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The Grid Again approx 8.00pm

As Harry uttered these words his spare hand was fumbling along the wall, searching for the light switch. His eventual success in locating it signalled by a sudden flood of illumination that made all three of the room's occupants blink. The intruder, whose familiarity with night manoeuvres was proclaimed by his being clothed in deepest black from the crown of his balaclaved head to the tips of his trainer clad feet, decided to take advantage of the shock as he sprang forward in a desperate attempt to escape. This effort to wrong foot his captors proved unwise as both spooks had second guessed his likely reaction. Working in unplanned unison Dimitri tripped him up from behind at exactly the same moment that Harry brought the hand containing the gun crashing down upon the guilty party's skull. Unsurprisingly the stranger crumpled under the pressure of this double assault and was sent sprawling onto the ground, the carpeted floor muffling the gratifying sound of a crunched nose. Harry waited for a few seconds, prepared to shoot if there was any sign of violent movement. When no flicker of activity was forthcoming he checked that the uninvited visitor wasn't faking unconsciousness by kicking his prone body firmly in the ribs. Reaction came there none. Dimitri, who was also poised with his gun pointing at their victim, moved upon Harry's nodded indication that he wanted the man turned over. Easing their battered quarry onto his back Dimitri leaned across him and with a practised hand stripped off the concealing headgear.

Harry had hoped that they might have been able to recognise the man from their slowly gathered Intel but frustratingly, even taking into account the facial damage, he could see that this was not the person who had hailed Catherine and then driven her away to where exactly? The figure lying supine at his feet was older and also darker in both hair and complexion than the image Calum had so painstakingly created. Sadly neither was it Robin come to drag a renegade Jane back to his lair. Harry's regret at Robin's absence was tempered by the thought that at least he would have more opportunity to savour the delayed gratification involved in arranging his supplanter's downfall. The mills of Harry Pearce, even at their most negligent, made the output of the mills of God look like boulders in comparison.

The noise of the struggle had alerted the disguised spook who was still staunchly guarding the communal entrance to the flats. Bursting into the room with his gun at the ready Jason immediately felt somewhat embarrassed. How could he ever have assumed that Sir Harry was incapable of dealing with a house breaker? Everyone knew that despite being desk bound for most of his working days the Head of Section D remained a class act on the rare occasions he ventured into the field. Harry however gave no sign of taking offence as he acknowledged the new presence.

"Ah Jason. Good to see you so alert. Tell me is this.." he gestured contemptuously towards the now slightly stirring individual on the floor, "the quick change artiste you saw earlier today."

Jason moving slowly forward, viewed the man from a number of different angles. After a long thoughtful pause he replied, "Yes Sir, although the all in black look is a little different from his earlier outfits."

"And you last noticed him?"

"About an hour ago Sir. He was driving down the road looking about him."

Harry processed this statement before asking Dimitri. "Can you go down to the parking area at the back and see if there's a car waiting?" As Dimitri vanished the figure on the floor began to whimper quietly, the precursor to returning to full consciousness. Turning to his remaining officer Harry inquired, "Do you have any handcuffs with that outfit? If so please practice your skills in using them."

Jason didn't need to be told twice as he extricated the cuffs from his pocket and bent down to shackle the intruder. As he did so he sent up a quick prayer that the man wouldn't recover sufficiently to make another vainglorious attempt to abscond while Sir Harry still had his gun trained on the pair of them. Jason knew that Harry was probably an excellent shot, his very survival proved that, but even the best could have an off day and he didn't fancy the consequences of a misfire. To Jason's relief the prisoner was still too dazed to do much more than groan while he was safely secured as per Harry's instructions. Jason was just nerving himself to ask Harry if he had any further orders when Dimitri returned, annoyance stamped across his features as he re-entered the room.

"Sorry Harry. Someone was waiting but they sped off as soon as they saw me."

"It must be your scary appearance Dimitri. Can you check this article for any id? Jason, you might need to hold him up for Dimitri to get at his pockets." Heaving around a body that was very nearly a dead weight took the pair of them a few minutes but yielded nothing of interest, other than a distinct lack of documentation, meaning that for practical purposes the man in black might just as well have been the invisible man. Realistically Harry hadn't expected anything else so he merely glared menacingly at the still moaning figure.

Looking a little more closely at their prisoner's face Dimitri felt obliged to advise his boss, "I think his nose is broken."

Harry didn't seem much concerned by this piece of information, "Perhaps he'll think twice about sticking it into MI5's business in the future." Giving the man a second exploratory poke with his foot Harry's next words revealed his age, harking back as they did to an earlier pre politically correct era.

