Thanks to all those who read and those who reviewed. Much appreciated.
The Grid. 9.30 am approx
Meetings in the Briefing Room were rarely a source of comfort and joy to the participants. The happiest part of proceedings tended to be Harry's announcement that they could all stand down, once the paperwork had been completed. Today the usual gamut of gloomy emotions was heightened by the rays of fury emanating from Erin. Observing the Section Chief's blazing eyes and rigid jawline Jane was tempted to suggest to her that she stopped behaving like a stroppy teenager suddenly been banjaxed by the discovery that the world did not revolve around her own wonderful personality. A moment's reflection informed Jane that as she was only present by the grace of God and Harry, the two being virtually interchangeable on the Grid, it would be wise not to assume an authority that was rightfully his.
Harry, whose face was beginning to flush with a colour prejudicial to his blood pressure was, for now, ignoring the thunderous atmosphere. If Erin's behaviour bade to interfere with operational efficiency he wouldn't hesitate to take punitive action, but at present he had a more important priority. Catherine had now been missing for nearly forty eight hours and unless Calum had produced a miracle in the night they were no wiser as to her whereabouts. Deliberately avoiding Erin's eye he turned his attention towards Malcolm and the sleep deprived Calum, only to be anticipated by Erin who, while very pointedly not acknowledging Malcolm's presence, asked sharply,
"Calum, any updated Intel."
Sitting beside his yawning colleague Malcolm, normally the mildest of men, felt a twinge of irritation at the dark haired perfume model sitting opposite. That this sentiment was being reflected back in triple strength was obvious to everyone around the table. Erin was unashamedly radiating a negativity targeted upon the hapless Malcolm, whose sole crime appeared to be the mere fact of his existence.
Faced with such obvious hostility Malcolm was internally debating the possibility of retreating back into retirement less than four hours after being disgorged from the pods into an environment at once both familiar and strange. Feeling the need to acclimatise himself into the calm and peaceful world of Section D he'd returned to the Grid at an hour in which the proverbial early bird would have still been cosily tucked up with head under wing. As with many a planned operation the scheme to familiarise himself with the subtly altered regime had been aborted within minutes of his being greeted by a shattered Calum. Introductions over, "Mr Wynn Jones I presume,' 'I prefer colleagues to call me Malcolm', it had only taken a few swapped comments and sentences for the pair to have laid down the groundwork of a mutual respect. Despite the seeming frivolity of Calum's speech patterns Malcolm had been impressed by the thoroughness of his work, Calum, in his turn, had discovered that the returning genius was remarkably up to speed for one who'd been retired for two years plus. He'd gratefully endorsed Malcolm's suggestions as to how they proceeded in the key operation, tersely outlined by Calum as, "The Pearce family saga featuring the missing daughter, the bolshie son, the spiky ex and the human volcano." Handover concluded Calum had then disappeared to the Rest rooms to grab a few hours sleep, confident that the quiet newcomer would continue the good work. Professional trust having been established Malcolm wasn't precisely sure as to why Calum was now snoozing beside him in the Briefing Room but suspected that Erin was responsible. In this assumption he was quite correct. Calum's all too brief slumber had been disturbed by a demanding Erin marching into the room he'd commandeered and peremptorily insisting on his presence at the meeting with the comment, "You don't want to find yourself superseded by Malcolm." In his exhausted state Calum would happily have been superseded by Scooby Doo and had said so. Erin's response had been to pull rank, leaving him with no alternative to other than to pull on his trousers and obey Madame Fuhrer, or should that have been Madam Furious. Already annoyed with Erin he certainly wasn't prepared to ally himself with an obvious discourtesy that Malcolm had done nothing to deserve. Before any of the others could intervene Calum revived sufficiently to snap back,
"You'd do better to ask someone who can stay awake. Malcolm the floor is yours."
Harry, keen to be updated on developments, indicated his assent to Calum's proposition. Erin, her objections thus blocked slumped back in her chair with a disgusted mutter. Clearing his throat Malcolm commenced the difficult task of trying sound positive about mainly negative news. In this he was somewhat hampered by being a technical officer. A spin doctor would have created a far more effective initial presentation, although whether any member of that gentry could have survived the subsequent dissection by a severely worried Harry was more doubtful. Malcolm recognised the symptoms in the furrowed brow and the determinedly professional expression. What surprised him rather more were the concerned surreptitious glances being cast Harrywards by the woman he'd easily identified as the 'spiky ex'.
