Ruth sat and contemplated the picture forming in front of her. According to the illustration on the box, a deer was supposed to be drinking from a pool of water that had formed at the bottom of a cascading waterfall. So far all Ruth could find was one hoof and a series of pieces that looked as though they had no place being positioned next to each other.

She'd tried to disguise the interest she felt the moment that she spied the box sitting in the corner of the room. She'd dismissed it as belonging to either Ros or Adam. Try as she might she couldn't imagine either of them having the patience to tackle a jigsaw. It took a particular mindset to complete one - and Ros in particular she could imagine losing patience with the puzzle, and bashing the pieces into submission within minutes.

She tapped the piece she was holding against the top of the table and forced herself not to look up. As long as she could ignore O'Dowd then there was nothing he could do to get to her. She could feel his eyes upon her, following her moves as she tried to locate the next piece of the puzzle. Thankfully so far he'd made no attempt to offer her help.

She glanced up automatically as she heard swearing from the adjoining room. Adam's phone had rung a couple of minutes earlier, and he had excused himself, but not before warning O'Dowd not to try anything.

Whoever was on the other end of the phone was doing little to improve Adam's mood; she heard him swear again before opening the door and striding back into the room

"So how long was he missing for?" Adam demanded to know as he paced towards the window, the phone held close to his ear.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"How long before you noticed that my son who, may I remind you, you have a duty of care to look after between the hours of nine and four; how long did it take you to realise that he was missing?"

There was a rustling sound as O'Dowd lowered the newspaper he'd been glancing at and looked across in Ruth's direction. "So he's got a son then?"

Ruth did her best to ignore him and kept her attention firmly focussed on the jigsaw on the table in front of her.

O'Dowd glowered at Ruth before turning to listen in to more of Adam's conversation.

"Well I'm sorry too...I'm sorry that you're a complete incompetent, I'm sorry that I ever thought that I could trust you and your school to look after my son, and I'm sorry that he's so unsettled in the world at the moment that moving him just isn't an option. I trust you to look after him, not to let him wander off when he feels like it."

"You tell em," O'Dowd encouraged.

Adam covered his free ear and turned his back on O'Dowd, heading back towards the window.

"Yes I've heard you say you're sorry, what I haven't heard you say is how you intend to stop this from ever happening again."

"I was only offering encouragement," O'Dowd protested, and pushed himself back into the sofa; picking up the TV remote and raising the volume.

"Encouragement from you is one thing that I think he can well do without," Ruth told him tartly, finally finding her voice. "And turn that thing down for heaven's sake."

"Why? You not paid for a licence for this place?" O'Dowd teased.

Ruth paused, a piece of jigsaw clasped in her hand. Did they have a licence? It would be more than a little embarrassing for the place to be raided by officers from TV licensing.......whilst they were on active duty. That would certainly cause outrage in the Daily Mail. She made a mental note to ask Malcolm about it at the first available opportunity.

Adam abruptly ended the call and placed the phone down on the table, as though needing to put some distance between himself and the person he'd just been talking to. He paced across the room, hands pushed deep into his pockets. He stood motionless for a few moments by the window, before finally reaching a decision. Turning smartly he snatched up the phone again and headed purposefully towards the door.

"Cover for me, I'm going out," he announced.

Ruth raised her eyes from the jigsaw. "And what do I tell Harry if he rings and asks where you are?"

Adam shrugged. "To be honest I don't care... you can tell him that I'm following up a lead on Lord Lucan."

Ruth smiled. "I don't think that's the best idea you've had today."

Adam crossed the short distance to where Ruth was sitting. "I'm guessing that you heard at least part of that?" he whispered, starting to reign his temper in.

She nodded, a slight flush of embarrassment reddening her cheeks.

"I....I didn't mean to...but... you know..."

"Once a spook," Adam smiled, letting her know that he wasn't angry with her. He perched on the end of the table and folded his arms, his breathing starting to return to its normal calm rhythm. "You think I shouldn't go?"

Ruth searched around for the right words. "I think you could do more harm than good," she finally said, lowering her voice, checking to see that O'Dowd couldn't hear them.

"He's my son...what do you expect me to do?"

"Let him fight his own battles."

"But he's not long lost his mother; he needs all the support he can get."

