Many thanks for the reviews. I've had so much fun writing it; it's always nice to hear that it's readable. Here's another part to tide you over until next week.

Thames House - 0600 Saturday 14th January

Jo closed her eyes in an attempt to ease the burning, dry feeling that came with working through the night. She felt strangely detached from what was going on in the meeting room. Adam and Zaf had been explaining their discoveries, and Jo had had to force herself to concentrate on what was going on. Her body was telling her that it was time to rest, but she knew that that just wasn't an option. She screwed her eyes shut and then opened them again just as Ros picked up on something Adam had said.

"Why keep Ruth alive?" Ros questioned. "Terrorists aren't exactly well known for offering lifts to stranded motorists. They killed the driver of the car without compunction...A single bullet to the back of the head. Why not do the same to Ruth?"

"I'm sure we're all grateful that they didn't!" Adam remarked pointedly.

Ros met his gaze. "That goes without saying," she told him coldly. "But you have to admit that it does raise a very interesting point. Why didn't they just kill and dump Ruth at the scene? What value did she have to them?"

Zaf shrugged his shoulders. "She's a member of the security services...A possible bargaining chip?"

Adam shook his head. "No, they'd know that we'd never negotiate. There would be no value to keep her as a hostage. Ros has a valid point. To take her with them would only make their venture more risky. She has to be useful to them in some way."

"A woman travelling with the group might make them less suspect at any roadblock," Jo suggested.

"It's possible." Adam conceded, less than convinced with the explanation. "I think we need to take a closer look and find out what we can about this group." He turned to Ros. "I take it you've had no more luck with the list that Ruth drew up?"

Ros shook her head. "Nothing. If any of these groups had any interest in Abdul-Latif Zebari or al-Hassan, it looks as though they've been beaten to the punch by someone else."

Adam considered Ros's answer for a moment.

"I want to know just how many people were aware of the route that the car was due to take and who was supposed to be in it."

"The car was a pool car and the driver was seconded from Special Branch," Malcolm supplied the information. "The route would have been supplied to the driver when he was tasked with the job."

"Who drew up the route?" Ros was the first with the question.

Malcolm pulled a face. "I'm trying to find that out at the moment but I'm not meeting with much success. Our friends seem rather keen to keep that piece of information to themselves. Naturally they're not amused that we are suggesting that someone in their department is leaking information."

"If you think that someone needs a little persuading to give up the information..." Adam let the sentence tail off.

"Thank you," Malcolm told him gratefully. "I'll give them one more chance to offer up the details voluntarily and then I may well take you up on your offer."

"Just how long is the list of people who wish Abdul-Latif Zebari harm?" Zaf enquired.

Ros slid a copy of the printout across the table. "Ruth came up with a list of possibles. Zebari is a force for change in his country; there are quite a few people who are worried by the speed at which he wants this change to happen."

"Shouldn't we get word to him and warn him?" Jo queried, but Adam shook his head.

"At the moment this matter is safely under wraps. We start letting anyone else know about it and we risk it getting out of hand. At this stage we don't want to do anything that might push our kidnappers towards simply dumping what they have and moving on."

"What we really need right now is something to go on," Zaf complained. "Someone must have seen something."

"...or heard something," Malcolm added as he drew a clear plastic bag from his pocket and placed it down in front of him. Within it was a small disc. "I have a little something else to bring to the table," he told them quietly. "I took a look at the clothing that was brought back from the crash site. I found this sewn into the lining of the jacket that al-Hassan was wearing."

Adam met his gaze. "And you were thinking of keeping this to yourself?"

Malcolm looked apologetic. "I was hoping that I'd get the chance to speak to Harry first...this could prove to be more than a little embarrassing."

Adam frowned. "How so?"

Malcolm lifted the bag from the table and turned it over. He indicated a small mark on the base of the bug.

"This device is of a type that is favoured by certain...departments." He glanced round at the group, making sure that they understood the message. "Certain Government departments."

Ros was the first to react and took the plastic bag from Malcolm's hands. She examined it closely before handing it back.

"So it's entirely possible that 6 were listening in to everything that was going on as well?"

