Thanks to all who reviewed. Sorry about some of the language but Graham is not a happy boy.

Catherine's Flat

Harry might as well have remained silent. Graham gave no indication of having heard him as he continued to berate both his parents with a foul mouthed rant. Graham's language didn't particularly shock Harry; rather he considered it to be tedious in its monotonous, continuous repetition of the same words. Nor given his age could he act upon Graham's various and unoriginal suggestions. Even in his physically flexible twenties he would have found most of them to be anatomically impossible. He tried to compensate for this boredom by attempting to decipher the specifics of what had gone wrong between Jane and Robin as Graham's accusations were tended towards vague generalities rather than substantiated facts. A very quick glance at Jane revealed an ashen face, whether this was attributable to shock or incipient temper it was impossible to know. Seeing her so shaken stirred Harry's own anger. She had always supported Graham, however inexcusable his behaviour and this was her reward! As Graham continued his scurrilous denouncement Harry saw her shift slightly as if to intervene. He halted her with a surreptitious and fleeting look. Jane followed his lead, although puzzled she was also relieved that Harry wasn't responding to Graham's accusations, that it cost him an effort not to do so was obvious, she could see a muscle in his cheek twitching. She knew he wasn't scandalized by Graham's obscenities, he would have heard worse in the army. Now that she considered the matter Harry's speech was, given his choice of career, remarkably expletive free, as indeed was that of the Grid despite the comparative youth of its denizens. After years of dealing with teenagers Jane was all too aware that most of the four letter phrases presently spilling from her son's lips where common currency among modern day youth. Her other thought was that if Harry didn't murder Graham she just might. 'Thank you so much Graham for spilling the beans about Robin.'

Graham eventually wound down, unable to continue shouting at parents who stood mute as statues with a shared stony eyed disgust sculptured across their features. Taking a breather he looked around, searching for the person he'd originally expected to see, and who was, unaccountably absent. Registering this he bawled out at the same ear splitting volume, "Where the hell is Catherine?"

Harry couldn't help himself, after withstanding the last few minutes of blatant incitement his every syllable was infused with a glacial sarcasm. "At last a sensible question."

Graham apparently regarded any reaction on the part of the insulted party of the first part to be provocation. "Don't get snarky with me you prick. Give me a fucking answer."

"Before I do so I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from questioning my parentage, or implying that I had dubious sexual relations with your grandmother."

Standing near the entrance door an astounded Dimitri, all ears and blood leaking nose, was wondering what on earth Harry had done to deserve such loathing from his own son. Graham's attitude made that of the CIA agents thwarted over the Gavrik affair appear amiable. That however was a secondary speculation. Of more immediate personal importance were the odds on whether Harry would present him with a black eye to accompany his throbbing nose. Given his boss's increasingly volatile temper these days this was a distinct possibility, if, or when he finally realised that Dimitri had concealed his suspicions that all was not well with Jane's marriage. As Dimitri tried valiantly to avoid bleeding over Catherine's carpet he pondered his chances of avoiding this fate? About fifty fifty he thought. He'd have to throw himself on the mercy of the Section Chief. What price would Erin extract for rescuing him from the wrath of Harry? Would he be up to paying it? Well a man could try.

Graham was prevented from continuing his impersonation of a verbal sewer by the fortuitous arrival of Erin who burst through the kitchen door, speaking rapidly as she updated everyone with the considerably less exciting happenings in the world beyond Catherine's sitting room.

"Harry – Laura's arrived, Robin is in place. He brought a tracker and will try to get it attached to the target just in case he hops into a car. Oh and Calum says he thinks he's got something, he wants to run some further checks to be certain."

Considering the fog through which they'd been groping to acquire any positive Intel Erin's announcement didn't get the clamorous reaction she'd expected. Gazing around she suddenly noticed that the room had sprung an extra body. She paused slightly and then continued her survey of the area, halting at the sight of Dimitri standing bloody and not exactly unbowed.

"Dimitri what have you done to your face?"

Pinching his nose to stop the bleeding made it difficult for Dimitri to supply her with a coherent answer. As Erin's eyes flashed back towards the belligerent newcomer she began to piece together a working theory as to what had taken place in her absence. Her assumptions were helped by the fact that Graham looked startlingly like a younger version of Harry, apart from his eyes; he had his mother's eyes, but with his sulky mien was conspicuously failing to exude the charm of Harry Pearce, let alone that of Harry Potter.

Harry crisply confirmed her suspicion, "Dimitri didn't do anything. I regret to say that my son was responsible."

"Yea well he shouldn't have got in the way. Might have known he was one of your lot. Bloody Gestapo."

