The bright lights of the interview room hurt Derek's eyes and the pounding in his head distorted his hearing. The voices were muffled yet echoed, he screwed his face up in concentration.

Lucien watched him, there was something about Alderton that bothered him, over and above the idea that he wanted him dead. When they had been released they had gone their own ways not even to the same hospitals, never to see each other again, or so Lucien had hoped.

"Major Alderton," Matthew's voice cut through his thoughts and the fog, "why did you kill Gordon Wellaway?"

"Uh," he blinked, " Major Derek Alderton, 3rd Regiment, 4th Division, army number 143079." He sat up straighter as if a light had gone on in his head.

"Quite," Matthew huffed, "now, Wellaway?"

Alderton reeled off his name, rank and number but said nothing else. Matthew changed his question.

"Who was Gordon Wellaway to you?"

Again, name rank and number.

Matthew sat back in his chair and looked at Lucien.

"Derek," Lucien leant forward on his uninjured arm, "I really don't believe you would shoot someone just to get at me, especially as I didn't know the man."

Alderton started to reel off again.

"Yes, yes," Lucien waved his hand, "we know all that, what I want to know is why you are after me, if indeed that is what you are after?"

Alderton's eyes appeared to glaze over and he slumped again. Lucien wondered, he seemed to be fading in and out of reality. He stood up, mentally going through the injuries Derek had sustained during their time in the camp, he didn't remember a specific head injury but that wasn't to say it hadn't happened. Derek didn't appear to notice the movement.

"Torch, Matthew," Blake muttered, again Alderton didn't move. Matthew passed his torch over and Lucien waved it across his face, then into his left eye. Nothing, there was pupil reaction but nothing from Derek, most people would have blinked and flinched, but Alderton did neither.

"Inspector Lawson," Lucien handed the torch back and sat back down, "I would like the Major to be admitted to hospital under guard, I think there is more to this case than we know."

"Doctor?"

"Oh, I don't dispute that he shot Wellaway, neither, I think, does he, it's the reason behind it. I should like an x-ray of his head and to have his medical records sent over from the army. There's something that bothers me."

"Right," Matthew scratched his head, "well, I suppose you will have to make arrangements ..."

"I'll ring the hospital," Lucien stood up, "back in a tick."

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The hospital room was guarded by two of Matthew's burliest officers and any medical staff that went in were escorted by another, until soldiers from the Sturt Street barracks could be assigned the duty.

X-rays were taken of Alderton's head, he offered no resistance to this or to being dressed in a hospital gown. He was handcuffed to the bed, for everybody's protection and his own.

Alice and Lucien both studied the x-rays. There were small lesions all over the pictures which they determined were bleeds to the brain, old and possibly new ones. "

"No fractures though, Dr Harvey," Lucien observed, "apart from these two very old ones, sustained during the war, possibly, in the camp? I didn't have access to x-rays, fractures were diagnosed by touch."

"Which you couldn't do with a skull fracture, could you?"

"No, all head injuries were treated as skull fractures, observation, the usual tests and as much rest as I could get away with," Lucien agreed, "limbs were much easier to deal with."

"So, all you can do is wait for his records," she pulled the films off the light box and put them back in the envelope.

"Yes."

"I'd get home if I were you," she smiled, "I'm sure Jean and the family will have something to say about your escapades."

"Erm, yes, you're probably right."

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Alice drove him home, telling him that he would have trouble controlling the car with his injured arm, she also wanted to be sure he got home, and didn't detour via the club, for some Dutch courage - though she didn't tell him that.

Jean looked up from where she was re-arranging appointments and gasped. Lucien's jacket sleeve was torn, he had a dressing on his bicep and the whole arm was supported by a sling.

"What have you been doing?" she went to him, "Lucien! has somebody shot you?"

"Er, well," he ran his hand over his head, a sure sign he was nervous, "the gun went off, it wasn't aimed at me, not at that moment ... er ... I should sit down."

"The bullet went right through, Jean," Alice started to explain, "I believe they found who shot Wellaway."

Jean helped him out of his jacket, finishing the rip to the sleeve, perhaps the tailor could repair it or more likely put a new sleeve in.

