Many thanks for the reviews. I've used ideas from a couple of them in this chapter.

Catherine's flat

Graham began to shout indignantly, initially missing the broad grins decorating the features of Erin and Dimitri. Infuriated by the implied mockery his face began to flush with anger. As his body stiffened and fists began to ball his father hurried to explain. "No Graham not really – but we need to keep our security cover. You stormed in through the front door, past a policeman. So you exit that way as well, while I go out the back."

Graham didn't look convinced, plaintively whining, "But I thought the chap had moved."

"Yes but the CCTV is still on. Don't argue, just go with Dimitri. Pretend you're under arrest." Noting Graham's scowl Harry added somewhat tactlessly, "You've had plenty of practice. I'm sure you can look convincing."

Graham's reaction to this vote of parental confidence was to glower at Dimitri, "I'll knock his bloody teeth out if he tries anything. Sodding spooks, more like thugs."

Dimitri, whose nose was still suffering the after effects of Graham's arrival, wasn't inclined to put up with any more nonsense from that young man. Deciding that he might as well comply with Graham's stereotyping Dimitri enquired with unmistakable menace, "Do you fancy a broken arm?"

Harry groaned inwardly. He didn't have time for this. He'd already wasted more minutes than he'd liked explaining procedure to Jane. He really didn't fancy a repeat performance with their son, especially since Jane's surprising receptiveness to the ambience of the spying world was unlikely to be echoed by Graham. The brewing argument was halted by the ear piercing squeal of brakes from outside. This high pitched racket was speedily followed by the sound of an engine being cut and car doors slamming. Voices and the crunch of heavy boots alerted them to the intended public arrival of an unknown quality. Whoever it was didn't seem to be influenced by considerations of secrecy. Erin who was nearest to the window peeked through the half closed blinds and announced.

"Police. Uniformed branch. Inspector I think, with a Sergeant."

The steady tread of feet up the pathway and murmured voices at the gaping hole now representing the flats' communal entrance indicated that the new arrivals were consulting with their on duty colleague. After this quick halt one set of footsteps could be heard moving into Catherine's hallway, a slight delay implying that their owner was trying to suss out the internal geography of the flat. The feet moved again, the rustle of a uniform coat now also evident, followed by the opening of the sitting room door. The man Erin had identified as the Inspector walked in. His air of authority was palpable, his expression implying that he'd endured enough nonsense for one day and was seeking a suitable object on which to vent his ire. Presumably the designated victim of the forthcoming harangue was whosoever was currently the onsite commander at the scene. Harry moved backwards into a shaded position out of the direct eye line of the door. A foolish man would assume he was nervous and seeking to avoid confrontation, a wise one would realise that he was following military precepts and holding his fire until he'd assessed the enemy's defences. Depending upon which category the Inspector fell into, this, Erin thought, could be interesting, Uniformed Plod v Anonymous Spook. For herself she'd bet on Harry. She confidentially awaited the opening of hostilities. If the new arrival had intended to commence Operation 'What the Hell's Going on Here' the anticipated faceoff was postponed by Graham's disgusted utterance.

"More bloody establishment – it's like living in a fucking police state."

The Inspector's head swivelled round immediately to take in the unprepossessing sight of Graham who'd remained squatting in the armchair, one hand still clutching his genitals. Hunched up with his scowling face and unshaven chin he resembled a denim clad representation of the missing link. With an air of imitation weariness betrayed by the crisp tone of his response the newcomer replied, "I've heard it all before laddie. My officer tells me you're Harry Pearce's son. All I can say to you Graham Pearce is that it's a great pity that the Official Secrets Act prohibited your father from telling you what a police state is really like."

Graham just snorted. "It's Townsend, Graham Townsend you ignorant plod. Do you think I want to own up to him as my bloody father?" The statement was accompanied by a sketchy two fingered salute. Its vague direction making it was unclear as to whether it was directed towards the Inspector or his vilified progenitor.

Erin and Dimitri were honestly beginning to wonder how Graham had managed to survive this long. He was without doubt the most obnoxious, self absorbed, whinging little shit that it had ever been their fate to meet. Erin during her time in Section D had considered nominating Harry for a variety of awards, "First Class Mentor with Irritating Attitude", "Most Secretive Consumer of Ardberg in MI5", "Greatest Thorn in the DG's Backside" but too date had thought that "Saint Harry of the Grid" would have been a push too far. Now, having spent the last half hour revelling in the pleasure of Graham's company, she was seriously debating whether she could realistically recommend Harry for canonisation, citing his sterling refusal to respond to the continuous goading.