Ruth nodded. "Whilst that's true, one thing he doesn't need is his dad showing up at school, playing the heavy father and throwing his weight around." She met his gaze. "Can you remember when you were that age? How would you have felt if your dad embarrassed you in front of the whole school?"

Adam paused. "I suppose...."

"And it's not as though you're a 'cool dad' either. What job do the school think you have?" Ruth pressed home her argument.

Adam smiled ruefully. "You have a point."

Ruth held up her hands. "At the end of the day it's your decision but I think Wes would appreciate it more if you were there for him when he got home. Have a man to man chat with him...he'd probably get more out of that than you rushing into school and showing him up."

Adam looked at Ruth for a few seconds before reaching forward and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"How did you get to be such a great dad?"

Her mouth twitched at the corner, flattered by the praise from Adam.

"It helps sometimes....to be the outsider."

"Thank you," he told her softly and headed back across the room towards the window.

"What the hell are you two whispering about?" O'Dowd demanded to know as he peered over the back of the sofa.

"Nothing that need concern you," Adam told him sharply. "Now why don't you get back to your porn or whatever the hell that is that you're watching."

O'Dowd pulled a face and reluctantly turned back to face the television. He'd only been in the house a few hours but was already starting to feel a familiar sense of imprisonment. There was only one thing to do when you were bored… and that was make your own entertainment.

Harry turned up the collar of his coat as he made his way along the path towards the small wooden building that sat beneath the protection of the overhanging trees. The small cafe had been a fixture in the park for as long as he could remember. There was nothing even remotely special about it; the tea it served was weak and its sandwiches were always stale, but the fate of nations had been decided at its creaking wooden picnic tables. Lives had been weighed up and saved, or reluctantly written off as an unfortunate loss, whilst the local residents walked their dogs, and young mothers took their children out in pushchairs. It all felt so familiar to Harry; the names and the faces of those that he had met were lost down the years, but the building remained, and the difficult decisions never seemed to stop coming.

He shook himself out of his reverie as he spotted the figure of the present incumbent of the title Home Secretary. Harry had dealt with a fair number of politicians down the years, and he rated this man as mostly harmless. A good man; one who was sometimes swamped by his work. There were jobs that were not suited to good men; Harry was of the opinion that Home Secretary was one of those jobs.

Two mugs of coffee were sat on the rough wooden surface of the table; small whisps of steam rising into the cool air. The Man turned in his seat and forced a thin smile onto his face as he recognised the approaching figure.

"What was so important that we couldn't meet in the comfort of my office?" the Home Secretary asked with a sigh."You may have spent a lifetime skulking around in the bushes Harry, and loved the thrill of colluding with strange people in unusual places; but I have to say that I much prefer meetings in civilised places; preferably those that have good table service!"

Harry glanced around at their surroundings. He supposed it was a little out of the comfort zone of the present Home Secretary to be meeting at a picnic table next to a small park cafe.

"I thought it was important to keep this meeting as low key as possible."

The Home Secretary took a mouthful of the coffee he'd bought from the cafe, and pulled a face. "I think this is about as low key as a man of my standing can get! I'm assuming that you called me here because you have something important to discuss?"

Harry automatically looked around to check that he wasn't being overheard.

"This is about Martin O'Dowd."

He heard the Home Secretary sigh heavily. "I feared it was going to be. And what is so important about that infernal man that you need to drag me all the way out here?" He cast a glance at his watch. "I have meetings all afternoon. My secretary is going to be wondering where I am."

"Can't you tell him that you're having an affair with a married woman? Isn't that what you high-ranking ministers do when you're not running the country?"

The Home Secretary saw the smirk on Harry's face. "Those were the good old days Harry. These days we're all at the gym, or embarking on the latest health fad; all trying to pretend that we're younger than we are." He paused and looked conspiratorially at Harry. "Between you and me, I much prefer the old fashioned way of burning calories!"

After a few moments the Home Secretary placed his coffee cup down on the rough surface of the table and glanced across the expanse of the park. "There are unpleasant rumblings in the house Harry," he admitted. "The voices of discontent can be heard at practically every turn."

"You must be used to that."

"Of course," he acknowledged. "But this time I fear that they won't stop at mere words. The axis of power could be shifting."

"And you don't like the look of the new horizon?"