"Tea, I think," she held her hand on his back, "sweet tea ... Alice," she looked up, "do you think ...?!

"Eh? Oh ... yes ... of course ..." Alice coughed suddenly realising she was not needed just at that moment, in that room, "tea, hm, no milk, Lucien?"

"Yes, er no ... no milk, thank you," he hummed, the warmth of Jean's hand soothing his shattered nerves.

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"Lucien," Jean moved to stand in front of him, "what happened?"

"I, we went to where Wellaway's body was found, I was sure, Jean," he looked at her, "sure ..."

"Mum?" Mary appeared at the doorway, "what ...? Uncle Lucien," she hurried to him, "oh god, you're hurt!"

"Sh, Mary," he hissed, "I don't want to alarm Li, or father. I'm fine, just a flesh wound, Dr Harvey has cleaned and stitched it - more damage to my jacket."

"They're going to notice a sling," she huffed.

"Mary, will you go to his room and fetch a clean shirt," Jean looked past Lucien, "if you change and hide the bandage ..."

"Yes, of course," she scurried away leaving Jean to wonder about him taking his shirt off in front of her, though she had seen him in his singlet before.

"Right," he took a deep breath, "better get out of this shirt ... um, d'ye think you could help, Jean, only I need to support my arm and I shall have to take off the sling ..." his voice tailed off.

She drew her brows together, "perhaps it would be better if we wait for Mary to bring in the shirt, then I can close the door."

"Eh?"

"I don't want her to see me helping you undress, Lucien," she whispered, "goodness knows what she will think, given her past match-making efforts."

"Ah, yes, right," he stuttered, "but I do have a bullet wound ..." he raised his eyebrows.

"That's to one arm, doctor," she huffed, "you have two."

He swiftly wrapped his uninjured arm round her, "like this," he teased and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Lucien," she hissed, "behave." She pushed him gently away as the sound of footsteps approached the door.

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"I suppose I can forgo the tie," he watched her fasten the buttons on the clean shirt, "a cardigan?"

"Well, you're not going out anywhere, are you? And you've no patients, I've reorganised your appointments ..." she looked up into his blue eyes, "but you need to tuck your shirt in."

He unfastened the waistband of his trousers and successfully tucked his shirt in, without help, he reasoned to himself that was a step too far for Jean, but he did need help fastening the clip. Jean blushed as she completed that small task then leant her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry Jean," he murmured into her hair, "I've made work for you."

"It's not that, Lucien," she sniffed into his shirt, "you've been shot," she looked up at him, "what if he had been aiming true?"

Alice chose that moment to call that the tea was getting cold. She had planned to take it into the surgery but Mary had held her back, suggesting the living room might be the best place.

"We'll talk tonight," he assured her as she put the sling round his neck, "I'll tell you all about it."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he kissed her forehead.

"I want the truth, mind you," she squeezed his hand, "no fobbing me off."

Feeling a little like he had been caught with his hand in the sweetie jar he agreed.

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Lucien managed to brush off the wound when cornered by his daughter, saying it was only a flesh wound and it would soon mend.

"A gun went off, accidentally," he patted her cheek, "nothing to worry about."

"If you're sure, papa," Li searched his face for any sign of pain or worry.

"I am, darling girl," he smiled, "now, how was your day?"

And so he diverted her thoughts to maths and science and promised he would hear her read later.

Thomas did not believe him, not for one minute, and cornered him in the study when he went to get some more pain relief.

"Son," he leant heavily on his stick in the doorway, "what happened?"

"Dad, it's ok," he smiled, "really. Alderton's gun went off when I tackled him, nothing to worry about. He wasn't going to shoot me, well not until he had told me why. Matthew disturbed him and he took his eye off the target - me - so I took my chance."

"Lucien ..." Thomas sighed, "I've only just got you back, son ..."

"... and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," Lucien swallowed the pills and smiled. "Now, dinner smells splendid, and I'm famished ..."

"Lucien ..."

"Dad, don't worry," he put his hand on Thomas' shoulder, "I have something worth living for these days, I'm not going to set myself up as a target for any Tom, Derek or Harry with a rifle."

