"You set me up!" George blustered as he burst into James's office. "Both of you... you set that wee mad creature out there to lie in wait and threaten me because we decided not to prosecute!"

"Oh that's right George, we planned our whole day-book around your unscheduled arrival," Steel dismissed, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Just so her first days in London wouldn't be a total loss."

Alesha was no more pleased than James, and added, "And she showed a lot more grace than some have when they've gotten the same news."

"I'm telling you," Castle protested, "she threatened me! She threatened the CPS with... I don't know what." His brow furrowed.

James was too disgusted to argue and sat down at his desk to continue other work. Alesha, however, rolled her eyes.

"Well what did she say that has you so wound up, then?" she asked. "She seemed calm enough when she left." Then she added under her breath, "Calmer than I'd have been."

"That's exactly what she did," George paced to James's desk and as the latter was still ignoring him he turned back to Alesha. "Muttering under her breath as if she were casting some dark spell."

"Oh for..." Alesha had had enough. "I've got work to do... James I'll be in my office."

"She said, 'this isn't over'," George declared as if making the key point in a closing argument. "She said I probably imagined it was, because she knew it had happened before. Then she muttered something unintelligible, and followed it quite plainly with words to the effect that it was important that I remember it is not over." As he sometimes did, George continued the conversation quite on his own, outmaneuvering any objections by appealing to reason. He stopped pacing and paused to lean on James's desk, to force him to pay attention.

"Now James you know I don't enjoy this sort of thing, especially not when it involves someone close to someone we know well and work with. Surely you must see..."

But James was only nodding here and there, not looking up from his papers.

"Yanks, always wanting to sue," George complained. Then he pulled up short. "James, she didn't mention trying to sue, did she?" Budget hearings were not far off and the last thing he needed was a litigious American with a grudge against the CPS to make things harder for him with the Home Secretary. This brought Alesha charging out of her office again.

"For heaven's sake she's only just arrived and pretty much the first thing she saw was her brother lying dead on a stretcher. She's barely managed to get a solicitor to help her settle her brother's bank accounts and the final sale of her mother's home... her mother died less than a year ago, by the way, and her father the year before that. She's on her way with Matt to pick up her brother's ashes, so I hardly think she's up to charging off in search of another solicitor to help her bring down the Crown with a failure-to-prosecute suit."

James, who in fact had been listening, suddenly felt something click in his head. Without looking up he commented with a casual shrug, "She's right, of course, George, Annie Roland hardly has the knowledge or wherewithal to attempt an American-style lawsuit here." He paused, and caught Alesha's eye. "Besides, Americans have begun to run to the press with things like this. Now that I think of it..." He left his papers and cocked his head as if trying to remember something more clearly. "She did say something about the inscription over the Old Bailey... that there must be others left in her position, maybe they could get together and demand truth in advertising... something about it being a betting parlour instead of a courthouse." Alesha's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"Good God. So that's what she meant." George's bluster evaporated, replaced by hesitation. "The press. Bloody hell." He'd rather face a football stadium full of hostile barristers than a mob of Fleet street vultures. He shook his head then, and pointed a finger at James.

"Fine then. Tilt at your latest windmill, but by God you'd better put together something to present that won't sound like Martian mouth music to a jury."

Now Alesha smiled, remembering how Gil Roland had once described his sister. "Annie Roland is among the greatest living translators of Geek to Luddite, according to her brother."

This knocked George down another peg. He'd quite forgotten that Alesha had met the victim and knew him, however slightly, through Matt Devlin. "Meaning no disrespect," he told her,"you knew him didn't you. Yes, well... I've got some work of my own to do..." He set off for his office, seeming disoriented by the sudden loss of dramatic momentum.

But James still wasn't satisfied. Rising smoothly he called after his boss, wearing the subtlest of Cheshire cat smiles, "Just so we're on the same page, George... you're saying go ahead with this." No question mark.

"Yes, James, we are on the same bloody page. Just try not to shred the balance sheet."

When George had gone Alesha almost doubled up with a laugh of disbelief. "My God James that was wicked, you know she didn't mean it that way!"

It was James's turn to roll his eyes. "You know as well as I do that there is a difference between misquoting and creative editing. I can't help it if George fills in the blanks against his own interest... now get back the files on the Roland case. Find out everything you can about Ralph Baxter and Homecoming Foundation and any other businesses he had. Also learn everything you can about the Rolands' company Web Wizards. Who were their other clients, I remember seeing something about a number of pro bono jobs for schools. I'll call MIU and track down Matt and Annie to let them know we're going forward." It was true, this wasn't the first time they'd had to face angry and bereft loved ones, but Annie Roland's quiet rebuke had struck him a little more sharply than some others.

After Alesha had retreated to her office to organize her research plans James sat down again and punched up MIU's phone number. As it rang he muttered to himself, "Betting parlour my arse... that'll be the day."

A/N: "mouth music"- a Scottish vocal style in wide use during the rule of Oliver Cromwell, when musical instruments were outlawed. It is a combination of Scots Gaelic and nonsense words, used as a substitute for instrumental music for dancing (which also was outlawed). Google "Norman Kennedy", a renowned master of the art to learn more...