Many thanks for the kind reviews. Also a big thank you to the reviewer who helped me out with details from Harry's diary. To those of you who are following this story apologies for the delay.

Catherine's Flat

As Harry drove towards their daughter's flat Jane's initial euphoria at finally leaving the cafe was short lived. In her anxiety to discover what had become of Catherine she'd temporarily forgotten that they were returning to the scene of last night's shattering experience. As recollection seeped back she began to shudder uncontrollably. Harry, his hands occupied with the steering wheel and his eyes focussed on the road felt rather that saw her reaction. It didn't surprise him although he'd rather hoped for Jane's sake that she could have avoided this symptom of shock. He recalled all too clearly the first time he'd been affected in this way, even as a trained officer presented with no choice other than to kill or being killed he had celebrated his survival not with whoops of wild joy or a pleasurable gloat over his success but by crawling away and throwing up soon as he'd reached a decent privacy. Gradually over the years he'd become hardened and learnt to accept the sleep disturbing nightmares as the inevitable concomitant of a profession in which not becoming completely callous counted as a personal triumph. He'd sometimes even been grateful for his haunted dreams, regarding them as a sign that he had managed to retain some small shreds of conscience, but he hoped to God that Jane would never again be placed in direct contact with this aspect of his job. Many of Ruth's statements during the last year of her life had wounded him, but none so deeply as hearing the woman who'd joined Section D with such keen naive enthusiasm describe herself as 'dead inside' .The only two women he'd ever wanted to marry and he'd damaged them both, destroying their lives in different ways. He should come stamped with a Government health warning. Hell, he was the Government health warning. The motto 'Messing around with Harry Pearce can seriously damage your Life' should be tattooed in inch high capitals across his forehead.

Pulling up at the kerbside he unclipped his seat belt, produced his mobile and proceeded to make a call. "Dimitri. Has anyone arrived who might have replaced Garside? No don't do anything until I arrive. I'm going to leave the car here and use the back entrance. Just keep watching."

With that he rang off and turned to look at Jane. Still shivering, she also appeared perplexed at the realisation that they had not drawn up outside Catherine's flat as she'd expected. Before she could remonstrate he stated, "I'll explain on the way," as he opened his door and climbed out of the car. Jane, left with no option other than to join him inched her way painfully to his side. Harry, having made the swift mandatory appraisal of his surroundings that she was now beginning to associate with spooks in action, began to stride briskly down a small alleyway. Jane's attempt to match his pace was foiled by her treacherous ankle, when protesting at such cavalier treatment, it suddenly gave way and for the second time in twenty four hours she found herself kissing concrete. Harry hearing her agonized yelp looked around, cursing himself for his thoughtlessness he dashed back to where she was lying, her head perilously near a pile of dog shit.

Grasping her hand as she prised herself into an upright position, carefully avoiding contact with Fido's leavings, he began to stammer, "I'm sorry Jane. I forgot about your ankle. It's just.."

Jane halted his apology: "Don't worry, I'm getting used to this. Harry, I know you're anxious to get to Catherine's but will taking a few more minutes really matter?"

"In this job a couple of seconds can make a difference, often between life and death. But I take your point. More importantly are you alright?"

Rubbing her hands over various parts of her anatomy Jane reassured him, "No damage, except to your clothes."

Watching her rotate her hips in movements which the younger Harry would have interpreted as an invitation to seduce he queried, "Then why are you wriggling?"

"Underwear displacement. Catherine lied, thongs aren't comfortable to wear, at least this one isn't, it feels like having a cheese wire rammed between my buttocks." Seeing his disconcerted face she fought down a temptation to laugh. "Sorry I didn't want to embarrass you."

"That's not the problem, but giving me images like that, could, at my age lead to a cardiac arrest. Not to mention my having to face Erin across the Briefing Room. Would it help it I turned around while you rearrange yourself?"

Jane nodded her thanks. With his back towards her Harry embarked on his promised explanation. "It's unlikely that Garside alone was tasked with watching the flat. Until we know what he was actually told I want to avoid anyone identifying you," adding after a moment's pause "or myself."