"Glad to hear it," though he wasn't sure it wouldn't happen again.

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When the girls and Thomas had gone to bed, Li had been read to, which Jean thought was just a ploy to make sure her father really was alright; Jean and Lucien sat down in the studio with their evening drinks. Lucien knew he had worried Jean, this was the first time he had come home with a gunshot wound and even though it had only gone through his arm and missed vital blood vessels he knew it could have been much worse. While she had told him she would never get used to him coming home with cuts and bruises -

"- after all, doctor," it was the force with which she uttered the word 'doctor', "you are not a police officer, you are there to determine time and cause of death, not to wade in and take such punches that are thrown." This after a particularly nasty punch-up outside one of the pubs one evening. Lucien had been called to give medical assistance to a customer at the Pig and Whistle who had had an altercation with the landlord. It had all gone wrong when two other customers, well lubricated with beer, had waded in and punches had been thrown. Lucien had blocked one punch with his forearm but others had been landed and he had been rather bruised when he arrived home - they were preferable to a bullet wound, if he had to come home damaged in any way at all!

"So, Lucien," she sat on the couch, "what really happened?"

"You know we have been trying to work out why Wellaway was killed, and you know he was found outside town ..." he watched, she waited. "We were stumped so, and I hold my hands up, it was my idea ..."

"Oh, Lucien," she sighed.

"... right," he cleared his throat, "well, I suggested we go back out to the site and have another look round."

"There's nothing out there except ... the old tin shed!" she took a mouthful of sherry and held out her glass to be refilled.

"Yes, the old tin shed," he refilled his own glass as well as hers, "as you know it was a sniper rifle that was used and it seemed like that might have been where the shot was fired from. So, we, that is, Matthew, Bill and I, started to walk over ..."

He told the tale of how a shot had been fired and he had challenged the gunman, and had gone inside.

"Derek Alderton, the man who ... yes well, let's not go over that ... blames me for her death and wanted to have it out with me before he put a bullet in my brain. Matthew broke his concentration, told him to drop the gun. I 'waded' in ..."

"...oh Lucien," she put her hand over her mouth, "you could have been killed!"

"...heat of the moment, Jean. That was when the gun went off ... Derek's in hospital, there's something wrong. He kept fading in and out in the interview, we took x-rays and there appears to be evidence of little bleeds on his brain. They could be mini-strokes, or the results of head injuries, I don't know."

"Lucien," it came out as a whispered gulp.

"I'm sorry, Jean, I've upset you ... frightened you, I don't know what else we could have done. Matthew and Bill were both armed ..."

"But that would have made no difference if he had shot at you before you went into the building," her hands were shaking as she put her glass down, "I don't think I could take that, I know I couldn't."

He reached over with his good arm and encouraged her to lean against him, Mei Lin had never shown she cared this much and though it made him feel warm it was not right that he should put Jean through this.

"Please, Lucien," she sniffed from the warmth of his chest, "promise me you won't do such a thing again."

"I would like to promise you that Jean, of course I would, but ... I don't think I can," he stroked her shoulder, "I will do my best, but ... as you pointed out; when I wondered if I should have let Derek die; I save lives, not take them."

"You don't have to stand in the path of a bullet, though," she pushed herself up, "please Lucien, think of Li ..."

"I think of all of you, Jean, you are all my family ... to willingly allow someone to take my life would be selfish, hurting my family like that - wrong. I don't know how to explain it, when I left the camp all I thought of was finding Li, and instead I found a whole family, friends; a whole new life which you are the centre of." He lifted his legs so they were lying side by side, her snuggled up against him ,securely caught between his body and the back of the couch.

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She woke some time later, a steady thumping in her ear and a warmth to her side. She pushed up and blushed beetroot red to see Lucien with a smug grin on his face.

"I didn't want to wake you," he smiled, "you looked so comfortable there, and it felt rather nice." He blushed at his admission.

"Thank heavens everybody else is asleep," she whispered, "I can't imagine what Mary would have said if she had found us here." She pushed his legs down and sat up properly, "I'd better go to bed, so had you."

