Thanks to all who read and reviewed. Thanks also for your patience with the delays between chapters.
End of Day One. Approx 8.30pm
The initial relief felt by all present at their success in finally laying their hands upon something solid and definite was quickly punctured by Calum, who while watching Harry fingering the stick, felt obliged to point out that his questions would not be easily answered.
"I'll give you good odds against it not being password protected or encrypted."
Recognising what Calum was really implying Harry acknowledged the obvious difficulty in similar terms. "I doubt any of us would waste money betting against a certainty. But cracking it is your department so..."
With that Harry handed over the item that had cost them so much effort in proportion to its actual size. As the seemingly irrepressible Calum replied with, "Right I'll get cracking then," prior to moving towards the door Harry halted him.
"Not just yet Calum. I know it's getting late but before we disperse for the night I'd like to know if we've anything new to put on the table apart, that is, from Mr Snuggles innards."
Everyone registered the tone of voice, escape would not be possible until Harry was satisfied that they'd reviewed the operation as far as they unreasonably could for the night. This opinion was confirmed when Harry settled himself into his chair while simultaneously fixing everyone with the well known Pearce stare. He didn't need to use additional words. They all knew a response was required.
The immediate reaction of those present was to indulge in a frantic scramble for a seat in Harry's office, a game of musical chairs and sofa that concluded with Calum sprawled on the floor, his back propped up against the wall. Once seated uncomfortably the spooks all glanced at one another waiting for someone to begin. Had they anything new? The straight answer would be, 'not really' or 'nothing that moves us on' but they had all detected the slight note of strain in Harry's voice and were anxious not to disappoint him. Watching the eyes casting around and then gazing floorwards Jane was reminded of many a lesson in which no pupil wanted to the first to essay an educated guess for fear of getting it wrong, although in her world getting it right was the greater worry. Praise from the teacher tended to have a disastrous effect on the street cred.
Confronted by the evident reluctance of anyone willing to screw their courage to the sticking place Harry decided to prompt discussion by summing up the situation as he saw it.
"Clearly we now know that this memory stick is what the CIA were after and that they believe that it holds something of huge importance. Furthermore it would seem that those who are currently searching for it probably aren't the people who have Catherine. She must have known that someone was after it, hence the hiding place and, judging by the card she sent to Jane, she had some worries about being targeted." He scrutinized the weary faces of his team, "Does anyone have an alternative theory?"
The lengthening silence was finally broken by Jane. "I've worked my way through her address book. One of her contacts claimed that she was working on an idea but needed to protect a sensitive source. As I told Erin earlier, nothing positive, in lieu of which I've been trying to cobble together a list of times, places and people she's met over the last week." Catching Harry's astonished eye she faltered before asking," That is what you do isn't it?"
Harry had been thinking back to Erin's earlier remarks. Could he have saved his marriage by recruiting Jane? But no. He would never have chanced making his children orphans. He remembered all too vividly the stricken look in Wes Carter's eyes on the day he'd caught sight of Uncle Harry standing on the edge of the rugby field. The day Adam had died. He could still recall his own personal feeling of devastation as he clasped the warm body of the weeping boy close, his coat drenched with Wes' free falling tears as they both struggled, and failed to control their grief. No; emphatically no, better to have experienced his bitter divorce, followed by the years of estrangement than to have risked the prospect of leaving his children parentless. His attention having been momentarily fixed in the past he noted that Jane was looking puzzled, even mildly apprehensive at his unexpected frown and failure to reply.
"Yes Jane, that should help. Have you completed it?"
"Not quite – I need another ten minutes or so."
Dimitri meanwhile had been mulling over the theory Harry had postulated. "Harry we're assuming that the person who lifted Catherine is the one who's holding her. Is it possible instead that he's her source and that they were both captured after he collected her?"
It was a fresh suggestion and everyone took time to ponder it before Erin protested, "Possible, but if they were taken by the CIA the same consideration applies – why didn't they know about Mr Snuggles?"
Harry nodded his agreement with her objection before saying, "I think we need to consider Dimitri's theory as Catherine clearly thought some danger existed. But if they were captured as a pair it wasn't by the CIA or whoever else is after Mr Snuggles."
