Thanks to those who've read and even more thanks to all those who've reviewed this story at some point.

The Grid. Approx 2.00pm

To a sleep refreshed Calum emerging from the pods the three figures positioned around Malcolm's computer bore the all the appearance of a waxworks tableau, frozen and unmoving as they gazed at the monitor. Judging by their dismayed expressions they could have been transfixed by something regurgitated from the Chamber of Horrors. The illusion of stillness was shattered by Erin reading aloud, in a confused voice, the freshly decoded message.

Irrepressible as ever Calum smirked at the mystified faces before groaning, "That's all we need, the Vietcong involved."

Erin swirled around at the sound, "Calum..." The inflection was condemnatory. Calum's response was to assume a hurt tone in reply. "I'm simply congratulating Harry on his hole in one."

Harry's antipathy to everything golf related, with the possible exception of the nineteenth hole, was notorious. And he was not in the mood to tolerate Calum's ill judged attempts at humour. Glaring across the Grid he tetchily reprised a stock question from yesteryear, "Do you want to be taken out and shot?"

"Harry you're the one who suggested he was military." As the uncomprehending looks continued Calum sighed, "Rambo - film series - a disaffected solider returning to America. Don't you lot ever chill? Go to the cinema!" The answers that superseded the blank faces suggested not.

"Harry opts for a large whisky whereas I prefer a good book."

"Not to see gratuitous violence and people being tortured – I get enough of that at work." Calum's reply to Erin was laconic, "In that case I assume that you don't watch romantic blockbusters either, given that you also get enough of that at work.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a quick annoyed twitch of Erin's head reminded him that Harry was present. A rookie navvy on a building site couldn't have dropped a more crashing brick even if, unlike Erin, Harry's principal problem had been that he hadn't had enough romance at work. Ever assuming that that was the most appropriate adjective with which to describe Harry's abnormally convoluted relationship with Ruth. Amazed that Harry seemed to be ignoring him Calum nervously awaited his deferred annihilation.

Harry hadn't actually heeded Calum's last words, something in the first throw away remarks had triggered a mental connection that Harry couldn't quite thread. It was as if, in the historic sea of Harry's mind, a porpoise had surfaced and glimmered briefly before returning to the murky subterranean depths of his thoughts and recollections. Harry gave himself a shake, for now the link evaded him. It was no use chasing it, if it ...whatever it was ... had any substance it would return afresh as the operation progressed.

Any possibility of his pondering further was disturbed by the ringing of Malcolm's phone. As soon as he heard the statement, "I'll come down for her," Calum realised that the lip reader had arrived in Thames House. Keen to remove himself lest Harry suddenly recalled his tactless words Calum selflessly volunteered, "I'll fetch her Malcolm, that'll give you time to put together a montage of the relevant clips." Before Malcolm could protest he was gone, vanishing at a pace that could have produced a new set of physics theorems with regard to the relationship of light, speed and time.

As Calum exited any potential conversation between Harry and Malcolm was interrupted by the approach of a junior officer bouncing across the Grid with a gait reminiscent of an excited Labrador puppy, waving a sheaf of papers as she announced excitedly, "Got him."

Although she'd been addressing Malcolm it was Harry who edgily enquired, "Got who precisely Janet? Jack the Ripper, the missing link or just possibly the mole in the hole of the traffic department. Kindly elucidate."

Shaken at being addressed by the most senior person on the Grid the answer was subdued but matter of fact. "The mole in the traffic department. I've checked the three suspects with recent deposits, one has recently inherited a half share in a five bedroom house in London and another has won that a sum on the National Lottery that matches the deposit. That accounts for the sudden blossoming of their bank accounts."

"So then there was one."

"Yes. This one." Janet, well aware of her boss's touch paper temper, was suffering from nerves. "And Sir, I'm not trying to be funny, he really is called Ben Dover."

Repressing a comment about the lack of consideration some people displayed when naming their children, Mr Giles Farmer skim read the information on offer before handing it to Malcolm. The latter scanned it for a moment before enquiring, "Do you want me to take a further look at this now that we're fairly clear as to the culprits?"

Harry considered the question. Turning to Janet he issued his instructions."Have him picked up quietly at the end of his shift. We need to remain undercover as well. And pass that information to our Neil Thomson, he's our finance expert. Ask him to try and trace the money trail. Good work Janet."