"Very well. Calum has run various checks on those who'd had access to the pattern of the CCTV switch off and narrowed down the possible informers to three likely suspects, all of whom are employed in the traffic and highways section. Crucially they all have financial difficulties with inexplicable payments into their bank accounts. We've tasked a junior officer with tracing the source of the money."The acknowledgement that these discoveries had come from Calum along with the judicious use of the word 'we' seemed to satisfy Erin. Before she could attempt to dominate proceedings once more Malcolm pressed a key on his laptop, making them all blink as the screen at the end of the Briefing Room was suddenly illuminated with a montage of grainy CCTV pictures. "Using the information put together by Jane the CCTV footage was examined at the locations mentioned. Over the past fortnight Catherine seems to have met the man, whose car she was seen entering, at this cafe on several separate occasions."
"And how exactly does this help?" It was Erin of course. Normally she was able to charm her way around the two younger officers. Today, shocked by her rudeness, they simultaneously ganged up to defend Malcolm. The slightly more alert Dimitri was the quickest of the pair to slap Erin down comprehensively, although carefully avoiding her eye in the process of doing so. "It tells us that Catherine must have been having regular contact with that man for a few days at least. By implication she was being cautious at first but must eventually have trusted him enough to invite him into her flat."
Erin looked utterly stunned. It was as if the doormat had decided to stand up, shake itself dust free and walk away. After all their flirting and... well, their occasionally more intimate relations Dimitri was the last person she'd have expected to turn on her. Jane, registering this, wanted to offer Dimitri her congratulations. Not many men would have resisted the temptation of the little finger when being twisted by a woman as attractive as Erin; it suggested character. If Erin had any sense she'd snatch him up while he was available. But then what did she know? Thinking back to the previous evening's confessional and the admittance of her own crashing misjudgements Jane decided she'd be well advised to eschew match making as a complementary career. While she was musing Harry had been contemplating the CCTV images. Catherine with a man who later visited her flat! Was the reason as obvious as Dimitri had tactfully implied? Jane's absorption in the personal dynamics of the Grid was abruptly interrupted by a harsh question.
"Jane what is the situation with Catherine and Fabien? It's as if he's suddenly dropped off the radar. First he was around; then she was moving into her flat and staying put in London. I've not liked to pry."
"No great secret Harry. Fabien was posted to a predominately Muslim country about nine months ago. Obviously in view of her documentary Catherine couldn't accompany him so they decided on a trial time apart. I'm surprised you didn't ask her yourself."
About nine months ago, the start of the events around Albany and its disastrous aftermath kickstarted by the arrival of the Gavriks, followed by the spectacular misjudgements that lead to the heart wrenching death of his old friend Jim Coaver, and hard on that, the tragedy by the estuary culminating in that final, devastating, loss of Ruth. Now he learnt that while he'd been immersing himself in his secret world of morose moods and personal misery his daughter had needed him. Self absorbed and selfish he'd been completely indifferent to the difficulties of those who might have wanted his support. Jane had accused him last night of possessing a guilt complex. Maybe she was right, but if she was, it had been justly earned.
Jane was continuing to speak. "I suppose this could be a new boyfriend but just as equally he could be a work contact. She rarely gives out her home address but if she needs a confidential venue for recording she does sometimes use her flat." Harry's lips moved in a silent phrase that seemed to resemble 'Silly girl'. Before Jane could take him to task the entire company was recalled to the more immediate topic via a discreet cough from Malcolm, a precursor to revealing the fruit of his later labours.
"What you've just seen was discovered by Calum. Having worked out Catherine's usual haunts I rechecked the CCTV for other sightings and found this from four days ago."
A further click brought up a fresh CCTV tape featuring a small cafe with outdoor tables. How Malcolm had managed to distinguish Catherine and her companion from the woolly wrapped passersby was in itself a technical miracle. If Catherine had been seeking obscurity by meeting in a public place she'd been defeated by the weather. The pair had achieved prominence by virtue of being the only persons prepared to sit and savour their drinks in what appeared to be a stiff wintry breeze. They seemed to be talking and, as Malcolm slowed down the motion, their recorded gesticulations hinted that while not exactly quarrelling they were involved in some form of dispute. Finally the man stood up and walked angrily away, face towards the camera. After giving everyone a few seconds to digest the dumping of yet another individual into existing stew pot of confusion Malcolm added, "I'm running him through facial recognition and I've contacted a lip reader. I'm hoping that she'll be able to pick out something from the CCTV clips we've obtained. I'll also check the CCTV from neighbouring locations for this man. We might just get a lead."