The absurdity of referring to the teddy bear as if it was a person hadn't escaped Harry but he decided it deserved some respect for its vital role in secreting what appeared to be a major clue. Had they managed to get anything positive from the earlier Intel? Staring to the carpeted corner where Calum was lounging he inquired in a deceptively casual voice, "Anything else? Calum have your checks completed?"
"Several are still running Harry, so far it's all negative including any trace on Wayne O'Docherty."
The slight inflection with which Calum made this statement caught Harry's attention.
"Go on."
Availing himself of the invitation Calum explained, "He doesn't seem to exist except on paper as the named licensee of a small car fleet. The address given is a flat above a carry out in Brixton but no reference in the electoral roll and no trace of his having a driving licence." Calum paused and then continued with obvious scepticism, "It's possible of course that he's just moved house and doesn't drive, some fleet owners deliberately register cars in the name of a non driver, then they have a defence against speeding tickets but..."
It was Jane who interrupted this fantasy reasoning, "You don't think so."
Harry had instantly grasped where Calum was headed. "I assume that you're implying that Wayne O'Docherty is a ghost. If so any ideas as to where his corporeal body might reside?"
Calum, snarky comments abandoned for once, hesitated for a couple of seconds, "I'm not entirely sure but I managed to identify the chap you sent to hospital from the police database. He seems to be a more efficient version of the druggie who ended up in the Thames. A deniable asset. Link that with the likelihood that someone who apparently doesn't exist has set up a car fleet and my best guess would be a criminal gang are at work. I'd further suggest that they've been hired by the CIA to avoid a paper trail, possibly for a black operation. I checked the local police logs and they record some recent instances of smash and grab, targeted muggings and so on, usually with a getaway car in the offing."
Erin was frowning slightly, "But Cal if this is a black op why so obvious when trying to get Jane? Are we sure they were CIA? We don't know what Catherine was working on. It could be a topic of interest to goodness knows who. Laura may have been mistaken. We didn't definitely pin this onto the CIA until she suggested it." Judging by the note of hope in her voice Erin apparently hadn't recovered from the shock of Laura being made permanent and wouldn't be devastated if she was proved wrong. That possibility was instantly dashed by Calum.
"Sorry Erin. When Jane rang in I managed to hack into the post incident call on the police comms. I didn't get much from that but enough to confirm the CIA presence complete with American accents, flashy id cards and sunglasses in the autumn. Though why they weren't disguised is, I agree, inexplicable."
Harry, as referee, intervened at this point. "I can guess. They probably thought a quick dive in, grab Jane and get out. An expensive car wouldn't look out of place in Jane's village inhabited as it is by ageing yuppies who didn't quite make the grade in London. Would it Jane?"
It was news to Jane that Harry was so well informed about her neighbourhood. They may have descended into a mutual loathing as exemplified by their solicitor based contact, but as the possibility of an emergency with the children could not be discounted she'd always ensured that he'd had her contact details. It hadn't been much of a concession given that he'd have acquired them anyway by the nefarious means obtaining in his profession. She supposed she might have guessed that he would make it his business to check out her personal safety, he probably couldn't help himself. For some reason that she'd never understood he persisted in feeling responsible for her. She wouldn't mind wagering that he could draw a map of her village blindfold and knew more about her neighbours than she did. Not that the latter would be difficult feat. With the exception of the widow next door Jane avoided them like the plague. It was, she'd not infrequently reflected, somewhat ironic that had she ever let it be known that her ex-husband had acquired a knighthood they'd have been all over her like a rash – the one that heralded the onset of the Black Death - hailing her as a wit instead of regarding her as an antisocial adjunct to the ebullient, bonhomous, Robin. She had survived through many an agonising Sunday lunchtime drinkies and name dropping party by inwardly sniggering at that fragrant thought.
A cough from Erin jerked her back into the discussion. "Sorry just thinking. I'd agree that a car of that type wouldn't look out of place, but it would be noticed. And me leaving with two strange men, that'd really get the tongues clacking." 'Robin's fan club would be rushing round to comfort him.'
Calum smirked. "Yes Laura mentioned that you had two gossipy neighbours, so in the interests of trying to discover any further Intel I asked her to contact them."
