Thanks to all who reviewed. This chapter examines the exciting places spies get to hang out in.
A snack bar in the field
Harry may have chosen the cafe but that didn't mean he admired its grubby paint blistered exterior, but any port, however dubious,was passably adequate in the storm that seemed to be approaching. Once he'd received Calum's not very cheering Intel his immediate priority had been to repair to an anonymous spot where he and the two women could linger without attracting undue attention; a necessity given that he wanted Kindle man quietly and efficiently dislodged from his viewing station before they approached the flat en masse. Trade craft expertise told Harry that the requirement to appear inconspicuous limited his options for loitering with hidden intent. In practical terms, having made a thorough reconnaissance of the streets in the vicinity of Catherine's flat when she'd moved in, his most realistic choices rested between entering this deeply unattractive cafe situated in the middle of a small shopping centre or strolling aimlessly through the autumn chilled environs of the public park. Having taken note earlier that freezing air and possible injury aftermath had turned Jane a delicate but unflattering shade of blue Harry preferred the cafe. It offered the promise of some warmth and a seat, the latter also being a necessity given that Jane's ankle probably wasn't in a state suited to much outdoor meandering. As a mild additional incentive the frontage also boasted a small, useful car park. Upon arrival at this depressing locale Harry parked up and turning to Dimitri spoke in an authoritative tone designed to repel any argument.
"Back on with the helmet Dimitri and off to the flat again. You know what I've asked Calum to do, so just keep an eye out. If our quarry decides to make a move follow him, if you can. If not then contact Calum and ask him to divert Batman and Robin."
Dimitri, given the standing orders of the past few months, was somewhat alarmed by this instruction. He started to protest but hadn't got any further than an opening, "But Harry" before being peremptorily interrupted.
"Yes Dimitri I know all about Towers' over protective protection orders, I live with them remember, but you may also recall that the highly overzealous and totally unnecessary risk assessment concluded if that our Transatlantic friends are going to try any funny business it'll be surreptitious, not a reconstruction of the OK Corral in broad daylight.
"I know Harry but even so..."
Exasperated Harry pulled out his mobile and hit speed dial, "Calum how near to me are Erin and Jane?"
A rattling sound indicated that Calum was accessing his computer before replying, "About five minutes assuming that Jane didn't palm the earrings off onto a passing chav."
"Thanks – okay Dimitri. And yes I'm also wearing a tracker. Ex Boy Scout that's me, 'Be Prepared.'"
Dimitri strongly suspected that the majority of Harry's field activities would not have earned the endorsement of Baden-Powell or any other advocate of wholesome living. He might just have been made the grade as the role model for an updated Machiavelli rebooted with indeterminate morals. Somewhat mollified by the nearness of Erin and recognising that a civilian involved in an argument with a policeman in the centre of a shopping street did not make for the inconspicuous cover advocated in his 'Boy's Book of Spying' Dimitri caved in. He strode away but, in a compromise designed to satisfy his conscience, lingered at the corner of the street for a couple of seconds to check that Harry had actually entered the cafe as promised. Satisfied that his peppery mooded boss wasn't planning to abscond on his own private trajectory as per Albany, Dimitri set off on his prescribed beat with a slightly easier mind.
