Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it means a lot. Thank you. Apologies for the slight delay in getting this updated, but life has been hectic.

Chapter Four: A Shadow of Doubt

Lucas walked through the hospital doors, welcomed by a broad morning light that retained the heat of a lingering summer. A warmth that bolstered his buoyant mood following his discharge and release back into the wilds of London city. At his side, Ros was talking low into her mobile phone in one hand and rummaging through her bag with the other. After a frustrating moment she tilted it towards him, pulling the zip fully open. "Keys," she mouthed the word to him, pointing towards the inner darkness of her shoulder bag.

Together they made their way through the car park, her still talking and him still rooting through the bag, drawing his hand out at random as if it were a lucky dip. Old lipsticks, discarded packets of gum and stubs of eyeliner pencils seemed to have swamped the keys and eaten them. As he continued the search he could just hear Harry's voice sounding from the other end of the line, half picking out what he was saying.

But soon the call ended and Lucas handed Ros the recovered keys to her car. "Are we heading to the Grid now?"

Ros shook her head and zapped the doors open. "Not quite. Get in and we'll talk."

Once inside, he watched as she turned the key in the ignition and the engine sputtering into life. Only when they were moving, rolling towards the exits, did Lucas breathe a sigh of relief to be away from that place. It wasn't exactly like being in prison, but being stuck on a ward full of sick people was the next best thing. 'But you're a sick person too,' Ros had brusquely informed him when he had voiced his concerns to her, the evening before. He felt she had somewhat missed the point. He watched the Germ Pit's reflection vanish in the wing mirror as they pulled out into the open road.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, once they were on the road proper.

"I'm taking you back to mine so you can rest up and get some breakfast," she said. "While you're doing that Harry, Ruth and I will be meeting the Home Secretary to brief him on the Carlton affair. Then you and I will be searching Suleiman's house looking for evidence of Carlton's involvement in the Baghdad bomb."

Although he had been hoping to get straight back to work, Lucas offered no objection on that front. His arm still ached from where the saline line had inserted and he hadn't eaten properly in over a week. But he still had his reservations.

"Haven't you got this the wrong way round?" he asked, before explaining further. "Shouldn't we be searching for the evidence of Carlton's dodgy dealings first, then bringing our case to the Home Secretary. Towers is going to want more than the word of an Islamic State asset."

He turned his gaze from the road ahead to Ros, who was momentarily focused on overtaking the car in front.

"That's what I thought," she replied, eventually. "But there's no harm in letting Towers know the man he's doing business with may not be Kosher after all."

Lucas shrugged and turned his attention back to the streets, all passing him by in a bit of a blur.

Ruth had her business head on. Hair styled and swept up into a neat coil. A navy blue jacket and skirt combo, the hems of which fell short of the knee by a good few inches. Sheer black tights and shoes heeled to the point of making them double as a deadly weapon of some sort. Harry leaned back against the wall, looking up and down the full length of her again. He had seen her that morning, but in the chaos of the hour hadn't had time to take it all in.

But as they lingered outside Whitehall, waiting for Ros, he could see her properly. A small breeze sweeping downriver troubled her hair, a few loose strands falling from behind her ear. He was unable to resist reaching out and tucking them back, a semi-legitimate reason to touch her face before etiquette dictated they keep their distance. He smiled gratifyingly as she responded to his touch, her hand softly covering his.

"Harry," she said, a note of gentle reprove in her voice. "We're at work."

Even as she said it a crowd swelled past them, disgorged from a double decker bus and obscuring them from view. Harry felt the corner of his mouth curl into a smile, a glitter in his eye not altogether a result of catching the sunlight.

"No we're not," he answered, at length. "We're off the Grid. Just waiting in a public space."

The leaves of the trees lining the pavements were bronzing in the approaching autumn. Every gust of wind now sending down another shower of orange and gold, swirling around Earl Haig mounted on his steed of bronze. In the near distance, Nelson's Column jutted sharply over Trafalgar Square, its long shadow falling in places Harry could not see. Meanwhile, Ruth met his gaze, her head tilted to one side as she regarded him in return. The blue of her eyes looked almost out of place in the seasonal change happening all around them.

"Here comes Ros," she said, her gaze shifting to just over his shoulder.

Their moment over, Harry straightened up and greeted his Section Chief warmly. "How's Lucas?"

Ros' brow darkened. "You know what he's like, Harry. They barely got the IV lines out of his veins before he was trying to get back to work."