Jane shut her eyes briefly, as she considered the ramifications of this, while Erin interjected with a furious shriek. "What were you thinking of blowing our cover like that?"
As Calum opened his mouth to reply to her Harry could only hope that he wasn't going to utter the immortal phrase 'calm down dear'. The day had been tough enough without having to divert into an irrelevant debate upon the nature of gender appropriate responses. Harry's prayer was answered as Calum contradicted her, his voice implying that he'd been stung by the accusation.
"I didn't. I asked Laura to pretend to be a local journalist." He looked at Jane as he grinned, "I thought your neighbour across the road might find a female voice more simpatico."
Harry was all too aware of the possible embarrassment coming Jane's way. But what price her pride versus their daughter's safety. Given how secretive she'd been though he had a feeling that their precarious relationship was about to flounder, just when they'd parked on a plateau of occasional civility. Jane however was speaking, a slight glint of humour in her voice.
"You probably guessed right there Calum, what did she come up with?" No point, she decided, in trying to avoid the inevitable. It wasn't as if she was in alliance with people who moonlighted as towncriers, keeping secrets was their trade.
"Not sure. I haven't had a chance to ask her yet."
Erin was becoming ever more impatient as the time ticked on, she was desperate to see Rosie, preferably before midnight. "Then for heaven's sake can't we ask her?"
Dimitri not keen to prolong the proceedings, dived out to inform Laura that her presence was required forthwith. The others, knowing that Laura rarely spoke without apology, repetition or hesitation prepared to be regaled by a long saga as they heaved a group sigh and fidgeted in an effort to acquire more comfortable seating positions. The bundle of notes in Laura's hand didn't suggest that their respective perches would be vacated quickly.
As soon as she entered the room Harry, having noted the fixedly patient expressions, took control.
"Laura did you discover anything useful from Jane's neighbours?" Laura surveyed the entire Senior team, looking surprisingly confident given her track record to date, opened her mouth and began,
"Er well I spoke first to Mrs Emma Winnick," the ghost of a smile played on her lips as she recalled Jane's nickname for the woman. In a mimicked, slightly false posh voice Laura began to quote, "She was very upset at being traduced, especially when the police threatened to charge her with wasting police time. She thought this was dreadful as she's a personal friend of the Chief Constable. According to her the police constable was very disrespectful, she heard him whispering under his breath, 'Not another one, that man gets around more women than bloody Casanova ever did.' ...Sorry but..." Laura's exposition had been interrupted by a spluttering sound from Jane.
"Apologies Laura – do go on, I gather that she wasn't arrested."
"Never mind that," Harry asked crisply "did you get anything of relevance?"
"Sorry Sir, from Mrs Winnick not really, she was so upset that that she had to... er... go and lie down to soothe her shattered nerves." Laura paused for a moment and then pulled out a second sheaf of scrawlings, "Sorry Sir... but I haven't had time to write then up properly...and..." The papers slipped from her fingers and fell onto the floor.
"Laura just get on with it."
"Sorry. I then rang Mrs Mabel Trenchard – Jane's next door neighbour. She saw it all." Laura's voice transformed again, this time into that of an elderly middleclass chatterbox. " She thought that just before the police arrived the two men seemed to be watching the Tindall's house so she went out to see if they'd lost their way. She was just approaching them when she saw the police arrive.. er then...well ...she..." Laura was having some problems keeping her voice steady..."as she isn't a gossip or... and doesn't pry she... er...hid behind a tree in her garden to listen. She heard them argue... some reference to Brits not knowing their ass from elbows and letting terrorists and criminals run free... she's sure about that because she thought it an odd thing for a visitor to say. She peered round and saw one pull a gun out of his pocket, then the CIA thumped the police and drove off. When one of the officers went to talk to Mrs Winnick she...er Mrs Trenchard...sorry can't read my handwriting, she was talking nineteen to the dozen."
"Laura." Harry's voice was vaguely threatening.
"Sorry Sir. The officer by the car was punched in the nose as they made their escape. She went up to check that he was okay, he was explaining to her that they'd had a call when Mr Tindall arrived."