A tap on his shoulder indicated that Jane's underpinnings were satisfactorily realigned. Swinging around to his original position Harry cautiously proffered his arm "Here grab hold of me, we don't want any more accidents." She gripped his elbow grateful for the support. Together he walked and Jane hobbled up the alley, turned a corner and entered a shared access area at the rear of what she recognised as Catherine's block of flats. Jane, having considered the implications of Harry's words had a question.

"But Harry after last night..." her words petered out as she tried to subdue the shuddering that threatened to overtake her once again.

When had she collected herself Harry expanded his previous statement. "Press black out as to the actual cause. Any enquires attributed the problem to a gas explosion with no casualties."

"Yes but – I'm sorry Harry I don't understand, didn't you and Dimitri mention leaks? Surely someone knows what happened, the police, the hospital, the other flat owners..." Her words petered out as she considered who else to add to the list.

Despite his predilection for intelligent women there were occasions when Harry wished he'd married on unquestioning doormat as, once again, he embarked on a master class regarding the intricacies of his secretive world. "In cases like this we have a standard protocol. Remember last night that the first thing you told me was that you'd been injured by a gas explosion?" Jane instantly thought back to the yesterday that seemed eons ago. Seeing that he had her attention Harry continued, "everyone who knows the truth has been muzzled so when we get chatter about the bomb that should help us trace the perpetrators."

As they turned towards the flats' back entrance they were met by Erin breathless with news, "Harry it's just as well you took this route, Garside was replaced about two minutes ago. Presumably they don't know we've got him – do you want his replacement lifted as well?"

Harry considered for a moment before stating decisively, "No if Garside won't talk or doesn't know anything we need a second lead – have him followed. – Robin I think, he's a little less obvious than Batman, as long as he's still in grey, not his original colour."

Batman! Robin! Fighting down the unpleasant frisson that the latter name produced when mentioned unexpectedly Jane wondered if she'd accidentally strayed into a playground where nicknames reigned supreme. Schoolboy jokes in the midst of the grim reality that a man had died in her daughter's flat and that her daughter was missing presumed who knew what...! She was about to voice her protest at this ill timed frivolity when she recalled an occasion years ago when she had remonstrated with a hungover Harry, his affliction the result of a prolonged session with the whisky bottle, 'Jane, black humour and alcohol are the ways we retain our sanity'. After the experiences of the last twenty four hours it ill behoved her to criticise his survival mechanisms and at least at the moment he was sober. More worrying was that Harry plainly thought that some danger must still exist or he wouldn't be taking such stringent precautions to preserve their safety. As if he'd read her mind he patted the pocket in which she assumed he'd secreted his gun, presumably to reassure himself that it was still within easy grabbing range before he continued to speak.

"Contact Calum – tell him to get Robin out here. Laura can bring him. She needs to park in the next street –and make sure she brings a lockpick with her and a mobile for Jane programmed with the Grid emergency number plus my own. Once we've finished here she's driving Jane to her home to collect some clothes."

Listening to Harry barking out his orders Jane was beginning to feel like A N Other. When he'd finished his final command she felt compelled to ask, "Er do I get a say in this?"

Recalled to her presence Harry replied in turn, "Well do you want to continue looking like a mannequin from a downmarket charity shop?"

"If you'd ever darkened the doorstep of Oxfam et al you'd know that bespoke shirts and expensive waxed jackets tend not to feature on their rails."

Irritated by what he saw as an unnecessary petulance on her part Harry snapped, "Just answer the question. Do you or do you not want to be reunited with a wardrobe that fits?"

"Yes of course – but I thought you needed me here?"

"I do, but you said it yourself, I'm running out of shirts and you don't fancy borrowing my underwear. Frankly if you're staying with me I'd like to see you looking more like... "

"The Jane you know and loath. Thanks."

"Don't put words into my mouth. What I was going to say was that as I've got to see Towers, Dimitri has to talk to Garside and Calum still has several boring hours of CCTV to process we can spare you for a while. Besides which my ears need a rest."

"And what happened to my handbag? I did ask you to check."