The Inspector cast a pitying glance at Graham. With a vague shrug of his shoulders he indicated that the discussion was terminated as he raked the room with his eyes. Finally he picked out Harry lurking by the desk, his presence conveniently shadowed by the limited light allowed through the partially obscured windows.

"Ah Sir Harry. Sorry I didn't recognise you. I thought you didn't do undercover work these days."

This was a statement rather than a question but before Harry could respond Graham's voice from behind was heard to mutter, "Number of women he's shagged, never done anything else". At this point Dimitri finally lost patience as he seized a throw from the chair back, which then magically wrapped itself around Graham's head. Being a considerate sort of chap Dimitri left Graham with just enough room to breath. Humanitarian considerations aside suffocating the boss's son, however ghastly he might be, was probably not be the smartest of career moves for an aspiring spook.

Without missing a beat the Inspector said to Harry "Yours? You have my sympathy." The dull inflection of disdain belied his words, the subtext of which was 'How come you've not subjected that little sod to some discipline.'

Harry picking up the underlying intimation didn't blame him. The man wasn't to know that Graham had been brain washed by a middle class champagne swilling libertarian. At this precise moment Harry was sending telepathic hate waves towards whichever quarter of the globe was currently housing Robin the Smug. Harry's views on anti establishment tree hugging environmental activists, unrepeatable in polite company after three glasses of whisky, were positively benign compared to those he held on odious little squits of Robin's ilk. Educated individualists replete with possessions, blaming all the troubles of the socially depraved upon hard line establishment policies, until reality in the shape of burglars invaded their cosy little enclaves. Faced with the underclass in action they then demanded an instant response from the very police they had joyfully lambasted as fascists, further compounding this total hypocrisy with complaints regarding the inadequacy of the judiciary in handing down proportionate sentences, preferably ones involving castration.

Not wishing to stray into the realms of his family's dysfunctional history, a saga which made the average soap opera look realistic, Harry replied evenly but shortly, "Thanks for being so understanding. I assume this is not a social call. Would I be correct in thinking that the officer who was killed was one of yours?"

The inspector nodded. "And your interest? I know the MI5 do have to be involved but aren't you a little – ." He hesitated: 'too old, too senior to be involved in this.' Not tactful, but he was curious, surely Harry Pearce was several pay grades above this level of field work? Wasn't this enquiry a little too domestic and minor to merit the personal involvement of the Head of Domestic Counter Terrorism? A man who hobnobbed with the Home Secretary and who had ceased to be a foot soldier at least two decades ago.

Harry's response was succinct. "My daughter's flat, which is roughly why the foul mouthed individual currently imitating an Egyptian artefact is here. We think he might be able to help." Not being certain how long Graham could be contained and anxious to avoid much more public humiliation he added, "Could we talk in the kitchen away from the lower ranks." Moving in the designated direction he missed Erin's roll of the eyes. She hated it went Harry went all army on her: at times like this she was in sympathy with Laura's publicly overheard description, 'Dinosaur' was, on occasions, apt. Her irritation was short lived. Listening to the muffled oaths escaping from the mummified Graham she realised that Harry's action was not an attempt to deliberately exclude his staff but was due to his wanting not to be further embarrassed by his son. That this had forced him to sideline his subordinates only added to Erin's budgeoning loathing of Pearce, sorry Townsend, Junior. Watching Graham's attempts to struggle free from his confining cloth Erin rather wished that about thirty years ago Jane had taken her own advice on contraception.

Having managed to remove the Inspector from the field of his family conflict Harry, for the second time in the day, found himself seated opposite an involved but hostile individual. Across the scrubbed wood of the kitchen table the two men eyed each other up warily. The Inspector cracked first. "My name's Thomas, Thomas Bennett. I'm about to visit the family of the officer who was killed. I needed to see the scene for myself. They will want to know some details. Need to know doesn't just apply to what MI5 see fit to tell their companion services." These last words were uttered in a voice that made manifest the resentment that the uniforms felt at being held at arm's length by their security counterparts.