'Oh God' Jane thought as Laura's voice continued. "The police asked why the CIA should be watching his house and he muttered something she thought that sounded like ... as this point Laura halted. "Er Sir I'm not sure I should repeat this," as she stared pointedly at Jane.
Jane reassured her, "It's okay Laura go on."
"Well he shouted something about, 'Bloody Pearce and his effing James Bond games.' When Mrs Trenchard mentioned that Jane was away visiting her daughter for a few days he..., I'm sorry Sir I'll put it in my report... you don't allow that sort of language on the Grid... The police told him that the CIA claimed that they'd wanted to talk to Jane because her daughter was missing. Mr Tindall shouted at the police that they were an effing disgrace; they should keep thugs off the street and go after them instead of standing around sodding well chatting with old ladies and .. er...quite a few other things. Mrs Trenchard said that they threatened to arrest him for abuse whereupon he said..."
Harry continued for her, "Let me guess. He's a close friend of the Chief Constable." Even with the other spooks as an audience he couldn't resist commenting to Jane, "Not changed much has he?"
"Oh I don't know, thirty years ago he'd have slagged off the Chief Constable as well, now he positively purrs about some aspects of the establishment. And you have to admit he blends into the social climbing ambience of the neighbourhood quite well."
"True. But do you?" For a brief moment a pair of steely grey eyes and hazel eyes met. Jane didn't need to answer the question, the slightly wry quirk of her lips did it for her. To Erin, catching the mutual glances, they both seemed to have retreated inside that exclusive private world that only couples with a shared history could penetrate. The fleeting contact was broken by Harry asking Laura, "Anything else."
"Not really Sir. I'm sorry but I don't think I've found out anything useful."
"On the contrary Laura, you've confirmed Intel and our working theory. It's now clear that while the CIA didn't want to answer questions they did know that Catherine was missing. That means they are certainly involved somehow. Unlike Mrs Winnick and Mr Tindall I do know the Chief Constable so I can insist upon a confidential report knowing that we are working on more than a hunch."
With that Harry surveyed his team, despite the fact that they were still sitting down, they all looked nearly dead on their feet. "Very well, that wraps things up for tonight. We'll stick to the original plan of talking to Garside tomorrow. Erin, you need to see your daughter, Laura, you go as well, practise your mimicry, in the bath, in bed, but not on the Grid. Dimitri, write up your reports and then leave. Jane, finish your time line or whatever, I'm giving you ten minutes while I sign off the most urgent paperwork," He gestured towards a pile of files on his desk. "Calum if you could wait for Jane to give you her opus and then go home yourself."
No one was inclined to linger, within seconds Harry was alone in his office. Sinking into his chair he regarded the documents on his desk with a total lack of affection. He sometimes considered that death by bullet would be preferable to death by a desk bound inflicted deep vein thrombosis combined with RSI. As he settled to his task he heard the swoosh of the pods proclaiming that Erin was departing as instructed. Opening the first file he noted that she had considerately left post it notes marking the places for his signature. They fluttered in front of his tired eyes like miniature flags tempting him to just scrawl his name and toss the papers into the basket for dispatch to the Registry. He refused to succumb; force of habit demanded that he speed read every item, however minor it seemed. He'd built his career on such thoroughness. He dealt with the top three files marked 'Urgent' and then decided to call it a night. It was nearly nine o'clock, he still had to get Jane to the medics and crucially they both had to eat. As he moved the remaining folders to one side of his desk the top one fell to the floor, stooping to pick it up Harry saw a sheet of appended notes in a familiar neat precise handwriting.
At once an image of Ruth as he'd so often seen her on the darkened Grid swam before him, her face illuminated by the desk lamp and computer screen, her eyes meeting his and then quickly turning away. Those remarkable eyes, the weathervane of her thoughts, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes sad, sometimes questioning, sometimes glowing with a sudden empathy that only they shared, occasionally happy and smiling, but always, always so breathtaking beautiful, even in those last few seconds as he helplessly watched the light fade from them, while he desperately tried to convince her that she would survive, that they had a future together.
