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'So, what do we have?'

Jenna tilted her monitor towards him. 'Usman Ali. He did the coding for the website. We've discovered that he flew to Pakistan last year, ostensibly for an arranged marriage; however, he came back without a blushing bride.'

Harry sighed. 'So he changed his mind. She changed her mind. It happens.'

Jenna tapped her keyboard. Up came a photo of a bearded Ali seated on a battered sofa with two other men. The wall behind them was pockmarked with what looked like bullet holes. 'Tariq did a GPS trace on this photo. It was taken in the province of Logar, a Taliban stronghold in Afghanistan.'

'So, was our Mr Ali planning on finding true love at an Al Qaeda training camp?'

'Looks like it.'

'Do we know who the other two are?'

'I'm working on that.'

'Okay. Let me know when you have something. Ali; what's he been up to since?'

'He's unemployed, but doesn't seem to be short of money, so he's got funding from somewhere. That, coupled with his training makes us think he's the one most likely to strike against the Indian delegation.'

'Have we got anyone on him?'

'Should have shortly; Dimitri's on his way. In his capacity as a Property Conservation Officer with the local council he's going to check Ali's flat for structural damage and bug it to within an inch of its life . Plus, the couple across the road are away on a skiing holiday and we're going to be doing our neighbourly bit by housesitting for a few days.'

Harry nodded. 'Good.' He straightened. "Where are Beth and Phil?'

'Surveillance. They're going to the place over the road.'

Oh are they? Harry thought. And more to the point, he's been here a matter of hours and he's already not bothering to brief me about what my own team is doing. Way to make a good first impression.

'Harry?'

'Mm?'

'Why don't we just pick him up?'

'He's our most important lead thus far. We pull him in, we lose that and they go ahead anyway, only we haven't the foggiest who they have lined up to take his place. We could amass all kinds of intel if we just let him think it's business as usual.'

'And what about the rest of the people on the website?'

'Oh, their phones are being tapped, their emails monitored, their post intercepted. Tariq's keeping an eye on them via face matching, but so far there's been nothing they would be ashamed to tell their grannies.' His fingertips massaged his brow. 'Anyway, I fancy a cup of tea; want one?'

Jenna squeezed his arm. 'I'll do that. I'll bring it through. Biscuit?'

Harry patted his midriff. ' Best not,' he sighed. ' Don't want Ruth trading me in for our dashing young Section Chief.'

Jenna wrinkled her nose. ' As if.'


Trade Delegation Meeting - Day 2

To his chagrin, Ruth had let him sleep in til she was ready to go. 'I'll see you tonight,' she'd reasoned. 'You are still coming through for the weekend?'

That had been the plan, but the talks showed no sign of ending anytime soon. Dimitri and Beth obviously thought they were home free, as they were listening in and playing word bingo with the jargon. Harry was cranky and distracted; he knew his mind was only half on the job, half on the bombshell of the previous day. Twins. Ruth had lain there, rigid, clutching Harry's hand as the consultant had scanned her belly again.

'Yes, I'm pleased to tell you they're both fine,' he'd announced cheerfully.

Harry had looked at him blankly. At the word 'fine' Ruth had released her grip on his hand just a little.

'B-both?' He'd stuttered. 'We're having twins?'

'Yes, congratulations! Here you go.' And he'd turned the monitor round and shown them their babies, outlining the heads, the arms, the legs; pointing out the tiny, fluttering hearts; giving the shadows and light recognisable form.

As Harry gazed at the screen, the momentary flutter of relief ebbed as the practicalities started wheeling round his head. The implications of a multiple pregnancy for Ruth. They'd need to move. The number of nappies. The number of toys. Two babies? At his age? Not daring to say anything he'd glanced down at Ruth. Her fear had been replaced by relief, and now as she looked at the monitor her face was suffused with a dazed wonder. She turned to him, her eyes alight with joy, and plastering a smile on his face he had hushed the murmurs of regret that the life he'd longed for and dreamed of for so long would soon be no more.


Phil's voice buzzed in his ear piece. 'Harry, they're done. They should be out in the foyer in thirty seconds.'

'Copy that.' He indicated to the rest of the team to take up their positions and followed them out. As they blended seamlessly in with the hotel staff lined up round the foyer he remained up on the mezzanine, keeping an overview of proceedings. 'Tariq,' he barked, his hand to his earpiece, 'how are we looking outside?'

There was a pause while Tariq flicked through the CCTV screens. 'Not a peep.'

'Any activity online?'

'As of three minutes ago, nothing for the last couple of days.'

Harry exhaled. Had it all been a hoax? Had they got wind of the surveillance and called it off? He watched as the Business Secretary and his Indian counterpart emerged, all smiles and handshakes. As the rest of the delegates appeared the invited few press flashguns began firing. The Business Secretary gave a short speech, and then they all began to file out to the waiting cars. As the last door closed and the vehicle crunched off down the drive, Harry checked his watch. He should be able to leave within the hour; with a bit of luck he'd be in Cheltenham in time to have dinner with Ruth. Motorway McDonalds were all very well, but Ronald McDonald wasn't half so much fun to play footsie with.


Christmas Day

'Don't you think,' he said eventually, 'that it's a bit unfair to give me a Christmas present and bar me from using my hands?'

Ruth lifted her head. 'Nope!' she grinned. 'But I can stop using mine if that'd make you feel better?'

'No-o-o-o! You carry on.'

A few minutes passed.

'Harry, do you think Graham might be up? He could be sitting downstairs, half starving but too polite to raid the kitchen.'

'...can you please not talk about my son while we're...trust me, he'll still be snoring his head off.'

'And he's not a light sleeper? I mean, he won't hear anything if...'

'Ruth!'

But before there was even a chance of their creating a racket and waking Graham, Harry's mobile beeped.

He froze. 'Oh god, no.'

Ruth reached up to grab his hand. 'Leave it.'

'I can't,' he said heavily. 'That ringtone; I'm being red flashed.'

She stared at him in disbelief. 'But it's Christmas Day, Harry. Our first Christmas Day. Our one and only Christmas Day with just the two of us.' She flapped her hand. 'You know what I mean.'

The dejection on his face dissuaded her from saying any more. With a huff of exasperation she flopped onto her back.

'Harry Pearce.' His head sank onto his chest. 'I'll be there as soon as I can.'

He cut the call and turned to Ruth. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart. I do have to go. A bomb's been detonated near Regent Street.'