"Oh, right," he gave a cheeky grin.

"Our own beds," she said sternly, "really, Lucien." She tossed her head as she stood up, "goodnight, doctor."

"Good night, Jean," he smiled, "sorry."

"Huh," but with her back to him he couldn't see the faintly wicked smirk on her face..

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Major Alderton's army medical records were waiting for Lucien when Jean dropped him off at the hospital the next morning. She hadn't wanted him out of her sight and at the same time knew he had to find out what was wrong with Derek. He assured her his arm was less painful than it had been and there were guards outside the room, no one was allowed in without an armed escort.

"Though, truthfully, Jean," he sighed, "I doubt anyone of us is in mortal danger."

"Lucien, he ..." she handed him his bag, "wants to kill you."

"He's not in his right mind, Jean," he murmured, "he won't hurt me, I think he's very ill. The bleeds to the brain ... not good."

"I know, just ... be careful, please."

"I will," he resisted the temptation to lean in for, even a chaste, kiss, there were too many people around.

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"Comfortable night, doctor," Sister informed him, "slept well, didn't seem bothered by the handcuffs ..."

"Thank you, Sister," he took the records from her, "let's go and see what he remembers of yesterday, why he is here and his opinion of me, shall we?"

Two soldiers now stood where Matthew's officers had stood outside the door. One opened the door and followed Lucien and the nurse through.

"You are to be guarded, too, Dr Blake," he murmured.

"Of course," he nodded, "now, Major Alderton, he became the cheerful and caring country doctor, "how are we feeling this morning?"

Alderton pulled on the handcuffs and growled, "if I wasn't tied to this bed I'd show you."

"Really? Well, now, do you remember what happened yesterday?" Lucien decided to ignore the threat.

"Major Derek Alderton, ..."

"Don't start that again, Derek, you aren't being held by foreign nationals on a spying charge, we want to help you."

"Major Derek ..."

"Alderton, yes I know," Lucien approached the bed, "3rd Regiment, 4th Division, army number 143079: about yesterday."

Alderton had known Lucien for long enough to know he would persist with his questioning, wear him down until he answered the questions. And Lucien did just that, never let him get his full name, rank and number out, always returned to the question of 'yesterday', even the nurse began to get tired of hearing the same thing, over and over again. Alderton faded in and out on occasion, snarled at his former comrade, but refused point blank to say anything useful.

Lucien huffed.

"Mei Lin always said you were tenacious bugger - that how you won her over, wore her down?"

"You leave her out of it!" Alderton shouted. "She has nothing to do with this."

"That's not what you said yesterday," Lucien sauntered around the room with his hands in his pockets, "in fact," he stared out of the window, "you blamed me for her death."

"All your fault, and you should pay!"

"You know fine well I wanted her to come over to Australia, with Li, and stay with my father," Lucien turned round and glared, "but she wouldn't, and I believe it was because of you. However, Major," he continued, "I am not willing to air my dirty laundry here, or anywhere, to be perfectly frank, those who need to know, do so. If this is really all about getting me then I am sorry for you, sorry that you shot an innocent man in order to flush me out into the open. It's a feeble excuse, even for you, so what is it you want from me?"

Derek opened his mouth and closed it immediately, deciding that his usual reply was a waste of breath.

Lucien decided to give up on the interview, such as it was, and started to read the notes sent over by the army medics. They made interesting reading.

It would appear that Major Alderton had been offered retirement on medical grounds but had refused it, insisting he was perfectly fit and healthy. His time in the camp and the injuries sustained at the hands of the guards, particularly the one Lucien had sewn up, was reason enough for him to go and settle somewhere quietly and find a hobby. Derek was army through and through, he had never trained as anything else, had no particular skills other than those that required him to fight an enemy and to train others to do the same. He was no diplomat, no spy, so he had been given an administration role.

Lucien found nothing in his notes about lapses, fugues or a desire to murder his former colleagues. Surely these episodes had not gone unnoticed?

