Thanks again for all the reviews!

All seven members of the Inquiry panel were perplexed that morning. Sir Harry Pearce was downright cheerful. His answers were still unhelpful, obstructionist, and laced with sarcasm, but he was uncharacteristically pleasant, and almost apologetic about it. He must know something they didn't, and it made the panel very nervous indeed. In fact, after a brief morning session, the DG decided to suspend testimony for the day in the hopes that the panel could regroup and figure out what the hell was up Harry's sleeve.

Harry, for his part, had seen the effect his demeanor had on the panel, and decided to continue with it for his own amusement (of which he had precious little lately). The truth of the matter was that the image of Ruth's smile earlier that morning refused to leave his mind and that alone had put him in a better mood. He had no idea how to extricate himself from his current situation, and up until her words of encouragement, he hadn't really wanted to find a way out. A future without her respect seemed to him to be the bleakest sort, and a possible prison sentence seemed a mere annoyance by comparison. But she hadn't balked when he took her hands, and she even laughed at his sad attempt at humour. Against all that he hoped was possible, she seemed to have forgiven him, at least to the point where she was worried about his welfare. So, he gladly stuck out his hands in preparation for the handcuffs that were his companions on the way back to the detention centre and started to wrack his brain on what to do.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You seem a little distracted today," the therapist commented.

"I'm sorry, it's just work."

"And when is it not? Ruth, don't you think you've put yourself last long enough? I'm not saying your job isn't important or demanding, but one of the reasons you're here is that you've lost yourself somewhere between one national crisis and another. You need to take care of yourself, and be honest with yourself, even if it's for ten minutes a day."

"I know. It's just that…"

"How's the journal coming along?"

"OK. It's very frightening, actually."

"Good."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ruth walked back to Thames House. She always needed a bit of time to clear her head before getting back to the Grid after a session. Her emotions were raw, and she was forced to reflect on things she hadn't thought about in years. Not to mention she now had the added complication of what was essentially a black op in trying to get Harry exonerated. Given enough time, she could probably find enough dirt on every member of the panel. But would that help? The mere fact that Harry knew where the skeletons were buried was probably more of an incentive on their part to never have him see the light of day than to let him go. The other big question was time, of which there was precious little. She debated with herself whether or not to ask for help from the rest of the team. More manpower would be a definite plus, but they would be risking their jobs as well. The memory of Harry, stroking the back of her hands sprung to her mind, and she made her decision.

"So, what do we need to do?" asked Beth.

They were having a liquid lunch at the George and Ruth had been a bit surprised by the ease in which it took her to convince Beth, Dimitri, and Tariq to help her. She had underestimated their loyalty to Harry and their bitterness over Lucas' betrayal. She thought that maybe it was because they were so young, they hadn't yet found out for themselves how many shades of grey there really were.

"We need to find everything we can on everyone on that panel. I think we also need to find out about John Bateman."

"Bateman?" Dimitri asked.

"It's a long shot, but if we can figure out who allowed John Bateman to impersonate Lucas North in the beginning it may give us some leverage. Tariq, we need to get surveillance on that committee room."

"It'll be difficult, but the next time one of us is called…"

"No, it needs to be sooner than that. They've already talked to you at least once," here she thought of Michael Ellis, "…and I think they are through with me, too."

"OK. I'll get on it, but it may involve some B&E."

Armed with tasks to do on top of her usual workload, Ruth felt vaguely confident. This was the type of stuff she was meant to do, and she was good at it. She just hoped it was good enough, and soon enough.

It was early evening when it came to her. It was blindingly brilliant in its simplicity, but it hinged on a giant bluff. She needed to talk to Harry, and she needed to do it now.

"Mr. Phelps?"

"Yes."

"This is Ruth Evershed. I need to talk to Harry right away, within the hour if possible."

"That's not possible. He's not to have any contact with anyone from the Service."

"Well, could you talk to him? There's some information that's vital…"

"I'm sorry, but even I need to make an appointment 24 hours in advance. It simply cannot be done."

"24 hours? What kind of house arrest…?"

"You mean you didn't know?"

"Apparently not." Her temper was in serious danger of being unleashed on poor Mr. Phelps.

"Sir Harry is a guest of Her Majesty's in Bronzeville. Solitary confinement, actually. He's only allowed to see me or immediate family members, with an appointment of course. His daughter is due to see him in the morning…"

"Thank you, Mr. Phelps."

She promptly called Tariq to have him double check on the security in the visiting area at Bronzeville, then with a few clicks found out where Catherine Townsend was.

Please leave a review!