"Unfortunately much as I'd like to give him some further TLC in our cells our hands are bound by the Human Rights lobby. Which means giving him medical attention as opposed to ensuring that he needs it."

Turning to Jason, who was standing around uncertainly wondering whether or not he should return to his post, Harry barked, "Jason please ring the Grid and tell them that we've been held up. I'll need two officers to guard this piece of useless scum while he holidays in the local A&E. Dimitri and I will take him there."

Jason disappeared but judging by the sound of his footsteps he had headed into the bathroom. Not knowing how long he'd been standing outside v his personal liquid intake neither Harry nor Dimitri thought anything of this until Jason re-materialised beside them thrusting a wad of toilet paper into Dimitri's hand. As Harry's eyebrows drew together threateningly Jason hurried to explain his slightly strange actions.

"I noticed that this bloke, whoever he is, seems to bleeding from his nose and head." After a quick pause he continued, "I thought your daughter might not want blood on her carpet, Sir."

Harry's fierce expression transformed into something approximating to a smile at the realisation that his young officer possessed an excellent set of priorities. Meanwhile Dimitri, as a curtain raiser to moving the mystery man, began plastering that individual's head and nose with what the advertisements coyly referred to as toilet tissue. If their unwanted guest had previously resembled a stick of battered liquorice the tasteful addition of yellow strips of bog roll had now converted his appearance into that of a maladjusted wasp.

As they prepared to move their victim Harry issued his final instruction before departing, "Jason I think we've found the item this charmer was after but whoever sent him won't know that. They will realise that he's been taken but as they seem to be getting increasingly desperate put your alarm system back on for now. And well done."

Watching Jason glow slightly under the praise issuing from their notoriously grouchy boss Dimitri was reminded yet again as to why the Section D staff put up with Harry and the package that enfolded him, the secrecy, the temper and the maverick actions. While the majority of those encountering him outside the internal environs of Section D believed that the ice cold, sharp tongued persona he presented to the world was the real Harry Pearce those who worked for him on a daily basis knew differently. They had all learnt one by one, slowly and sometimes through tragedy, that the exterior shell was a carefully nurtured facade hiding the real Harry, a far more complicated individual than his reputation implied, sarcastic certainly, devious undoubtedly, ruthless when necessary but also fiercely protective of his department's status and the staff under his command. A man of honour in a profession dedicated to the commitment of disreputable deeds. A man who had given nearly everything of himself to his job without expecting a return. An establishment figure who was thorn in the flesh of the establishment. A knight of the realm who avoided using the title, but would without hesitation ride forward on a metaphorical white charger to rescue anyone of them from danger. Dimitri was the sole person still on the Grid to remember the calm, matter of fact air with which Harry had walked towards the pods on the first stage of his journey to meet Lucas and certain death. His definite declaration that it was 'my turn' made in the belief that the alternative was to allow a vengeful, out of control Lucas to carry out his threat to detonate a bomb with the potential to kill hundreds. If Harry would give his life to save any one of his team or the anonymous public how much more would he do for his unforgiving family? Dimitri would have shuddered for the hapless Robin had he not been privy to that appalling message which, despite Harry's instructions, he found impossible to forget. Dimitri wasn't naive, he could appreciate that living with Jane might be challenging and combative to say the least, but thinking over his own delicately developing relationship with Erin would he ever want to blackmail her into staying with him? What kind of man would consider that to be acceptable, other than a complete and utter turd? Further speculations were halted by Harry's snapping,

"Dimitri, could you lend a hand or possibly an arm? We need to get this to the hospital."

Summoned to reality Dimitri grabbed one side of Mr Nobody while Harry took the other shoulder as they dragged him, none too gently through the sitting room and down the path. The trailing of his legs and feet along the concrete producing a few protests which rose to a crescendo as they stuffed him into the car with more speed than care. Remembering that his previous departure from the premises had also included hustling the loveable Graham into a vehicle Dimitri decided that he never ever wanted to see Catherine's flat again. He didn't think his muscles could take the strain.

