Given their history and had he been a younger man and less world weary, Harry would have searched for another way. He'd hoped against hope that as and when they found Clive's letter, that another name would have sent him on different path, but it wasn't to be. She was guilty beyond any reasonable doubt and no matter how he felt about her personally, it was his job to bring her down.

'Back me or sack me Home Secretary,' he fired at Blake, who was stubbornly digging his heels in and refusing his demand that Adam be given authorisation to question Juliet Shaw before he did.

Chief security organiser or not, Juliet was going to get her comeuppance with or without Blake's backing and he didn't have time for this prevaricating. He'd only gone to see him to stop the man chuntering on that he was never kept informed. What did he expect when he behaved like a short - sighted billy goat wanting to maintain the equilibrium at whatever cost, rather than ending up residing on the back benches, or worse still lose his status as a member of parliament, if his failure to act just happened to reach the ears of each and every editor in London? A suggestion that Harry was still keeping up his sleeve.

'This all happened years ago, is it really necessary to rock the boat now?' and Harry mentally counted to ten, before pointing out that as far as Clive and Belling were concerned that it was far from years ago, because the poor buggers were still lying in freezers waiting to be buried, which in Jason's case would be in two parts and at least saw Blake cringe, before waving his hand dismissively effectively giving Harry the chance to leave.

Not before a passing shot of, 'don't do anything stupid that you might live to regret Harry,' whatever that meant.

They'd made a speedy return to London, he'd had too and he'd been adamant that Ruth and Jacob should come with him. Having taken a reluctant Jacob home, with the promise that he and Wes could spend his fast approaching fiftieth birthday weekend with them, which as Ruth reminded him was set to coincide with his divorce finalising, Adam had arranged a safe house for as long as it took for them to see this through to its conclusion. When he couldn't be with Ruth, then he'd insisted that Zaf was. He had no other option now and he was way past thinking that Zaf was a threat. Ruth was his and his alone which meant she was involved, if only indirectly, so he certainly couldn't leave her on her own. Given what Clive had uncovered, there was every chance that Juliet had been monitoring him and would know that he'd been living with her and where she was likely to be, and that spelt danger.

Fiona and Adam had headed to the Royal Albert Hall on some pretext or other that he hadn't been party too and had mingled with a tourist tour, while the rest of them had sat impatiently waiting for news. The file had been well hidden in a foot-well just as Ruth had predicted, for which she'd been showered with congratulations by everyone. He was pleased at her brilliance, of course he was, she was his world now, but she could never be told exactly how important her work had been and the impact that it was about to have. A thought, that combined with the contents of Clive's letter had not only upset and disillusioned him, but had got him thinking as well.

Clive and he had been friends for years, stood on the front line together as young spies, with no thought as to what they'd been doing, other than it was what they'd been trained to do. Automaton's of the state, destined to die alone in Clive's case. Yes, they'd saved endless lives, but there had been far too many deaths as well, many of which they'd caused. Each and every one of them etched on his memory and seemingly his friends as well. Worse still in Clive's case, as not only had he had to battle with the guilt but a terminal illness, and to what end? To be helped on his way ahead of what time he had left. Frozen to the bone when he'd been found. It was grotesque.

Time in this case meant everything and Juliet wasn't a fool. She'd always been an inventive operator and if she thought that her time in the service was up, then she'd already be planning a way out. Suicide wasn't her style, she'd be wanting a getaway to warmer climes, he'd stake his life on it. Well this was one plan that wasn't going to succeed, so bugger Blake and his prevaricating, he didn't have time for this. He had more important things to do, even if it meant breaking every rule in the book and Blake taking him up on his suggestion and sacking him.

'As you wish Home Secretary,' he told him, tapping his jacket pocket where the letter lay resting. A permanent reminder that he would see this through to the end, if for no other reason than to honour Clive's memory and the ultimate sacrifice he'd made. Ignoring what else might be forthcoming, he turned on his heels and marched out of the Home Office and into the cold air, wondering if perhaps it might be the last time that he'd be called in to see Blake. Still there were worse fates. Apart from death.

He needed a moment to calm himself and to clear his head before he headed back to Thames House. He also wanted to call Ruth and try to reassure her, but before that he needed to read the letter again and that could only be done on his own and away from prying eyes. The wind was whipping up over the water and he turned his collar up to protect himself against the biting cold, before he reached for the letter and sat down, a rapidly chilling cup of coffee beside him. How he hated these Styrofoam cups and their persistently difficult to remove lids. A solitary figure in solitary situation with a myriad of thoughts running through his head, he opened the envelope and rubbed his eyes, the words as pertinent the second time as the first.

Harry,

'I'm afraid that I need to burden you again one last time, hopefully during the short time I have left. If there was anyone other than you that I could trust and know will see this through to its conclusion, then believe you me I would have sought them out. As we both know, back in the day when we were both young and foolish, or less than careful whichever way you want to look at it, we both did things that I at least have lived to regret. Roy Woodring maybe, but Juliet of all people was the last name that I expected to uncover, during what has ultimately been a fruitful quest in which to right so many wrongs.

