"Are you well enough for this?" Harry asked worriedly, sliding the spare dress Grace had found for them over the top of Ruth's head.

"We haven't got much choice, have we?" She murmured.

Due to the urgency of the situation, she abandoned all concerns regarding modesty and allowed him to zip up the back. The dress, which was nearly three sizes too big for her now that her pregnancy was over, hung limply off her shoulders. She didn't mind. It was very good of Grace to lend her her own clothes. Her arms were very sore and swollen, only minutes ago having been hooked up to an array of wires. She winced as Harry slipped a scratchy woollen cardigan and a heavy duffle coat over the raw skin.

"Sorry." He muttered, kissing her temple in apology before adding, "But you know there's always another option."

"Handing ourselves in and going to prison for treason?"

"Yes." He admitted. "But at least you and Charlotte would be given the time you need to recover."

"And what would happen after that?" Ruth whispered fearfully. "Charlotte would probably be taken into care; she'd grow to believe her parents didn't love her."

"No." Harry negated firmly. "We'd never let that happen. Our friends would never let that happen."

"You can't know that."

It was true. He couldn't.

"So we're doing this?" He checked, tucking a lock of dark hair back behind her ear.

"It seems so."

Harry flashed her a soft smile – a smile he reserved only for her – and got up off the bed, heading towards the crib. Grace, a miracle-worker to the end, had sourced a sleepsuit, a bumper bag of nappies, several bottles and sterilising equipment and a whole pile of soft blankets – plus some medication for Ruth. Charlotte was still fast asleep as he gently lifted her out of the cot, holding her close whilst he swathed her in a blanket. He came and sat back down next to Ruth, who was gradually turning paler and paler now that she was not hooked up to the constant supply of painkillers. She shifted on the edge of the bed and caught her still-tender caesarean scar, causing her to flinch.

"Ruth – " He began concernedly.

"Poor little thing." She whispered, desperate to divert his attention away from her sorry state. She ran a light finger over the lump in the blanket where Charlotte's hand was nestled. "What sort of life has she come into?"

"Ruth," He murmured, stooping slightly to get her to meet his eyes. "It really is going to be alright. We'll take care of her. She won't be dragged into this... awful quagmire of pain we've come to believe is normality."

Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Grace entering. In a sharp contrast to Ruth, her face was beetroot red, flushed from rushing to and fro to help them.

"There's a man coming down the corridor." She gabbled, her soulful eyes wide with alarm. "Black coat – looks official."

Harry nodded grimly. Ever since Grace had told them that she had overheard the midwife-from-hell calling the authorities, he had been expecting this. Dimitri had sent him a text telling him to get ready to move; that he was sending help. But apparently, the cavalry had arrived before their rescuer could reach them. Either that or there were some agents left of Levrov who were thirsty for revenge.

"Right." He said, transitioning easily into Section Head mode. "You'd better leave, Grace. Thank you for everything you've done. We owe you a great debt. Believe me, we won't forget it. But you need to get out now so you can have plausible deniability."

"But – "

"Nurse, please!" He growled impatiently. "If he catches you, you'll be charged with aiding and abetting. Go. Now."

Grace hesitated, pursing her lips as she considered his words. Eventually, she nodded.

"Fine. But promise me no violence. I have a good idea of what you Spooks are capable of."

"I can't always promise no violence." Harry stated steadily. "But I can promise no killing."

Grace smiled wryly, "I suppose I'll have to take what I can get." She nodded briefly to the mysterious couple whose love story had intrigued her so much. "Take care, you two. And absolutely make sure that you take care of that baby."

"We will." Harry answered surely.

"She'll be the most loved little girl in all the world." Ruth added softly.

The nurse's smile widened. "I don't doubt that."

They heard purposeful footsteps striding closer, and Harry shooed Grace towards the door.

"You must go. Now."

And so, with a final nod, the nurse left, scurrying down the corridor in the opposite direction of the unfriendly-looking man.

"Are you strong enough to hold her?" Harry asked Ruth.

There was no uncertainty in her eyes as she held out her arms for her baby. "Yes."

As swiftly yet as gently as possible, Harry settled Charlotte in his love's arms and unfastened the tie from around his neck. Gripping each end with two tight fists, he positioned himself behind the door and waited.

Hearts thumping, they both watched the metal handle pull down. A split second later, a tall man dressed in a black peacoat stepped cautiously into the room. He barely had time to let the door swing shut behind him before Harry lunged at him from the back. He swept the stranger into a tight stranglehold with his tie and held on fast. A beat later, the thin strip had formed a noose around the neck and was quickly choking the breath from his opponent.