Harry nodded, he recognized all too clearly the pain in the other man's eyes. Helen, Danny, Colin, Adam, Ros, Tariq...Ruth, the continual nagging guilt that he had sent them to their deaths, that he still breathed. Even worse the agony of their families and the secrecy he had to maintain. He'd never got used to it. What he'd told Erin a few months ago was true; sending others to sacrifice themselves was harder than facing death yourself. Each subsequent occasion when he had had to break bad news to families had been worse than the last. At least if he himself had been killed, as he'd confidently expected on more than one occasion, no one would have regretted his loss for long. Did the fact that he would never be mourned or missed as a person rather than as a colleague make him lucky or unlucky?

"I know, I've had to visit relatives myself. The distress, especially when you can't tell them the truth; bad for us, worse for the families." Thomas Bennett stared at him in shock. Harry Pearce was known as a hard man, well 'Total bastard' was nearer the mark, and somehow that reputation didn't quite match the man he was viewing across the table, a man whose sorrowful eyes expressed his total understanding of the position Bennett found himself in. He saw Harry swallow before continuing in a voice loaded with obvious truth, "Unfortunately we rather need to know ourselves. Literally all I can tell you is that the place was being watched, the bomb was planned, my daughter has vanished for reasons we have yet to discover, and my son thinks a man he met here a couple of days ago maybe a link."

Having been subjected to the full force of Graham's delightful personality Bennett wondered if he should puncture the flicker of vague hope he detected in Harry's final words by expressing doubts concerning the veracity of anything his son could mention. This awkward decision was interrupted by the sound of his mobile. "Excuse me but...

"I know you need to take the call." How often had Harry been in that position himself?

As Harry listened to Bennett's side of the conversation he realised that something important had occurred.

"Yes, you're sure about the identification. I'll tell the Security Services, as it happens I'm with them at the moment. Yes I'll have to see Andy's family after I leave here. Wait until Section D get in touch. Thanks."

Putting his phone away Bennett turned a graveyard face towards Harry. "Not good news. We've found a body floating in the Thames."

Harry felt as if the world was swirling in slow motion as he processed the implications. "Oh God Catherine." His best hope now was that it had been instant and clean. Clean: what a phrase to use about murder, but then when you'd seen what he had...memories of identifying Helen Flynn post deep fat fryer, the photographs of Zaf unrecognisable, his friend Bill tortured with flame, all permanently imprinted on his retina and logged in his memory, "please tell me it was a quick bullet for my daughter"...in the seconds it took him to relive the past he'd missed a few words and resurfaced into the present to hear Bennett saying, "...the man who stole the laptop. Unfortunately he went into the river with a bullet through the head. Hit man it would seem."

Harry could hardly believe this. The relief: Catherine was safe, or at least wasn't the victim dumped in the Thames like some piece of minor flotsam. He recovered himself enough to say, "It tells us what we already knew. That there's some serious money and organisation behind this. At least you can reassure the family that the bastard who did the killing is dead." Almost as an afterthought he added "Do you know anything about our fish food friend?"

"As it happens yes. Small time petty thief with a drug habit. We'll send his file over but my guess would be that he was paid to break in. I'm not sure that telling Andrew's family that he was killed by accident will help them."

Harry knew what he meant, none better. "Then don't. The man is dead and your officer was doing his duty. That makes him heroic. We'll eventually get the culprits behind this. As you know for me it's personal." Bennett, as he stood up to leave, recalled some of the rumours circulating about Sir Harry's past exploits. In the last few minutes he'd forgotten this when met with unexpected understanding. Suddenly, as he noted the grim set mouth, he didn't envy the shadow men when they were eventually tracked down. Reassured that the man in front of him would keep his promise, even if only detail he personally wanted to receive was a phone call announcing that his officer had been avenged, Bennett offered his hand. "Good luck. I'll arrange to have the front boarded and no doubt you'll liaise about keeping a further watch." Picking up his hat he strode out leaving Harry thoughtful.