Harry was looking thoughtful as he suggested, "I'd guess from the way he walked that he'd been involved with the military in some capacity. You can't mistake that way of moving." Watching Malcolm scribble a note he ventured his burning question, "What about the memory stick?" Calum, realising that Malcolm was occupied, answered on his behalf. "Nothing yet. The decoding software is a woman, resists blandishments for ages but finally opens up to charm."
From Dimitri's corner came the rejoinder, "And how would you know?"
Harry with an eye to Jane and Erin, whose suddenly rigid postures were forming a briefly reunited feminist front, uttered a warning, "Calum, Dimitri."
Calum alone proffered an excuse, "Sorry Harry. Sleep deprivation. Malcolm has everything well in hand, so any chance I could swap the Land of Mystery for the Land of Nod?"
"Yes unless, anything further Malcolm?"
"Three updates. The police rang at around eight to tell us that the car staking out Catherine's flat has been found torched on waste ground. The various DNA and facial recognition checks on the man we know collected Catherine have thrown nothing up, but assuming Graham was correct about his nationality I've retrieved some DNA records from the CIA cloud storage." There was a gratifying thump of chins on the table before Calum whistled, "Bloody Hell how did you do that? And can they trace it back to us?"
"Just before I retired the CIA experienced a major server failure. I took advantage and set up a backdoor coding to get some information I needed by establishing a false identity. I'd assumed that by now they'd have done a sweep and deleted me. I thought it was worth checking. It's unlikely but even if they trace it to us are they going to admit to it when they are involved in a deniable operation?"
Harry's vindication at having persuaded Malcolm to return was instantly spoilt by Erin, "And you didn't think to pass this on to someone when you left? So much for working together."
This time she had seriously overstepped the mark. Over the hubbub, in which both Calum and Dimitri could be heard protesting, Harry's stentorian tones dominated.
"That is quite enough Erin. I deal with the Senior team disciplinaries, as you will very soon find out if you continue to take this tone."
Leaving Erin to digest the rebuke he added, "The third point Malcolm."
If ever there was an ill timed suggestion given the circumstances this was going to be it, "I understand that Erin has inherited Ros Meyers old CIA asset. The one Ros pumped sparingly for minor gossip. She's still assigned to the London desk."
"Why not hack the database for whatever you want me to ask?" A sulking Erin was still on the attack. Harry was spared answering by Dimitri, "Since when did black ops make their way onto databases?" Seeking some degree of conciliation, "It's worth a try Erin."
Not being a member of the Grid proper Jane, through observing this whole exchange, had now concluded that transparency in the Security Services was not a desirable option. Few members of the public would thrill to the knowledge that in the event of a terror attack their safety lay in the hands of a wisecracker, a returning retiree, and a pair of love birds involved in an ongoing tiff, all of whom were based within a department headed by a depressed border line alcoholic. Your life in their hands. Now that was a terrifying thought.
Meanwhile the depressive alcoholic was summing up. "Immediate jobs, Erin contact that asset using a legend, if you do arrange a meeting get Robin to observe at a distance." He saw the quick shudder the name sent down Jane's spine and cursed the fact that he'd had to utter it, albeit in a different context. "l'll interview Garside, so Erin can you tell Batman to join me in the interrogation rooms in twenty minutes? Calum sleep. Dimitri you and Jane need to set off for your meeting."
While Erin flounced out in something dangerously akin to a tantrum, probably further incensed by the mass resignation of her fan club, Harry noticed Jane shake her head at Dimitri as the pair remained seated. Surprised that she was encouraging an officer to undermine him by disobeying a direct order he stared, daring her to explain.
"Sorry but I wanted to ask. Harry does your remit for the Reception cover your approval of the material used or does it just relate to the security concerns?"
Harry's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement, "I understood it was just Shakespeare so surely the content is straightforward."
"To be exact Harry the content consists of extracts from certain modern interpretations of the plays to be presented within a unifying theme"
"Which is?"
"An attempt to shake up preconceived middleclass prejudices. Apparently to be achieved by offending as many spectators as possible. For example he wants to feature an extract from a controversial production of Macbeth with male witches."