Forced to listen on the sidelines Erin wondered yet again about the comedy of manners she saw being played out. Was she looking at an originally well matched couple estranged by circumstances now battling their way towards some level of mutual understanding or, alternatively, were their less acerbic exchanges the thin veneer of an attempted civility between two people who truly detested one another. She honestly didn't know. What she did know was that while they slogged their way towards something that equated to a working partnership valuable time was being lost. If, heaven forbid, she'd been the manager of a kindergarten she'd have had no hesitation in plonking the pair of them on naughty chairs at opposite ends of the room. Having endured quite enough of their continual bickering she opted for the next best action and broke across their words.

"I can answer your question Jane. It was totally destroyed along with your suitcase so Laura will need that lockpick." Having disposed of what her tone made plain she considered a triviality she proceeded to ignore Jane, turning to ask Harry, "What do you want to do about Garside?"

Harry, relieved by her interruption, had no doubts: "We'll leave him to stew for a while. The more nervous he is the quicker he'll sing. Dimitri can question him when we finish here, preferably to the accompaniment of Batman cracking his knuckles."

While Erin phoned in his instructions Harry and Jane entered the flat through the kitchen door and walked through into the main sitting room. The air carried with it a distinct smell of cordite but beyond that and the evidence left behind by a hasty dusting for fingerprints the room didn't look too damaged. The arrangement of the flat was simple. A small entrance hall cum passageway lay behind the front door that led from the communal access door, now blown out of existence. The first door off the passageway branched off into the spacious sitting room they now stood in, with a doorway to the kitchen. Further doors further down the corridor gave access to the main bedroom, a small second bedroom and the bathroom. Although Harry had checked the layout thoroughly before Catherine moved in he'd only set foot over the threshold once,when he'd arrived unexpectedly, bearing a small house warming gift. Although she'd been pleased to see him his stay had been truncated by Catherine's warning that Jane and her sister were due very shortly, a hint, he'd assumed that he might wish to vanish before her evening was marred by their ongoing hostilities. This had been shortly before the Albany debacle since when he'd been disinclined to visit Catherine the Inquisitor.

Hearing them arrive Dimitri popped in from the entrance hall. His disguise so effective that Jane jumped in shock, before recognition kicked in. "Sorry Dimitri – it's the helmet. You look different in that uniform."

It took her a couple of seconds to work out the reason for his quick smirk, then she realised he was looking in Erin's direction. Ah, the tempting allure of the uniform, but she couldn't really throw stones at the pair of them. Harry had looked positively tasty in his military garb; this however was not the moment to let her thoughts stray down a lane cobbled with pornographic memories. Needing to subdue her treacherous recollections she quizzed Dimitri.

"Harry mentioned that you'd like my advice. When's the next meeting?

"Tomorrow – I realise it may depend upon developments here, but really Jane I'm totally out of my depth with this one."

Harry catching the end of this exchange interjected, "And considering he was with the SBS that's saying something, but could we save the arty agenda for later and remember what we're here for. "

Surveying his surroundings Harry asked, "Do you notice anything different?"

"Not really, but it's about two months since I last visited Catherine."

"We'll need to check everything. Jane, can you and Erin look through the bedrooms and bathroom? As you reminded me earlier no woman wants a man ransacking her underwear drawer. See if she's taken any clothes with her." As Jane stared at him he added, "Jane we still don't know if she was taken or went out of her own accord, in which case she may have expected to be away for the weekend."

"Do you really think that?"

"No, but we must discount that possibility. I'll take this room."

Jane and Erin disappeared in the bedroom while Harry sat down to scrutinize the contents of desk and book case. It felt uncomfortable rifling through his daughter's life and possessions as if she were a terrorist suspect. He'd remembered how violated he'd felt when his house had been searched during the Sugar Horse incident. Unfortunately this was no time to develop scruples about invading Catherine's privacy, surely somewhere she'd left some clue as to what had happened. Buoyed up with what he fervently trusted was not a false hope he set to work.