Erin's eyes narrowed in fury. Before could she seize Graham and subject him to tortures the SS could only have dreamed of Harry intervened, "Take Dimitri into the kitchen and mop him up. I saw a first aid kit in there. I don't think his nose is broken."

"Well you'd know all about that. Fancy me telling your staff about how you flattened my shit of a stepfather because you thought he was shagging Mum, when you should have been home giving her one yourself."

Before Graham could add anything further Harry waved Erin and Dimitri into the kitchen. With luck they'd be so engrossed in trying to restore Dimitri's good looks they'd be deaf to whatever else Graham thought fit to publicise.

While Harry was speaking to his staff Graham had been staring searchingly at his mother. He noticed the tired eyes, pale strained face and, more ominously, the purple bruising on her cheek and reached his inescapable conclusion.

"How dare you knock Mum around – you bastard!"

With that he lunged towards Harry, unwisely forgetting that his father was combat trained. Harry, who had faced infinitely more experienced adversaries simply shifted his weight and swayed aside, allowing Graham's own momentum to carry him forward without obstruction. Graham's fist brushed past Harry's ear hitting the wall with a smack. Simultaneously Harry's field fighter reflexes kicked in as he directed a firm punch at Graham's solar plexus. Whether due to Graham's speed or Harry's lack of recent practice his aim slightly misfired and he caught Graham in the groin. If Graham had been suffering from the delusion that his formidable father had softened with age the eye watering experience of being punched in the balls by knuckles resembling a sledgehammer swiftly disabused him of the notion; or would have done if he'd been able to think at all beyond the agonising pain. Doubled up and gasping he was only dimly aware of his father thrusting him into a nearby armchair.

Having satisfied himself that any further violent attacks by Graham seemed unlikely to materialise during the next few minutes Harry turned to Jane.

"Sorry about that Jane. He can call me what he likes, but I do draw the line at being thumped by him."

Harry awaited inevitable denunciation from Jane condemning his lack of self control followed by the joint family recriminations on his morals, profession and complete existence; a narrative that was just as boringly repetitive as Graham's language. Jane however, considering the episode she'd just witnessed, concluded that Harry's only alternative action would have been to allow Graham to flatten him. While she supposed she loved her son at this precise moment he was doing nothing to endear himself to her. For once, uniquely in the annals of their family story, she was on Harry's side.

"It's okay Harry – self defence I'll accept. I'm quite flattered at your copying my move." Harry looked puzzled for a moment before he remembered how she'd escaped from the teenage thug who'd threatened her.

Graham's wheezing drew their joint attention. "Don't apologise to me you bas..."

Harry cut across his words, "Yes I know I'm a bastard. Find another insult. Graham, to answer your question we don't know where Catherine is. We were going to contact you to see if you knew anything, so amazingly, I'm quite pleased to see you. As for the bruising, your mother got that when she was blown into the road last night by whoever dreamed up the jolly jape of bombing Catherine's flat."

Graham appeared to be having some difficultly in processing this. Not surprisingly given that his brain was still befogged with pain, the location of which made it impossible for him to unfasten his trousers and massage the afflicted area. Harry smiled grimly to himself. Graham's outburst regarding the fall of the previously much garlanded Robin from his undeserved pedestal had been enlightening but he'd still prefer to have any remaining unexpurgated details relayed to him by Jane. Before they could continue with what, in the Pearce family, passed for a civilized conversation the young policeman who was guarding the flat entrance door appeared. For a fleeting moment Harry wondered if he was going to attempt a group arrest on the grounds of anti social behaviour. The Head of Counter Terrorism issued with an ASBO due to a family row! After the various dark and dirty deeds he'd sanctioned it reminded him of the Americans finally getting Al Capone on tax evasion.

"Sorry Sir but the man your officer was watching, I thought you'd want to know that he's moved off."

Recalled to the reason for their presence in the flat Harry acknowledged this news with, "Thanks. I need to have a word with you and possibly contact your superior about what needs to be done when we finish here." Glancing at the kitchen door he added, "I'll be out in a minute. I just want to check my officer first."

Fixing Graham with a stare he made his request, "Try to have a sensible talk with your mother." The jaded voice with which he uttered the words implied that it was something of a forlorn hope.

Jane recognised his manoeuvre for what it was; an excuse to leave her with Graham to make their peace. During the Harry and Graham's father son bonding session she'd been wishing that it was still possible to put Graham over her knee prior to giving him a good spanking. Consequently she wasn't sure that she wanted to accept the proffered opportunity. She noticed that Harry, having issued his exhortation to their son, was headed towards the kitchen. In an effort to delay his exit she felt impelled to say: "Harry I'm sure that Dimitri would rather have Erin kissing him better than suffer your ministrations."