"How is that controversial?"
"They are depicted as representing a Bishop, an Imam and a Rabbi." Then followed the killer sentence. "Wearing only headgear and devil face masks."
Harry swung a thunderstruck glare onto Dimitri. "Why didn't you warn me about this?"
"Have a heart Harry. Whenever I asked a question I got gobbledegook." Searching his memory he protested "How would you translate the statement that he wants' to underpin the ongoing sublimated themes of Shakespeare's hidden feminist subtext'"
Jane nearly laughed out loud at Harry's appalled face as she interpreted, "Mainly that the speaker is a verbose prat with an eye on an Arts Grant."
Dimitri responded with a further query, "How about he, 'wants to explore the underlying sexuality implicit in all aspects of the text?'"
"He's not getting enough at home and I draw the line at talking to his partner assuming he or she exists."
Harry, well aware of Malcolm's diffident presence, drew his own line with, "And how about instead of using up your brain cells with twaddle the pair of you tackle this individual who's responsible for putting the fart in arty farty?"
As they moved towards the door Harry called Jane back, she looked slightly alarmed at his summons as she instructed Dimitri, "Collect Laura and can you unearth a clipboard apiece for us?" At Dimitri's puzzled stance she explained, "It gives us something to do with our hands, looks official, and if I do end up assaulting that pretentious twat a clip board is cheaper to replace than your Ipad." Dimtiri departed chortling to himself, he thought he might just enjoy this meeting; it could only be an improvement on the one he'd just sat through. Taking the risk that Harry would occupy Jane for a few minutes longer he diverted in search of Erin. She hadn't done herself any favours in the Briefing Room and he had an unpleasant suspicion that last night's telephone argument might have been responsible for her unusually aggressive behaviour.
Leaning forward in his seat Harry hoped his nerves were well hidden as he apologised to Malcolm. "I'm sorry about that Malcolm. I really don't know what's got into Erin. I'll talk to her later. In the meantime can I introduce you to Jane properly?" Turning to Jane he informed her, "Malcolm is my oldest friend so be gentle with him, or he'll be heading back to his books and retirement."
Holding out her hand, taken with an unexpectedly firm grip for one who looked so colourless, Jane opted for frankness, "And after that reception who could blame you. I would say I've heard a lot about you but with Harry's code of secrecy you wouldn't believe me. Given my history with Harry I hope to God you've not heard much about me."
Had she but known it while Harry had rarely mentioned their marriage, its death rites having taken place three years before Malcolm joined Section D, Harry's very silence had on the subject had in itself spoken volumes. Malcolm had not forgotten the sheer agony Harry had experienced when Catherine had become entangled in an operation several years ago. Harry's guard had crumbled in an instant, his relief at finally being able to talk to his estranged daughter expressed, according to Adam Carter, in tears. Watching the strong man of the Grid reduced to a near blubbering wreck had been a salutary and alarming experience for one and all. That Jane had rewarded Harry's various efforts to secure their daughter's safety over the years with just one measly smile, produced when Harry recovered Catherine from the Lebanon, had given Malcolm, one of the least censorious of men, no good opinion of the woman who had made such difficulties for his friend. Now finally meeting Jane his original impressions were undergoing a minor revision, at least her contributions had been helpful, in startling contrast to attitude of Erin who'd just performed a feat he'd have hitherto thought impossible, that of making the late Ros Meyers seem positively amiable.
He wondered if Jane had read his mind as she remarked to Harry. "I think something is worrying Erin. Yesterday just before you returned with Mr Snuggles she seemed concerned about Rosie. I'm guessing, but I think Catherine being missing might have struck a chord."
Harry wasn't convinced. "So why take it out on Malcolm?"
"Because when you can't admit why you're really worried you pick the soft target – sorry Malcolm I didn't mean..." Malcolm gave her an understanding nod. Harry was still sceptical. "Come on Harry - remember how horrible I was to you at Luke's funeral and why." With that embarrassing admission she made for the door turning around to say, "And I think something went wrong last night between her and Dimitri. I noticed they arrived separately this morning."
"As you would if you were trying to hide from gossip."
"Well you should know all about that Harry."
With that matter of fact utterance she vanished. Malcolm was about to speak but then noticed that far from being affronted Harry was following Jane's limping progressing across the Grid, his eyes alight with a flicker of affection that might have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn't know him as well as Malcolm, It was only after she'd exited with Dimitri and Laura that Harry turned back to face him. After repeating his apology and promise to squash Erin he moved to the main reason for discussion.