Ruth frowned, having the advantage of being able to identify their assailant from the front. The primly cut dark hair and bushy eyebrows were distinctly familiar. And then it hit her. Oh my God. Her eyes darting between the two men, she called as loudly as she dared without waking Charlotte and drawing unwanted attention from outside the room:

"Harry! Harry, stop!"

Chest heaving from the combination of adrenaline and exertion, Harry did as she bade, glancing bewilderedly over at her. Her expression was an odd mix of confusion and horror. He didn't understand. Why was she stopping him from protecting them? Then he realised: he had made a promise not to kill. Somewhat reluctantly, he relinquished his grip on the tie and watched his opponent fall to his knees, gasping for breath and massaging his reddening neck. Harry hastily stepped over him and hurried towards his family.

The voice that suddenly emanated from the stranger made him stop dead.

"Thank you, Ruth."

His usually deep voice sounded a little worse for wear after the damage inflicted on his throat, but it was nonetheless unmistakable – and very much a blast from the past. Blinking several times to check that he wasn't dreaming, Harry turned slowly to face the other man. There, large as life, and kneeling on the linoleum floor, was Tom Quinn.

"Tom." He greeted, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Harry." The other man rasped. "The last time I saw you, you decommissioned me. The next time I see you (or rather don't see you), you try to kill me. A man can get a complex, you know."

"I... didn't know it was you."

Tom rolled his eyes irritably, "I bloody well hope not."

Too terrified to move for fear of dropping Charlotte, Ruth continued to perch on the edge of the bed.

"Are you okay, Tom?" She asked anxiously.

"Oh yeah – I'm dandy, Ruth." He croaked, getting to his feet. "You two, on the other hand, seem to have gotten yourselves into a fine mess."

Ruth blushed, wondering faintly if she had passed out on her pain medication. This reunion was surely the stuff of dreams. Or perhaps nightmares. Or, most likely, somewhere in between. She felt like she had been transported back to 2003. Tom Quinn certainly hadn't aged all that much. And for some reason, despite her long journey into seniority on the Grid, now that she was once more under his piercing scrutiny, she felt like the awkward, mousy office girl again. The one who had worn bright, mismatching clothes, too much make-up, and hadn't quite managed to fit in. The one who had reluctantly spied for GCHQ due to her political and emotional, naivety. The girl who had been so desperate to please Tom after he showed her kindness and overlooked this terrible mistake. That was, until he shot Harry. Then her loyalties became divided. And she sided with Harry. It was at that awful moment that Zoe had called to tell her that Harry had been shot that she realised she had been developing feelings for him.

"How...? Why are you here?" She asked weakly.

Tom raised an eyebrow, his hawkish eyes flicking to Harry. "He didn't tell you?"

"There wasn't time." Harry murmured, shooting Ruth an apologetic grimace. "It's complicated."

"Things usually are with you, Harry." Tom commented. "Long and short of it, Ruth, is that I'm now a private contractor. I was contacted by some friends of yours. They told me you that you needed to get out of the country. I wasn't surprised considering the two of you are currently topping London's Most Wanted." He glanced down at Charlotte, who was still sleeping on obliviously in her mother's arms. "What was a little more shocking was hearing your news."

"Her name's Charlotte." Ruth whispered, not entirely sure why she was revealing this.

"Nice name." Tom acknowledged, his face as unreadable as ever. "Means 'free person', doesn't it?"

Ruth couldn't help the expression of surprise, "Yes, it does."

"Hmm." He hummed. "Apt."

"We thought so."

And then, out of the blue, Tom smiled. A genuine, warm, sincere smile. "It's good to see you again, Ruth."

"It's good to see you too, Tom."

And she meant it. Even though he had once shot Harry, which in turn upset her very much, she had understood his reasons for doing so and had never retained any animosity towards him. It was nice to see Tom Quinn alive and well, and it was refreshing to see a familiar face from the Grid. A person who had not been swallowed up and spat back out quite as much as most. A person who had lived and instead managed to move on with his life. She only hoped he was happy.

But as quickly as the sweet moment came, it ended, Tom's face reverting to its usual blank canvas. He nodded derogatively towards Harry.

"Don't know what you're doing with this one though."

"And here was me thinking you might be happy to see me." Harry muttered, disgruntled.

"Bearing in mind you just tried to strangle me, let's reserve judgement on that, shall we?" Tom replied coolly, marching past his former boss. "Now let's get you out of here. Company will be arriving in a few minutes."

