The moral of this tale is - don't try and write anything vaguely canon around series 10 as the whole thing makes little sense and unravels whenever you pick at it! Never has a story perplexed me so much, so please bare with my efforts!
"He better be about to remedy this bloody ridiculous situation," hissed Towers, gripping the edge of his desk as if it was the only thing keeping him from levitating with agitation.
Erin smiled and nodded, before glancing at Ruth in a none too convinced manner.
The door opened and Ilya and Sasha Gavrik strode in, to be greeted with forced bonhomie from an overly compensating Home Secretary.
"I am so glad we can meet again, ambassador Gavrik. I am assured all will be resolved and that our two great nations can move on together once more."
"Of course, Home Secretary. For what is the forced abduction of a citizen between friends?"
Towers overblown pomposity was somewhat deflated.
Ruth hoped to god that whatever Harry was up to that he would get on with it.
On cue the screen before them burst into life. It was an image of a living room; low ceiling, thick stone walls, modest art work and neutral furnishings. The whole effect nestled somewhere lost between the traditional and the modern.
Into the room walked a casually dressed Harry Pearce.
"Harry, would you like to please explain what ..." Towers barked.
Elena Gavrik, casual, comfortable and most definitely at ease, followed him, holding two glasses of champagne. Towers tailed off.
"Elena," Gavrik called.
But neither she, nor Harry, had turned on hearing the voice.
They were voyeurs, not participants in the forthcoming scene.
"What the hell!?" Towers muttered.
"It's a one way link," said Erin.
Elena handed a glass to Harry, she stood close. Too close.
"Not that I will ever refuse a glass of bollinger, Harry, but what are we celebrating?"
He smiled, a warm charming smile, before whispering something in her ear.
She ran a hand gently down his arm and smiled seductively at him.
Towers shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Sasha's jaw set firm. Ilya remained impassive and watchful. Ruth glanced away briefly before forcing her eyes back to the screen.
"Indeed," said Harry, "we do have something to celebrate..."
Elena tilted her head, curious.
"The truth."
"Here we go," said a newly encouraged Home Secretary.
"We are going to celebrate the truth, Elena." Harry raised his glass, "I know it's about 30 years too late, but better late than never. Cheers!"