"I need to talk to you about Jane." God, this was more difficult than he'd anticipated, even if Malcolm had heard worse. "Her marriage has broken down and she's being blackmailed into staying with her husband." Malcolm, while willing to act as confidante over Harry's problems with Ruth, was less sure that he wanted to be privy to Jane's self inflicted difficulties. He was however increasingly curious about the unanticipated rapport he sensed between the pair. Having perfected the art of silence years ago he sat back and listened as Harry's explanation unfolded. Harry omitted only the details of Jane's intimate activities with Robin, concluding with, "...so I think the first stage is to get as much information as we can. I'd really appreciate your help." Malcolm, although still far from impressed by Jane, was postively revolted by the events Harry had related. Thinking aloud he said.
"I'd like to take a look at the hard disk on the computer. Is there any way we could obtain it?"
"Not without breaking in, and then Robin Tindall would definitely know it was us."
Applying a mild degree of lateral thinking Malcolm suggested, "We could copy and then replace it. Calum or I could do it in a trice. "
"I can't really spare either of you. " There was pause while Harry pursed his lips in thought, prior to asking, "Is it a difficult job?"
"Not especially. We could show someone with a reasonable knowledge of computers what to do."
Remembering the young officer who'd so impressed him previous evening Harry made a decision. "I think I have just the man." Standing up he continued, "I'll deal with it later. I've left that piece of scrag end by the name of Garside stewing for long enough." Malcolm's doubts about the wisdom of Harry's venture to placate the undeserving ex were imprinted across his features, making Harry add apologetically, "Thanks Malcolm, I suspect you think I'm a fool, but I didn't treat Jane very well when we were married and she certainly deserves better than that shit."
Malcolm thought the answers to that sentence were 'yes, I don't know, and probably.' All he actually said was 'I'd better get back to my computers."
Harry, having left the Briefing Room, returned to his office to discover Erin standing outside. Her whole hangdog stance reminiscent of a naughty schoolgirl caught out in an act of defiance. Harry glared at her, he was not in a forgiving mood, she had damn near driven Malcolm off the Grid and tried to prevent Laura obtaining permanent post. If her temporary residency in his office post Albany had given her the impression that she was 'Queen of Grid' it was high time she was disabused of that notion. The only woman deserving of the title was dead, killed by his unforgiveable stupidity and no one else would ever deserve that crown. The most Erin could stake a claim to was Crown Princess, and after today's exhibition even that was questionable. His brusque, "Well," made Erin shiver. Normally she didn't do humble but managed it in an effort to avoid antagonising Harry any further.
"Can I have a word?"
Following him into the office, whose walls once again echoed the shade gradually suffusing Harry's face, she was forced to remain standing. Harry had dispensed with his usual courtesy of waving her to a seat, a further indication of his displeasure, privately referred to on the Grid as 'Harry going all military.' This impression was reinforced as he barked,"Well what's the word?"
Staring down at her toes of the stiletto heeled boots so decried by Jane as if searching for an answer written thereon she muttered a quiet, "Sorry."
The only response was curt, "I didn't quite catch that Ms Watts."
Hell, she really was in his bad books and they all knew what that meant, the most boring routine tasks going, plus training the less capable rookie officers. Accepting that she was going to have to grovel she repeated a little more loudly, "Sorry."
Harry was reminded of Catherine when she about five and thought that word solved everything. If only: it was a shame it didn't, although if it did he'd have spent a lifetime repeating it ad infinitum. Harshly he addressed her. "It's Malcolm who's owed the apology not me. Talented as you are Erin the decision on who to employ in this section rests with me. All you have achieved today is to upset the team, show yourself up, and potentially destroy the smooth running of the operation. If you intend to continue on this route I will be forced to stand you down."
Erin gulped, Harry never made idle threats. She tried again, "I'm sorry Harry. It's just...when I got home last night Rosie was crying because she'd had a bad day as school, some bullying that the teacher didn't take seriously and I'd not been there for her. And then Dimitri wanted to come round and I said no. We argued over the phone which Rosie overheard and that upset her again because she likes Dimitri. I wasn't happy about Malcolm joining us because Calum worked so hard to get his promotion and then he wasn't invited into the meeting. I didn't know he'd been on the Grid all night until Dimitri told me. Everything just boiled over. I know it's not an acceptable excuse but..."