He bent down beside the bed, assessing Ruth's condition and the fragility of the baby in her arms.

"Can you stand?"

"Yes, I think so." She said determinedly, passing Charlotte over to Harry.

Leaning heavily on Tom's shoulder she managed to lever herself upright. She bit her lip and took a tentative step forward. Then another. On the third step, her knees buckled from under her. Had Tom not been supporting her, she would have crashed to the floor. She whimpered as she went down, her near-fall having placed an uncomfortable amount of pressure on her recovering abdomen.

"Ruth!" Harry cried, lurching forwards.

"I've got her, Harry. Just look after the baby and get the rest of that stuff." Tom ordered, nodding towards the rucksack on the floor, stuffed with baby supplies.

Ruth shook her head despairingly, feeling utterly useless. Tom slipped a hand under her knees and shoulders and lifted her easily into his strong arms, carrying her to the door like a sleeping child. Harry stared dejectedly after them, feeling nearly as useless as his partner. Sighing, he shrugged the rucksack onto one shoulder and secured his daughter between his arms and chest.

"There's a fire exit we can use just across the corridor. My car's parked right outside." Tom muttered.

He opened the door a crack and peered outside. A couple of nurses passed by, chatting animatedly. They rounded the bend and disappeared from view. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Tom hurried out into the corridor, Harry following closely behind.

Erin and Dimitri met CO19 outside the hospital entrance. Their commander Simon Worrall was directing the team to various entrances and exits, keeping only two men by his side. Dimitri had known Simon for a good few years – before he had even joined the service. He was nearly ten years his senior, balding but incredibly muscular. Most importantly, he was a good man and a stickler for getting the job done.

"Simon. Where are we at?" Dimitri asked as Erin slid the OBBO van door closed.

Worrall acknowledged Dimitri with a brief nod, "Seven possible exits. Six fire doors and the main entrance. I've sent men to each exit so they'll have them covered if the targets try to run."

"Cal." Erin called over her earpiece. "Get me eyes on every entrance or exit."

"Didn't you used to work for Harry Pearce, Dimitri?" Worrall frowned, and the younger man could see the foreboding in the commander's expression.

"Yes," He admitted, plastering on his best cold expression. "But that was before he committed treason."

That seemed to be enough for Worrall. "Fair enough. Just wanted to check you're committed to this."

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Suddenly a crackle broke out over the CO19 radio feed, followed by an urgent cry.

"Targets spotted! Repeat – targets spotted. Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed leaving via the South-East fire exit. They were escaping as we got there."

Dimitri and Erin's hearts literally stopped. It was all they could do to keep a dispassionate face.

Worrall's men looked about set to high-tail it round to the South-West side of the hospital, but their commander held up an authoritative finger, effectively halting them.

"Just Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed?" He questioned suspiciously.

"They should have a baby with them." Erin added hastily to keep up appearances. She only hoped she wasn't jeopardising Harry and Ruth's escape.

Worrall nodded appreciatively, "Is there a baby with them?"

There was a split second's pause.

"Yes." The voice sounded back. "There's what seems to be a baby wrapped in blankets in Ruth Evershed's lap. Evershed's in a wheelchair. Pearce is wheeling her towards the car with a PK02 XBS registration."

"That's the car CCTV caught Harry driving a few days ago." Calum informed Erin over the comms, his voice shaking slightly.

Praying that their plan was going to work, Dimitri repeated Calum's words to Worrall.

"Right." The balding commander uttered firmly. "Use any force necessary to stop them."

"But sir, the baby – " The faceless voice began.

"These are dangerous criminals, Harwood." Worrall snapped. "They've committed treason."

"They're getting into the car."

"Well bloody stop them!" Worrall roared.

Several yells and gunshots were audible over the radio, followed by a screeching of tyres. Dimitri could not help but shoot a quick glance at Erin. His heart was truly in his throat, and if the tension in her face was anything to go by, so was hers. A few seconds later, the shots tapered off.

"Sir, the target is on the move."

"Shit!" Worrall swore before ordering urgently: "All men fall back to the vehicles. Target is on the move. Repeat – target is on the move."

"Chuck us a radio." Erin instructed, and Worrall didn't hesitate to comply. "Follow us. We can track them via CCTV."

Within minutes they were all in hot pursuit of Harry's stolen vehicle, Dimitri at the wheel of the OBBO van, with CO19 following closely behind. Very much aware that they could not share any personal feelings due to the radio broadcasting their conversation, they stuck mainly to their 'roles'. Periodically, Calum would shout out directions and shortcuts, whilst Dimitri reluctantly followed them. After about 11 miles, Erin finally caught sight of Harry's car.