They fell into step with each other as they entered the grandiosity of Whitehall. To Harry's relief, there was no waiting around involved and Towers was already expecting them. Seated behind his desk in the inner-sanctum of his private offices, away from the PA's and secretaries that thronged his outer rooms, seemingly twenty four-seven. Harry and Ruth nodded to the ones they were familiar with as they passed, picking up tea and coffee as they went.

Once inside, they all greeted the man himself in turn; taking seats lined up in a neat row in front of his desk. While they got settled, Towers removed his spectacles and polished the lens' with his tie, rubbing in small firm circles, allowing himself a clearer view of his visitors.

"Goodness, Harry, all three of you," he said jovially, pushing his specs back into place. "A veritable little tea party we have here."

Able to see them clearly, Towers' grey eyes darted from one face to another, paling – as he always did – ever so slightly as he noticed Ros in his presence. She sat there with her legs crossed and her arms folded across her chest. She was a no-nonsense stalwart at the heart of spin doctor central; a woman after Harry's own heart.

"We have some rather distressing intel on your newest business partner, Home Secretary," Harry said, opening up the meeting by getting to the point. "One of our agents was recently in touch with an asset inside IS-"

"Ah yes," Towers cut in. "I already know about this, Harry. There's little need to trouble yourself on John Carlton's behalf."

Harry was about to persist, but found the words momentarily lost to him. It was unthinkable that Towers was doing business with Carlton despite the allegations. Ruth, also, stiffened in her seat, a flinch that was barely perceptible. A muscle twitched in Ros' jaw, otherwise she remained perfectly still. She looked like a leopard steeling herself for the kill, Towers fixed in her eye like an unsuspecting buffalo blundering into her line of vision.

"You mean, you already know that Carlton sold a dirty bomb to Islamic State?" she asked, her flat tone betraying her incredulity. "The same dirty bomb that detonated and killed two MI6 agents a few days ago."

Towers looked apologetic as he opened the top drawer of his desk. Harry heard it rolling outwards, joined by the jolting and rattling of whatever was inside it, but Towers didn't take anything out for the time being. He seemed to have a change of heart and met Harry's gaze. He wore the same reluctant apology in his expression. All regret and sympathy.

"I was warned that this would happen," Towers said, opaquely. "I've had it explained."

Harry's brow knotted into a frown. "What do you mean, Home Secretary?"

"I mean I was warned that these rumours would be swirling," Towers explained. Finally, he reached into his desk and withdrew a file. A personnel file, or a copy of one at least. "Harry, has it occurred to you that the person responsible for that explosion is…."

His words trailed off, as though he really was surrounded by predators and was suddenly wary of proceeding any further down this particular track. Sensing a fight in the air, Harry leaned back in his seat, silently urging the politician to bring it on.

"And?" said Harry, challengingly. "What are you trying to tell us?"

Towers sighed heavily. "Well, that the person responsible isn't altogether closer to home? Don't you think it strange that the man responsible for the bomb in Dakar was also out in Baghdad-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Ros choking. Rarely did her composure break and Harry was relieved to see it was only a very brief lapse. Of more concern to him was the counter-allegation. He had to steady himself with a deep breath before clearing up any confusion regarding Lucas.

"That was one big misunderstanding, Home Secretary, as I told you at the time," he began, but his ire was rising now. "Lucas was duped-"

"But he's not Lucas, is he?" the Home Secretary cut in. "He's John Bateman. A small detail I believe you conveniently left out of your report."

Harry was aghast. "With your approval, Home Secretary."

Beside him, Ruth sat with her hands curled into fists. For a moment, Harry willed her to get up and punch the man, as she so clearly wished to do. Alas, his influence on her had not extended to open violence, as of yet. She merely remained silent, but he knew she was only collecting her thoughts to make a more reasoned intervention.

"With respect, Home Secretary, I was here when we reached this agreement," she said, finally. "In light of Lucas' long years of service to this country, eight of which – need I remind you – were spent being tortured in a prison cell in Russia, he was exonerated of this one transgression in his youth. I simply don't see what it has to do with Baghdad?"

Ruth was keeping her nerve where Harry's temper was fraying rapidly. Ros seemed beyond words, for the moment. So all rested on the shoulders of the Analyst.