"Not one bit. I fear that the underhand way the release of O'Dowd was dealt with is just the tip of the iceberg." The Home Secretary turned to face Harry. "I had no idea that it was coming. No-one consulted me; although they should have. By the time I realised what was going on; I was powerless to do anything."

Harry pulled a face. "What do this breed of young and hungry idiots hope to accomplish by releasing O'Dowd?" He paused for a beat and turned to look at the Home Secretary. "I'm assuming it's the new breed, looking to sweep the cobwebs like you and me out of the way?"

The Home Secretary nodded. "There are rumblings within the house; I rather think they're hoping to cause some considerable upheaval by the end of the month. Quite what they think O'Dowd will do for them I don't know."

Harry took a mouthful of his own coffee, as he waited for a jogger to make their way past.

"I have proof that he's writing a book." Harry glanced quickly in the Home Secretary's direction. "I trust there are no skeletons to banish there for you?"

He shook his head. "O'Dowd has been given nothing but fair and reasonable treatment for the duration of his sentence."

"I have someone looking into the sort of people that O'Dowd would have dealt with back in his active days; just to see how far some of them have come. There may be a few political leading lights who'd prefer it if their previous sympathies didn't come to the fore."

The Home Secretary's eyes widened. "A few sympathies on the wrong side of the question?"

Harry paused before answering. "That would all rather depend on your view of the situation; but in essence ... Yes. I think someone is hoping to use O'Dowd to shake a few apples from the tree... and from what you're saying; I can't be certain that they don't want to have a go at the whole orchard."

The Home Secretary let out a long sigh. "When I was at school and told my career's teacher that I wanted to go into politics, he laughed at me. Told me that if I was lucky, and applied myself, I might end up head teller in a bank. You know what Harry; right now I'd give anything to be stuck behind a desk counting other people's money!"

Harry took another mouthful of coffee and watched the slow progress of the jogger as they made their way around the park.

"I think perhaps it's time I paid a personal visit to Mr O'Dowd. I have an officer working on his publisher; I think I need to go directly to the source."

"You think that's wise?"

"I think," Harry stated as he rose to his feet. "...that we don't have time to sit and wait for the hammer to fall. I'll be in touch, but I'd appreciate a call if anything more comes your way."

"Of course," the Home Secretary nodded, watching as Harry prepared to leave. "But do you think that next time we meet...it could meet somewhere a little warmer?"

"I hope you're not suggesting the fires of hell," Harry told him with a raised eyebrow. "Although when there's finally a changing of the old guard, I'm sure that more than a few of them will end up there!"

Ros bought the car to a halt and climbed out; taking care to avoid treading in the deep puddles that had formed in the potholes that pitted the length of the narrow road. Her thumb immediately pushed down on the button on the key fob; activating the security alarm. She had the feeling that if she was gone for more than a few minutes, she'd come back to find no car at all.

She glanced around at the tall brick buildings that seemed to hem her in on all sides. There was nothing welcoming about the dark redbrick facades. The windows on the six storey building were small and grimy, and the main door was controlled by an entry system; a barely legible panel screwed to wall told her that the company she wanted were based on the fifth floor.

She pressed the button for Waterhouse and moments later a whiny voice asked her what she wanted.

"I'm here for a meeting with Mr Burrows," she explained as patiently as she could, trying to ignore the heavy drops of rain that were beginning to fall.

"You'll have to make an appointment," the whiny voice came back. "We don't accept cold callers."

"I have an appointment."

"What's your name?"

"It's the one written on the appointments book in front of you," Ros turned up the collar of her coat in an attempt to keep the rain off.

"And you say you have a meeting?"

"I do, in fact I've said it three times now."

There was a pause on the other end. "…It's just that we don't accept unsolicited manuscripts," the voice finally told her.

"Trust me, I'm not here to try and get anything published." The rain began to get heavier and Ros decided that perhaps it was time to cut to the chase. "I've got an appointment with Burrows, I rang earlier…"

"Ms Hunt?"

There was a longer pause this time before the door clicked open, the receptionist realising that she was unlikely to win this particular encounter.

"If you'd like to come on up …" the receptionist began to explain but she was talking to empty air - Ros was already through the doors and heading for the staircase.

"It was good of you to see me," Ros smiled as she held out a hand. She'd ignored the receptionist as she entered the office and headed straight for the main room at the back. She could still hear the receptionist bleating about something behind her, but she quickly tuned her out and appraised the oily looking man in front of her.