"There! PK02 XBS – in the left-hand lane. He's just turning onto... shit!"

"What?" Worrall radioed back.

"They're turning onto a street that leads to Erith Pier."

"They're going to catch a boat." Dimitri surmised.

"Step on it, Di."

Harry must have caught sight of them in his rear view mirror, because as he turned towards Erith Pier, he gradually sped up. Dimitri did the same, opening his window and attempting to flag his former boss down. But the other man paid him no mind. If anything, he accelerated. And as they turned the corner, bypassing the embankment and looming perilously close to the water, everything happened at once. From out of nowhere, travelling in the opposite direction, a black delivery van turned the bend too, causing Harry's car to swerve out of control. It went spinning back behind the larger vehicle, whilst Dimitri launched the OBBO van into an emergency stop.

"Shit!" Erin screeched as they missed the delivery van by a hairbreadth.

Calum, who had not been wearing a seatbelt, was sent sprawling on the floor. A beat later, they felt one of the CO19 vans lurch into the back of them. The crunching sound of metal on metal rang through their ears, and though the crash was not as impactful as it might have been, it left them all a little shaken. They soon overcame their shock, however, they when heard an enormous whooshing noise, followed by the sight of water gushing fifty feet into the air.

"Target in the water." Erin gasped out, her heart beating off the scale. "Repeat – target is in the water."

Dimitri shook himself off and got out of the van, running towards the scene, with several CO19 officers hotfooting it behind him.

"Cal, you okay?" Erin asked, trembling as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"I'm okay." Her friend muttered, clambering up off the floor, rubbing his wrist. "Check on the car."

Erin didn't wait to be told twice. She leapt from the van and stumbled over to the pier edge. The armed officers were lined up, weapons pointed at the water. She was just in time to see the top of Harry's car disappear into the murky depths of the Thames. Worrall got there not long after her.

"Shit!" He growled, immediately stripping off his protective gear and boots. "Harwood! With me."

The man who had apparently been on the other end of the radio back at the hospital, followed his commanding officer's lead. He too shed most of his clothes and together they dived into the water.

Erin seized hold of Dimitri's arm. "Do you think they – ?"

He squeezed her hand, but said nothing. Calum materialised beside them, remarkably silent. He was still clutching his wrist which, now that Erin looked, was sporting painful-looking, mottled purple bruising. She placed a hand on his shoulder and together, the three of them waited.

After nearly a minute and a half, the two C019 officers popped back up to the surface spluttering and gasping for breath. Within seconds they were down again. The next time they came up, they didn't attempt to go back down again. And they were alone. Neither Harry, nor Ruth, nor Charlotte were with them. Assisted by their colleagues, they scrambled back up onto the pier and Worrall shook his head gravely at Dimitri and Erin.

"They were in there. They were in there, but I couldn't get to them." His voice broke slightly, causing Dimitri to duck his head, guilt overpowering his chiselled features. "They were sinking fast and... the doors wouldn't open and... "

The balding CO19 commander shook his head and trailed off, a similar expression of sorrow in his eyes. Erin, still in shock, switched herself to automatic – the persona she used to reassure Rosie even when she knew that things were far from okay.

"You did your best." She said quietly. "You couldn't do any more than that."

Worrall nodded, though he didn't look like he believed her for a second.

"You'd better call a diving team." He advised monotonously.

He was just about to turn back towards his men, who were hovering uneasily, waiting for direction, when a thought seemed to strike him.

"Why did you suddenly stop?" He asked Dimitri.

Dimitri pointed listlessly at the black delivery van parked unevenly across the corner stretch. The driver, dressed in a beanie, scruffy jeans and a uniform fleece was standing stock still in front of his vehicle, horror etched across his face.

"I see." Was all Worrall said.

He offered them a grimace which translated as 'I'm sorry I couldn't do more', before moving away to speak to his men.

Erin had called out the diving team and the clean-up team. Their ETA was in about twenty minutes. CO19 were still present, though she suspected not for much longer. There wasn't a lot left for them to do, except sort out their banged-up van and hand over to the divers. She sighed and looked out at the grey clouds billowing over the murky water. The grimness of the day was very much reflected in her demoralised friends. Dimitri's head was still bowed, whilst Calum was wincing every ten seconds or so.

"Let me have a look at that arm, Cal."