Move on the smart advice said; but it didn't say to what. Find an absorbing hobby: what hobby could possibly banish the memory of the past years; folk dancing, stamp collecting? Do something positive that will give you new memories. He'd seriously contemplated that one when he'd considered buying Ruth's dream cottage. Then he'd realised that he wouldn't be developing new memories but sinking into a negative slough of 'might have beens'. It was in that moment that he'd understood that he didn't want fresh memories, he and Ruth had shared so much his sole desire was to retain his old ones as long as possible. He could only truly mourn her on the Grid, the place that had brought them together and conversely kept them apart. And then, of course, there was the big one – find another partner. That had been possible, it would be possible. A few women had tried, with varying degrees of subtly, to imply that given less than half a chance they could console him. But Harry wasn't up for anything, including what he believed was referred to as comfort sex. He'd tried that one frequently enough in the past, particularly in the difficult few months after his divorce, to know that the immediate physical relief it brought didn't compensate for the aching emotional void. For the last few years he'd only wanted one woman, he still did, and through that need had rediscovered a simple truth, that loneliness was a state of mind rather than a physical fact.
He fought back the tears as he replaced the folder, so engrossed by his thoughts that he'd completely missed the sound of a soft knock on his office door. The single concerned utterance "Harry" startled him into looking up. For the briefest of seconds he thought he saw those two glorious blue eyes gazing at him. At the repetition of his name in a more urgent tone the sparkling blue of his imagination dissolved into the worried grey of reality. Jane was standing in his office doorway carrying a plastic bag that she'd unearthed with the intention of gathering together what remained of Mr Snuggles.
She said nothing further but her earlier curiosity was rapidly becoming assimilated into concern. She'd previously thought she'd seen Harry in all moods and guises but these frequent momentary descents into a distressed reverie were different to anything she'd seen before. The sight of such raw grief was almost obscene. She had never, not even after Bill had died, seen such naked anguish on his face. She'd often enough told Harry to go to Hell, now she was increasingly convinced that he'd taken up permanent residence there. The demons that were tormenting him seemed to possess an existence that transcended anything he'd confronted on the Grid. For now she would have to pretend she hadn't noticed anything, although he couldn't fail to know that she had. Twenty five years ago they had both play acted as they tried to stave off the end game of their marriage. Would they ever manage to abandon the barrier of pretence that prevented them from really talking to one another? She had thought they'd begun to make progress earlier in the day, now she wasn't so sure.
Harry was well aware that she had noticed the devastation on his face. He could tell by the solicitude with which she asked.
"Harry, is anything wrong?
"Just worry that's all."
Jane didn't believe him for one second. Seeing his hand firmly clamped on a file she wished that he felt he could confide in her. But there again she hadn't trusted him with her secrets, so why should he trust someone who was virtually a stranger with his? Casting her eyes around to disguise the difficult moment she noticed the unstuffed body of Mr Snuggles pushed to the side of Harry's desk. Aware that Harry probably had confidential documents lying in full view she pointed to the pile of floppy fabric and stuffing as she asked, "May I, I think I need to sort him out."
As she leaned over to gather up bits of the bear she couldn't resist a glance at the file. Nothing she could see explained Harry's unusually emotional response. The note that he'd tried to conceal and which she read upside down began 'Registry Ref 2341/2345/2011 and continued with what her quick glance informed her was a list of ... well a list! Surely he'd seen worse than that in his time. Harry had noticed her reaction. He wondered how long before Jane began to question him outright. Evading answers would be difficult when he had to ask her about Robin. There was however one inescapable difference. He might be able to help her, she couldn't help him. No one could restore the dead.
Harry straightened himself up, and noticing that Jane had now scooped up the remnants of Mr Snuggles enquired, "Finished Jane."
"I am, but judging by that pile on your desk you've some way to go. If you give me the file you mentioned earlier I'll start looking at the Reception details while you finish up."
Harry was touched by her recognition of his workload. The Jane of yesteryear would never have understood. But then the Harry of yesteryear would have taken her up on the offer, instead of standing up and grabbing his suit jacket.
"It's alright Jane, I can finish signing off the rest tomorrow. We're going home – sorry back to my place."
Jane smiled, "While I'm quartered on you I think home will do nicely. Actually I meant to say." She halted and then continued uncertainly, "Would you like me to find a hotel, I mean you offered for one night only and...
