Wednesday 30th May 2007 - mid afternoon:

2007 is not shaping up to be a good year for Harry, but when Zaf Younis' remains turn up in London, it is a dark day. And then when a DNA test of the remains confirms that the mass of burnt flesh is, or had been Zaf, then Harry sinks into a deep chasm of self loathing and despair. He goes through all the `what ifs' as though identifying the exact moment when he had made a poor call could miraculously reverse the damage done. When he has been through every option, every decision, every meeting during which he had barked orders to members of his team, nothing changes. Zaf is still dead.

Harry has been relying upon junior analysts backed up by the analysis available from GCHQ, but he cannot continue to operate in this way. He needs a full time senior intelligence analyst. Deep inside himself, he acknowledges that what he really needs is Ruth. Having not had word of her now for nine months, she could be anywhere in the world. She may even have met someone else. Harry thinks it very likely that she's met someone else. She's young, intelligent, vibrant and beautiful. He'd be surprised had she not met another man, a man closer to her age, a man who suits her more than him, a man by whose association she will no longer have to suddenly leave her life behind her.

So, very reluctantly, Harry admits to himself that he should hire another senior analyst. It's probable that Connie James could fill Ruth's shoes, but every time he commits to calling to offer her the position, something stops him. He just can't do it. No-one, not even Connie, can fill Ruth's shoes. He will continue as before, relying on what limited resources are available to him. He relies heavily on Malcolm and his small team, and in the most difficult of times he relies on the analysts at GCHQ.

Harry lifts his eyes to gaze through the large window at his team, now reduced even further. Ben Kaplan is out with Adam, and Ros is seeing an asset, but Jo appears to be busy at her work station, eyes on her monitor. He could creep up without her seeing, but that wouldn't be fair. He calls her desk phone.

"Harry?"

"Can you come to my office ... now."

Not for the first time, Harry notices how gaunt Jo has become - gaunt and haunted. She has had to endure so much, and for that he feels terribly sad. The death of Zaf has hit her harder than most. "Sit," he says, pointing to the chair across from his own.

He waits until she appears comfortable. It is almost four weeks since Zaf's remains had been returned, and Harry hopes it is not too soon to be raising the subject of Zaf's contact with Ruth. Jo, however, is already ahead of him. "If this is about the phone Zaf had for keeping contact with Ruth ..." Harry nods, relieved that he is not having to raise the subject with her. "I've looked everywhere in the flat - every drawer and cupboard - and it's not there. I can only assume it was on him when he was kidnapped."

"So you don't know for sure that he took it with him to Tehran."

Jo shakes her head. "I've no idea. At the time he left he was preoccupied, and I was busy. We barely had time to say goodbye."

When Jo drops her head, Harry gives her a moment. As bad as he feels for putting his need for information about Ruth ahead of Jo's need for privacy, he can't allow such feelings to dominate. "I don't wish for Ruth to be another senseless loss from our team."

"I can't allow myself to believe Zaf's death is senseless," Jo says quietly, her large eyes holding his. "I'm still trying to weave a story around his death which ... makes sense."

Harry nods. He won't get any more from Jo. It's not fair of him to be pushing her.

"But ..." she adds, "if you like, I can take a closer look. There are a few places it could be. I didn't look under the floor coverings, or in the ceiling space."

"Thank you, Jo. I'd appreciate that."

"I miss her too, Harry," Jo says, as she stands in preparation to leave his office.


Less than an hour after Jo had left his office Harry receives a call from Lester Simms, a Personnel Officer at GCHQ. The news this man has for him should make Harry happy, even relieved, but he can't believe that Simms' offer of one of their intelligence analysts on short term contract has been made from a place of benevolence.

"She's the best we have, so we'd like her back," Simms says, an odd tone in his voice.

"So, if she's your best, why would you give her to us?"

"She should be there in an hour or so," is all Simms says.

"I suppose I should thank you for this, Lester," Harry says, before ending the call.

Privately, Lester thinks Harry Pearce is a paranoid bastard, while Harry wonders why, when the section has been short of a senior analyst for over nine months, they have waited this long to foist one upon them.


Almost two hours later Harry hears a sharp rap on his door, and looks up to see a smartly dressed woman, her straight, dark hair cut in a geometric bob, a brief case in one hand, her dark eyes trained on him. Harry stands, and forcing a smile, he reaches out to shake her hand.

"Ava Starke," says the woman, holding Harry's eyes.

"Harry Pearce."

"I know. Your reputation precedes you."

A smart arse. Just what I need.

Once he has summarised the section's current focus (which this woman seems to already know in some detail), Harry shows her to her work station - Ruth's work station - and along the way introduces her to Jo and Ros, both of whom greet her with contained politeness.

At six o'clock, Ava Starke again knocks on Harry's office door to announce her departure for the day. Her brief case is again in her hand, and her clothing still immaculate, as though she'd worked while standing up. "There's lots to do," she says, "so I'll be making an early start tomorrow."