Malcolm nodded. "It's too tenuous a link to go to them with and demand answers, but yes, I think it likely that they were the ones who planted the device. They made no secret of their interest in al-Hassan's boss. What better way to keep an eye on him than use one of his supernumeraries as a tracker."

Zaf shook his head. "But that's banking on al-Hassan staying with the minister the whole time." He glanced round at the others. "Can we really suggest that 6 had anything to do with the crash?"

"Ros, is there anyone you could contact to try and find out what's going on?" Adam queried.

"I ask questions within the department and people are going to know we suspect them," Ros paused and considered the matter. "If we're believing that al-Hassan was taken by someone outside the list of suspects that Ruth drew up then there are a few cages I can rattle, a few favours I can call in."

"We need to know if 6 had anything to do with this, and we need to know fast." Adam reminded her. "Malcolm, can you double check and find out who else favours this particular brand of bug. I don't want to go accusing anyone at 6 of something if it transpires that it has nothing to do with them."

"I'm on it," Malcolm told him, rising to his feet.

"Zaf; I want you to get the route of the escort car from Malcolm and find me all the footage you can from last night. They must have been picked up somewhere along the line on CCTV or security cameras. I want to find out who else was on the road and get them checked out....I know it's a long shot, but we've got to try everything. There are already alerts issued in all the usual places, but if they are planning on staying close to home, I want to get on their tail as soon as possible." Adam looked at the tracker on the table. 'I think I'd better give Harry a ring. I think he's going to want to know about this."

Whitehall Court – 0800 Saturday 14th January

Harry tried his best to conceal his impatience as he sat and waited for Oliver Mace to put in an appearance. Despite the fact that he had membership to the club, he could never honestly say that he felt comfortable there. There was something about the smell of old money and the association of old school ties that unsettled him. He shifted his weight in the leather armchair and glanced at his watch again. He'd give Mace another five minutes and then, protocol be damned, he was going straight to his office. He'd spent the early hours of the morning clashing swords with various department heads; trying to get a straight answer to the questions he was asking. Every spluttered denial and outraged reaction only served to make him more suspicious. Harry felt as though everyone had been expecting his call and had planned for it.

"Harry," there was the familiar tone of welcome in Mace's voice that Harry could never bring himself to trust in.

He rose to his feet and held out his hand cordially to greet Mace who was striding across the room.

"It's good of you to find the time to see me."

Mace affected an expression of hurt. "Harry, I called you as soon as your message reached me."

"Of course Oliver; that's why I was able to talk to almost everybody else before you deigned to return my call."

"You do me a disservice," Mace told him smoothly. "Now, pardon me for asking, but what exactly do you think that I can do for you at this ungodly hour?"

"Unless you've been sleeping under a rock for the past 12 hours, you must have heard about the disappearance of Azhar al-Hassan."

"Must I?" Mace queried; the tone in his voice making it clear what he thought about the accusation. "And who precisely is Azhar al-Hassan?"

Harry gritted his teeth; not in the mood to go through the steps of this particular dance.

"There were only a handful of people who were supposed to know that Abdul-Latif Zebari and Azhar al-Hassan were in the country. I know that for a fact that you were one of those people; would it be too much to hope that the information you received stayed within your office?"

"What are you implying?"

"The car carrying al-Hassan was deliberately run off the road last night in an operation that was as simple as it was effective. For it to have succeeded in the way that it did, certain information; certain supposedly private information must have been leaked. What I want to know Oliver is if any of that information found its way out of your office and into the waiting laps of some terrorist group?"

"Be very careful what you're saying Harry," Mace warned, his tone hardening.

"Oh I'm being very careful," Harry assured him. "So far I've managed to avoid mentioning this incident and your name in a conversation with the PM."

Mace let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "You honestly think that I would muddy the waters of my office with such a trivial affair?"

Harry leant in towards Mace. "That car was carrying one of my officers, not to mention the aide of a foreign Government official. I would say that the matter was anything other than trivial. I want to know why al-Hassan would be the target of such an action and I want to know why 6 had such an interest in him?"

Mace looked at Harry with amusement.

"You think that 6 would care for the fate of someone of as little consequence as al-Hassan?"