I've had people watching my house for weeks now, so I've employed a young journalist as a means to reach you. If you're reading this letter then she'll have succeeded, if not so be it. Whatever the outcome there's every chance that I'll never know, given this wretched illness.

Amongst my many regrets, dedicating my working life to the service isn't one of them and given my time over again I'd take the same path. What I do regret however and I urge you to change before it's too late, is to make some time for yourself and what's important in life. Nobody wants to die alone Harry, facing his maker unloved and frightened, believe you me.

Your friend Clive.

'I've just bought myself a coffee and I'm walking alongside the Thames, how are you?' he asked Ruth, who'd been spending the time since Adam had arrived to collect Harry, trying not to worry about where he was or what he was doing, by unpacking yet again.

'Another suitcase in another hall,' she'd laughing said to Zaf, trying to make light of the fact that deep down she was scared and was doing her best to hide it. She'd been dragged from pillar to post or that's how it was beginning to feel and all because of this wretched Juliet Shaw whose name would be etched in her memory forever, had done god knows what?

'Adam knows what he's doing, he'll keep an eye on him, don't worry,' Zaf had told her, when he'd seen the look on her face as Harry had walked away. Up until then she hadn't been worried, but now she was. 'You'll see, with a bit of luck it'll all be over by this evening,' hadn't helped.

This was second time around she had Zaf as her minder and she wasn't under any illusion as to why that was. She was still in danger. She'd gleaned enough from the sound of Harry's voice when he'd rung to congratulate her when they'd found the letter, to know whatever Clive had said had upset him, but 'it will all be over,' from Zaf had sounded terminal. She just hoped he was referring to Juliet, because anything happening to Harry was too terrifying to contemplate.

OK she was a just a solicitor who because of a chance meeting was swimming in a sea full of spies, trying to repel the sharks, worse even than staring at an exam paper and not understanding the questions, but to be plummeted back into her previous lonely life where she wouldn't be with him and surrounded by his love, she'd be alone with only the memories of what could have been. Surely after all that happened between them, even she deserved more than that?

'I'm still unpacking and trying to get my head around this antiquated kitchen, we might need to have a takeaway tonight,' she told him, attempting to control her voice and sound upbeat. Whatever he was doing was more important than him worrying about how she was feeling.

'I've just got a couple more things to do and then I'll be back. I'll ring you when I'm on my way,' was a promise he knew he'd be able to keep, even if he no longer had a job. Did he even want the one he had, was another question entirely?

The air hung between them, him knowing that he had to get on and Ruth knowing that she had to let him as they breathed in time with each other, neither wanting to put the phone down.

'Zaf's just calling me,' she told him letting him off the hook, 'Chinese would be nice for a change.'

She needed to keep busy and to kill time and the only way to do that was to try and immerse herself in one of her trusty books or watch some mindless daytime TV, or if Zaf would let her, go out into the garden despite the fact that the temperature had dropped.

What had Harry said? That he was walking along the embankment on his way back to work. Perhaps if she lay down and closed her eyes, she'd be able to imagine that and maybe go to sleep? She'd go stir crazy if she let her over active imagination get the better of her.

'Get your filthy paws off me,' Juliet protested.

She'd spent the last few hours by booking her flight for that evening and she was about to go home and pack, when her protesting secretary had been pushed to one side by the two heavies that Harry had employed to escort her from six.

'Do you know who I am?' had resulted in a pair of handcuffs being unceremoniously clapped on her wrists and the refusal to let her talk to anyone, as she was bundled down the back staircase and into a car, with no idea as to where she was being taken, but with a fair idea as to who'd be waiting for her.

Harry had returned to Thames House with his mind made up. He alone would take the responsibility for what they were about to do, but to execute his plan he needed Adam's help. They had the proof and after pulling a few strings he'd enlisted the help of someone that would be more than happy to see the person who'd been responsible in ruining what had been an ingenious plan, brought to justice. One phone call that was all that it had taken and he could picture his one - time friend Jim. He was already on his way. Juliet was going to get her holiday of a lifetime. Recriminations or congratulations as far as he was concerned, could come later.

'Adam,' said Juliet in a voice loaded with contempt. She'd been expecting to be dragged in front of Harry and yet here she was again, being dictated to by one of his underlings. Her request for a cup of tea had surprisingly been met as had her plea that she needed to use the loo. Her means of getting to where she was, the only contradiction to the way she was being treated, which didn't bode well.

'As you may have guessed we have the proof that we need Juliet, otherwise we wouldn't have brought you here,' didn't tell her anything, other than she suspected that they'd found whatever Clive had written. The ramblings of a dying man weren't proof of anything, unless they contained the information that Harry had been searching for all those years ago, in which case she needed to turn on a charm offensive and hope that his memory as far as he and she had once been, was sufficient that he'd be lenient. That or maybe Woodring? Had they got him locked up as well? If she could shift the lion's share of the blame onto him, then maybe there was an alternative way out and her one way ticket wouldn't be wasted. Doubtful but still worth a try.

However her request to speak to Harry, was met with, 'all in good time.'