Harry mentally paid tribute to Jane's astuteness, which was why, recalling her theory with regard to the decommissioning of Beth Bailey, he suspected that Erin had omitted the jealousy factor from her apology. Jane's arrival on the Grid this morning sporting discreet makeup, freshly blow dried hair and a severely tailored outfit that miraculously emphasised her femininity had garnered her effusive compliments from Calum and Dimitri. He couldn't blame them. Having rapidly accustomed himself to her appearance in the makeshift clothes of yesterday he'd forgotten just how attractive Jane could be. In consequence of which when she'd joined him for breakfast he hadn't been able to avoid doing a double take. Erin wasn't used to this type of competition on the Grid. Ruth in his eyes may have been beautiful, with her own distinctive Ruth style of dressing which he would never, ever have wanted her to alter but, little as it had mattered to him, no one could truthfully have described her as glamorous or impeccably groomed. Pondering his answer to Erin he thought how Jane would laugh at the absurdity of a woman who was twenty five years younger than herself regarding her as a rival.
"Firstly I suggest you apologise to Malcolm. Fortunately he is not a man who bears grudges. In your place I'd ask him for some help, make it clear that this was a one off and you accept him." That was the easy bit over. Now he was venturing into the territory that made the bravest of men quail: the unfathomable workings of the female mind. Give him a terrorist any day of the week. "Secondly you should discuss properly with Dimitri whatever problems you are experiencing, 'don't do as I didn't, do as I say.' You also need to talk to your daughter's school. If you don't want to karate chop the teacher yourself it might be worth asking Jane's advice on the line to take." Noting that Erin was now looking a tad more cheerful he dismissed her with, "When Jason Richards comes on duty I need to see him."
A few minutes later having vacated his office after a quick glance at his ever increasing in tray, - he would swear that the manila files were breeding overnight - Harry was entering the pods with the distinct intention of ensuring that Garside disgorged his secrets. Glancing back across the Grid he noticed that Erin was at least talking to Malcolm. Good, with any luck that was one problem resolved.
Erin had approached Malcolm apprehensively. She hoped Harry was correct in the assertion that Malcolm didn't bear grudges, but knew it would serve her right if he did. At first she thought he was deliberately ignoring her, until she realised he was focusing his attention on his computer screen. This she was used to with Calum. Moving so he could notice her she was at least relieved when he paused whatever he was doing to met her eyes with a steady studiously neutral gaze. Erin couldn't read what was passing though his mind but taking the initiative she stated.
"Can I say sorry? It's no excuse but I brought my domestic anxieties into work today."
Malcolm paused for a moment as he said gravely, "Accepted." Seeing she wasn't moving off he met her half way, "Can I do anything for you?"
Nervously Erin made her request, "The legend I'm using to meet this asset. The paperwork needs checking. Could you..."
"Of course. Have you got your legend box?" Scanning the contents of the sturdy box, labelled Emily Winters, he nodded. "Quite right, the credit card is out of date. Can you give me about ten minutes?"
Erin smiled, "I'll try to make contact while you're busy. Er...do you happen to know the tack Ros Meyers used?"
Malcolm wasn't quite sure how to answer. "Her methods wouldn't work for everyone, as far as I know they were a combination of charm and intimidation. Whatever she thought was needed."
"Sounds a bit like Harry."
"Indeed." Her throw away comment suddenly reminded Malcolm that he'd failed to ask Harry a key question. He didn't like gossiping but... "Erin, does Jane know anything about Ruth and...?"
"No." Feeling obliged to continue she added, "None of us can fathom Harry and Jane's relationship. It seems complicated."
Malcolm reflected that with Harry it usually was. From his brief observations of the last hour he was with the team on this one, although he wasn't about to share that with Erin. Watching Malcolm calling up her legend on his computer Erin moved towards her own desk, feeling grateful that she'd apparently been forgiven.