Pausing on the threshold of the cafe Harry was instantly accosted by a wave of grease laden air carrying with it the acrid fragrance of burning fat. Confirmation that the interior was going to live down to his most pessimistic expectations was provided by his first glimpse of the furnishings. The red and white checked curtains were limp and tattered, while even the most cursory glance suggested that the chairs and tables were in need of a good rub down with disinfectant. The walls, whose original colour was indeterminate, were streaked with substances that Harry preferred not to analyse. In private as Sir Harry Pearce he'd be the first to admit that a little luxury was something of a lifestyle prerequisite, he felt it was a fully justified expectation given that the Service had deprived him of just about every other form of personal comfort. However field work undertaken in his distant youth had taught Harry that no spy could be afford to be fastidious when working undercover. If operational success depended upon him lurking in surroundings whose defining characteristic was chipped formica tables liberally scattered with the debris left behind by earlier diners then that was what Harry would do, he'd suffered worse in the defence of realm. Besides which, squalid as this place maybe it possessed two cardinal virtues, firstly it was near Catherine's flat and secondly it had the advantage of large windows which, even in their unwashed state, provided a satisfactory observation post. Although Harry had his own very specific reasons for setting foot in the place he retained his opinion that the majority of living entities, including a not very discriminating fly, would have passed by these appalling premises in favour of somewhere more salubrious. He was, therefore, amazed to discover that despite its horrible ambience he was not the establishment's sole customer. As was his engrained professional habit he began to sum up the current clientele which seemingly consisted of two elderly women, pensioners with bulging bags who'd obviously popped in for a refreshing post shopping chat, plus a middle aged mother accompanied by a whinging child who probably should have been in school. While none of them seemed likely to concern themselves with his party Harry was praying that the latter would depart before Jane arrived, otherwise the woman might find herself the unwilling recipient of his ex-wife's vitriolic diatribe on the specialist subject of positive parenting. Had Jane changed her views during the past two decades vis a vis parents who allowed their offspring to skip school and then weakly succumbed to every other nagging whine? He really really didn't want to be condemned to the ear bashing experience of listening to the updated version complete with its underlying condemnation of himself. 'You could take the school teacher out of the school but you couldn't'.... if she did start declaiming he'd be tempted to nudge her with his gun as a hint to shut it, NOW.
Cover considerations dictated that he had to preserve his legend as someone who would happily eat and drink in this tatty establishment, therefore it followed that he needed to buy something he could consume as an excuse for lingering. The counter was manned by a bored teenager whose customer service skills proclaimed her to be an alumni of that well know educational institution, 'The Academy of Am I Bovvered.' If he'd been her boss Harry would have reduced her to a cinder within seconds but in his current persona her total lack of interest was an advantage: asked to describe him she'd just about manage to confirm that he was male, beyond that the rest would be silence. Surveying the prices board in conjunction with the appetising selection available he rejected the option of salmonella on a plate, cunningly masquerading as a hotdogs or burgers, and purchased, as the least obnoxious choice, a mug of a pale vague liquid that went under the optimistic appellation of coffee. Having picked up his drink he headed towards the rear of the premises. This positioning wouldn't be his ideal choice but the other customers were all seated near to the entrance door and at least his group would be situated near the emergency exit if a quick escape was dictated. This area was also out of the earshot of the cafe's other occupants and afforded a degree of privacy, which he judged to be vital. The information he had to impart was secret and while their clothing matched the venue's social standing Jane's outspoken Oxford educated tones most definitely did not, if overheard her voice could blow their cover instantly. As he lowered himself onto a chair he realised why the other customers were sitting within draught range of the entrance. The pungent odour emitted from the nearby toilets was overpowering. Regular inhabitants obviously chose to sit where they could be the thankful recipients of an occasional lungful of fresh air, courtesy of the infrequent openings of the door. How grateful Harry was that encroaching age had not so far affected his bladder control. Some aspects of working undercover had their limits and using the toilets in this dive would probably breach even his tolerance level. Sipping his drink Harry schooled his face not to wince. It was small compensation that the awful flavour ensured for certain that he would not be consuming liquid in quantities copious enough to force him into facing whatever horrors lurked in the urinals. In revenge for this gratuitous assault on his taste buds he was already contemplating a phone call to Trading Standards with specific reference to prosecution under the Trades Description Act.