Towers paused for breath. "Regardless of what happened in Senegal, it did show us that Lucas North is capable of planting a suspect device-"

"And where the bloody hell is he supposed to have gotten this dirty bomb from, Home Secretary?" Ros retorted, furiously. "Do you think he's got a plutonium refinement plant in the cupboard under his stairs? Or do you think he bought it off a bloke in the Tesco car park on Walthamstow Road?"

Before Towers could even recoil from the sudden attack, Harry threw himself into the breach.

"Not only that, but he also smuggled said dirty bomb out of the country and hid it on an aircraft bound for Baghdad, under Ros' very nose," he said, gesturing towards Ros. "We're not stupid, Towers. We would have noticed something amiss, don't you think?"

"Do you know, Harry, I really don't appreciate you taking that tone of voice with me," Towers rebuked, adopting an almost school ma'am posture.

Before Harry could make his utter disregard of Towers' feelings known, Ruth quickly tried to calm things down.

"I understand that, Home Secretary, and I apologise on behalf of my colleagues," she began, ignoring Ros' choked protest. "But you must also take into consideration that we have intel that suggests it was Carlton who sold that bomb to ISIS. There is nothing, and I mean nothing at all, to suggest Lucas North had anything to do with this attack. There's been no odd behaviour, no suspect meetings, nothing out of the ordinary that would suggest a rogue agent."

"What it comes down to, Home Secretary, is this," Harry added, having regained his composure. "Are you going to take the word of a businessman over the word of your own intelligence organisation?"

Although Towers looked beleaguered, he soon gathered himself and pushed the file towards Harry. It was a copy of Lucas' file kept at Thames House. It was nothing he had not seen before, but it contained all the details of the Dakar bombing, of which Lucas had been completely exonerated. Harry opened it on his knees and gestured to it.

"Home Secretary, you knew all this already," he said, completely calm now. "I kept you fully briefed on that situation as it developed – almost two years ago now. Lucas had no idea what was in that suitcase and we have proved to you that he did not set it off. He was seen leaving the Embassy on camera and we know it was remotely detonated by mobile phone by someone off site."

"But Harry, Lucas North still lied to you for over a decade," Towers countered. "You only have his word that he didn't know what was in that suitcase and it's not like he hasn't lied before, is it? Now that I have intel to suggest he was involved in the Baghdad bombing, surely you can see that I am forced to act."

Harry's heartbeat raced. "What do you mean by that?"

Before Towers could reply, Ros complained loudly that her phone was vibrating. "Excuse me, I have to switch this off." She took out her phone and started pressing touch-screen buttons in a rapid succession. It looked to Harry as though she were sending a text message. Moments later, she slipped the phone back in her breast pocket, apologising under her breath.

"Where is your proof that Lucas was involved in the Baghdad bombing?" asked Ruth, her tone calm again. She sounded confident, even. A manner that offered Harry a slim hope of an early resolution.

Towers nodded to the file on Harry's knee. Ruth picked it up and started rifling through the pages, selecting the only one that they had not seen before. A chat log, by the looks of it. Harry watched her brow darken as she squinted at it.

"Towers," she said, looking back up at the Home Secretary waving the print out. "This is from the deep web. It could have been anyone saying this stuff and Lucas' name isn't mentioned anywhere in it."

Ros was leaning over, trying to see what was on the sheet. But Ruth only pointed to the odd URL. A sequence of numbers and letters. Not like a normal URL that had a proper web address on it. Harry could tell, by the look on Towers' face, that he hadn't the faintest idea what the deep web even was, never mind how and why it was used.

"But if you read it, you can see they knew MI5 and 6 would be tailing the bombers," said Towers. "They clearly have inside information. Where do you think they could have got that from?"

It could have been nothing more than a lucky guess, Harry thought. It was no long shot. But he held back, studying the Home Secretary closely while the silence lasted. Lucas was being set up, he could see it from the start but his hopes of fighting it were diminishing fast. Was Towers believing it because he wanted to believe it? Or was there something deeper going on? They wouldn't be able to find out before the meeting's end, whatever it was.

"Home Secretary," he said, maintaining his calm tone. "This is not proof of anything. Anyone could have added this to Lucas' file and it certainly wasn't me."

"I did," Towers replied. "The log was handed to me by someone who is connected to neither MI5 nor Securitech."

Silence again. Anger had dissolved into a numb disbelief.

"So, you just expect me to hand Lucas over to face due process now? What is you want?" asked Harry, finally finding his voice again.

Towers looked regretful again. "Personally, I think he has a case to answer. Don't you?"