He'd seen the flare of doubt in the Bennett's eyes and interpreted it. He'd had the same thought the instant the word drugs had entered the conversation. It was a horrible suspicion but Graham had been part of that narcotic ridden world. As far as Harry knew he was clean, but how far was that really? Was it possible that Graham was screwed up enough to be involved with the theft and murder? Was his visit today due to worry about his sister? On his current showing Graham's concerns began and ended with Graham. Harry knew that he himself was prone to self pity on occasion but Graham had apparently elevated it to an art form. What evidence did he really have that the mystery man was not a red herring? It was a terrible dilemma but could he trust his son? He wanted to, but memories of his betrayed faith in Connie James and Lucas North had proved how foolish it could be to ignore commonsense in favour of misplaced personal loyalties. Alternatively of course Graham may not be lying, and to suggest otherwise could send him into lockdown, depriving them of vital information. Best not to mention his worries at present, Graham's behaviour had already riled his team, and how exactly would Jane respond to such unproven accusations? Twenty four hours ago he'd have assumed that she'd leap to the automatic defence of her not so darling boy, but after the passages about half an hour ago he wouldn't care to predict her reactions. He now understood why Mr Spook the Spy, Mrs Spook and their offspring had been excluded from the 'Happy Families' card game. Anyone trying to unite them was doomed to lose.

Emerging from the kitchen in Bennett's wake Harry noticed that Graham's head had arisen from his temporary muffler.

"Right let's go. There's been a development so we need to get back to the Grid. Erin and Dimitri you go with Graham."

Three faces looked glum at this prospect of enforced mutual confinement even for the time it took to reach the Grid. Dimitri made no attempt to move as Erin suddenly objected, "But Harry that means you'll be on your own."

"I think I can manage to cope Erin. I'm not senile."

"Yet." Graham added, "but you've always been mental, look at how you've treated us. First time you see me for years and you thump me."

He might as well not have spoken. Erin was more concerned with Harry's safety than Graham's complaints. Choosing not to feed Graham's self image of victimhood she continued to address Harry. "That's not what I'm saying and you know it."

Erin was determined and while Harry was grateful for her concern it placed him at something of an impasse. In truth driving back to the Grid on his own was somewhat different to his three minutes of solitude in the cafe and would go against Tower's express instructions. This in itself wouldn't worry Harry, he'd made a lifetime habit of ignoring politicians, but at this precise juncture the prospect of being lifted by the CIA was even less appealing than usual. Equally he didn't fancy leaving Graham on his own with either officer. He wasn't sure about his son's safety if Erin wasn't present to calm Dimitri down, and after Graham's masterly description of his mother he'd prefer Erin to be accompanied by Dimitri. Opening his mouth in an attempt to square this circle whatever he'd intended to say was stalled the sound of someone creeping quietly through the back door. Erin and Harry swiftly drew their guns and moved to either side of the likely entrance. Graham began to mutter, 'What the.." only to be silenced by Dimitri's hand firmly clapped over his mouth. The door opened. Erin put her gun to the head of a slim nondescript figure clad in grey as it strolled in from the kitchen.

Erin gasped. "Robin, you gave us a shock."

Robin, unfazed by the minor detail of having a gun waving around his earlobe laughed. "Hi – it looks like it." Moving forward he added in an amused voice, "Do put that down Erin, you can see I'm not a terrorist." As Erin complied he explained, "I managed to get a tracker on chummy, just as well, he wandered off and was picked up by a car. I couldn't follow but I did get the number so I let the Grid know, I thought I'd wander back here to see if I could hike a lift."

An obviously relieved Erin rediscovering her Section Head mantle began to organise the exit logistics. "Okay – Harry you can go with Robin."

"Exactly who is in charge here?"

"You're under cover and incognito Harry, so I am."

"We'll debate that later, for now I'll defer to your arrangements." Bowing to the inevitable and looking at his watch Harry continued, "When you arrive back at the Grid I expect my Section Head get Dimitri and Graham to the medic. And considering the time can you ring Towers and postpone our meeting for an hour? Tell him something came up."

"Yea your fist. Thanks Dad now I've got to put up with some pervy medico staring at my prick and caressing my knackers."

"Trust me Graham with what they see in MI5 it takes something really big to get them excited. I doubt your todger would measure up."

"Are you saying I've got no balls? I've got more than you and PC Bleeding Nose put together. Even that tart in the heels has got more than you."

This last was accompanied by a salacious grin in Erin's direction. Erin had been subjected to worse and said nothing although she did continue to finger her gun affectionately as her eyes sparked with real anger. Crude comments were a fact of feminine life in any macho based work environment and she'd never have survived in her career if she hadn't learnt to cope with them. Recently though she hadn't had to, Harry might demand the same commitment from his female staff as he did from their male counterparts but he was old fashioned enough to insist that they were treated with courtesy. At first Erin had wondered if this was a less obvious form of masculine patronage but had quickly realised that it was simply that Harry, while accepting women as work equals, still adhered to the dying code of behaviour he considered becoming to an officer and a gentleman.