Gratified by the praise Janet scurried away to carry out her orders; thankful that she didn't have to ask anything further. She didn't want to be the person to test case the ever prevalent rumour that, when really incensed, Sir Harry's bite was definitely worse than his bark. Harry turned back to Malcolm and Erin explaining his seemingly superfluous decision. "We still don't know exactly who and what is behind this, and loose ends do have a bad habit of tripping us up."

Further discussion was terminated by the arrival of Calum accompanying a small, smartly dressed, confident looking woman. His attempt to make introductions was prevented when Malcolm moved forward to shake her by the hand, "Ah Monica. Thanks for coming in so quickly. Calum you've already met, this is Erin Watts our Section Chief and this is Sir Harry Pearce."

Introductions completed, handshakes given, welcomes uttered, Harry led the way into the Briefing Room. While Malcolm busied himself setting up the necessary hardware Monica, looking straight at Harry, said frankly,

"I hope that you're not expecting too much from this. Malcolm has outlined that the clips are from CCTV footage. It's difficult enough sometimes to identify the person from those, let alone what they may be saying."

From across the table Malcolm, still twiddling with the laptop, reassured her, "Understood. I've tried to clean up and enhance some of the images."

"Very well. But often context and accent are important in working out what is being said. Do you have that at least?"

Harry interrupted, his irritation with all these warnings becoming obvious. "If we had the full context we wouldn't have needed to call you in." Aware from Erin's glinting eyes just how discourteous this had sounded he added in a softer tone, "But anything at all would help. We're not sure of the exact context. If it is relevant we think that both men are American but one speaks with an English accent. We also suspect that one may be military."

Monica seemed to accept the implied apology, "Very well. But no promises." Turning to Malcolm she reminded him, "You know the form, show me the first clip and then wind it back." As his finger hovered over the computer keyboard she added, "I hope you're all prepared for a lot of repetition."

Calum shrugged, "That's okay, we've been well blooded by the digital TV channels."

Monica's eyes narrowed slightly but any comment was averted by Malcolm hastily calling out, "Ready."

Monica hadn't lied. After an hour of frame by frame slow motion repetition, occasionally broken when she felt the need to scribble a brief note, a miasma of frustrated tedium hung over the Briefing room like a banner. Harry and his increasingly unhappy little band might not have the skill to interpret the words but after sixty minutes of viewing they could have lip synched in mime every last miniscule wobble of the two subjects' lips. Just as Calum was about to enquire, in his own imitable phraseology, as to how much longer they would be required to endure Groundhog Day Grid style Monica finally uttered the magic phrase, "I've finished."

Harry was fighting hard to maintain the pretence that this was an operation like any other, but he'd been increasingly tested as he watched Catherine's enlarged image on the screen. Who were these men with his daughter? Catherine might be thirty plus but she was still his little girl. Dads and Daughters! Somehow he'd never felt quite so protective of Graham. Was this the favouritism of which his son had so often accused him or was it simply genetic; the impulse of the unreconstructed male to protect his womenfolk? Any enlightenment Monica could provide, however limited, would be an antidote to the creeping dread that was building with every additional hour that Catherine was missing.

Monica was sharing her findings. "Very well. The man in the cafe, clearly they were having a row. Due to his turning head I lost some words. As I said earlier this is not an exact science."

Having sat through a precious hour that would never return, just hear Monica repeat her original apologia, Calum's frustrations were beginning rival Harry's. "Yes we get that, we realise that whatever you tell us is on a par with staring at chicken bones, casting the runes and consulting the giant pixie so ..."

"That's enough Calum. Monica is simply advising us to take care." Erin turned soothe the fuming Monica, "Sorry, sleep deprivation, he was up all night. Anything you can tell us will be useful. We know it's not admissible but we really are desperate for some type of clue."