"Jane, unless you really feel that you can't stand being under my roof I'd rather you remained. The danger hasn't gone away and we do need to stay together in case of news."
Jane's offer had been genuine but she was relieved l that he'd rejected it. Playing hunt the hotel wasn't a prospect she'd been relishing. "More a case of can you stand me I'd have thought. You're the one forced to be host."
"It's not a problem, you're growing on me."
"Like a mould or fungus, thanks?"
"Very useful items. If I recall correctly it was mould that led to the discovery of penicillin. Which reminds me, our first stop is the medical suite, we're not going anywhere until you've seen a doctor."
"I thought you'd forgotten about that." Looking at Harry's face she added with a grimace, "I should have known, Harry Pearce is like an elephant."
"I may be going grey and I'm aware that I've gained several pounds but do you have to be so insulting?" The intonation implied that felt somewhat offended.
A mildly exasperated contrition was forthcoming. "Harry simply I meant you never forget, especially when it comes to enemies. Anyway the greying locks and extra weight make you look authoritative. But it's late so can't we skip the medical suite?" Pleading eyes accompanied the final request.
"NO."
As they crossed the Grid together Harry noticed Calum deeply entrenched in his workstation. He caught Harry's eye as they approached.
"Harry, Dimitri's popped out for a minute but wanted to know, should he contact your usual driver to put Jane's bags in the car?"
Harry had completely forgotten that Jane had acquired some physical luggage to accompany the emotional variety she was lumbered with. "Tell him thanks and yes."
Calum seemingly had another query which he asked with a hesitation that was, for him, unusual.
"Harry I was wondering. We have to get that memory stick sorted. I've done a preliminary check and I think our best bet for cracking it is to use the de- encryption software that we acquired from the CIA and which we've adapted, but I'd like to be around while it runs. I could stay on the Grid tonight and hand over to Malcolm when he comes in tomorrow"
Harry looked at Calum and realised that he was being entirely serious. "But Calum you'll be exhausted... and.."
"And nothing Harry, we need to find out what is happening asap. I can examine Jane's timeline while the other checks are running. See if I can pick up anything on CCTV."
Harry hesitated. There was much in what Calum said, but he didn't want to end the operation with officers burnt out by exhaustion. On the other hand if he forbade Calum the chances were that the techie would ignore him anyway.
"Very well then, on condition that when Malcolm arrives you handover at once and disappear into one of the rest rooms. And Calum thanks."
With that he ushered Jane towards the pods. If they didn't make a move soon they'd be joining Calum in his all night vigil. That wouldn't worry Harry, he'd done it before but he had Jane's welfare to consider.
A few minutes later Harry had coerced a still protesting Jane into the medical suite. Entering the door marked Duty Doctor Harry was relieved to see that the medic in residence was an old familiar face who'd patched up many of his staff, not to mention himself, on numerous occasions. It was a pleasure that rapidly became short lived once the occupant of the surgery began to greet them. Harry's previously painful encounters with the doctor meant that his brain cells had failed to retain the information that Nat Reynolds made Calum look the soul of tact and gravitas.
"Hello Harry, and who's this lovely lady? Addressing Jane Nat added, "One thing you can say about old Harry, he's always had an eye for a good looking woman."
Which one of them, Harry wondered, was Jane going to neutralise on the spot. Nat, as he guided Jane to a seat, continued to burble in a misjudged attempt to put her at ease, "Known him for long? I'd watch him if I were you. You never know what he'll be up to next."
Before Nat could particularise Jane managed to squeeze in an ice laden. "That's why I divorced him."
Harry gave Jane her due, she'd succeeded were most others had failed; she'd totally silenced the unfortunate medic. Nat seemed to be contemplating the advantages of melting into the floor but finally recovered sufficiently to say,
"Oops. Er what...?"
Harry taking pity on him hurriedly outlined the reason for their presence, "Jane was caught up in a bomb blast last night and I'd like her checked out. She's got a couple of cracked ribs, stitched shoulder, badly sprained ankle."
"And a tongue that still functions perfectly, so I can explain this myself."
Given a breathing space Nat had prepared for action. "And medication?"