Awaiting the arrival of Jane and Erin he realised that for the first time since the previous evening he was totally on his own for a few minutes, a precious window of repose through which to privately review the information relayed by Calum. Any hopes that the accurate identification of Kindle man would help to clear the muddy waters surrounding Catherine's whereabouts had vanished. That mud was now not only dark chocolate in colour but also was bidding to become shudderingly bitter in taste. That the mystery surrounding her disappearance had deepened was troubling enough, but he also had Jane to consider. In view of their hitherto hostile relations she had surprised him by taking much that he had shielded her from in her stride, displaying an unexpected stoicism when suddenly plunged into a world she had only experienced in theory. At present he was struggling to remember which of those theories what he might have mentioned in the past; in particular had he ever made any reference to the general rule that if you had heard nothing relating to the whereabouts of a missing person within twelve to twenty four hours after they vanished they were probably dead? And how soon before Jane began to wonder if death might be a preferable fate to some that could have befallen their daughter? False assurances would be useless; Jane would see through them and Harry wasn't prepared to lie to her, he'd promised to be truthful and if they were to have any sort of future relationship...he pulled himself up short at that thought, future relationship with Jane! No chance, she'd made it clear over the years that, having finally escaped the travesty of their marriage, the only contact she was prepared to entertain was that relating to their children, preferably via a solicitor. Once Catherine and Graham had reached maturity, a distinctly age related concept with regard to Graham, even that nebulous connection had ceased. It was a dreadful indictment of their failed rapport that they had only been jerked into a semblance of civility courtesy of Jane's close shave with the bomb and mutual ongoing worry concerning their daughter's current location. Was Catherine was missing was because she'd been ploughing her own danger laden furrow and or was Erin correct in her implication that it was down to her parentage? The identification of the asset had left that one wide open. The bombing and laptop theft could be a setup intended to wrong foot him into hasty actions which would led to his irretrievable disgrace, imprisonment or even death. In fact, other than confirmation that Catherine was being watched, they hadn't really progressed and wouldn't until Kindle man was persuaded to talk. And talk he would Harry thought grimly, whatever it took. If harm came to Catherine because he was her father Jane would never forgive him. He wouldn't blame her for that. He wouldn't forgive himself if his daughter became a victim of his own twisted road, especially a road that was a legacy of his catastrophic foolishness in falling for Elena's duplicity.
Occasionally he wondered what his life would be like if he could be freed from the burden of crippling guilt he carried with him. He couldn't imagine existence without it. He'd borne it for so many years, concealing so many shadows that it was now woven into his very soul, a constant companion but no friend. In his darkest moments he wondered if retirement with Ruth would have released him from it or would he merely have enjoyed a brief respite before the demons returned again in the shape of the secrets he still carried. Would the worry that he might betray even her have eventually begun to lap at the shores of their contentment? Harry and the Service: Jane had once screamed 'The Service is your bloody bride. You treat me like a mistress, on the edge of your life used for tea, sympathy and fucking on demand.' He'd denied that, of course he had – 'he was simply protecting his family wasn't he' - but now as he took stock of his life he recognised her words as carrying a partial truth. Without ever intending to he'd neglected and exploited the affection of everyone who was important to him, destroyed them as surely as in many ways he'd destroyed himself and yet still he stayed on, an increasingly disillusioned and grizzled survivor in the very job that had damaged everyone he had ever cared for. He could see himself objectively: a man with nothing beyond work, trapped and culpable, clinging to his post as a barnacle might cling to a life raft, staying to compensate himself for his empty life. Harry didn't scare easily but he was terrified of what he might become in retirement. Earlier personal traumas had taken him dangerously near to alcoholism and his once longed for Grand Tour...too many thoughts of what might have been to even contemplate. So what could he do now? He still breathed, he still believed he could make a difference and he still needed some reason for living, or at its most fundamental a reason to get up in the morning.