"No."

"Don't be a baby."

He flinched as she pressed her fingers in a pincer movement up and down his wrist.

"It might be broken."

"Great." He muttered cheerlessly.

"You'd better get to a hospital. Di, go with him."

"You can't be serious." Dimitri spluttered incredulously. "I can't leave now. Look what's just happened!"

"I know what's just happened." Erin snapped. "I saw what happened, and I felt it too! Calum might also have a broken wrist because of it. So don't go down that road!"

Dimitri huffed out a breath, staring at her mutinously. Several members of CO19 glanced over at them, their attention piqued; Worrall's too. Despite Pearce's betrayal, his old team were rightfully stunned and upset by his sudden, unexpected demise, and Worrall was quick to recapture his men's attention. It was only right for this to be a private moment between the three young Spooks.

"Look, Di." Erin tried again, her voice softer this time. "You're upset, but it's just going to make things worse for everyone if you stay here. Get a taxi. Take Calum to the hospital. I'll sort things out here. As Section Head it's my job now, anyway."

In the end, Dimitri capitulated, mostly because he couldn't stand staring at the dark, looming depths of the deceptively calm Thames. He couldn't bear seeing the guilt and sympathy in Simon Worrall's kindly face. So he dragged Calum away from the scene and called for a taxi. It arrived within minutes. He and Calum stepped into the backseat, shut the door, and watched the scene of devastation fade into the distance through the rear window.

Calum waited all of five seconds before his face broke out into a wide grin. He glanced around at the rest of the occupants of the 'taxi' and whooped.

"Yes! Come on, people! You were all brilliant! That was brilliant!"

Malcolm Wynn-Jones flashed a self-deprecating smile from the driver's seat.

"It wasn't bad, I suppose." He admitted.

"Wasn't bad?! Wasn't bad?! It was brilliant!"

"So you keep saying." Beth Bailey muttered casually from the passenger seat, peeling away the remains of prosthetics and a dark-haired wig.

"But it was!" Calum enthused. "Beth, you're brilliant! Malcolm, you're brilliant!" He turned to the unfamiliar man sitting next to him, also peeling off a scarily Harry-esque prosthetic rubber nose. "Man I don't know – you're brilliant!"

"And you're weird." The man announced nonchalantly.

Calum grinned, "I know."

"This is Steve." Beth informed him. "He's a contact of mine."

"Steve" Calum repeated, testing the name on his tongue with a shake of the head. "Steve doesn't match your face. I'm prepared to bet it's not your real name, is it?"

"No." Said Not-Steve.

"What is your real name?"

"If I wanted you to know that, I'd have told you." The mysterious man drawled, turning away to gaze out of the window.

"Steve's very good at what he does. He gets things done – no questions asked. And he's entirely trustworthy. His only stipulation is that he remains anonymous." Beth reported.

"Your arm seems to have healed up miraculously quickly, Calum." Malcolm commented lightly.

Calum scrubbed at his wrist, watching as patches of purple, green and yellow powder rubbed off onto his hand. "Portable make-up kit." He revealed. "I'm a big fan of Halloween. I keep it in my desk drawer and thought it might come in handy."

"It was a nice 'out' for us." Dimitri admitted, though he still couldn't help but feel guilty at the sorrow he had planted in Simon Worrall's heart. He knew what it was to be powerless to save a life; to have that guilt eat away at you. If only he had been able to tell him that it wasn't his fault; that the people sinking in that car had been dead already.

"Did you just give me a compliment, Admiral?" Calum asked, his eyes alight with wonder. "A real, actual compliment?"

"Maybe. Don't go getting used to it."

"Is he always this annoying, Dimitri?" Beth yawned, turning briefly to smirk at her old friend.

"Unfortunately, yes." He confirmed, returning the smirk and revelling in the irritation that passed across Calum's smug face.

Clearly trying to brush it off, the younger man sniffed and demanded suddenly: "So...? Are you going to tell us how you did it?"

"You know how they did it." Dimitri frowned.

"Sort of. But I was too busy slapping on make-up when you and Erin were explaining it on the way to the hospital."

Dimitri groaned, "You're so annoying."

"So you keep saying. And I keepwanting to know."

"It went like this Calum." Malcolm said patiently, intent on keeping the peace. "Beth and Steve – "

" – Steve who is not Steve – " Calum inputted, earning a disgruntled glare from the mysterious man.

