Hmm, not sure the last chapter went down terribly well. Anyway, probably one more after this, then an epilogue. Thanks to all those still reading, and thanks for all the reviews. Kudos own most of this, though Lassie's creators might disagree with that.

~o00o~

Myers pinched his eyelids between thumb and forefinger.

'So let me get this straight. You want me to send in the cavalry on the basis of a van carrying the number plates of a Honda Civic, and someone being in a run down house that was possibly used by the IRA twenty years ago, and which is on land that has been sold for redevelopment?'

'And Scarlet...'

'And a yappy dog. Ms Evershed, have you any idea how preposterous that sounds?'

'It may sound preposterous, but it's the only lead we've got.'

He gave an exasperated snort. 'It's not a lead, it's the drug-fuelled fantasies of a recidivist who's read too many Boy's Own stories.'

Ruth's voice was dangerously quiet. 'That is uncalled for. And given the little matter of yesterday's bomb, don't you think CTC will want to know about any possible links, however tenuous?'

'Frankly, no. Look, if you want to send Dimitri and Beth over there to investigate, feel free; if they find anything, then we'll reconsider.'

'Reconsider?'

But the line was dead.

Carefully Ruth put the handset back in the cradle, and took a deep breath.

'What did he say?'

Her eyes remained fixed on her phone. 'He thinks it would be a wild goose chase.'

Tariq folded his arms. 'So what are you going to do?'

'Ask Beth and Dimitri to check it out.'

'But they're in Hillingdon just now, aren't they? The safehouse is north of Waltham Forest. It'll take them forever to get there. Can't we call in a favour with the local plods? Or at least see what CTC think?'

'I'm going to call Beth, then organise a pool car and get over there.' She hesitated. 'I'd better get something from the weapons store, just in case.'

'Woah, hang on a minute, this is not a job for an analyst, far less a pregnant one.'

'I'm pregnant, Tariq. I don't have a target on my chest.'

'But...'

'And I'm hardly likely to take any stupid risks, am I?'

'Eh, hello? Going anywhere near this place seems like a pretty stupid risk to me, and Harry would have my guts for garters if I let you go. Look, why don't you phone Beth, and I'll see if I can get the safehouse up on satellite; you can monitor things that way.'

Ruth's eyes blazed. 'Tariq, if I wanted to be patronised I'd stay in bloody Cheltenham. Yes, get it up on satellite, but if you think I'm going to sit on the Grid when there's a possibility that Harry is being held in that house, you want your bumps feeling.'

She picked up her phone and hit speed dial. 'Beth, it's Ruth.'

Suitably chastened, Tariq headed back to his desk. As he logged into the satellite feed, an icon flashed up on his desktop. He clicked on it, and read the accompanying message. 'Oh hell,' he breathed. He glanced across at Ruth, who was still on the phone, then turned his attention back to the satellite feed, clicking the button on his pen against his teeth as he waited for images from the area of the safehouse to appear. He said nothing when she hung up. Nothing as she walked past his desk en route to the weapons store. When she finally re-emerged, trying to work out how to put on a holster, he called her over.

'What?' She was still narked with him.

'When Graham gave me the list of the safehouses, I set up an All Forces Alert for them all. Standard procedure, just in case we go treading on anyone else's toes.' He paused. 'A 999 call has been logged for the steading. For the fire brigade. Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?'

Ruth stared at him. 'Have...have you got the satellite feed yet?'

Tariq nodded. 'It's just up. Going by the smoke, the building's well alight.' He sat back to let her see the monitor.

'Where's the van? I don't see any van. Tariq, I don't see any van.'

'My guess is they torched the place then legged it.'

Her breathing was ragged. 'Find that bloody van, Tariq. Use the satellite, use number plate recognition, I don't care what, just find that bloody van.'

'I'll let Traffic know too. They can keep a look out.'

Ruth nodded her thanks, and grabbing her jacket and mobile phone ran to the pods. By the time she reached the pavement, the pool car was drawing up to the kerb. As she sped north east, she switched on the hands free and called Graham. The phone rang out, then diverted to voicemail. Hoping he just hadn't heard it, despite her instructions to stay put til she called him, she waited five minutes then called him again. No response.

'Graham, if you're busy playing the hero, I'll bloody kill you,' she muttered. But deep down, she half hoped that he was.

~o00o~

Out of Greater London, and she relied on the Sat Nav, but from more than a mile away it was all too obvious where she was headed. A thick, black pall of smoke hung in the winter air. And then there was fire engines and ambulances and oh god, her car. She slowed and desperately scanned the roadside for any sign of Graham. A policeman was flagging her down. She eased to a stop and slid the window down. As the impossibly young face, rigid with formality, appeared in the gap she held up her pass. 'I think three of my colleagues may be in that building,' she said, monotone. She saw a flicker of 'oh, fuck' in his eyes, then his training kicked in. He indicated where she should park, and told her he'd take her to the Fire Chief. As they walked up the last stretch of road towards the steading, she could see firefighters damping down the fire in the outbuildings and inspecting the charred remains of the safehouse. A shuddering sob escaped, but her pace didn't falter. The Crew Commander saw them approach and moved away from his colleagues, looking at her, expecting her to speak. The policeman told him. He frowned. 'Three? The gentleman over there who called it in told us possibly two. Do you think there's three?' Ruth's eyes followed the direction of his finger, towards an ambulance, back doors open. Huddled inside, blackened, dishevelled, a blanket askew round his shoulders, was the unmistakeable figure of Graham.

As if on autopilot, Ruth turned and walked towards him. She was halfway there when he looked up and saw her. 'Ruth!' he croaked. Brushing aside the restraining arm of the paramedic he stepped out of the vehicle, and then he was holding her, and saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't, I tried, I just couldn't, it was too...it was too hot, it was...petrol, I think, I...'

She eased out of his arms. 'Are they in there? Do you know for sure they're in there?'

Numb, Graham shook his head. 'The van's gone. Maybe they've taken them someplace else. Or maybe they're in there. But they can't have survived it, Ruth, they can't...I mean, look at it!'

She cupped his face in her hands. 'They're made of strong stuff. They both are. Wherever they are, they'll be fine.' Aware of footsteps behind them, she let her hands fall, and turned. The Crew Commander. 'This is number three,' she told him. 'So it's just two. Possibly. One male, one female.'

He nodded. 'We're just establishing the structural integrity of the building and whether or not it's safe to enter. The back looks not too bad though; a combination of wind direction and possibly the lack of flammable materials to feed the flames. And luckily your colleague spotted the fire before it fully took hold.' He paused, then addressed them both. 'But that said, please don't get your hopes up. The heat was very intense, as I'm sure you can testify, sir. I'll let you know when we find anything.'

Somehow they found themselves in the back of a police car, Ruth with Graham's blanket around her; at some point Beth and Dimitri arrived, white faced and silent. 'Liaise with Tariq,' Ruth told him. 'We need to find that van.' Beth stood as near to the house as she was allowed, trying to listen into the chatter between the fire crew, her heart getting heavier with every minute that passed. When the crew finally went in, the lighting rig on the Incident Support Unit was bathing the building in an eerie, ghostly light. The other three, seeing the sudden flurry of activity, joined her. It was as if time slowed, and noise ceased. After what seemed an age they realised the firefighters were coming out. Then they saw the gurney. And the bodybag.

And Ruth screamed.

~o00o~

Sorry folks, and it's not going to get any cheerier any time soon. Chapter 13 will hopefully be up over the weekend, or early next week. Pesky work...