The sound of footsteps made him realise that he'd been so absorbed in his maudlin thoughts 'could he blame the foul coffee?' that he'd missed the arrival of the two women. He was slipping, but at least it wasn't anyone who wanted to kill him... not yet anyway. Erin had entered trailing Jane in her wake. Observing the pair, now waiting at the 'lack of service' area, as a stranger might, Harry's heart was wrung. Both were attractive, even in her late fifties Jane could still turn the head of the discerning male, but not when garbed in the body swamping clothes that made her resemble one of Worzel Gummidge's more confused girlfriends. If the contrast with the immaculately made up, well groomed and smartly dressed Erin was distressing to him he hated to think what it was doing for Jane's self esteem. Watching the women closely Harry decided that whatever shape events took once they'd finally managed to search Catherine's flat Jane was going to be reunited with an improved wardrobe. She was currently residing under his roof, under his protection and, much as she would baulk at the notion, he felt responsible for her. If raiding Jane's home for her usual feminine attire proved impossible then she was going to borrow his credit card, even if he had to march her to the shops himself at gunpoint. Jane's prospective reaction to him accompanying her on a knicker hunt made him smile wryly – he knew her well enough to know that she'd be torn between going ballistic, feeling unpleasantly beholden and simple relief at the prospect of dressing normally. With luck the latter emotion would prove to be a more effective persuader than the firearm currently nestling in his jacket pocket.
Having finally succeeded in buying a drink apiece from 'Miss Customer Service 2011'and honing in on his presence the two women approached and sat down gingerly beside him. Assessing the glories of their surroundings Jane wrinkled her nose in distaste at the fetid stench emanating from the nearby facilities before commenting sardonically, "I can see why Pussy Galore passed this one up."
Harry's lips twitched slightly, "As your students would say. Welcome to our glamorous world, not." Leaving Jane to digest this remark and conscious of that the twenty four hour clock was ticking away inexorably Harry turned to Erin saying in hushed tones.
"Erin we've identified the man sitting watching the flat as Nick Garside. He used to be one of our assets."
Erin looked puzzled, "I haven't come across him."
"You wouldn't. He was handled by Beth Bailey. We didn't have exclusive rights. Six sometimes used him but just before Beth's departure she tagged him as unsafe – the CIA had also got to him. We burnt him as an asset but kept him on file in view of his possible involvement with the Cousins."
Erin bridled slightly at Harry's words. Beth Bailey was a subject they did not agree upon. Her somewhat hasty decommissioning by Erin had resulted in a degree of chaos when it was discovered that several of Beth's more valuable assets had mysteriously vanished from the database. Having been responsible for Beth's appointment Harry had never totally bought into Erin's claim that Beth's professional standards were wanting. More than once he'd wondered whether Beth's friendship with Dimitri had influenced the speedy presentation of her P45. Even Harry, absorbed as he had been with the problems, personal and professional, created by the aftermath of Ros's death had noticed that Dimitri's arrival on the Grid had coincided with the female members of the section suddenly sporting vaguely provocative clothing while simultaneously discovering excuses to parade themselves in the vicinity of the new recruit. Inevitably though Dimitri and Beth working on the same cases and on the same pay grade had been thrown together - and then came Albany, Erin and Beth's precipitate removal. Harry's leisurely speculations regarding the more intimate entanglements of Section D were waylaid by Jane who'd been trying to process the implications of Calum's information.
"Harry have I got this right – our daughter is being watched by either Five, Six, the CIA or anyone else who bought this man?"
"Got it in one Jane. So we need to bring him in but as quietly as possible."
Before Jane could query that statement Harry expanded the topic –"If he's being used by someone else we don't want them to know we're wise to this – although they might guess anyway. Possibly we can turn him to our advantage."
Jane meanwhile remained puzzled. "Harry, are you actually saying that this man might be employed by your own side to spy on Catherine?"