Oops. Smiling slightly Harry replied to her rebuke without any heat, "Damn it, are you ever wrong." As he changed direction to head towards the entrance hall instead he saw an answering quirk.

"Of course not. I'm a woman"

She wasn't getting away with that one. Having reached the doorway he turned before making good his escape. "We'll continue this debate later. I was rather under the impression that you thought you'd made one huge mistake when you said 'I will'."

Graham was suffering from emotional disorientation, to his certain knowledge his parents had hardly spoken in the last ten years. Prior to that their interactions had been made uninformed bystanders wonder if they'd accidentally wandered into a rehearsal for World War Three. He couldn't remember a time when they hadn't argued viciously. Now not only had he caught them hugging one another but their entire demeanour radiated the aura of a couple on easy terms.

The sight of eyes, so closely resembling her own, staring back at her disconcerted advantage of her unexpected silence Graham lost no time in picking up Harry's parting theme, "Well you certainly pick wrong un's for husbands. What the hell were you doing snogging Dad?"

The unfairness of the accusation infuriated Jane. Few knew better than her the methods Harry employed to seduce and during the past few hours he'd been scrupulously avoiding any action that smacked of their employment. Nor, despite what Graham may have assumed, had she forgiven Harry for all the pain he had so carelessly inflicted in their past. She now understood more clearly the pressures he'd faced, and with that understanding had come a remembrance of his better qualities, the ones that had finally overcome her initial dislike of him. This had gone some way towards demolishing the wall of hatred she'd constructed over the years but it neither did it make her forget Harry at his feckless, brutal worst. The last few hours though had reminded her of the one obvious fact she'd tried to suppress since their divorce; he was the father of her children, he cared deeply for them and by extension he would therefore do everything in his considerable power to ensure the safety of their mother. In her increasingly uncertain personal world, culminating in the strange events of yesterday evening his solid, concerned presence had suddenly become surprisingly reassuring. Graham's unfair suspicions weren't the only reason for Jane's anger. Her disastrous history with Robin, the one remaining secret she'd hoped to conceal from Harry, and Graham had yelled it aloud, in front of Dimitri to boot. She believed Harry's assertion that he didn't check covertly on his family, his flicker of astonishment at Graham's revelation was proof of that. Once his curiosity had been piqued though it would take more self control than she suspected he possessed to resist the temptation to ferret out the humiliating details. He was after all a spy. The last time he'd bent his full professional armoury in her direction Robin had ended up with a broken nose. Although this time around she'd be inclined to cheer him on, after certain passages in their past she couldn't stand the idea that he might quietly crow to himself. Nor did she want kindness; pity would undermine the tenuous strength she was surviving on. Graham, knowing nothing of her thoughts, simply saw a pair of flinty grey eyes staring him down.

"We weren't snogging, or shagging, as you so delightfully phrased it. Your father was simply trying to comfort me."

Graham snorted "Looked like it. You know him, sticks his dick up with anything in a skirt, – and you're no fucking snow white princess either."

"Graham I don't know which upsets me more, your stupidity in even thinking I'd do anything as tasteless as having an affair with your father or your ignorance of basic grammar. If you must use such appalling language kindly remember that fucking is a verb not an adjective."

"Great! Dad comes over all MI5 and assaults me, and you come over all school teacher. That's what I need. No wonder both your husbands dumped you. You're as bad as Dad. Both of you are so fu...utterly wrapped up in your jobs you never bothered with me and Catherine. And that was before we had to put up with bloody Robin – any idea what it was like having a mother giving personal services to the Headmaster? God why did you two ever have kids? If you're getting back with Dad you bloody well deserve each other. I hope you sodding well make each other as miserable as you've made me."

Jane had promised herself that when she met her son again she'd not lose her temper. Now confronted by a twenty nine year old whose self absorbed mantra of 'me, me, me' apparently took precedence over the gravity attached to his sister's disappearance, that vow survived about as long as an icicle on the Equator. Worried about her daughter and looking at his contemptuous expression she, in the sloppy parlance that she'd normally condemn, lost it.

