"You're free to go home now."

Lucas watched Ayla drag her gaze, the colour of liquid dark chocolate, from the cold table to his face as she let out the breath she had been holding since his arrival in the interrogation suite. However, her features soon moved from relief into suspicion.

"Why are you letting me go?"

"Well, you're going back to Istanbul but we'll be going with you," Lucas elaborated, taking a seat opposite her. "You bugged my jacket with a device so advanced that our technical bloke thought that Christmas had come early. Did you really think we wouldn't have any questions for you?"

Ayla blinked a couple of times and unclenched her jaw. "I was only doing what I was told to."

"By your husband?" asked Lucas.

"I didn't want to," she tried.

"By your husband?" Lucas repeated.

"Yes! My husband is very manipulative, as I'm sure you have discovered. He made me bug the jacket and he made me give myself up to you to tell you about the bomb. I had no choice," she said, suddenly sounding so tired.

"How do you think your sweet-faced innocence will play with the public when your terrorist husband strikes again?" asked Lucas coldly, leaning forward across the table.

"He controls me, Lucas. Everything about my life. My friends. My money. At first, I just did what he said because he paid me and it was easier not to ask awkward questions. But one day, I asked him where he worked and he smiled, took me by the hand and led me to that prison of his. And do you know who I saw?"

Lucas paused for a brief second before the painful truth dawned on him. "Zaf."

"Zaf," she confirmed. "Your officer. He looked so... I can't think of a word but it made me feel sick, and the man holding my hand was responsible. That's when I started asking questions, and that's when he realised that paying me wouldn't keep me on his side. He started to behave violently towards me as well as his prisoners."

"Why don't you leave him?" Lucas asked.

"I tried to, a year ago. He thought I had found another man. Do you know what he did?"

Lucas shook his head.

"He hunted down every man I ever dated and shot them dead. And then he told me he'd go for my friends next. And then my family."

Lucas watched the young woman return her eyes to the table top and couldn't help but pity her. From what they had experienced of Fahir so far, it didn't seem like an unlikely story and it was something they could always check. As for the woman herself, Lucas noted how she was struggling to meet his eyes and biting her lip nervously at having shared such a story.

"So, he made you work with him?" Lucas said, trying to understand. "Doing what? Deliveries? Meets?"

"Anything." Ayla sniffed and peeled her eyes from the table back to Lucas' face. "Collecting files from Kerem's surgery after hours. Doing surveillance on anyone he was suspicious of. He's incredibly paranoid."

"Do you know Kerem Polat well?"

"Very," began Ayla cautiously.

"What is it, Ayla?" Lucas coaxed.

"He's helping me leave Fahir. I went to him for stitches once after Fahir... hurt me." Ayla took a few seconds to gather some air and blink back a tear or two. "He said that my injuries and Fahir's DNA coupled with my confession and the deaths of my previous boyfriends would be enough to potentially convict him."

"So, you two were working against Fahir?" Lucas asked.

"Fahir never knew. But Kerem and Fahir believe the same things and Kerem agreed that he would complete the mission with him first, before - what's the expression you say? Stabbing him in the back."

"What things do they believe?"

"Kerem doesn't like the security services. His son got hurt in an operation – I don't know the details but he wants revenge."

"Against the entire service?" he pushed. She nodded.

"What about Fahir?"

"I'm not so sure. Kerem is very rich and he pays Fahir to help him."

Lucas sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand across his face. "Did you ever meet anyone else that Fahir worked with?"

"No. Only Fahir and Kerem."

"Ayla, listen to me. We can make sure that Fahir spends the rest of his life in a cell but we need you to help us."

"I will," she insisted.

"So tell me one last thing. Why did you tell us the bomb was for Oxford Street?"

A look of confusion crossed her face. "Because Fahir told me to. I didn't understand why he would want me to tell you where it was, though. Why give away its location if his intention was for it to go off?"

"There was no bomb at Oxford Street," Lucas said gently, fixing his eyes on her face to note her reaction. Surprisingly, her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in shock.

"It wasn't real?" Ayla asked in disbelief.

"No," said Lucas carefully, watching her breathe out and visibly relax.

"Lucas, please help me. Please sort this out. I'm afraid – I don't know what they might do next."

Lucas watched her face for a few more seconds before rising. "I'll be back in an hour."

...

He believed her.

Ayla had heard him being referred to as Lucas on the plane and so he couldn't use a pseudonym, and when she called him Lucas and asked for help it felt like a very sincere request. Her terror at talking about Fahir coupled with her relief at the news that the bomb was a fake seemed genuine. Lucas had also dug deeper with her file and found three men whom she had previously dated who had died under 'suspicious circumstances'.

Fahir had been deceiving Ayla. Telling her to tell them that there was a bomb, but not mentioning to her that it was all a smokescreen. She really was in the dark about his plot as much as they were, but her knowledge of Fahir and Dr Polat was indispensable to the team right now.

Harry had ordered Ros to bring Fahir in, but when he booked a flight back to Istanbul Harry abandoned his original plan thanks to Ros' reckless but doable suggestion of taking Fahir, Dr Polat and potentially the mole out in one swipe. It also seemed more of an attainable mission now that Ayla had informed Lucas that Dr Polat was about to turn against Fahir – tensions in their cosy little team would make them easier to target.

When Lucas told Ros to book an extra ticket for the flight, she didn't need to ask who the spare seat was for, just raising an eyebrow and saying: "Double date then – goody."