As if to prove the truth of this Harry directed a look of searing fury at his son. He was plainly furious that anyone claiming his kinship could behave in such a crass fashion.

"That's quite enough, if I ever again hear you insulting your mother, Erin or any other women in such appalling terms I will personally, without giving you the benefit of anaesthetic, ensure that you sing soprano for the rest of your life. For once extract your head from your rear orifice and get it around the fact that the state of your ego is not central to the universe."

Not waiting to see how Graham reacted Harry continued his instructions. "When we get back and the medics are happy ask Calum to talk to Graham. See they can create a picture of the man who was here. Dimitri, get on to the forensic team, find out what they've got in fingerprints, DNA, anything and get copies sent to the Grid. Graham, remember what I've said, behave yourself and think about your sister."

"Stop taking to me as if I'm two year old."

"Well stop acting like one. Ready for action everyone."

With that Erin and Dimitri began to hustle Graham out of the door with movements that suggested they were treating him less like a piece of precious china to be treated with care and rather more like the contents of a disgusting bin bag to be thrown carelessly into a skip. Harry suspected that the absence of a gentle handling was owing to mild revenge being taken for the earlier assault on Dimitri. Providing Graham remained in one piece and was not overly bruised, he wasn't, after all the gratuitous insults he and his team had endured, inclined to intervene.

Having seen the trio from the premises and advised the remaining police constable that his own departure was imminent he returned to the sitting room to quizz Robin. Judging by Robin's face he'd been expecting these questions.

"Robin what exactly happened outside?"

Robin, choosing his words carefully explained. "I hung around the bus shelter, smoking some imitation cannabis. After about ten minutes chummy's phone rang. I reckoned that he might need to move so I positioned myself.. As he passed me I swayed into him and got the tracker attached. A car picked him up a few minutes later. It wasn't the most subtle of efforts if they wanted to avoid us suspecting him."

"Sounds as if they've twigged that Garside is missing. Good man Robin. With luck we might track them to somewhere that gives us a lead out of the current fog."

Turning Harry picked up the pile of books and DVD's which he'd selected earlier and handed them to his companion. Fishing out the car keys out of his pocket he instructed, "Take these to the car I'll be along in a minute."

Left alone he stared around the flat for anything he may have forgotten. Suddenly he remembered the photo album lying on the sofa. He'd dropped it there when Graham had made his entrance. He'd promised Jane that he'd take it with him so he collected it from the cushions, still open at the picture that had so upset Jane. Having made a final survey for anything precious he lifted the print of Catherine receiving her award from the wall. He knew that the building would be secured and watched until further notice but even so he felt it was wrong to leave so much that spoke of his daughter's life to the glare of strangers. He could almost her voice, 'Dad whatever Mum and Graham may think I want to remain on good terms." a haunting and happier memory than when he relived Ruth's final request standing in the cottage she'd planned to buy. At least this time some hope of survival remained. Knowing he had to join Robin he forced himself to stifle the threatening tears. Harry Pearce kept on going regardless. 'Can't' on, must go on.' Now an engrained mantra that had saved him from the CIA when he and Ilya had formed their unlikely partnership to thwart Levrov; with, he had to concede some help from Towers.

Towers! The Home Secretary would be champing at the bit. He had to get moving. Back to the persona of Sir Harry Pearce defender of the realm as evidenced by suit, tie and highly polished shoes. Why had Towers brought the meeting forward anyway? If it was owing to some brillant wheeze dreamt up by a yuppie spin doctor who'd only just emerged from the toils of university, complete with bum fluff chin and American toothpaste smile, Harry would be tempted to copy his son and tell these annoying acolytes exactly where they could stuff their bright ideas. As these youths had an irritating habit of describing any new idea as sexy his suggestions although painful, would not, he reflected, be entirely inappropriate. Oh God, they said sons turned into their fathers, was he reversing the procedure and turning into his son! Yet another instance of his getting family relationships hopelessly wrong!

With one hand on his gun and his other arm firmly clamping Catherine's portrait to his body Harry began to move. His departing wish was that the next time he entered this flat he'd be able to hug his daughter in the flesh. Hold her in his arms, not under them. Closing the back door carefully as he left Harry set off on the next part of his mission to discover her fate.

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