Derek watched him, through something of a fog, but through that fog he still hated Lucien, still blamed him for Mei Lin's death and a large part of him wanted to put a bullet in his brain, but, Lucien was right, that wasn't the sole reason for finding him. He needed his expertise, his knowledge of the Chen family, the wider family and, although Mei Lin and her father were gone he may still have contacts to others.

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Derek had never really trusted Mei Lin's father, how he managed to keep his import business going the way he did. He had often wondered if Lucien had anything to do with the success and that was why Mei Lin had been pointed towards him. Even when the Japanese were advancing towards Singapore his business didn't falter and after Mei Lin's death, after the city was overrun, he disappeared. No record was found of his capture, or his death and the Chen empire had gone underground. There were whisperings that he had gone over to the other side and just recently an import business, under the same name, had come out into the open. Derek was sure that if he could find evidence of subversive goings on, possibly spying or illegal migration the army would see he still had value. Unfortunately the foggy episodes and blank moments meant he wasn't able to think clearly and he needed Lucien to help him, but he also didn't want him to go on with his happy life. Wellaway had been useful.

Alderton had been looking to find someone who could spy on the doctor, find out what he was doing here in Ballarat, and he was disappointed that a talented linguist who could use those talents to integrate himself into high society for espionage was exactly what he seemed - the caring country doctor. Wellaway, a former private in the same unit as Derek, had started to demand more money for his services, threatened to go to Dr Blake and tell him what the Major was up to, so, having got all he would get he had lured him out to the spot where he was found. It was a shame, he thought, Wellaway would have been good in espionage, bland, quiet, hardly noticeable in a crowd but he couldn't allow Blake to find out he was being spied on before he had the chance to confront him. At the moment he was reluctant to pull Blake into his scheming, this latest episode with his head had been one of the worst. He had all but ignored the missing moments, decided he could not to go to the medics because he knew they would force him into retirement, but now he had a feeling he had to get this sorted out - it was now urgent that he find out if this Chen was connected in any way to Mei Lin and why they had suddenly reappeared. He had hoped that Lucien would give enough information about Chen then planned to shoot him, inform the authorities and take his own life - put himself out of his misery.

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Matthew and Bill had gone back out to the old tin shed to see if Alderton had hidden anything there that would give them some idea what the Major was up to. They knew there was a bedroll but had not done anything about it the previous day.

They swung torches round the dark inside. The bedroll was stowed in a corner with a primus stove, kit bag and enough food to last another day or so. Bill pulled the bedroll outside and they inspected the floor for loose boards under which may be hidden a clue to Alderton's reason for luring Blake out there. Unstable as the floor was, with rotting boards and rusting nails, there didn't appear to be one that had been lifted to allow for the secret storage of a diary or notes. They took the bedroll and other gear outside and put it on the backseat of the police car then went back in again to further check for hidey holes in the walls. Nothing, so all they could do was take the bedroll back to the station and examine it in comfort.

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In one of the interview rooms Matthew and Bill carefully unrolled the standard issue sleeping bag on a table.

"Bill," Matthew nodded to the kit bag, "you start on that and I'll do the mat and sleeping bag."

"Boss," Bill agreed.

They worked in silence for some time; Bill taking each item out of the kit bag, shaking it out to see if there was anything hidden then examining the shaving kit and other non clothes items for hollow handles or spaces things could be secreted; Matthew checking the edges of the sleeping mat for signs of openings, breaks in the stitching - anywhere a notebook could be slipped in and hidden.

Matthew had all but given up on the sleeping mat when he came across a neat bit of stitching, about three inches long. It was hardly noticeable and ruefully he thought the Major could give Jean a run for her money in sewing. He slit it open with his penknife and found a piece of string. The string was attached to a bag which turned out to be attached to another, and another - they all came out like the carriages on a child's train set - one after the other.

"Hey, Bill!" he called over, "have a look at this."

"Bloody hell," Bill scratched his head, "sneaky bugger!"

"Isn't he," Matthew loosened the drawstring on each bag and took out three small notebooks. Flicking one open Matthew grimaced, "code," he grunted, "I should have known."

"D'ye think Blake'll know," Bill turned one of the books round in his hand, as if another view would help.

"Well, they were in the army together, he might," Matthew agreed, noting his find down on the evidence sheet, "let's see if there's any more before we tackle him on it."