Erin when she received the call first actioned Harry's commands and then rang her mother to inform her that it would be yet another late night on the Grid. On evenings like this she wondered if she was lucky to have achieved her career goal of working in Section D. On the plus side it was well know that anyone who survived coping with Harry, or survived full stop, was skilled, efficient and capable of dealing with just about anything the Service threw in their path. The downside, especially in her position, were the long hours and the mortality rate. The fate of her four immediate predecessors wasn't guaranteed to cheer her up either: two had been blown to atoms, one had quit after a breakdown and previous occupant, whose undisclosed personal history was the direct reason for her appointment, had turned traitor and killed himself. To compound her worries one of those officers had also been a single parent. With a young daughter to consider she did occasionally null over the option of putting her ambition on hold for a few years and requesting a transfer. As she had become more deeply involved in Section D she had begun to think that her declaration to Harry that it was possible to be a spy and maintain what outsiders would consider to be a normal personal life had been a trifle hasty. Since she'd disagreed with his warning Tariq and Ruth had died, and Rosie had been held to ransom. And then there was the Dimitri shaped complication. Sure she was fond of him, but it was well known that the attrition rate for relationships in spying circles was high. Become involved with someone inside the Service who understood its requirements and the chances were one of you would be killed or maimed; become involved with an outsider and they simply couldn't comprehend the demands of your working life and the toll it took on your psyche. She'd spent much of today listening to the alarming example set by Harry and Jane, a couple who must have seemed well matched at the outset but had been driven apart by the demands of the Service. Or had they? For Harry the involvement with Elena may well have begun as a honey-trap that included sex as duty, 'I'll bet he enjoyed his work though' but Erin had heard the rumours concerning other extra marital involvements. But then rumours were precisely that, something easily started, prone to exaggeration and believed even when fabricated; many a successful operation had hinged upon that gullible fact. Only the couple themselves really knew why their wedding rings had been smelted in the furnace of the divorce courts and both parties were maintaining a praiseworthy reticence on the subject, for which she as Section Chief was grateful. The need to undertake a further damage limitation exercise stemming from Harry's private life she could definitely do without. Even for a person who told lies for a living the fiction she'd been obliged to peddle to a disbelieving CIA and an equally cynical Towers post Thames estuary had pushed her to her limit. A consideration that didn't prevent her from wondering as to Jane's reaction if she ever discovered the truth about Harry, Ruth and Elena. A bizarre triangle connected with angles bearing the ominous names of Ilya, Sasha and Coaver.

Pursuing this train of thought she suddenly became aware that silence had fallen from the desk which she had allocated to Jane. For the past hour Jane's clarion tones had formed the background noise to whatever work Erin was performing. Looking across the Grid she saw Jane now sitting with a notepad and pencil in hand scribbling away. Scrawling her own name across yet another report destined for the mountain of paperwork festering on Harry's desk Erin recalled his parting orders. Knowing Harry she'd have to find a good excuse for her failure to get Jane to the medical suite. Easing herself out of her chair she wandered over to Jane asking quietly.

"Did you find anything useful?"

Jane, absorbed in a self imposed task, jumped at the sound of Erin's voice.

"Sorry Erin I was concentrating. I'm not sure about the use of anything I've found out. I'm just trying to put together a time and place line from what various contacts said. I thought it might help Calum or whoever is tasked with checking her recent movements."

"And?"

"A number of her friends have been a little worried, said she seemed abstracted although as one phrased it 'That's normal when she's trying to put together a production.' I also managed to contact someone who she'd recently pitched an idea to. Catherine refused to be explicit as she was still getting the information she needed from another source. He thought she was cagey but added that that's also normal in their world. Fear of betraying sources or that someone pinches your idea." She saw Erin smiling wryly and added, "Go on say it."

"Doesn't sound unlike her father's working life."

Jane slumped back in her chair as she said wearily, "Ironical isn't it. I spent years trying to prevent the children seeing him as an exciting hero, I was so afraid for them and I'm not proud of what I did in the pursuit of that. I only realised years later that Harry was as anxious as I was that they didn't copy him. And then Catherine began to endlessly walk into danger zones needing Harry's help."

"I doubt he grudges it Jane. Although I'm sure he'd prefer it not to be Catherine he was searching for at the moment I suspect he's rather enjoying himself doing a little field work. He likes to prove he's kept his operational edge."

Just as Jane opened her mouth to respond she noticed Laura creeping apologetically towards them. Erin following the route of Jane's eyes and turned around, asking with a slight glint in her own eye,

"Yes Laura?"

Intimidated by Erin's less than friendly tone Laura seemed to wilt momentarily before holding out a manila folder, "Sorry Miss Watts ...it's my first report... and I wasn't sure where to put it. I know Sir Harry doesn't like... so I thought...that I should..."

Erin held out her hand to take the file, while nobly refraining from telling Laura where she could stick the report. When Laura, having passed it over, failed to move away Erin raised her eyebrows even further while her voice became increasingly frigid. "Anything else?"

"Well actually Miss Watts it was Mrs Townsend I wanted to see. It's about the Reception and the meeting tomorrow."

Jane, amused by the sight of Erin's irritation, noticed that Laura had ceased to stammer and apologise when canvassing the prospect of speaking to herself. She'd also registered the formal address. Erin however seemed to be boiling up to a Harry type explosion when Jane replied calmly.