"I think we've already answered that question, Home Secretary," Ruth replied. There was more venom in her tone than Harry had ever heard before. Not even in their most heated of arguments. "All you have presented to us is scurrilous rumours and tales. Do you really think that will stand up in a court of law? Where's your proof?"

Towers drew a deep breath, meeting Ruth's gaze. "And where is your proof that Carlton sold the bomb to ISIS?"

All three of them fell into a mutinous silence.

Despite his half day, Nathan was up and about already. The horrors of the day before were still raw in his mind, plaguing him as he tried to sleep. Every time he did slip into unconsciousness, he woke up panicking minutes later, tangled up in the bed sheets and with Oliver holding him tight. "You were having bad dreams," he said, soothing him gently. He tried to get up at four am, but Oliver convinced him to try resting again. Dawn – like work – couldn't have come soon enough.

He prepared breakfast and served it to Olly in bed, before running a bath for a long soak. Then he could drop him off at work, come back to the safe house and read the papers at his leisure. He would even drop by the cat sanctuary for the Chairman's replacement, if there was time. But all that was cast asunder as the text message arrived while pulling into the car park outside Olly's office.

"Anyone interesting?" asked Oliver, eyeing the phone on the dashboard.

He parked the car and checked the caller display. "Shit!" he cursed low. "It's work. Looks like I'm wanted after all."

"Commiserations. Anyway, see you tonight."

They leaned in for a goodbye kiss before Olly exited the car. Once he was gone, Nathan looked at the phone again. A coded text message from Ros, marked urgent he was required to act fast. Switching it to hands free, he called Lucas and got the car moving again. Mercifully, he was already on the road when the message came through and not too far from Thames House. Less merciful was that Lucas wasn't answering.

He left the engine running while he ran into Thames House, making straight for the Grid. Once there, he went through the relevant lockers for the strong box mentioned in the message. Beth fired a few questions at him as he sorted through the right one, questions he was forced to deflect.

In the box was a legend. An emergency legend at that. Not one Lucas would normally use. With no time to question it, he pushed it down the inside of his jacket before exiting the Grid again. Back in the car, he drove over to Ros' house where Lucas was meant to be resting up. Within twenty minutes, he was pulling up in Ros' street and making his way up her garden path and hoping she was home.

While knocking on the door he called Lucas' number again, hoping the dual assault of door and ring tone would wake him. But when the first knocks drew no response, he took a backward step and looked up at the highest window for any sign of life. Finding nothing, he instead threw a small stone at the front window. It bounced off the glass, making more noise than damage to his relief. Eventually, it did the trick.

"What the fuck?" Lucas enquired, leaning out of the bedroom window.

"We need to talk," said Nathan. "It's urgent."

The older man frowned uncomprehendingly before slamming the window shut, cracking the glass. Moments later, hurried footsteps descended the stairs beyond the front door.

"Come on in," said Lucas, opening the door fully to admit him. "What's happened? Don't tell me someone else has lost their head?"

Nathan didn't move beyond the hallway, but opened his jacket to retrieve the legend.

"I got a message from Ros," he explained. "I've got to bring you this and get you out of London as soon as possible."

Among the fake driver's license and papers, was a passport under Lucas' new false name. Credit cards and bank details, even sports club membership cards. All adding to the authenticity of his new life. Lucas took it all in disbelief.

"Just what the hell is going on?"

Nathan could not explain it, either. He could only follow orders. "Ros said she would call me again soon. But I have to get you out of here."

He felt helpless, but Lucas seemed to understand the urgency of the matter. He nodded and disappeared back up the stairs, presumably to get fully dressed. To fill the empty minutes, Nathan returned to the car and started up the engine again. With the whole of England suddenly at his disposal, he had no idea where to head for. Musings which were interrupted by his phone ringing. He snatched it up quickly as soon as he saw Ros' name on caller display.

"Are you out of London yet?" she asked, without preamble.

"No, but we're about to get moving," he answered, feeling badly about not moving faster.

"Good," replied Ros. "Head north but not too far for now. I want to meet you both just outside London and explain everything. But it's urgent. Head for Essex for now and I'll get to you as soon as possible."

With that she hung up. But Nathan could hear raised voices in the background, Harry's chief among them. Detecting another crisis in the air, he made sure to keep the engine running until Lucas arrived. When he did, he noticed that Lucas was pale with worry.

"Right," he said. "Let's go."

Thanks again for reading. Reviews would be lovely, if you have a minute.