Malcolm, wincing at the rough ride his contact was being given, chalked up the action as a positive in Erin's favour. Normally Harry would have intervened but he was plainly struggling to hold himself together. That he'd succeeded so far came as a huge relief to Malcolm. Alone among the Grid personnel he could recall Harry's near melt down several years ago when Catherine had first stumbled across the Grid radar. Then there was the question of Harry's borderline hysterics in the Lebanon when trying to locate his badly injured daughter, productive of actions Harry was so ashamed of he'd confessed them too few. Recalling these precedents it occurred to Malcolm that in striking contrast to those occasions Harry was, at present, remaining comparatively calm. Applying his technical officer mindset to the conundrum the only variable factor Malcolm could discern between then and now was the physical presence of Jane. Was that the reason? Unexpectedly united through a common concern Harry's need to remain strong in her eyes was preventing him from falling apart. Internally Malcolm sighed, Harry's dealings with the women inhabiting his life had long been a puzzle to him, but then personal relationships had never been Malcolm's forte. Emotions were illogical and unpredictable, Malcolm would much rather deal with computers; but if he was correct perhaps Jane's temporary incursion into Harry's life wasn't the curse he'd originally supposed. These ruminations were hurriedly shelved as Monica began to expound on her caveat riddled conclusions.

"The cafe argument, I did manage to get a few words. Possibly 'they are after me' and 'however secure they'll find it.' As he walked away he seemed to be muttering, 'She won't listen.' I couldn't swear to it though."

Harry nodded, "It does make sense, especially the last bit." 'Takes after her mother' "and the other man?"

"That was a little clearer. He seemed to be saying, 'You need a lift." Followed by, 'best not to meet on your own.' But as I've said, it's largely dependent on context and guess work."

"Yes we do understand you can't swear to it. Thank you Monica." Standing up Malcolm added, "I'll escort you out."

Harry, very aware of how the anxiety of his staff had translated into incivility, also stood up, saying in an attempt at amendment, "I do apologise if we've offended you at all. Please believe that it has been helpful."

A somewhat mollified Monica shrugged, "It's okay. I'm used to people thinking I can perform miracles on a small amount of inadequate information. I'm sure you know the feeling."

Malcolm, having seen her off the premises, while proffering his own regrets at her treatment, was back within a few minutes. Sitting with the others in an uncomfortably thickening silence it was Erin who finally dared to ask. "Er, Harry what do we tell Jane about these developments?" She couldn't summon up the nerve to add what they were all thinking, that Catherine's fate was looking increasingly grim. They all knew the score, in their profession no one received a passport stamp to the land of happy ever.

"I'll be telling her the truth. I promised her that, and if...well...there is something to be said for preparation." As his voice trailed off dismally he was looking at his watch and wondering anew at the length of Jane's absence. How long did it take to discuss a few play extracts? His speculation was providentially terminated by the whoosh of the pods proclaiming the return of the absentees, followed almost immediately by a fired up Laura bursting into the Briefing Room.

"Don't feel obliged to knock Laura!"

Laura was only slightly abashed by the admonishment. "Sorry Si...Harry I thought that just applied to your office."

"So what do you have to report?"

"Well, Jane was awesome."

Dimitri following close behind observed Harry and Malcolm wince in unison. Biting his lip he informed them, "For once that overworked word is accurate. Harry, can you possibly wangle Jane as a consultant for any further events of this nature? The director didn't stand an earthly."

"Rubbish, all I did was point out a few pertinent facts he was clearly unaware of." This last was uttered by a drained looking Jane as she limped wearily towards a chair, sinking onto it with an exhausted posture that reminded Harry of how he not infrequently felt after an afternoon of arguing with the Smug Dictator upstairs, aka the DG.

"Enlighten me please?" As they all exchanged glances he ordered, "Security concerns first – Dimitri!"

"We arrived well in time, so that gave Jane a good opportunity to decide what to advise in terms of dramatic movement. You've seen the layout on paper Harry, bar at one end of the room, centre wooden floor and the plan was for tables to be set around the other three sides. Jane and I decided that we could cope with theatre in the round with entrance and exits at what were effectively the corners of the square. We would be policing those areas anyway and the sides of the bar let into two rooms that could be used for changing etc. Two of the entrance corners would be from those rooms but the actors would use another door that gave onto corridors to reach the far end corners when necessary."

"And he agreed to change his plans just like that?" Erin, having heard Dimitri's unexpurgated opinion of the man in charge, was wondering how that particular miracle had been wrought.

"Not exactly. When he had finally arrived, half an hour late..."

"Hand in hand with a bloke called Crispin looking smoochy." Ignoring Laura's contribution Dimitri continued, "He was a trifle taken aback by Jane and Laura's presence but recovered enough to greet them with..." While Dimtri paused, wondering how to phrase what happened next, Laura taking advantage of his hesitation demonstrated once more her talent for mimicry, "Darling Dimitri, and what a delightful surprise that you've brought two little ladies with you to assist with the joys of reinterpreting the glorious Bard. Do call me Gawain sweeties."

