift pinged and the doors slid open, and they walked out together, shoulders brushing.

tbc