The clear space in the centre of the desk indicated the resting place of the stolen laptop. Various papers lay scattered around, odd notes and scraps with scribbled words, none of which appeared to bear any direct connection with the events of the last few hours, but what had he expected? A file saying "This is why I'll be kidnapped." That didn't happen even in the most farfetched of thrillers. His foraging in the desk for a memory stick was equally fruitless, yielding little of interest beyond an old photograph album that he put aside, and from the drawer at the bottom, a large number of DVD's neatly labelled with titles and dates, probably copies of Catherine's previous films although they would have to be played through on the off chance that they held some discernible clues. The contents of the nearby book case were slightly more interesting, containing various books and articles on the enthralling subjects of torture, imprisonment and crime. Gruesome themes of which he could make little, beyond a hope that they related solely to his daughter's working life. Having stacked up everything that seemed worthy of further investigation he prowled around the room checking out cushions, sides of chairs, anywhere that might be used as a place of concealment. Having failed to discover anything to enlighten him Harry focussed his attention on the photographs scattered over various surfaces. The largest was a framed print of Catherine receiving an award for some noteworthy and earnest production; its title temporarily escaped his memory. Obviously Danny's prophecy that she was 'a bit of a rising star in the world of documentary' was well on its way to fulfilment. While Harry felt huge pride in her achievements Catherine's risky choice of topics combined with her higher profile meant that he not infrequently shuddered for her safety. He'd once been unwise enough to voice his worries only to be reduced to silence when Catherine had simply pointed at him and raised her eyebrows. The remaining items on display included a few ornaments, presumably infused with personal significance for his daughter, and a couple of family group photographs, or to be accurate, photographs of Catherine, Jane and Graham. Harry's hurt at being excluded was slightly eased by the accompanying absence of anything featuring Catherine's stepfather. Although relieved not to be confronted with the smug features of Robin this omission did seem strange and confirmed Harry's growing suspicion that Jane's second twirl around the matrimonial maypole may not have been completely harmonious. That would account for her otherwise inexplicable failure to drag up his attempt to rearrange Robin's face when he'd accused the pair of them of having an affair, and her unexpected conciliatory remarks in the cafe. Other than discovering what his son looked like these days he'd drawn a blank in the information stakes. Maybe the women had had more luck in gleaming something positive concerning the mystery of Catherine's whereabouts.

His first glance when they reappeared told him that this hope was stillborn. Jane was looking despondent. Erin explained. "No sign of any clothes being packed, toothbrush, hair equipment left behind and as far as Jane can tell all her usual items are still here, including the bag she keeps handy for a quick exit."

"Hmm so no sign of her being dragged out of here then."

Jane interrupted, "Harry if she walked out of here to meet someone I think she expected to return. Not only has she left all the usual paraphernalia women take over night but we found also her contraceptive pills – the pack was only half used. If she'd expected to be away overnight she'd probably have taken them with her."

"She may carry a spare pack for emergencies or rely on an alternative method."

"Possible but unlikely," at his sceptical expression Jane's pent up exasperation began to intrude. "Surely at your age you know how the pill works. Besides which the one piece of advice I did drum into her was never ever rely on a man to take precautions, they don't get pregnant so they get careless."

Catapulted once more into his Berlin based past Jane's remark made Harry freeze. Erin, realising the direction his memories were flying in, interjected with 'Good advice' before Jane could register the effect of her words. The sound of Erin's voice recalled Harry to the present as Jane added angrily. "You don't seem too worried!"

It was Harry's turn to become impatient, or as he'd prefer to think of it, realistic. "Jane, the girl is thirty and attractive. I might be more worried if she wasn't on the pill." 'God if she's without it and if they...' As he fought down the very thoughts he realised had also occurred to Jane he nearly missed her asking, "Did you find anything? You look disappointed."

"Nothing that really illuminates matters at present but if the books I found are her usual bedtime reading once I get my hands on her I'll be frogmarching her to a therapist. The laptop would have helped. I was looking for a copy of what she was working on. If she took my advice about always keeping an emergency bag I would have hoped that she'd taken it about keeping copies. We'll check the DVD's and ring round the contacts in her address book to see if she's been in touch with anyone recently."

Still grasping at the proverbial straw Harry added, "I'll just examine the kitchen. I know it's unlikely she left anything in there but you never know. Erin can you go and keep a look out for Laura? Dimitri is watching Garside's chum."