"Err... yes, Steve who is not Steve... well, they were selected to be made up like Harry and Ruth. They have a similar height and build, and we placed them strategically at a point by the fire exit just as CO19 arrived. You all chased them to the pier where Beth's other contact, Roger – "

" – Is Roger also not called Roger? – "

"Shut up." Dimitri snapped, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

Malcolm cleared his throat, waiting to continue. "Yes... err... you chased them to the pier where Beth's other contact, Roger, was driving the delivery van. But the whole point of driving a van – and an especially large van at that – was that it could conceal another vehicle. This vehicle – which I was driving. And in the boot were three bodies that I managed to get from my contact at the mortuary – again, money under the table, no questions asked. Like Beth and Steve, they had also been made to look like their counterparts. So whilst Steve and Beth supposedly lost control of the car and collided with the back of the van, and whilst you were all busy trying to avoid a pile-up, I estimated that we had about thirty seconds. Within those thirty seconds, Beth, Steve and I put the lookalike bodies into the car, took the handbrake off, locked the vehicle, and pushed it off the pier – all before it splashed into the Thames."

"Which is the part we saw." Dimitri nodded.

"Exactly." Malcolm confirmed. "It's like a good old-fashioned magic trick. The art is in the misdirection. Nobody was paying attention to what was going on because they were stunned by the appearance of the van and the crash. The three of us were then able to get into the car and speed off down another backstreet before you and CO19 came running."

"But won't the prosthetics of the lookalikes... you know... wash away when the diving team recover the bodies?"

"Eventually, yes." Malcolm confessed calmly. "But by then, the main witnesses – CO19 – will have gone. Erin will identify the bodies, as will Roger, who will testify that they were the people driving the car. The funeral will be organised quickly, I bet – the government will want to keep this quiet. So there's no need for anyone else to see the bodies."

"What about Harry's children?" Dimitri piped up. "Doesn't he have two grown-up kids who might want to... you know... see him?"

"What?" Calum asked, aghast. He had never known that about Harry Pearce. How had he never known that he had two other kids?!

"Alas, his relationships with them are... fractious at best." Malcolm murmured quietly, his world-weary eyes turning sad. "I doubt they'll want to see the body, and if they do... well then I suppose it will be my job to console them and... persuade them otherwise."

Dimitri nodded. That seemed right. Malcolm was, after all, Harry oldest living friend.

"Thank you." He announced sincerely to the car at large. "All of you. For everything you've done."

"It was my pleasure." Malcolm replied, ever-the-gentleman.

"Mine too." Beth agreed.

"Mine three." Calum shrugged.

For some reason, everyone bar Malcolm found themselves turning expectantly to Not-Steve. Not-Steve blinked back at them, unimpressed, before tutting and rolling his eyes.

"I don't even know a Harry and Ruth, but as long as I'm getting paid then yes, sure, it's my pleasure too."

"You'll get what we agreed, don't worry." Beth assured him.

Dimitri frowned. "And where will you get that from?"

"Malcolm."

Dimitri's frown deepened. "And where will you get that from, Malcolm?"

"I have a secure account stowed away for such emergencies. My friend, Colin and I, set it up back when we were still in MI5. But he died and nobody else knew about it. So I kept it open for when old friends needed to make a quick getaway – like today."

Calum beamed, leaning over to Dimitri and hissing, "What did I tell you? The man's a legend."

Dimitri sighed. He had rolled his eyes an awful lot this year whenever Calum raved about his idol, Malcolm Wynn-Jones. This time, he actually had to admit that the man really was quite 'a legend' indeed.

"I'd recommend splitting up almost immediately." Malcolm advised after a minute or two. "Just in case."

"Spook protocol after an uncover op'." Dimitri nodded. "Fair enough."

"I'll head home, then. But where shall I drop everyone first?"

"Train station for Steve and I, please." Beth requested politely. "Or a tram stop will do."

"St. Anne's hospital for me." Calum added. "Allegedly to fix my poor battle wound, but actually to visit Doghouse 3. I need to use a secure computer to ensure there were no cameras picking up our drop."

"And just take me back to Thames House." Dimitri murmured. "I need to lose my rental car."

"Very well. Ladies first. There's a tram stop just up here."

"Just to say again, all of you – before you go." Calum proclaimed. "I think you're all – "

" – Brilliant!" They chorused.

He paused, frowning.

"How did you know?"

Surprise! A super fast update because it's Christmas and the story is coming to a close. I'd like to try and finish it before the New Year, if possible. May not happen as life is very good at getting in the way, but it's a rough estimate. Thank you once again readers; especially Wolfdrum and Gregoriana! All the best x