With a salutation of that patronising nature Harry half suspected that the problems had been resolved via murder by clipboard. He'd covered up messier incidents. "So what did you say - sweetie?"

The sarcasm instantly rebounded."Well - honeybunch - I informed him that at five foot eight I'm somewhat taller than the average female and that the difference between reinterpretation and misinterpretation is not simply a matter of semantics. I told him that his idea of holding a promenade performance was being spiked on practical grounds. And also that the running time had to be reduced to bladder comfort length, which meant one hour maximum, not the two and half hours his plans would run to."

Calum interrupted to query, "What exactly is a promenade performance anyway?"

"Basically the cast act everywhere and anywhere. If you happen to be sitting where the actors need to be you move off and sit somewhere else, which means mingling with others in the audience. It can make a night at the theatre quite exhausting and not a little fraught."

Returning to the actual plan Harry stated, "I take it that you prevailed."

"Yes, but only after a very long, acrimonious argument." Flicking a glance in Dimitri's direction Harry conjectured that she was deliberately understating the facts. His eyes fixed her with an unspoken instruction to expand.

"I finally convinced him that with the amount of booze on offer, plus the tendency of women to wear high heels he didn't want to risk a tottering diplomat's wife crashing into an actor spilling peanuts and canapés everywhere. Secondly if he didn't curtail the length the cast would also have to contend with the audience wandering through the action looking for their next drink, which might limit the suspension of disbelief somewhat. Finally given the nature of the audience some groups needed to be kept well apart, not pushed into a general medley of movement." Giving due credit she ended with, "Dimitri was a great help there by pointing out previous disastrous incidents."

Harry glared at Dimitri, "Official Secrets..."

"Still intact. I made most of them up or exaggerated. Except for the one where you decked the assassin."

Erin briefly closed her eyes, first Calum's oblique referenceto Ruth, now Dimitri insensitively resurrecting the debacle at the Gavrik Reception that Ruth had partnered Harry to, and in front of Jane. Fortunately for the second time in the afternoon Harry had failed to react to a memory riddled statement. Erin couldn't believe their luck given the care they'd had to exert to date. Was Harry oblivious due to more immediate worries, or was he finally moving on?

Harry had in fact heard Dimitri, and noticed Erin's flicker of alarm. As a matter of policy he was feigning unconcern at both. With images of Ruth permeating every chink of the Grid he'd trained himself not to flinch at the inevitable careless remark. Nothing in his pain strewn life had prepared him for the intense agony he'd experienced on that first day when, fresh from viewing those bald letters R EVERSHED carved on the memorial wall, he'd been disturbed by the uncaring urgent sound of his telephone proclaiming that for others life went on as normal. He'd so nearly walked away but in that moment when he finally grasped the receiver and intoned 'Harry Pearce' he'd made his decision: whatever the emotional cost he was staying. The impassive mask he'd initially adopted as a survival technique had gradually become engrained through sheer necessity. If he'd crumbled at every casual reference that recalled her face, her eyes, her sheer brilliance, he'd have been reduced to a tear drenched rubble within a fortnight of returning to work. His anguish had become static, frozen, unreachable and intensely personal. Trapped in the numbness of his self imposed emotional isolation he knew what to except on the Grid where everyone persisted in tiptoeing around him wearing the verbal equivalent of bedroom slippers. Jane by contrast, basking in her complete ignorance of his recent past, was trampling around his psyche in hobnailed boots. He could never have anticipated that his carefully constructed defences would be fractured so easily; that her unwitting remarks would threaten to plunge him back into that disabling realm of active grief. How had she, a virtual stranger, managed to breach his privacy when others closer to him had failed? It was a mystery question to which he'd seek the answer when he had the time, if ever. For now, maintaining his habitual facade, he gave voice to his more pressing concern.

"What took so long?"

Thankful to move onwards Dimitri replied. "Ah Harry, well that's where Jane really came up trumps. Remember the Macbeth extract she described earlier today?" Harry nodded, who could forget that tasteless idea. "Well seemingly he had other interpretations in mind that were just as bad, if not worse."

"Good God." Rarely did the usually diffident Malcolm expostulate so passionately.

Looking gravely across at Malcolm Jane agreed. "Exactly so. Favoured suggestions featured 'Henry V' reinterpreted as a battle against all England's enemies, with the opposition wearing tabards painted with the flags of the EU countries and various Middle Eastern hotspots."