Due to the delay occasioned by Erin the sole piece of breathing human evidence obtained to date had been seated in the interrogation room for fifteen minutes. The spartan surroundings of depressing institutional grey and pungent smell of double disinfectant had been known to strike terror into the most confident of souls, not a category that included Garside. His overnight sojourn in the basement cells with the echoing noise of guards' footsteps and occasional clink of keys as they opened and closed access doors had drained away whatever bravado he'd possessed on arrival. Seated opposite him, while they waited for Harry, was a silent guard with a grim expression plus Batman, the latter punching his knuckles into his own palm with the monotony of metronome. In certain quarters Batman's tattoos were much admired, but while they were undoubtedly the most decorative feature in the room Garside would have preferred them to be static, at present they were rippling artistically with each rhythmic smack. Garside couldn't avoid imagining what those strong fingers and muscles could do to his head, and then wished he hadn't. As the door opened to reveal a new arrival he thought he'd met his saviour, until the man whose impeccably cut suit and smartly knotted tie was revealed as Sir Harry Pearce, the man whose reputation in the spying world made Vlad the Impaler look like a purveyor of toothpicks.
The greeting seemed pleasant, "I do hope that you had a comfortable night. My apologies for keeping you waiting."
Not detecting the underlying sarcasm Garside aired his grumbles. "The mattress was hard and me tea was cold."
It was an ill advised complaint, within a second the falsely courteous gentleman dissolved into a snarling spook, one whose facial expression was all the more scary for being at such variance with his clothing.
"This is not the Ritz you piece of scum. Now unless you want to thrown out of here and left to the mercies of whichever set of bastards hired you I'd advise you to sing so sweetly you'll make a canary sound like a toad."
Sitting back to admire his handiwork Harry continued to stare furiously. Garside thought for a moment before whining, "And if I do talk, they'll kill me."
"Quite possibly, but if you don't and the woman whose home you were watching dies as a result of your silence I'll be supervising your demise personally."
Put that way Garside gave in, "I was told to watch the bint's flat. See who went in and out. When it looked as if no-one was there I was to call a number. Can't remember it now."
"Not good enough. Who hired you?"
"I swear to God I don't know. The bloke that contacted me said that someone had given him me name. I just watched and then left when another man came."
Harry considered for a moment. It was thin but possibly true. Calum had suggested that a gang for hire was acting as middle man, and it would explain why such inefficient individuals were being employed.
"Very well, back to the cells with you."
"You can't do that. I have me rights." Batman waited expectantly, as a red rag was to a bull so was that phrase to Sir Harry. The anticipated roar was not long delayed. With a surprisingly speedy movement Harry grasped Garside warmly by the throat and slammed him against the wall. The sudden pallor in the face of the gasping Garside, whose mouth movements a goldfish might have envied, giving an interesting tonal contrast with the grey paint.
"Any more words about your rights and you'll find out exactly what I can and can't do. I don't advise you to try." Throwing Garside to the floor Harry departed ordering, "Put this piece of rubbish back in his cell and remember he prefers his tea cold."
By the time Harry arrived back on the Grid his own breathing had returned to normal, although by way of compensation his anxiety levels were rising. Reporting his findings, such as they were, to Malcolm he suddenly noticed an alert expression on the latter's face. Before he could ask Malcolm stretched over to Calum's desk and pulled a small leather coloured rectangle from among the debris. Flicking the cover over, he stared at the small screen before pushing a switch at its base. From his angle Harry was unable to identify the hardware Malcolm was clutching.
"What is that?"
Malcolm was glaring at the item with an expression that suggested he'd prefer to be handling it with a pair of long tongs.
"This Harry is a Kindle, the popular substitute for a properly printed book." Having made plain his contempt for this particular manifestation of the digital world he explained, "I'm checking to see if any documents have been downloaded onto it. Garside must have had it for some reason. I doubt that he's a lover of the classics displayed here, I'd have thought the Simpsons was his intellectual high water mark. Ah..." Turning the reader around so that Harry could see a one page pdf document exhibiting a single phone number. Malcolm seized a mobile resting on his desk and dialled while Harry hoped. Alas it only seemed to connect to a voicemail. Malcolm didn't seem especially upset by this setback as he proceeded to interrogate his computer. Aware that Harry was still with him he called over his shoulder. "If we're lucky I may be able to trace the location from the voicemail. Give me a few minutes and then I'll redial." Watching Malcolm's fingers fly over the screen as he typed in endless obscure codes and crashed through firewalls Harry gave up trying to work out what he was doing. Harry had never understood much beyond basic technology so how Malcolm could extrapolate so much from one telephone number defeated him.
After a nerve wracking wait of about five minutes Malcolm, whose face displayed a mixture of thrill at success and apprehension at his discovery, was displaying a computer screen glowing with an image that was all too familiar to Harry.
The American Embassy.
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