Harry was briefly reminded of times past when he'd very occasionally managed to spend what he believed was now referred to as quality time with his children. As he recalled a predominant phrase had been, 'Why, why, why Daddy'. He bitterly regretted that he'd not been in a position to hear those words that more often but now he seemed to be making up for it with Jane and 'Harry, Harry, Harry'. Very well Jane, 'Are you sitting comfortably, now I'll begin'. No, he rebuked himself, he was being horribly unfair to her. Her confusion was a salutary reminder that he'd worked in this profession for so long that trust in anyone, especially sometimes in his own side, was almost a foreign notion. Jane as an outsider was understandably struggling to understand a crooked occupation whose fundamental concept of, 'I spy with my little eye something beginning with S', would produce a response along the lines of, 'someone on my own side spying on me to make sure I'm spying correctly on someone else who is in turn spying on them spying on me.' Small wonder then that so many of his colleagues ended their careers either burnt out, or moonbathing amongst the daisies at Tring.
"We really don't know, that's why we need to get hold for him. Erin I've sent for Batman and Robin to casually remove him from the street and escort him back to Thames House – I'm sure the minimal charms of the basement cells will work their magic, failing that try my name. Dimitri, fully disguised as PC Plod, is at Catherine's with the police guard. I want you to drive to the shelter end of the street and watch out for our people. No need for you or Dimitri to get involved unless the quarry makes a break for it. Just supervise and watch. Let me know when he's been removed and I'll bring Jane round to the flat.
Erin looked a little uncertain at this. "Harry should you be on your own?" Before Harry could respond once more to this tedious question respecting what he considered to be excessive precautions Jane, indignant at being reduced to the status of the Invisible Woman, chipped in, "Excuse me."
"Sorry Jane, I meant without a colleague to back up."
"Don't worry Erin. If anyone comes in Jane can glare them to death, failing that I'll offer them this coffee. Now go, I need access to the flat and I've got to see Towers in about an hour and a half."
Erin departed wondering, as Dimitri had before her, whether she was doing the right thing. Defying Harry to his face having proved impossible she compensated for this annoyance making an executive decision to ignore his first instruction and drove to the street entrance nearest to the flat, parked a little way from the corner and, reluctant to break cover, rang Dimitri.
"Hi D. Can you make an excuse and walk round the corner?"
Nothing loath he shortly appeared grinning broadly at the sight of her, dark hair blowing in the light wind, smiling back at him as she greeted him with, "Hi everything okay ?"
"Yes, more or less. They've taken the body away which was concerning Harry so we're just waiting for the lift. Why Batman and Robin? Did he say?"
Erin thought for a moment, Harry hadn't actually explained his reasons, but then did he have to? "I think he thought they'd blend in best with the scenery. I'm just waiting for them to appear. I should go and watch our friend but I wanted an update from you first and didn't want to risk a call being tracked. Have you seen anything?"
The sight of her gazing at him made Dimitri felt flattered. Erin was a great one for playing everything by the book and here she was disobeying Harry's orders just to see him. "Not really – he seems slightly twitchy as if he wants to move but is tied for some reason. Perhaps waiting for a relief? How did you get on with Jane?"
"Not sure. I honestly can't make up my mind about her and Harry. Sometimes they seem to be on the same wavelength, then they start baring their teeth at one another. I'm hoping they conclude that one murder in the day is enough. I've had to leave them to it."
"What despite instructions!" Dimitri was stunned.
Nettled by his accusatory tone Erin reminded him, "You left Harry as well."
"Only when Calum told us you were about three minutes away. And in this gear I wasn't exactly obscure, if we'd argued any longer I'd have had to pretend to arrest him to keep my cover."
"Yes well with Jane there I couldn't exactly start a row could I. Knowing Harry he's done it deliberately. Remember how he kicked off in the first place at being coddled. Like Jane said he made a horrible noise and then went quiet."
"Don't tamper with quotation. As I recall his exact words were that if he wanted a nursemaid he'd have drafted in Mary Poppins not Batman and Robin who were in nappies when he was sorting out the Cold War. I just hope he doesn't go kaboom with the wrong people. That's the reason he's in this mess to begin with."
"I know. Why do you think I sneaked to Towers? I didn't fancy prancing around the woods in a balaclava again. It played hell with my hair."