Whatever expression existed beyond aghast Harry was wearing it, and that was prior to Dimitri informing the company, "A mild variation compared to some of the other intended treats."

The group in the meeting room was now dividing into two camps. On the side of age and experience sat Harry and Malcolm who were agog and appalled, on the side of youth the less diplomatically atuned Calum and Erin were merely agog. Harry, dreading to think what came next croaked, "Continue."

It was Laura who obliged, "Next up was 'The Taming of the Shrew', with Catherine's submission to Petruchio being visibly indicated by her wearing the full burka."

"What! Hasn't the bloody man any idea of the offence that could cause?" Harry was seething.

Jane didn't think that Harry had fully grasped that they'd been locking horns with the Gordon Gecko of the Arts world, a man who regarded any opposing view as irrelevant to his own conduct while flaunting the paraphrased motto, 'offence is good'. Consequently her exasperation wasn't quite hidden as she replied with asperity.

"Probably yes as he was using a bin bag, something to do with pointing out how oppressive and rubbish religion is to women. And don't get me started on the gender neutral but ultra camp fairies in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' " Having given Harry a few moments during which his face reverted from an interesting shade of deep plum to a red tinged hue that his doctor might find acceptable she asked, "Do you want to hear the rest? Because if so do shut up or we'll be here all night."

As he remained mute she continued, "He also had in mind a scene from 'Romeo and Juliet' in which Romeo was gay but turned by Juliet." This time it was Malcolm who interrupted, "Surely Romeo had previously been lusting after Rosalind!"

Jane, recognising in Malcolm a kindred spirit familiar with text and context, smiled briefly as she answered. "Correct, but in this version we have a vision of Rosalind, depicted as a man in drag."

Sensing that Harry's silence was not limitless she hurtled onwards, "but the absolute piece de resistance was the reinterpretation of 'The Tempest' which could be have been subtitled as, 'Everything you every wanted to know about the human body but were afraid to ask." The faces were expectant. "That scrumptious highlight featured a nude Miranda being simultaneously rogered by two men. Not so much the glorious Bard as the gloriously bared."

Her eyes staring directly at Harry she thought her real victory of the day lay in finally rendering him speechless, he looked as though he was struggling to articulate but finding the necessary words utterly beyond him. How often did that happen? Savouring the moment she moved to put him out of his misery. "Don't worry I've talked him out these and other ideas."

Harry and Malcolm might have left it at that but Calum had to ask, "How?" Seeing just a hint of a blush on Jane's cheeks Harry revived sufficiently to insist, "You'd better tell me the worst. He might complain to Towers."

Divining that Jane needed a breathing space in which to recover her composure Dimitri offered his précis of her less embarrassing statements. "She pointed out that culturally backward countries are offended by digs at religion and don't accept that homosexuality exists which meant that his suggestions would be considered utterly offensive rather seen in the light of an academic discussion point. That didn't cut much ice until she added that if half the audience walked out in disgust the press would be onto it like flies round a carcase. He might despise the establishment but upset them too badly and he could kiss goodbye to any future funding. If however, he was seeking pole position on the politically correct equivalent of a Arts blacklist he could go ahead and force her to cancel the entire evening."

"And then she became really blunt." At Laura's words Jane returned to the fray. "I simply mentioned a few ideas that hadn't occurred to him."

Curiosity overbore apprehension as Harry asked , "Such as?"

"When this prat stated that he didn't think most of the audience would mind staring at a naked woman, he was celebrating the female form you see..."

Calum demurred a trifle, "With my working hours I'd have quite enjoyed a reminder of what the female form looks like."

Erin's kneejerk protest at such blatant sexism was destined to remain stillborn, halted by Harry whose faith in Jane's tongue was absolute. "I suspect Jane knocked that idea on the head, or should I say kicked it in the crutch?" Meeting her eyes he queried mildly, "Am I right?"

Jane pulled a face in reply, "How well you know me, unfortunately. I advised him that women also perv, as in celebrating the male form." Dimitri amplified in increasingly unsteady voice. "Along with a few other choice reflections."

Jane's next question hinted at a reluctance to expound further. "I've persuaded him out of anything controversial, which is all you really need to know." She ended on a hopeful note which was instantly shot down as Shakespeare morphed into pantomime with a concerted, '"Oh no it isn't," from her audience.