When he returned a few minutes later Jane was sitting on the sofa. From his viewing post by the kitchen door he knew from the way her body was shaking that she was crying. This was unusual to say the least. One of Jane's marital virtues, from Harry's point of view, had been that she rarely wept; he found temper so much easier to cope with than tears. Curious to see what could have affected her so badly he approached on silent feet. She had the photo album he'd left on the desk open on her knee. From his vantage point over her shoulder he could see that she was gazing at a small slightly crumpled photograph, a very old one – a family pose featuring themselves with the two children. He remembered it well. Snapped for them by a kindly passing tourist, a souvenir of a brief holiday taken in a vain attempt to repair their marriage shortly after his final return from Berlin. The five year old Catherine, always the Daddy's girl, was clutching his hand as if terrified that he would disappear yet again while she smiled for the camera, Graham aged two, held by Jane, stared directly ahead looking solemn and vaguely confused. Even at the remove of twenty five years plus Jane was still recognisable, whereas Harry had difficulty in identifying himself with the man captured here, slim with a full head of hair. Both of them frozen in time, wearing fixed teeth revealing smiles conniving at the illusion they'd still been projecting of a happily married couple. Within a few short weeks their marriage had folded. The events surrounding his assault on Robin plus the promise of promotion at the conclusion of yet another risky operation had been the final straw. Jane had thrown him out for the night, run home to mother and returned only when he'd decamped to the grotty flat now occasionally used for Sunstrike Protocol.

Harry didn't need to ask what the problem was, he knew, his own eyelids were prickling. Jane must have sensed him standing behind her as she murmured "Harry I'm sorry - it's just..." she mumbled in a tear choked voice. As she began to weep again Harry moved around to sit beside her. It was a heartrending sight and while he was tempted to put a comforting arm around her he was unwilling to risk facial damage–as Harry knew from painful experience it wasn't only Jane's tongue that could deliver a sting.

As the sobs grew louder he finally sighed, "Jane I know you don't cry as a rule, so I suppose that explains your ignorance of basic feminine knowledge." A pair of grey eyes swimming with tears peered up at him questioningly. "If there's an available shoulder to cry on, use it." With that he took a chance and pulled her body into his. He felt her tense for a moment and braced himself for the inevitable slapped face: instead she suddenly relaxed into a rag doll floppy posture and buried her face in his coat. He let her cry for a few minutes and then as he felt the sobs beginning to subside leant over the back of the sofa to the desk where a box of paper handkerchiefs was providentially at hand. Pulling a couple of tissues from its top he handed them to her.

"Here. Blow and wipe any part of your face that feels damp."

Jane managed a watery chuckle as she lifted her head from his shoulder to take his advice. "Yes Professor Higgins – sorry I can't do a Cockney accent."

Taking advantage of Jane's restoration to something approaching normal, even if she still fell somewhat short of her usual cutting standards, Harry removed the album from her hands.

"I think we'll take this with us as well."

"It might be all we're left with of her." Judging by the sob this ended on Jane's recovery had been short lived.

Watching her ravaged face Harry's response was instinctive. Grasping her hands he swallowed heavily as he said in a voice of unmistakable sincerity. "Jane I've broken just about every promise I ever made to you but this one I'll keep. Whatever it takes, however dangerous it is, I promise you I'll find her. "

"I can't ask that of you Harry."

"You haven't. But do you seriously think I'd save my life at the expense of hers?" As Jane took in the implications of his vow he added, "Call it payback."

Jane's forehead wrinkled as she tried to work that last one out, "Payback! I don't understand." 'No you won't. Fortunately I can lie by omission as I can't tell you the entire truth, that this would be the most appropriate way in which to honour the sacrifice of the woman I loved to distraction.'

"Considering my neglect of you and the children I don't expect you to believe this but on more than one occasion it was the three of you that kept me alive. The simple fact that I had something normal, people who might need me made me fight."

Jane nearly burst into tears again but tried to disguise it with a half serious comment; "Well, just bear in mind that if anyone is going to kill you I reserved first place in that particular queue years ago. Being a gentleman you wouldn't deny a lady her pleasure would you?"

Thank God the usual Jane was resurfacing. Now if he could just infuriate her, anything to stop her becoming maudlin...

"Why do you think I ended up having so many affairs?"