"Don't push me. So far in the last twenty four hours I've endured a train journey, a cab driver who thinks the late Princess of Wales is still alive and gave me his conspiracy theory at length, I've been bombed into the middle of the road outside, carted into casualty by a disgustingly cheery paramedic, drunk foul coffee in a nearby cafe that should be closed down on hygiene grounds and nearly collapsed into a pile of dog shit. My clothes were destroyed so I'm currently wearing another women's underwear and your father's spare outfit, ie that of a man in his late fifties who apparently thinks not wearing a tie is a fashion statement while hoping desperately that I don't end up mooning courtesy of a jogger malfunction, which is quite likely given that he's considerably wider around the waist than I am. Putting up with your father is minor in comparison. Anyway at this moment he's far too focussed on finding Catherine to even think about getting frisky with me, ever assuming that I agreed to anything of that nature, which I wouldn't." Taking a further breath and advantage of Graham's thunderstruck face she finished "And why the hell do you think that I should have to justify my actions to you anyway? You and your sister have both made it clear that you have your own lives. Fair enough but I'm also entitled to mine and to keep my own secrets – and so for that matter is your father." 'And I know he's not telling me something that is upsetting him badly.'

"Fat help he's ever been. Look what he's just done to me."

Harry reappearing at this opportune moment overheard this last; "Yes Graham. For your information MI5 officers are hardwired to react when attacked. I'm not apologising and I don't assume that your Mum, to use her earlier phrase, is going to kiss that particular part of your anatomy better." Out of the corner of his eye he saw an embarrassed Jane trying to suppress a blush. Seemingly his throwaway comment had stirred a few recollections. 'Well we both have enough bitter memories to dwell on, why not remember some of the better times?' Wanting to give her time to compose herself he continued, "If it's alright I'm sending you now to get some clothes."

Jaen hesitated, she knew exactly what happened when this pair got together. If Graham persisted with his current behaviour Harry was likely to combust. Harry read the doubts flowing across her face.

"Don't worry Jane –I promise you we'll be sensible. I'm sure Graham will realise that pounding me to a pulp won't help to find his sister, besides you need something to wear if you're representing MI5 tomorrow. "

Jane had temporarily forgotten about that but she was still reluctant to follow Harry's suggestion, or was it an order? "Actually I'd be okay in this – they'd probably think I was being cutting edge."

Harry pretended to consider before stating positively, "We'll rely on your tongue for that."

"Thinking about that meeting reminds me- any paper and pencil here?

"Yes." Harry waved his hand towards the desk, "But.."

Ignoring his questioning expression Jane moved to the desk, sat down, picked up a pencil, looked thoughtful and then indulged in a few moments of hasty scribbling. Standing up she handed Harry a list. It was headed 'Target Audience" followed by 'Plays being considered' and several similar jottings concluding with 'Anything else helpful?" Harry's bemused face dissolved as Jane explained. "A few pieces of information that I need for tomorrow. Ask Dimitri."

Harry didn't know how Dimitri would react to such a proactive stance, especially in his now debilitated state. But Harry had tried to warn him, Jane was to an English literature project what a Rottweiler's teeth were to a burglar's leg, bloody tenacious. He took the paper and was about to go in search of Nurse Erin when Jane suddenly vanished towards the bathroom. Judging by the echoing sounds that emerged her visit was not to satisfy any usual purpose. He heard triumphant cry of, 'Got it' but before he could indulge in any mind boggling fantasies she returned flourishing a tablet of soap which she proceeded to stuff into his hand.

"Here Harry. You may want to use this if Graham fails to expand his vocabulary into something that Keats, Milton or Shakespeare might have acknowledged."

Personally Harry thought that Shakespeare at least would have recognised the Elizabethan equivalent of Graham's language, if only through vocal criticisms from the groundlings re some of his wordier passages 'Come on Hamlet, stop yacking and get it on with Ophelia.' but he was grateful to Jane for exhibiting an unlooked for solidarity. Deciding to preserve his energy to argue with Graham, and keen to get Jane removed before their son forced him into actions that would crack their hard won unity he strode kitchenwards. "Erin".

Erin reappeared casting a freezing glance at Graham. Jane may have won over the hearts of his team but Graham was definitely persona non grata. Harry decided not to prolong matters. His retaliation assault on Graham may have put the prospect of grandchildren in doubt but Erin looked as though she would like convert that into a certainty. "Erin can you take Jane and introduce her to Laura? Make sure that Laura knows that if they encounter any problems whatsoever she or Jane must contact the Grid at once."

"Er Harry. Any chance I can remove these earrings? My street doesn't exactly go in for chav culture." Jane, assuming consent made a movement towards her earlobes, but was disappointed by Harry's answer.

"No. As a teacher regard it as a professional task to broaden their snobbish horizons. Laura will bring you back to the Grid, and remember to collect your bank details"

At Jane's puzzled look he added, "Credit cards – etc all went up so we need to sort that."