Dimitri was still genuinely troubled in view Harry's statements a little earlier, "Harry might be dubious about the likelihood of the threat but I'm still surprised he's running a risk with Jane around."
"I don't suppose he's told Jane anything about that has he?" Erin enquired in hope rather than expectation.
"I asked but no. Anyway Erin can I come round tonight? Assuming that we don't have to sort out the Pearce family – give me terrorists any day."
Erin smiled. "Only if you wear your uniform, I never could resist a man in one."
"How do you feel about handcuffs? I think this outfit has a pair." Dimitri began to check his pockets but was halted by Erin's reply. "Thanks but no. We get enough bondage in this job."
"Spoilsport. I could bring a whip to match your high heels?"
"Do you want to answer Rosie's questions? Anyway I have to go. Hmm I can't kiss you in that uniform at the moment – perhaps later when I don't have to concentrate on work. If I don't go and we miss Garside moving or being moved Harry will combust.
With that she vanished leaving Dimitri wondering what excuse he could invent for retaining the uniform and hoping that this wouldn't be a late night, well not on the Grid anyway.
Having travelled to the point she should have been at five minutes previously Erin noticed with relief that their wanted asset was still sitting in the shelter seemingly melded to his Kindle. She also recognised the two chosen operatives approaching. To confirm that she was on task she sent Harry a quick text. "Action imminent."
One of the spies, dressed in a plain grey hoodie teamed with scruffy jeans, had adopted a slouching gait that belied the information in his file fingering him as a previous under twenty one British athletics champion. The other was a thickset man, clad just in a tee shirt, and sporting an interesting assortment of macho tattoos. Predominant along his arm was one piece of artwork depicting a large bat that rippled with movement at every flexing of the biceps, indicating the provenance of his nickname. Combined with the two nose studs and a shaven head he looked like a human Rottweiler, a refugee from the sort of underclass infested ghettos that the law abiding had nightmares about. It was an effective disguise that had made him one of the team's most cherished and successful undercover officers. In his hand he carried what looked like a can of spray paint but actually contained a useful emergency weapon in the form of a quick acting knock out gas.
Neither man gave Erin any acknowledgement as they wandered around the corner with no apparent aim in life beyond that of rivalling Banksy in the graffiti stakes. Batman strolled into the shelter, announced his arrival by belching loudly and sat beside Kindle man. Kicking a tin can casually out of the way he turned to the occupant and remarked in a low growl. "Hi know when the bus is due mate."
"No idea."
Leaning over the Kindle Batman inquired, "Hey what you reading - porn? Good for that I've heard."
"Piss off," came the testy reply.
Robin approached from behind muttering, "Now that isn't what I call friendly is it?"
"No but then we're about to get very friendly aren't we?" As the pair moved to close in, their victim, while looking alarmed, stuck to his cover.
"Piss off." Batman looked bored at this repetitious speech, "You need to learn some manners chum."
The Kindle dropped to the ground as a knife was pulled but Robin was too quick and disarmed him with a quick karate chop.
"Really not very nice so you either come with us or we'll report you and the knife to those policemen down the road."
Further protests were diffused via a quick spurt from the spray can. Hauling the asset along in an armlock that looked casual the trio made their way around the corner to the van that had drawn up in their absence.
As Batman opened the back of the hospitality ready vehicle their reluctant guest recovered himself sufficiently to demand of Robin, "Where are we going?"
"Oops I forgot to say. Thames House. I believe you've heard of it."
Robin's reply was accompanied by Batman squeezing their quarry a little harder as he proclaimed, "You're nicked."
"Sorry he can't help this. He wanted to be a policeman but Harry Pearce made him a better offer."
Harry's confidence in the effect his name would have proved to be fully justified. Kindle man went a little pale at this piece of news as Batman proceeded to lift him off the ground and unceremoniously stuff him into the van. Once they were well away Erin checked the road again and then picked up her phone.
"Okay Harry. Asset taken. You can now proceed to the flat."
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