He was wearing a grey suit that looked as though it was long overdue a trip to the dry cleaners and had probably not fitted him properly for at least two years. She extended a hand towards him.

Burrows hastily rose to his feet and wiped his hand on his suit jacket before grasping hold of Ros' hand and shaking it warmly; a thin layer of sweat already prickling on his forehead.

"My pleasure," Burrows replied honestly. "What can I do for you? You were a little vague on the phone."

Ros' smile grew. "Well, if I told you the reason for my visit, I don't think that you would have been quite so quick to roll out the welcome wagon. It is Mr Burrows, isn't it?"

Burrows looked around nervously. "Yes, I'm Burrows. What is it that you want?"

Ros took a seat; brushing away an invisible speck of dirt from her jeans. "It has come to the attention of my employers that you are offering a sum of money to Martin O'Dowd for details of his career as a bomb maker."

The worried smile on Burrow's face immediately became a scowl. "So what if I am? What's it to do with you?"

"Well I'm here to warn you...as a friend you understand...that entering into any sort of an agreement with a convicted murderer could result in a certain amount of...what shall we say? ...Unpleasantness for you."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

Ros stared down at her nails. "In my experience a threat is something that someone makes when they are uncertain of a particular outcome. I am here - out of the goodness of my own heart - to warn you that you will be placing yourself in a great deal of danger if you go ahead with the deal with O'Dowd."

Burrows sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "Now listen, whoever you are, I've been threatened by people far more intimidating than you, and I'll tell you exactly what I told them. I am not responsible for anything that writers I contract choose to put in their books. If you have an issue, then I suggest that you take it up with the author directly."

"Oh believe me; I will be. But first, I'm here to make you aware of the sort of trouble you will be getting yourself into if you do something as ill-advised as honouring the contract with O'Dowd."

Burrows smiled, although there was no warmth in the expression. "You think me a stranger to trouble? Far from it. I'm a crusader Miss ..." he let the sentence hang in the air, waiting for Ros to fill in the blanks. When she failed to supply a name, he simply grunted before carrying on. "... I fear no-one. Where there is a truth to be heard; my business gives it a voice."

"You give a 'voice' to any third rate lowlife with the ability to string a sentence together," Ros countered. "And I'm telling you that this particular venture is not a wise one."

"Well I'm willing to take the risk," Burrows growled, not liking the way that the conversation was going.

Ros pursed her lips. "On your own head be it, but don't be too surprised if things work out in ways that you don't want them to."

Burrows shook his head. "You can't bully me you know. I have people looking out for me, and one call to them will result in you being nothing more than a rather forgettable stain on the carpet."

Ros arched an eyebrow. "You think that you have powerful friends Mr Burrows; I wouldn't over-extend yourself. You don't know the cards that I'm about to place on the table."

Burrows shifted uncomfortably in his seat; his mask of bravado beginning to fracture. "Who sent you here?"

"Trust me," Ros assured him, giving him a wide smile. "It's no-one you know, but I'd be lying if I were to say that they knew nothing about you. They could hurt you Mr Burrows, and I mean really hurt you." She took in the expression of fear on his face. "We're not talking physical pain, not yet. We're talking about hitting you where it really hurts ... financially. Just how well do you think your books would stand up to a fingertip search? Just how many of the ... people ... that you do business with would appreciate being contacted and told that they have to provide detailed accounts of all their dealings with you?" Ros sat back in her seat and, with one finger, picked very delicately at a speck of dirt beneath her thumbnail. "You could end up being as popular amongst your clients as you are currently among high ranking members of the government. You are the forgettable stain on the carpet Mr Burrows, and it really wouldn't take much to remove you."

"Get out!" The words were spat from Burrows' mouth and Ros regarded him with a distinctly bored expression on her face.

"I have to say that it's been decidedly unpleasant meeting you. The only glimmer of a consolation is that the conversation has been mercifully brief. Now, I'll tell you the only thing that I'm going to. When the ex-colleagues of Martin O'Dowd come looking for blood, I will personally take great delight in telling them exactly where they can find you...I may even go as far as drawing them a map of the precise location." Without waiting for a reply from Burrows, Ros rose to her feet and stalked from the room.

Many thanks to those who have reviewed the story. I appreciate that the long fics aren't everyone's cup of tea.