Harry nods, wondering how early is `an early start'. He'll be back at his desk by seven, so he hopes she won't arrive any earlier than that.

Ten minutes later, Harry looks up to see Ros at the door to his office.

"Got a minute?" she asks.

Harry nods, pushing aside the pile of threat assessments which had been provided by GCHQ, a pile which seems to get higher, and more horrific as each day passes. Ros sits, and then crosses her legs carefully.

"Is she a plant?" Ros asks, and they both know of whom she speaks.

Harry waits, watching her closely. He knows he can trust her with his life if need be. "I have to assume she is. Do we know anything about her?"

"I have Jo working on that," Ros replies, glancing out onto the Grid, where Jo is at her desk, eyes on her monitor. "I've asked her to make a dossier on the woman. I don't trust any analyst who dresses like a lawyer."

Harry smiles a slow smile. He couldn't agree more. "The timing of her arrival is strange," he muses. "Were she to be looking to connect us to Oliver's sudden demise, then why mingle with us shoulder to shoulder? It's not as though any of us is likely to get close to her. I need you to keep an eye on her, Ros."

"I already am, and I'll keep you posted."

Harry sits forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "I forgot to ask. Have all traces of Ruth been removed from her desk?"

Ros nods. "The day she left." Ros stares at Harry, a frown puckering her forehead. "Do you suspect this to be about Ruth?"

"It's possible. It could also be about me."

"Or me," Ros adds.

"Why? What have you done?"

"What haven't I done?" Ros quips, one eyebrow raised.

Harry smiles. "I'll expect a verbal report at the end of each week."


Friday 8th June 2007 - mid afternoon:

Harry is relieved when Ava Starke arrives at seven-thirty each morning, and leaves by six each evening. She is quick and efficient, and does her job without drawing attention to herself, which is both desirable and worrying in equal measure. He finds himself watching her, just to determine whether her focus is on her job, or what goes on in the office space around her. Her contribution to morning meetings is almost as valuable as Ruth's, and the written reports which make their way to his desk are concise and organised, although he admits to himself that he misses the little notes in the margin Ruth had often penciled in as explanation or afterthought. He is still musing about his new analyst when Ros enters his office unannounced.

"Rosalind," he says, clasping his hands together on his desk.

"This is the first of my verbal reports on Ava," she says quietly, perhaps believing that the new analyst had bugged his office. "Jo hasn't found anything we can hold over her, other than a dead husband."

"Unless he died at her hand, then we don't even have that."

"He managed a construction company, rather successfully it seems. Something to do with concrete. He died in a pile-up on the M5. That was in 2002. She's lived alone since, and appears to have no social life to speak of, other than twice monthly visits to her parents, and a sister and brother-in-law."

"Mmm," Harry murmurs. Curioser and curioser. "And her work history?"

"The usual. She graduated from Cambridge in 1985, from where she was headhunted by the scouts at GCHQ. She's bright, dedicated and efficient, and she became a team leader before she turned thirty."

"And she's a widow," Harry muses.

"Is that significant, do you think?"

"I've no idea, but it may be." He waits, gazing out at the Grid before continuing. "It appears to me that apart from being several years older than Ruth, her career trajectory is similar."

This time Ros catches on. "So she's spying on the section as a whole."

Harry nods. "I think that's a fair bet."

"Then I'll keep a closer eye on her," Ros says, standing.

"Just not too close. She's bright. We don't want to give ourselves away, and before you go ... can you send Jo to me?"


When his office door slides open, Harry looks up. It appears to him that Jo Portman becomes less substantial, and more sylph-like as the days pass. It is as though, with the death of her closest friend, she is slowly joining him. Harry knows better than to mention his observations.

"Sit, Jo," he says, and she quickly sits.

"If this is about Ava, then I've -"

"It's not. We still have to watch Ava, but I need to know if you've found anything in your flat -" and when Jo begins to slowly shake her head, he stops.

"Sorry, Harry, but I've barely had time, and when I get home I only have the energy for a shower, and then bed. I'll take a look this weekend ... if I can." Jo stops, lifting her eyes from her hands to her section head. "I've been thinking about where Zaf might have hidden a phone, and ... there are a lot of places. I'll begin looking tomorrow."

Harry stands, walking around his desk to her side. "Thank you, Jo. Take your time. Another week or two won't make much difference."

Jo has stood, and is watching him closely. "It will if she's in danger, Harry. We just don't know. I care about Ruth, and I know you do, too."

Feeling a surge of emotion from within his chest, Harry coughs and then swallows. "Thank you, Jo. I appreciate what you're doing."

Then with a smile which reminds him of the eager young woman she'd once been, Jo quickly leaves the office.


Tuesday 12th June 2007 - 7.24 pm:

Harry buys the second round of drinks. Ava had bought their first drinks, since, in her words: `I was the one who asked you for a drink.' He's drinking whiskey, while hers is a vodka and tonic. He still doesn't know why she'd asked him to have a drink with her, but he's eager to find out.