"Very well. You have been warned. ... Gentlemen."

With her deliberate emphasis on that last word Harry, Malcolm and Calum shuffled uneasily, had they been too hasty, what precisely had Jane said to reduce the appallingly pretentious Gawain to mincemeat? It was too late to retract. Jane had launched herself into full flow, eager to complete the report.

"I... er... got somewhat basic and pointed out that it was highly unlikely that any male actor would agree to appear nude if all he had dangling between his two veg was something that could be mistaken for one of the cocktail sausages. Assuming that some fairly well endowed males were on full show a number husbands and escorts might begin to feel somewhat inadequate in the trouser department; and that was before the women in their lives, who'd inevitably be making mental comparisons, could also feel somewhat short changed. Did he honestly want his audience departing with an overwhelming sense of discontent? Further to that I added that as there would be a number of very attractive women present he was running the risk of an involuntary physical reaction from his male cast."

Dimitri chipped in, "She wound up by asking if he really thought it was a good idea to present Mrs Whoever with an eyeful of erect scrotum. He had no answer to that mental battering. Then Crispin announced that they were already late for face time with an innovative like minded group who really appreciated the need to make William relevant to the modern world. With that Gawain reluctantly decided that we were a lost cause and surrendered with barbed remarks about conventional ossified middle class minds."

Relieved that Jane had won, the crunch question remained, "So what exactly does this filleted performance feature?"

"We start with the John of Gaunt speech from Richard II, move through a number of extracts on the theme of love in various guises – minus burkas and with everyone fully clothed – and end with a speech from the Tempest. I told him the only alternative was a recitation of the Sonnets." She ended uncertainly, conscious that she may have overstepped her status, "I hope you didn't object to my pinning your name onto that Harry."

Harry's immediate reaction was that far from objecting only the presence of the team prevented him from kissing her with gratitude; in a strictly platonic, hands off mode of course. Without her intervention it wasn't only bits of the various actors' anatomies that would have been endangered. It was a tossup as to which parts of Harry the DG would have demanded on a platter, his head or his round spherical objects. Harry may not have much practical use for the latter these days but he was still attached to them and would prefer it if they remained attached to him.

Dimitri was winding up the verbal report with, "Just to be on the safe side Jane is going to draw up a running order for the agreed scenes so he can't sneak anything in. I've delegated Laura to attend all the rehearsals. That way she can check for any deviance."

"I assume you're using that phrase advisedly Dimriti. You two need to write up your reports, as does Jane." Noting her scowl he apologised. "Sorry but as you've seemingly become our Arts Advisor I need it on paper." That she now had an accreditation was news to Jane but she had promised to cooperate, even if that did include submitting the paperwork that infested every activity. "Fine, but someone needs to show me the official format."

As everyone else departed from the Briefing Room Harry indicated to Jane to remain. During the last few minutes the horrors narrowly averted at the Reception had superseded the horror they were living in with regard their errant daughter. Now with that briefest of lulls receding Harry had to break the news to Jane that it wasn't looking good. How he wished he could prevaricate or soothe her with false hope but it wouldn't work. After nearly a decade of marriage to him Jane was probably the world expert on detecting his lies and evasion. He was wondering how to broach the topic when she said quietly, "I hope my comments didn't make Malcolm cringe. I really had to be crude to get through to that idiot."

Once again Harry paid tribute to her perception. She wasn't concerned about the sensibilities of the other three males who'd been present, and she was, of course, quite correct in her assumption.

"They probably did, but I'm certain that Malcolm's also grateful that you stamped on such dreadful ideas. Personally I found your comments on women's reactions to male nudity most illuminating. Remind me never to infiltrate a hen party."

"Huh, anyone would think that you had something to worry in a crown jewels comparison." As a glimpse of fleeting alarm decorated his features she assured him wryly, "That nugget of information remains classified." The subject was closed by her asking him in a voice tinged with desperation, "More importantly have you made any progress with finding Catherine?"

She received her answer, but not from Harry who was steeling himself to honesty. Instead the reply came from Calum bursting into the room as he announced in an urgent voice.

"Harry, the decoder has opened up the memory stick. Malcolm says you really need to come. Now!"

Most of these ideas for 'modern' takes on Shakespeare I made up. The Tempest however is an exact description of an experimental production I saw many years ago.

Thanks for reading. Please review if you have a moment.