Max could have happily throttled Neil for putting his own feelings of guilt into spoken words. Once they were out, regardless of who spoke them it became real. Yes, he was using Millie, without her knowledge let alone her consent, to manipulate a man who was as near as dammit a family member, a man she had known and loved since birth. He tapped his fingers on his desk, determinedly strengthening his moral justification. This wasn't all about him, hadn't Sondra also wanted the man out of their lives? It was best for everyone. Millie would understand. Max had just about revived his wavering confidence when his eyes fell on the plain brown file which lay across his in-tray. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand for a second or two, delaying the point of opening it, not knowing what might leap out of the few pages it contained, wondering whether any of it would refer to Millie's father as the electronic file suggested that it might. Curiosity got the better of him, taking precedence over the little voice in his head which counselled caution, no going back, it warned. He opened it and spread out the documents, seven in all. Administrative and court forms, no witness statements but one signed and dated confession by Fleischmann giving details of his operation handling stolen goods and smuggling into the now former Soviet Union through its embassy in London. No mention of Richard Brown. Only one other name appeared to stand out. Nikolai Antonov. A Russian connection back then and a Russian connection now, was it too much of a coincidence?

-ooOoo-

Millie tapped the code Georgie had given her earlier that day into the keypad at the gates to the Fleischmann house, glancing back to the sleeve holding the only tangible piece of evidence that they had while the gates opened. She pulled up at the house, relieved when her mother opened the door, all serenity apparently restored.

"Hi Mum, we've got something for Georgie to take a look at," she explained,waving the sleeve at her mother.

"He's still in the kitchen, I've barely had a word out of him since you left," she paused to sigh. "Well, as you're here, I'll take the opportunity to pop out and get a few supplies. This place is a typical bachelor pad!" she finished with a tight laugh.

"Millie? Is that you?" Georgie emerged from the far doorway as Sondra made her way out through the front door. "Have you got any news? Have you found her?" The desperation in his voice increased with every question.

"Georgie," Millie hoped the calm in hers would provide some comfort, "let's sit down," she guided him gently back into the kitchen, drenched in sunlight from the wide glass doors leading onto the immaculate garden terrace. She took his hand as they sat together. "CCTV footage from the salon shows a masked man disabling the cameras before Carly disappeared. It's impossible to identify him from that footage alone, but on film from surrounding cameras we have found this," she took the image from the sleeve and placed it on the table between them, "we feel certain it is the same man. I know it's not great quality but he does have what appears to be a distinctive looking tattoo on his arm." Georgie stared at the picture, yet his eyes were unseeing. Millie squeezed his hand to rouse his attention. "Georgie? Do you recognise this man?"

Slowly Georgie looked up at Millie, his lower lip quivering. "No."

"Are you sure? Couldn't there be anything familiar about him?" Millie pleaded. "I mean, the image is pretty grainy, but the tattoo covers most of his forearm, here," she placed a finger on the tattoo to try to focus his mind. "Are you sure you haven't seen it before? Perhaps a disgruntled employee or an associate of someone you know?" He shook his head jerkily and Millie felt her frustration rising, unable to dislodge the thought from her mind that he was hiding something, something that could be the key to finding his daughter. "Please Georgie, think."

"Why must I know him," he suddenly burst out. "Why are you so convinced that I know who this is?" he jabbed at the picture, sending it flying across the table forcing Millie to lunge after it. "What are you saying, Millie? I suppose you agree with that prick of a boyfriend of yours that I'm responsible for Carly going missing!"

"No! I don't think that, but I do think that you aren't telling me everything!" she fired back as he violently pushed his chair away from the table and paced to the other side of the room, running his hand through his hair. "Are you in trouble? Is there someone who would want to do this? To get at you? Tell me, Georgie, is there anybody you know who could be involved in this?"

Georgie dodged her questions. "I've told you, I don't know who he is. Is this the best your lot have come up with, Millie? Eh? Maybe I should do a little investigation myself," Millie shrank back, his tone had suddenly turned from despair into something so much uglier. He didn't look like Georgie anymore, his lips had curled back, showing snarling teeth, showing perhaps the man underneath the jovial charm and good humour. Millie blinked, hoping the image would go away, that he would revert to her Godfather once again. "This isn't about me. This is down to some nutter who wants my girl and has taken her because he can't get her any other way. And if you can't find him, then I will."

