Back at home – 10 hours later

Harry blinked hard as he slid the key into the lock.

His senses felt deadened and numb as he fumbled with the small piece of metal; his mind might still be whirling around at an incomprehensible speed, but his limbs had stiffened with fatigue, and there was a throbbing ache burning just behind his eyes.

The team had spent the early hours of the morning trawling through all the files they had concerning both Mace and Ruth, liaising with any contacts in Eastern Europe who might be able to help. They had worked and worked and drawn blank after blank. In the end, Ros had taken it upon herself to order both Harry and Adam home to 'for God's sake, get some sleep – you're no use to anyone in this state, no use to…her'.

And now Harry found himself dazedly shaking his head as he swung the front door open.

It hit him immediately nonetheless – even in his muffled state – someone was in his house.

He crossed the threshold quietly, cursing his own slightly clumsy movements as he did so. He could see through a crack in the doorway of his study that his desk lamp was on. Whoever was waiting for him was waiting in there.

Rolling his eyes and massaging his temples, he clicked the front door shut. He knew that he had pulled this trick on other many a time, and he really should have expected a taste of his own medicine, but not today. Not this morning.

He threw his keys into a bowl on the side. Frowning at Scarlet's peacefully sleeping form as he passed her basket; he crossed over to his study, and taking a quiet breath, entered it.

"Good evening, Harry."

At the sound, Harry felt rage pulsate immediately through his body, starting from the pit of his stomach and trickling out to his fingertips. He could have put his fist through concrete at that moment. But he knew that he couldn't let it show. It was a battle of wits he'd have to win this time.

"Oliver."

For a moment, both men regarded one another blankly, with eyes like black holes.

But the moment passed quickly. Harry loosened his tie, and settled on the small sofa on the other side of the room, not once taking his eyes off of Mace.

"You fed my dog?"

"Well, I'm not a complete pig," replied Mace with a dry smile. He was sat at Harry's desk, flipping through some leaves of paperwork he had found in one of the drawers.

Harry suspected that he had been there for quite some time. The thought made him feel sick.

"Not a pig, no," Harry said, returning the smile with one of his own – an acidic expression that didn't reach his eyes, "More a snake, I think. Or a rat, perhaps, or vulture. Or one of those disgusting things that live in lakes. What are they called?" He frowned for a moment. "Ah, yes. Eels."

Oliver's grin remained unaltered. "You are venomous without your afternoon nap, aren't you?"

"Only honest," replied Harry, putting on an admirable show of cheeriness. "Venom was always more your forte. What have you been doing with yourself lately, anyway?" he added pointedly, dangerously.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at Harry's tone, but answered anyway. "Put it this way. For every dastardly deed I've performed, I've secreted a hundred insurance policies in various places."

In his mind's eye, Harry saw – for a fraction of a second – the black, leather-bound notebook which, at this very moment, sat in a safe deposit box.

"I suppose that was only to be expected. So, you cut a deal?" His tone was queasy as he posed the question.

Oliver nodded, and interlaced his fingers. "I told a few tales, named a few names, and in return for my cooperation, I was flown out to a lovely, warm island to live out my days in quiet disgrace."

"Drinking cocktails and seducing naïve waitresses – that sort of thing?"

"Naturally. And I was rather enjoying it all, truth be told."

Harry frowned. This conversation was not going as he had foreseen; he had expected threats, blackmail. It was too much of a coincidence that Mace was here now, and yet, he seemed completely oblivious as to what was going on.

"I'm getting bored with this now, Oliver." He leaned forward in his seat as he spoke. "I know you have Ruth, and what's more, my team knows it too. Now, I will not hesitate to kill you if you don't return her immediately."

Here, Mace displayed an expression which Harry could not remember ever seeing on his face before. It was complete and utter confusion.

It was the expression of a man who didn't know what was going on.

"Harry, I don't 'have' Ruth. I don't know what you're talking about." His frown deepened. "I was here to ask you for a favour."

"A favour?"

"Yes." Here, he reached into his coat, and withdrew a slim file. "I brought this with me as a bargaining chip."

Harry didn't need Oliver's next utterance to put the pieces together. He only needed to see the edge of the photograph sticking out of the pale binder.

"I was going to help you clear her name."