"As I told you it's Jane, and really if Sir Harry wants you to address him as Harry I think calling me Mrs Townsend and Erin Miss Watts is a little redundant – don't you Erin?" Not waiting for Erin's answer she continued, "Now what was it you wanted to know?"

"I'm sorry to pester ...well what do I wear for tomorrow's meeting? I don't want to let the Section down."

Erin's exasperation got the better of her, "Honestly Laura, just wear clothes. We're Section D not a fashion house."

Jane surveying Erin's glossy dark locks, probably welded into place by some hair product and makeup that was more immaculate than it had a right to be at this time of day, plus the high heels combined with the short skirted, figure hugging outfit, almost gasped at her effrontery in making that statement. For two pins Jane thought she'd start quoting from the Bible, a publication that the denizens of Section D probably only encountered when swearing in court or attending the funerals of their fallen colleagues. Leaving aside the temptation to quote the verses concerning the mote and plank and also temporarily ignoring Erin she smiled as she said, "In one sense Erin is right. With the Arts crowd anything would be okay but as we're supposed to be professionals I'd suggest smart casual. Can you manage that?"

Laura nodded with an answering look of relief. "Thanks Jane." Encountering another freezing glare from Erin she skaddled in the direction of Calum's desk. Suddenly hailed by Calum she halted there to indulge in a few moments of conversation and then, instead of leaving the Grid as Jane and Erin had expected, she returned to her own work station with a note in her hand and proceeded to pick up a phone as a determined expression crossed her features.

Erin was left with the feeling that between them Jane and Calum had just given her an object lesson in how to handle awkward staff and she wasn't sure whether to feel humiliated or annoyed. Something of this must have shown in her face as she heard Jane say speculatively, "She reminds me of a pupil I had a few years ago."

"Yes Jane, well interesting as that is does the parallel have a point?"

Jane continued calmly, "This particular girl although she was bright simply didn't believe it until her GCSE results came through, then she blossomed, straight A's at A level followed by Oxford. I think perhaps Laura was nervy because she was on probation, today she managed to prove to herself that she can do the job."

"We'll see. It's the constant air of apology that gets to me. Still I suppose I shouldn't have snapped at her. It was a sensible question and at least she's thinking about the task in hand."

For Erin this admission was unusual. She rarely talked much to the other women on the Grid. Quite apart from not really being a woman's woman as Section Chief she thought it inadvisable to indulge in girly chit chat with someone she might have to discipline two days later. But another feminine presence on the Grid who was not a subordinate made a pleasant change. Erin had really missed Ruth when the latter had transferred to the Home Office. Technically Erin may have been Ruth's superior but in practice she'd regarded the Intel analyst as a talented equal, someone sensible and experienced on her own level with whom she could discuss junior personnel without the accompanying worry that her words would later form a groundswell of gossip in the Ladies toilet. If she felt the gaping void of Ruth's absence after a working relationship lasting only a few weeks, how, given a work history that shaded into their chaste, intense but unconsummated personal relationship must that abyss be affecting Harry? As for his relationship or non relationship with Jane... if the entire team had been treading on eggshells previously, now they were tiptoeing as lightly as possible over the few remaining uncrunched shards ... it was late and Erin was tired, too tired to begin dissecting the mess that was Harry's private life. The entire Senior team had connived to protect him from the CIA twice, once in springing him from the convey taking him to the airport and then again a few hours later in the aftermath of the deaths of Ruth and Elena. Now, she decided, it was up to Harry to sort out the lingering implications of his past with Jane. Erin had her own domestic and romantic problems to deal with.

Sitting across the desk from Erin Jane was feeling equally exhausted. Glancing at her watch, the only item retrieved from home that Jane was currently wearing, she realised the time. A closer look at Erin revealed deepening circles under her eyes that owed nothing to smudged eyeliner or flaking mascara. Like everyone else the Section Chief had had a long day; unlike the rest of the Senior team she had a dependent waiting for her at home. Having been roughly there herself, in a job that was admittedly less intense and dangerous, Jane felt a burgeoning sympathy for the younger woman.

"Er Erin it's nearly eight, I don't like to pry but your daughter?"

Erin sighed wearily "I know. My mother lives around the corner and takes care of her when I'm at work. I sometimes think that this is not a job for people with children but...well I can't imagine doing anything else and I do have to support the pair of us."