"We could be having this conversation in my office," he says, placing their drinks on the table before he sits.

"But I thought this less formal."

"I'm not in the habit of doing this," he says at last, refusing to rise to her bait. If she has something to say, then she'd better say it, and soon.

"I've heard that you ... like to forge close ties with your staff -"

"Only for bonding purposes. You know as well as I do that a team who respects and trusts one another is better equipped to weather a crisis."

Ava appears to chew over his words, her dark eyes cast downwards. She really is an attractive woman - an attractive enigma. Were his affections not elsewhere he still wouldn't be tempted to meddle with her. In Harry's experience, women like Ava Starke are almost always hiding something deep and complex.

"I've been watching you," she says at last, her eyes on her drink, which she swirls around, the ice clinking cleanly against the sides of the glass. When at last she lifts her eyes to his there is a softness in them, which Harry recognises as a prelude to seduction. He is immediately on his guard, his senses alert. "You're a fine leader," she says at last, "and your team members clearly trust you, despite you giving away nothing of yourself." Harry waits. She's sure to follow a comment like that with more. "I like a man who can keep his true thoughts to himself. My preference is for strong men ... leaders. My late husband was a leader." She takes a sip from her glass. "I'm wondering how your last analyst dealt with that."

"How I worked with my last analyst is none of your business."

"There's a rumour doing the rounds at GCHQ that she was much more to you than just an analyst."

"I've heard most rumours begin and end at that place, so their substance is bound to be questionable."

Ava drops her eyes, and he sees the smile on her lips. "It's just that your reputation is more than of you being a hard man, Harry." This time, when Ava looks up, her eyes are soft, her smile beckoning him. The younger Harry would likely have been drawn into her web, ignoring any consequences arising from such foolishness.

Harry knows where this conversation is headed, and he has no interest in pursuing it further. Very carefully he places his glass on the table. It is a small table, and were he so inclined he could reach across and take her hand. He has no intention of touching Ava. She holds no appeal for him. A part of him would love to remove the carefully applied makeup, muss up her hair, and put her in some casual clothes, just to see the real person beneath the caricature.

"I have little interest in idle gossip," he says at last.

"So I've noticed."

"You are an analyst, and a good one."

Ava appears to ignore his compliment, gazing into her drink. She takes her time before replying. "I learned early in my life that if you really want something, you have to get it yourself." She glances quickly at Harry, and then again drops her eyes. "I believe in what I'm doing."

"I can see that," Harry says carefully, all the while wondering where she is leading them. He suspects that she is attempting to soften him, to put him off guard.

Ava suddenly appears coy and shy. "I didn't want this assignment. I'd heard about this section, and when this job was offered to me, at first I refused. The contract was meant to have started a month ago, but no-one wanted it, especially me. Section D is seen as a ... disaster. So much happens to the operatives, and so many operations end badly." Ava lifts her eyes to his for just a moment, and he recognises this as practised modesty. "But then someone told me that you were head of section, and I just ... had to take the job. After all, you only live once."

Harry suddenly thinks that if this woman is faking it, she's good, and perhaps would be better suited to Hollywood. In the same moment as he reaches to grasp his drink, Ava Starke's hand darts out and settles over his. There is a moment - no more than an instant - when he considers going along with what she has planned for him, if only to hope for a moment of truth from her, one in which he can discover what it is she's really up to. In the following instant he reacts, removing his hand from beneath hers, while staring across the table at her, his expression giving away little. "I'm sure you're aware you've just stepped over a line, Ava."

Instantly, as though she'd been expecting his reaction, she is apologetic, quickly removing her hand. "I don't want to get you into trouble."

"And you won't," Harry replies quickly. "On the wall behind you is a CCTV camera, while over there," and he points to the fascia above the bar across the room, "is another camera. Were you to have claimed any kind of ... bad behaviour on my part, those cameras would have proven you wrong. In less than two minutes, I will leave. I don't know exactly what your game is, but I can guess. I am not a pushover. I take my job and my staff seriously, and they depend on me, and deserve my respect." Harry then stands, and closes two buttons on his jacket. "I'll expect you as usual in the morning. Goodnight," he says before he quickly turns from her, and leaves.

Out on the street, he hails a taxi, and then once settled in the back seat, he calls Ros.

"Harry," Ros says on answering, "I saw you leaving the Grid after work with Ava. What did she want?"

"I didn't hang around to find out, but I suspect she was after my body."

Harry holds his phone away from his ear while Ros laughs a little too heartily. Bloody woman. What he needs right now is to be able to talk to the very woman he is unable to contact.

"So she tried - unsuccessfully, I take it - to sully your reputation."

"It seems so, and in so doing, to eventually lead to the dissolution of Section D."

"Over my dead body," Ros replies.

Harry smiles into the darkened taxi. "I was hoping you'd say that."