Many thanks to those reviewed the last bonkers chapter. In this we return to the normal life of Harry giving full rein to his sunny disposition.

5 May 2002 2.30pm Mary Kane's extradition papers were signed this morning, subject to my having obtained an assurance from a Foreign Office representative that special circumstances relating to the National Interest had allowed the Foreign Secretary to authorise an override of the usual protocols. Subsequently I was obliged to advise the Foreign Secretary's envoy that at present we are unable to locate Mary Kane's whereabouts.

Keith Burns informed us that Helen Lynott, age seven, died early this morning. Special Branch in association with the Manchester team are maintaining round the clock surveillance on the known associates of Ms Kane. To date they have been unable to isolate Rachel Goldsmith to obtain further Intel. Phone tap evidence has revealed that her brother and husband are now desperate to avoid detection. As they are both directly implicated in at least one murder plus a manslaughter Special Branch has advised that in their considered opinion any further approaches to Rachel Goldsmith could endanger her life.

The Call to Justice British website has been located and provided confirmation that Mary Kane's group have detailed intelligence on all their potential victims including Diane Sullivan. The naming of Sullivan remains our best lead. Consideration is being given to substituting a female officer for Sullivan in an attempt to trap Mary Kane. Risk assessments and intelligence relating to the areas their designated victim frequents are being prepared. Helen Flynn as liaison has been dispatched to Sullivan's safe house to obtain detailed information relating to the clothes she would wear, particular shops she would patronise etc with especial reference to her usual Saturday activities. As Saturday is the date scheduled for Paul Kane's execution my working theory is that Mary Kane intends to make a statement by attacking Sullivan on the same day.

I have a dream. One day I will step onto the Grid and all will be merry and bright. There again one day the sun will rise in the west or, even more unlikely, I'll be moved to snog Jools Silviter. Given the present horrors my smile muscles are in serious danger of atrophying. Not that I'm the only one so afflicted. The team is of course used to death, it walks with us every working day. Even so they have all been badly shaken when an innocent child has become an inadvertent victim. Nearly as horrific is the printout of the information our bombers have acquired on Diane Sullivan. Presumably they have similar data relating to others on their hit list. Clearly they are well organised, and with that level of sophistication worryingly well resourced.

While I obtained a fleeting pleasure by making it plain to that smug git from the FO that he'd been played it was, at best, a pyrrhic victory which did nothing to help with the more immediate problems, the chief of which is to prevent Ms Kane and Co from emulating the IRA via a mainland bombing campaign, which, having viewed their handiwork in America, promises to be even more vicious than that perpetrated from the land of the leprechauns. As a fall back option I've instructed Malcolm to organise a financial trawl, starting with our known criminals in Liverpool, in the hope of obtaining further leads should our admittedly risky plan fail. That however will take time we haven't got. The clock might be ticking the countdown for Paul Kane's remaining minutes, literally I believe within the precincts of his jail, but equally mine is ticking before Mary Kane strikes. The chief difference: I don't have a specified hour for termination of the menace. Thanks to the admission squeezed out of me by Toby McInnes we also have the additional happy prospect of the CIA going all OK Corral as they initiate their own hunt for her. Judging by their usual behaviour, shoot first, ask questions later, they have major problems adjusting to the fact that in England it is not considered a human right to carry a gun, and even less of a right to actually use it. As they are our allies - so called - should they succeed before my team I foresee another messy coverup will be required - guess who'll be tasked with that.

As far as the operation is concerned our choices come down to, either release Sullivan from her safe house and send her on her way, following covertly – a risk that we are not prepared to take with a civilian, even assuming she was willing to be a sitting or walking duck - or swap her with a female officer, namely Zoe.

Putting an officer in danger may be par for the usual course, but in this case our hand has been forced by the Foreign Secretary who has been got at by the Cousins. Also, from information I have acquired from another source, some financial interests that seem to be rather cosy with Downing Street have been whispering in his ear. Maybe it's a sign of age but I am becoming ever more resentful of this 'market forces are paramount' attitude and its knock-on effect on security issues. I signed up to defend the realm from the criminal activities of bombers and their cohorts. Now with increasing frequency I find myself defending it from the infernal machinations of the financial quarter. And my father and brother thought I was the one who chose the career that gave you dirty hands!

That, unfortunately, is the reality I have to deal with. I do however have my own red lines, one of which is that I will not put up with being patronised by Toby McInnes and his ilk. It gives you some notion of their level of intelligence that this type feel it is acceptable behaviour to sneer at security service personnel. A process during which they totally forget that one of our duties is to vet any individual who can be categorised as a political associate. Of course I can't release any scandalous, albeit not security threatening, gossip immediately. Too obvious and too likely to arose suspicions as to the provenance, but allow me a few months and in a spirit of seasonal generosity I'll make the editor of 'The Sun', or just possibly 'The Mail', an exclusive Christmas present. A heart warming tale entitled 'The Coming of Toby McInnes' wherein are detailed the symbolic gifts to the world as bestowed by the title character's tinsel wrapped penis upon three rent boys and a couple of blow up dolls of indeterminate gender. With luck it will prove a bestseller – I can't be the only person who would like a change from the eternal reruns of 'A Christmas Carol'.

Thanks for reading. If you have a moment a review would be appreciated.