Jane, responding with less acerbity now that Nat was in professional mode, replied with exactitude. "Not really. They did give me painkillers. I can't remember the make but I'm not happy taking them in any case. Harry said they'd knock out a horse and I want to remain coherent."
Nat pursed his lips, as an MI5 medic he was well accustomed to patients who felt obliged to test their pain threshold to the extreme. "We'll talk about that in a minute, could you put your foot up on this stool. I'd like to look at that ankle." As Nat unwrapped the strapping Harry had put on the previous evening a bulging limb was revealed. In fact Harry was quietly impressed with Jane's stoicism, it must have been hurting her quite badly. Nat as he prodded various parts of the swelling gave his considered verdict, "I'd think about exhibiting in an agricultural show, best cauliflower department. I'll bandage it up again but the most sensible advice I can give is stay off it as much as possible. Do you have a walking stick anywhere Harry?"
Harry wondered if this was the moment for the honesty recommended by Dimitri. He did have one at home, purchased through necessity when recuperating from an old injury, but despite their ongoing truce he still wasn't entirely sure about the wisdom of gifting Jane with a blunt weapon, especially around the general vicinity of himself. Nat hadn't waited for a reply to his enquiry. "If so I'd advise using it. Harry after his various experiences can bind up injuries better than the average doctor so if you have trouble you won't need to call one out. Now for the shoulder."
Realising that this examination would involve Jane stripping off to reveal Erin's bra Harry wanted to avoid embarrassment on two counts. Not only had he long since signed away the right to gawp at Jane's body, he wanted to avoid the risk of inadvertently visualising Erin in her underwear when chairing future meetings in the Briefing Room. Becoming hot under the collar at that thought was Dimitri's prerogative. He was preparing to make his excuses to leave when fortuitously there was knock on the door. Answering it Harry saw a tired looking Dimitri and slipped outside quietly.
Sorry Harry .. but I suddenly remembered..." Aware he was presenting as a Laura soundalike Dimitri thrust a pile of papers in Harry's direction. "The information Jane wanted about the Reception. I know it's late but I thought she could look at it tomorrow morning."
"Knowing Jane she'll start at once but thanks."
Returning into the medical room Harry was relieved to see that Jane was respectably clothed, Nat must have been swift, probably to atone for his earlier clanger.
"Well Nat, what's the final conclusion?"
"The shoulder should heal well, the wound is clean and the stitching is holding, although it will leave a scar, I'll give you some dressings. I assume that you can change them for her Harry?"
"That depends whether Jane's happy for me to get my hands on her body."
"That depends on which bit you're after."
Nat waited for them to finish before he uttered his final verdict. "I'll give you some very mild painkillers, they won't knock you out and they won't entirely cancel out the pain but they will relax you a little. I'd suggest taking them before you go to bed." With that he handed Harry a small bottle and a packet. "You've got more pockets. If you have any problems do pop back." Turning to Jane he said "I virtually rely on Harry's section to keep me in a job, I've not been disappointed today. I have got to say Harry, judging by that young man's bruising, you still pack a punch. I told him that although there's no long term damage he'd be wise to disappoint his lady friends for a few days at least."
Once outside Harry felt an apology was in order."Sorry about some of that Jane... Nat's bedside manner has been somewhat corrupted by the Service."
"Like a lot else Harry. Don't worry, I could have done without the visuals relating to our son but he's obviously a good doctor and that, when someone is poking and prodding my body, is all that concerns me."
"Perhaps I should have read medicine. I might have seduced you more quickly."
"Today reading Ancient History might be more appropriate. Moving on quickly as they say, what did Dimitri want? I recognised his voice."
"To give me, well you this." Jane's eyes narrowed slightly, as Harry explained, "It's your homework, the file for the Reception."
"And Sir Harry if I do it properly do I get a gold star?"
"No, but I might forget about the painkillers and let you have a glass of red wine."
"And if I'm a bad girl and don't?"
"Not a question you ask an MI5 officer. "
"Okay but I do have one question I want to an answer to."
Knowing that she'd caught him in an unguarded moment of visible mourning Harry braced himself for the inevitable question, "Which is?"
"Can I please, please, take these dreadful earrings off?"
Thanks for reading. If you have a moment please review. I'll try but may not get the next chapter posted before Christmas