Much as Jane would have liked to have asked how come Erin was member of the single parent's club she didn't want to seem nosey. What could she say? And did Erin actually want advice or was she looking for an affirmation that she should stay in post? Jane might want to scream to Erin that her advice would be to get out now before she was killed but Jane, when in the throes of depression, had been on the receiving end of enough counselling to know that ultimately advice came down to listening, talking a situation over and then allowing the person to take responsibility for their own choices. Besides which, as the woman who'd married one man who could be described as a charming philanderer governed by a slightly wonky moral compass and then dumped him to eventually marry another womaniser whose moral imperative began and ended with himself, she didn't feel overly qualified to advise anyone on how to make sensible life choices. Erin though was clearly bothered by something and needed to talk. Choosing her words carefully Jane responded.

"I know. It's a dilemma for most women no matter what their job." 'Plus in yours you have the ever present threat of dying horribly as well.' To avoid saying anything unfortunate she hastened on. "I nearly gave up completely when I had Catherine but finally went part time. I didn't want to be completly dependent upon Harry but even so it..."

The two women were hovering perilously near a heart to heart when the sound the pods opening arrested the prospect at birth. Harry and Dimitri trooped in, looking tired but slightly more cheerful as Harry walked towards them flourishing over his head a trophy in the form of an ancient teddy bear. A sudden click made him turn his head. Calum had captured the moment with his camera phone.

"Departmental Christmas card Harry. Should go well with the caption 'Sir Harry arrests a dangerous terrorist."

Jane, chuckling inwardly, at Harry's indignant scowl couldn't resist, "How about 'Section D turns cuddly.' They'll be queuing up to give you a hug Harry." Harry's face bore a fleeting shade of intense regret 'I only wish Ruth was here carrying the first and only ticket.' Hoping that his expression hadn't given away his momentary flash of mourning he replied quickly,

"And where will you be in the queue?"

"I need to think about it. Don't forget I'm married." 'God I wish I could forget that, and why did you look so upset just now? '

Not realising that Jane had registered yet another of those infinitesimal pauses that were increasingly arousing her curiosity Harry proceeded towards his office, bear held before him like a shield. The rest of the team hovered outside the glass panelled cell unsure as to whether they should follow, a decision made for them when Harry bawled his summons.

"Come on. We all need to see this, whatever it is."

As they all stood uncertainly around the table Harry thrust the bear into Jane's hands. "Jane you've probably handled this more recently. I thought I felt a lump. Can you tell me if it's always been there?" Jane gingerly pressed her fingers up and down the bear's firmly stuffed torso. She had a distinct sensory memory of ramming in the wadding while fervently wishing that she could perform a similar taxidermy upon the bodies of both her ex husband and his replacement.

The rest of the team waited expectantly, hoping for some revelation that might begin to disperse the impenetrable shroud of mystery. Having slowly explored and prodded every portion of the furry body Jane concurred independently with Harry's opinion that the bear generally felt as a stuffed toy should. Expect for one hard patch about half way up its back. Not wanting to mislead unfairly Jane stuck to plain fact. "I restuffed it for her a couple of years ago. This lump doesn't feel like part of what I put in. May I.."

Harry nodded as she lifted the bear up towards the light and scrutinized its seams even more closely.

"Ahh yes. The join here at the back, if you look it's been sewn together again with a slightly different thread." Thinking of Catherine's reasons for asking Jane to undertake the messy kapok based task, 'Mum you know what I'm like with a needle, the only sewing I ever finished at school was that stuffed squirrel and even then I lost his nose and put the ears on upside down', she added with a slight air of annoyance, "If I'd known she could sew so well I'd have told her..."

The irrepressible Calum broke in, 'To do the job herself or get stuffed."

Harry, having begun to scour his bottom desk drawer for a pair of scissors, seemed oblivious to Calum's latest outbreak of questionably frivolous wit. Eventually having located the necessary item, hidden under detritus that included an unopened miniature bottle of a whisky so poisonous he'd buried it before it buried him, his latest medical assessment advising him to turn teetotal, as in have just two small ones a week, plus a crumpled leaflet written by some comedian the Service employed to advise on life-work balance, he handed them to Jane saying "Could you do the honours?"

As Jane placed the bear on the table she heard Calum saying, "Shouldn't you be using a scalpel and wearing a surgical mask doctor?"

Jane ignored him as she unpicked the seam very carefully and handed the bear back to Harry.

With a look that veered somewhere halfway between hope and apprehension Harry slowly pulled the stuffing out through the small gap Jane had eased open for him. As he did so something suddenly dropped out from the contents in his hand, hitting the table with a small clunk. Harry grabbed the object which, once he dusted off the clinging remnants of stuffing, revealed itself to be a small memory stick.

After examining it carefully Harry looked directly at his curious team.

"This explains what the CIA were after. But the next questions are what does it contain and why is it so important to them?"

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