Harry drew Ros's printout from the inside of his coat and pushed it into Mace's chest. "If they have so little interest in someone of 'so little consequence,' then pray explain why their mucky fingerprints can be found all over his file, and also explain why he has been the subject of an investigation?"

Mace looked evenly at Harry.

"You look tired. If I were you I'd go home and get a few hours sleep before you start throwing accusations around."

"I will not have my section or my officers being used as some sort of patsy for any dirty work that 6 are involving themselves in."

"You really must learn the art of distancing yourself from your work Harry," Mace told him, affecting an air of concern. "Wouldn't want people to think that you were getting too attached to members of your team." He paused. "Just who exactly did you entrust with this 'important' job?"

"If it came to a list of people's opinions that I valued Oliver, I can assure you that your name would be somewhere near the bottom," Harry growled beneath his breath. "If I find out that you had anything whatsoever to do with this matter, then trust me Oliver, you will get everything that is coming to you...and I do mean everything. Every little misdemeanour you've ever committed, every toe that you've ever placed over the line. I will come for you Oliver and there will be nowhere to hide."

"I do believe that is a threat Harry!"

"You're damn right." Harry turned on his heel and began to walk away. He had only taken two paces when he felt Mace's hand close over his arm.

"Azhar al-Hassan is too small a fish to concern yourself with Harry."

"So you do know something about it?"

"I'm saying nothing of the sort," Mace told him coolly. "But I was serious about your obvious attachment to certain members of your team Harry. It will come back to haunt you."

Not bothering to acknowledge Mace, Harry made his way out of the room and down the high vaulted hallway, his footsteps echoing off the polished marble floor.

Bromfelde Road SW4 – 1000 Saturday 14th January

Ros yawned and glanced lazily at her watch as she heard the sound of the front door opening. She had been waiting with a feeling of growing impatience for the past hour. Now perhaps she could get some information; assuming of course that the opening of the front door didn't simply herald the arrival of the cleaner.

She was hoping that Peter Henderson would be able to provide her with a few answers. He was tolerated by the officers at 6 because, on occasion, he could be relied upon to deal with certain matters that the Government didn't want to be seen dealing with. If information was to be leaked, then he was an obvious outlet. He had the contacts and more importantly the complete lack of conscience that was required. She'd used up one of her remaining favours at 6 to obtain his address and hoped that she hadn't wasted what could turn out to be very valuable currency.

She shifted slightly in her seat, knowing that the first impression was always the most important and watched as the door slowly opened.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd skipped the country," she called out icily, suppressing a smile as Henderson jumped in shock at her presence.

"What the hell..." Henderson quickly recovered his composure and strode across the room, his body language immediately switching to a more aggressive stance, his fists clenching at his sides.

"There's no need to get excited," Ros told him coolly, staring down at her nails; refusing to raise her head and acknowledge the man towering over her.

"How did you get in?" his eyes whipped back in the direction of the front door.

Ros slowly raised her eyes and her lips curled into a slight smile.

"Well I didn't come down the chimney!"

"I have an alarm."

"Very wise in a neighbourhood like this."

The man swore beneath his breath.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't just toss your ass out onto the pavement?"

"You won't try because you're too interested in hearing why I'm here," Ros told him calmly.

"And why are you here?

"Because you know about the men who have taken Azhar al-Hassan and I want to know everything you know about them."

The man laughed. "Do you take me for an idiot?"

"No...Mr Henderson...I take you for someone with a sub-standard security system but a someone with the intelligence to understand a good deal when he hears one." Ros paused and regarded him levelly. "I am authorised to offer you a deal if it turns out that you could aid in the recovery of al-Hassan."

The man held her gaze for a few seconds before breaking it and seating himself in the chair across from her.

"What makes you think that I know anything?"

"Would I go to the trouble of breaking into your house and helping myself to, what is I have to say, pretty average coffee if I was on nothing more than a simple fishing trip? Don't waltz me around Henderson; I know all the steps, I just don't have time for the dance."

Ros watched as Henderson's eyes widened. She'd struck gold, of that she was certain. It had been a bluff on her part, but one that appeared to have paid off. She despised Henderson and everything he stood for; it angered her to think that she would have to make a deal with a man who was willing to sell out anyone for a price. Azhar al-Hassan however was an embarrassing loss to the department and the sooner he could be returned to his people, the better.