Millie mustered her composure as best she could. "That isn't going to help," she countered quietly, hoping she could bring him back down. But Georgie wasn't to be placated.

"You think you know everything, don't you Amelia?" She flinched at the use of her full name, only ever employed in times of punishment or disappointment, "but you don't live in the real world. Always protected by your father and now by that boyfriend of yours. What do you know? Playing at being a copper, you think wearing that uniform of yours gives you some sort of moral high ground-"

"Georgie! That's not true."

"No? You've always looked down on my Carly, haven't you? Never wanted her around? Jealous of the attention she always got. Don't think I never noticed!"

Millie stared at him in disbelief, stunned by his accusation. "Me? Jealous?" she started before catching herself, wondering if there was an element of truth in what he said. "This is ridiculous, Georgie. I want to help you, but you need to be honest with me. And you need to stay calm." Millie realised as soon as her final word left her lips that it was like lighting the blue touch paper. His eyes narrowed, boring into her as he took a deep breath to launch another barrage. But just as he opened his mouth to let loose he was distracted by clicking heels in the doorway. His anger switched to hopefulness but swiftly back to the despair that had greeted Millie only a few minutes earlier.

"Silly me! Forgot my handbag … what? What's happened?" Sondra flicked her head from side to side, her perfectly bobbed auburn hair swinging gracefully with the movement.

"I'm going to the club," Georgie announced, grabbing a set of car keys from a dish on the table and giving Millie a malicious glance for good measure on his way out.

"But …" Sondra looked at her daughter in askance. Millie simply hung her head and stared at her hands, clenched on the table.

-ooOoo-

His phone rang, dragging his concentration away from the papers in front of him. None of it made sense, too much of the case appeared to be missing and none of the investigating officers was familiar. He knew that files were shoddily kept back in the old days, prehistoric days, but even so, there would usually be a witness statement or two. A solitary document of confession in a case of this type wouldn't be enough, not even then. Unless of course, there was more to it, unless it was part of some sort of cover up and the file had been doctored.

"Hey," he answered softly.

"I've screwed up."

"What?"

"I screwed it up," Millie moaned from inside the cushioned teak gazebo at the end of the garden. She leant forward to cradle her head in one hand, the other holding the phone to her ear.

"What happened?"

"I showed him the picture but he said he didn't know who it was and when I pushed him he … he flew off the handle, said stuff … it was awful. Awful."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, just stuff about Carly and me, but it hurt, made me wonder if I've misjudged her all these years."

"Where are you now?"

"In the garden, he stormed off, said he was going to the club, said he was going to do his own investigating."

"Great," instantly wishing he could take it back as he realised that she wouldn't think he meant it, that he was pleased she'd rattled Fleischmann, even if it was at her expense.

"I'm sorry," Millie muttered morosely.

"I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled before quickly continuing, "Look, do you believe him? That he didn't recognise the suspect?"

"Yeah, I think so. But he is lying to us, I'm sure of it now. You were right to mistrust him. I think he knows exactly who is behind this, but I don't understand why he won't tell me." She paused for a moment, "I feel like a total failure, I should be able to deal with this."

"Millie, you are not a failure. Okay, so he's walked out, but that tells us something. It's good."

"Yeah?"

Her despondency pricked at his conscience. "Yeah. It tells us that Carly's disappearance probably is linked to him, even if we don't know why yet. You did well."

"Hmm," responded Millie, unconvinced. "Well, I don't see that I am much use here after all. Maybe I should come back into the station, or back to Barton Street."

"No! Er, at least not yet. Stay put, wait for him to come back and see what he has to say. We'll keep an eye on him at the club from this end, Mickey is on his way over there now anyway. You did the right thing, Millie. You needed to push him, if the answer to all this lies with Fleischmann, then the connection you've got is all we have right now. We need you there."

"But-"

"I need you there," he interrupted softly. "Stick it out, Millie. I know it's hard but you can do this, I know you can."

Max closed his eyes in relief as he disconnected the call. That was close. Reflecting on her update, he had to give Millie credit for forcing Fleischmann's hand, he'd doubted that she would really get tough enough with him. Fleischmann knew more about this than he was letting on, what previously been suspicion was now fact in his mind. But most of all, was the relief that he'd bought himself a few more hours to find out just what the Russian connection was all about.