"Right."

Bill checked the kit bag for similar traces of hiding places, scrutinising all the seams but found nothing. In the end they decided that the Major had put all his notebooks together, which, to Matthew, was further evidence that the man was slowly losing his mind. Any spy worth his salt would have hidden each book in a separate place, assuming all three were needed to present the whole picture.

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Lucien called in at the station to tell Matthew he had had no luck getting anything useful out of Alderton and to see if they had found anything interesting at the shed.

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They tried all the 'simple' codes: mirror writing, one letter out, using Z for A, Y for B and so on, missing vowels (a non starter) finding the most commonly used letter and substituting it with E, the most commonly used letter in the English language; but nothing made sense.

"It's got to be something simple," Lucien rocked back on his chair, "something to do with the spelling, I mean, here he's put an extra 'i' in 'in'."

"If you go by that logic and take the 'e' from in front of this word you get 'seen'," Matthew pointed, "but this one M-C-H-E-N makes no sense at all."

"Hang on," Lucien took the first three words and took out the first letter of each and got 'Chen seen in ...' then took out every fourth letter, and revealed 'Singapore'.

"Chen seen in Singapore?" Bill grunted, "who, or what, is Chen?"

"Chen was Mei Lin's name before we married, I can only assume Alderton is referring to her father or a family member," Blake informed them, "but, if you look here, the letters spell her name. By that token ..." he looked at the next few words and saw that every fourth letter made up Mei Lin. He had inserted the letters into the words to make his own code up. "I think I was meant to break this code," Lucien mused, "it's too easy, for me, anyway."

"We'll leave it to you then, doc," Bill grinned.

"Right," Lucien picked up the diaries and headed into the side office to start.

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"Right!" Lucien strode into Derek's room with a soldier in tow, "ludicrous, I don't know where you got this idea from." He stood at the end of the bed and stared at the Major.

"They're up to something," Derek blustered, "he ..."

"Fu Chen was an importer of fine fabrics - silks and what not," Lucien huffed, "true he did branch out into iron and steel as war loomed, but it was only a side concern. We wouldn't have been able to build the harbour without some of his contacts. He always planned to go back to his original line ..." he thought for a moment, "I heard nothing from him after Mei Lin was killed, I assumed he had died. Chen is not an uncommon name, Derek, in that part of the world."

Derek glared at him.

"Derek," Lucien sat on the edge of the bed, "Fu Chen was an honourable man. Now, I can make enquiries and see if it is the same family, but, truly, I think you are way off track with this. He had nothing to do with who Mei Lin married, that was her decision, and hers alone."

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Lucien had few contacts in Singapore, now, but perhaps he could find someone who was left from the old days. He explained everything to Jean and his father after dinner, saying he may have to take a trip.

"It's a long shot," he stared into his glass, "but it would prove to Alderton that Chen was what I believed him to be, honourable. If he isn't, or wasn't, well it's nothing to do with me, not now."

"What will you do, if you find it is the same family, or that they are not 'honourable'?" Jean asked.

"If it is just smuggling goods, nothing, that's not for me to decide, if it is illegal immigrants I am honour bound to let the authorities know, then I shall come home and forget all about it," he smiled softly at her, "if I do nothing, Derek will continue to worry at it, and he will come after me again."

"Couldn't you let the army know?" Thomas questioned the idea of his son going away again.

"We'll keep Derek in hospital, I shan't be away more than a couple of weeks," Lucien assured them, "then I shall suggest perhaps a place where he will be safe and looked after. These mini strokes he is having, more and more each day, will take him sooner rather than later."

"Will that keep you safe, too?" Jean edged closer to him on the couch, "will it prevent him from taking pot shots at you?"

"There are some very secure places, Jean," he put his arm around her, "he won't be allowed further than the garden - high fence around it - I shall be safe, we shall be safe."

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Two days later, after Lucien had convinced Alderton to stay where he was while he went to Singapore, Jean and the girls watched Lucien board a plane at Melbourne airport. They waved him off with cheery smiles that he returned, and waited until the plane had disappeared into the sky.