She brushed a hand across her jeans, wiping away an imaginary speck of dust and pushed her personal feelings to one side.

"Tell me what you know about the whereabouts of al-Hassan."

"What do I get for telling you anything?" Henderson sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

"You get to keep both your kneecaps for a start," she smiled at him. "Oh there are a lot of people out there with scores to settle with you 'Mr' Henderson. It would be more than a little unfortunate for you if some of those parties were to discover where you lived." She ignored the expression of anger on his face. "You've seen how easily I was able to get past your so-called security system. Just imagine what some of the people you've betrayed in the past few years would do to you if they managed to get in."

Henderson's face was red with anger.

"I've got protection," he snarled at her. "I've got a promise from the Government that they'll look after me."

Ros smiled at him. "And I've got carte blanche from the very same Government to get this problem sorted with the minimum of fuss. You scratch my back Henderson, and I'll do my best to ensure that no-one gets to stick a knife in yours. All I want is a little information; a little co-operation. Now that shouldn't be too hard...should it?"

Underground Garage - 1200 Saturday 14th January

Zaf shivered as he stepped inside the white-painted walls of the garage.

"What have you got for me?" he asked as he hunched down further into his coat.

He glanced at the crumpled remains of the black Lexus and hoped that he wasn't talking to himself. Moments later, Malcolm emerged from behind the car.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"There's good news?"

Malcolm pulled a face. "Not exactly." He picked his clipboard off of the roof. "The car had been valeted before being issued to the Special Branch officer, but there are still too many forensic traces for it to be of use in narrowing down a suspect."

"Well it was something of a long shot," Zaf admitted philosophically.

"I know that," Malcolm told him. "The forensic boys have been telling me exactly how much of a long shot it was....in great detail."

"They don't tend to do anything unless it's in great detail. I take it you told them why you wanted it done?"

Malcolm nodded. "That was the only reason they agreed to do it at short notice on a Saturday morning in the first place." He flipped the top sheet on the clipboard over and ran his finger down the second page. "You were right about a short range EM pulse though."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. Electrics were knocked out on the car prior to the accident. The car would have been out of the driver's control by the time it mounted the kerb. From the marks on the road at the scene, it looks as though the Special Branch officer was attempting an evasion technique when the device was activated. It's the only way they can explain why the car left the road."

Zaf's eyes were automatically drawn to the patch of blood that was still visible in the rear seat well behind the driver. He tried not to think of what the blood might mean.

Thames House – 1400 Saturday 14th January

"Somewhere in this building we have a wagging tongue," Ros announced as she took her seat in the meeting room. "Local lowlife often used by 6 knew all about al-Hassan, right down to the fact that the car would be taking an indirect route."

Harry adjusted his tie. "I had a rather illuminating meeting with Oliver Mace this morning. He didn't say as much but I'd put money on the fact that the information came from his department."

Zaf shook his head. "What could they possibly have to gain from the disappearance of someone like al-Hassan?" He flicked through the documents on the desk in front of him. "From what there is in his file, he's not what you'd call a leading light."

Harry glanced down at the copy of the file in front of him.

"There is something about this that just doesn't add up. Jo, I want you to pull everything you can about Azhar al-Hassan. Go through every record you can find; I want to know everything there is to know about him; school records, where he went on holiday as a child, how many lengths of the swimming pool he can manage…everything."

Adam frowned. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe it wasn't Abdul-Latif Zebari who was the intended target after all."

Ros nodded. "Henderson didn't question the name once. I was expecting him to correct me, but he never did."

Zaf looked between the two of them. "al-Hassan…the target? What could he possibly know? He's a functionary. His entire purpose of being on this visit seemed to be to get up everybody's noses."

"He obviously knew something to warrant him being snatched from under our very noses. I want every avenue explored. We can't discount him entirely until we know everything there is to know about him." Harry gestured with distain towards the file on the table. "For all I know this is just copied from his Wikipedia entry!"

"I'll get on it," Jo assured him.

"Anything from the examination of the car?"