Bullseye. Judging by Jane's fuming expression and darting eyes she was considering aiming a conveniently placed ornament in the general direction of his head. Time to retreat back to the subject in hand, "I promise I'll do my best to grant you your wish, but some help would be useful. Would Graham know anything at all? He won't talk to me so I'll need you to contact him."

"Harry I can't do that."

"Jane – never mind that if Graham ever refers to me it's usually in terms of BBC bleeped expletives. We need to talk to him."

"No I mean I can't because I've not spoken to him for the last eighteen months."

"What!" A thunderstruck Harry shouted the word before adding in an equally loud shocked tone, "Why?"

"We had a row."

Harry didn't find this proffered reason particularly satisfactory. "Jane, Graham always has rows with people. It's what he does best– and I'll say it for you, he takes after me. So what was it this time?" adding as an afterthought, "And why on earth didn't you tell me this?"

Forced into one of the admissions Jane had been struggling to avoid she said quietly, "In the end it was about you – don't look at me like that. He didn't agree with some of my decisions, and then we got onto how he'd never had a chance and – well - I lost it and told him that he couldn't blame his rotten decisions entirely on you. I avoided telling him how many times you'd helped him because I knew you wanted to keep that between us. I don't even know what he's doing – he told Catherine not to tell me."

An irritated Harry thought she could have mentioned this earlier and what else was she hiding? Graham might be a stranger to him, but although Harry had known from Catherine that Jane's contact with their son was limited he was astounded to discover that her relationship with Graham had foundered as surely as his own. Jane had been the parent who had been there for them, sheltering them, laughing with them, guiding them. He'd been the absentee, pushed into the sidelines of his children's lives, isolated and disowned, his help spurned and unwanted. But he'd hung on tenaciously, weathered the emotionally draining acrimony in the hope that eventually he'd be needed; a hope that had seemed destined to remain unfulfilled until the day Catherine had accidentally stumbled into an MI5 operation, finally enabling him to fumble his way towards some irregular contact with her. Then had come the Lebanon, after which no one, not even Jane, could have doubted his commitment to his children. Despite this Graham had continued to make it plain that he held his father in contempt. Finally Harry had settled for giving behind the scenes help when required. He had done so willingly although galled that Jane's husband reaped the credit, especially when the git had, with Jane's active connivance, attempted to cut Harry out his children's lives. But what were the decisions Graham had disagreed with so violently? Why had he severed all contact with his mother? As for Jane's reluctance to confide in him he thought he knew the answer to that one. After all the damning comments she'd made over the years about his parenting skills did she want to admit that ultimately she'd failed just as spectacularly with their son. If Harry was being entirely honest a very, very small part of him felt some vindication now that she understood something of the pain he'd suffered when rejected by both children. Nothing however negated the fact that Graham might hold some clues to pertaining to his sister's disappearance, so, whatever Harry's personal feelings this extra complication wasn't exactly a cause for rejoicing.

Accepting the inevitable Harry announced, "We'll trace him. If I have to I'll bring him in to help with enquiries."

"He'll hate you Harry."

"He already does and at this precise moment I'm more concerned about his sister. I'll keep you out of it – with luck he might even turn to you for sympathy." After a pause Harry continued, "But when we get Catherine back we're going to have to sort out some modus operandi. Jane – we simply can't allow her to continually carry the burden of being the family go between."

"I know" – Jane began to cry again, this time leaning into Harry without encouragement. Sitting quietly in a wash of memories with his arm hugging her Harry became aware of a disturbance at the flat entrance. Before he could stand up to investigate its cause the sitting room door burst open. A figure hurtled through the doorway closely followed by a concerned Dimitri, sporting a bleeding nose as he stated thickly, "Sorry Harry but.."

His words were drowned out by another voice, as the intruder having taken in the sight of Harry and Jane seemingly locked in a harmonious clinch, bawled at a deafness inducing volume, "So this is how you get your revenge on 'Rob the Knob' for dumping you. I'd have thought you had more self respect than to go back to shagging this fucking tosser."

Disentangling himself from Jane Harry stood up and cast his penetrating gaze over the new arrival as he replied with a dignified coolness that masked his anger.

"Hello Graham. Nice to see you too."

Thanks for reading. If you have a moment please review.