She nodded before turning to Graham, "I never thought I'd hear myself say these words, but please do as your father asks, he's our best bet to get Catherine back safely. And Harry, just for once try to prove to Graham that having an MI5 officer as a parent might be a blessing rather than a curse "

"Take care Jane. I don't want to see you in danger again."

"I will. And as you've got a gun, keep out of the way of bullets." The words burnt into his brain flew into the forefront of his mind,' 'Take good care, Ruth.' 'And you. Don't get shot''. Harry swallowed hard before responding to Jane's inadvertent paraphrase of the words spoken by a departing Ruth years ago. Ruth's exile; how ironical that he now wished that that had been their final goodbye. At the time he'd thought that guilt was unbearable, but at least Ruth had been alive and free, now...now he had to answer Jane.

"Watch it. I'll start to think you care."

Jane had noted the pause, but having just informed their son that Harry had a right to his secrets this was not the time to probe. Would it ever be? Wanting to conceal her peek into his personal agony she replied lightly, "Of course I don't. I just hate wearing black. See you later."

With that the women departed. Turning to look at his son Harry appraised his appearance. Despite being thinner than Harry thought looked good on his frame he appeared healthier than he had the last time Harry had viewed him, about five years ago through a two way mirror in a police station. On that occasion Graham looking pale and drawn, was being quizzed by a member of the Drug Squad on suspicion of pushing. Harry's presence had been due to a tip off from someone in the squad who had appreciated the political value of keeping the infamous Sir Harry Pearce onside. Satisfied that Graham at worst would be charged with possession Harry, knowing that speed was of the essence and, courtesy of Catherine, that Jane and Robin were out of the country, had ended up sorting out the defending solicitor. Graham of course had assumed that Robin had dealt with it. Fat chance, in fact Harry had received a furious letter via his own solicitor complaining about his interference, although not, he'd noted a promise to reimburse him. At the time he'd assumed that the complaint had originated from Jane but in view of their earlier conversation and outline details vouchsafed by Graham he began to wonder.

The sight of his father standing silent while raking him with his eyes unnerved Graham as he said, "Dad."

Harry took a breath before he said, "I assume your mother told you what has happened and why we need you."

"You know Mum, she exaggerates."Graham, judging by his offhand dismissal of Harry's statement, was distinctly unimpressed by this information.

"Not this time, I can show you the footage. You were damn near stuck with just one parent plus, of course, your highly esteemed stepfather."

Graham still failed to look convinced.

"I still don't see why I should help you after everything you've done for me, not."

Harry pushed his hands into his jacket pockets. Strangulation was not an option. With his luck he'd get a jury of touchy feely anti establishment psychologists emphasising with Graham's pain while condemning Harry for not getting in touch with his feminine side. More importantly he didn't want to lose Jane's trust, he'd disappointed her too often in the past.

"You're not helping me as a person, you're helping to find Catherine. After all the support she's given you I think you owe her something."

Graham digested this before saying with a sneer, "And how can I help the great almighty Sir Harry Pearce. Cut price James Bond and crap father."

"Let James Bond be the judge of that. Try for the moment to forget I'm your father."

"Wish I fucking could."

Ignoring this interjection Harry cut to the chase, "Tell me, why did you come round today?"

Graham was considering his words. His answer when it came was brief, "I was worried about Catherine." Seeing his father's eyes boring into him he felt forced to expand. "I've popped around a couple of times recently and got the impression that she was abstracted, worried and then the last time, two days ago there was this bloke here. He seemed pleasant but I didn't like him. I asked Catherine, she said he was helping her with something."

"Why not?" Seeing that he hadn't been entirely clear Harry added, "Why did you dislike him?"

Graham thought for a moment, and then muttered, "Don't know. I just did, nothing I can put my finger on, just a feeling," Staring at his father he said truculently "Probably nothing, I distrust most people."

"So do I these days," 'The only person I trusted implicitly and who never let me down died in my arms'– "and much as you may hate the thought I think you've inherited more from me that you'd like." Graham looked as if he wanted to vomit. "That feeling – in my line we call it spook instinct – it's saved my life more than once."

"Pity."

"Yes agreed, on one occasion it was before you were conceived. If you want to be a comedian join the Edinburgh Fringe, but before you set off to Hibernia one further question- could you put a picture of that man together?"

"Probably."

Erin had just returned – as Dimitri emerged from the kitchen, his nose bruised and horribly swollen but thankfully not spurting blood any longer. Judging by the look he cast at Graham had they been at sea by now his son would be have been thrown overboard, without the benefit of a life jacket.

"Then Graham I have no alternative. I'm going to have to arrest you and take you to the Grid for questioning. Dimitri can you and Erin take him out?"

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