Zaf frowned. "Nothing helpful at the moment, aside from the fact that they had access to a localised EM pulse generator. Malcolm's liaising with the guys down in forensics. The Met aren't very pleased at losing what they see to be 'their car'. We can expect a few calls from them."

"I think we all know just where we can route those calls," Harry replied. "Anything with the CCTV yet?"

Zaf shook his head. "I've got teams scanning through everything we've been able to lay our hands on but there's been no sighting of the car yet."

"So far we've managed to keep the disappearance of al-Hassan from Zebari," Harry informed the others. "I think it's about time that we came clean."

Adam let out a low whistle. "That's not going to go down well."

"It's going to go a lot better than him reading about it in one of the red tops."

"You really think that they'd report it?"

"Someone leaves a file on a train and the whole country is up in arms...I rather think that they'll go to town if it comes to light that we've lost a person!" Harry replied drily.

Littleton Farm - 1600 Saturday 14th January

The walls of the room looked as though they hadn't seen a fresh lick of paint in years. Damp had caused the paintwork to crack, and it now fell from the wall in jagged, flaking shards. There had once been a shade covering the single light that hung from a short flex in the centre of the ceiling, but it had long since fallen away, and harsh shadows were cast upon the walls from the naked bulb that swung slowly in the draught.

"Ask him."

Ruth tried to ignore the incessant pounding of her head and swallowed hard as another wave of nausea washed over her.

"Ask him." The question was repeated, the man's tone growing rapidly impatient.

Ruth wanted nothing more than to look away from Azhar; he was seated across the table from her, two men flanking him on either side. She knew that his eyes were searching out hers; looking for some kind of confirmation that everything was going to be alright.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head so that she was looking at the table in front of her, her eyes staring intently at the scratches and grooves that marked the rough wooden surface.

This was the second time that they had both been dragged into the room, and the second time that she had been made to sit across from Azhar. She knew what was coming and wished for nothing more than to be somewhere else.

She sensed movement from next to her and moments later a hand was wound in her hair, pulling tightly on it until she was forced to raise her head. Automatically, she reached to stop the action and had to bite back the cry of pain as her left hand was knocked away.

"Ask him for the number," the man growled, moving so close that she could feel the heat of his breath in her ear. "Ask him for the number or tell him that we're going to start breaking more bones."

Ruth stiffened.

"Oh I mean it," the man whispered in her ear, a smile spreading slowly across his face. "Now ask him for the number."

Ruth's head was pushed forward as he released his grip. He took a seat next to her and regarded her as she struggled to regain her composure

"He doesn't know what you're talking about," she protested.

"Oh yes he does. All we want is the number and location of the safety deposit box and then we can all be out of here and on our way."

Ruth remained silent, her gaze still focussed intently on the table in front of her.

"Tell him."

"I... I can't," she protested quietly.

"Can't or won't?"

There was a long silence.

"You... can't do this..." she finally spoke up. "I don't know who you think he is, but he can't tell you anything."

"I think you'll find that we can do this."

"I won't help you."

"Then we'll do it anyway and he won't have any way of preventing it. It's a tricky one isn't it?"

Ruth raised her eyes to meet his. "And if…if he won't tell me..."

"Then we do exactly what we promised."

Ruth swallowed, wishing that there was some way out of the situation. If she maintained her silence then Azhar would be beaten again; if she relayed the questions then she felt as though she was in some way betraying him.

She heard the impatient sigh from the man next to her and knew that she didn't have a choice.

"Tell him that we'll break the fingers on his other hand if he doesn't co-operate."

The man watched as the woman shook her head. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, watching her squirm in pain as he tightened his grip on her already damaged bones. "You tell him...or it won't be his fingers we break." With his left hand he grabbed hold of her chin and raised her head to meet his. "It doesn't matter to Flynn whose fingers he breaks...A break is a break is a break as far as he is concerned."

He saw the defeated expression in her eyes and turned her head so that she faced Azhar.

"Tell him," he told her flatly releasing his hold on her chin and moving his hand down to grasp her left index finger. He felt her tense and in response tightened his grip on her damaged wrist and finger. "Tell him," he repeated firmly. "Or I'll do the job myself."

Ruth read the understanding in Azhar's face; he knew the threat. There was no need for her to say anything. They were on their own and there was no way out.