Thanks to those who read and greater thanks to those who reviewed. It's a year since I first began this story which has taken on a life of its own. I am very grateful to those who've stuck with it this far. I'm hoping it won't take another year to finish.

The Grid. 4.30pm approx

Erin's bombshell was greeted initially with a stunned silence, banished in short order by a piercing shriek from Jane, her reserves of patience finally drained. Forgetting any notions of etiquette and completely disregarding the presence of the team she bawled across the table at Harry,

"Just what the hell is going on here? Your people spying on our daughter! I thought you'd promised..."

Absorbed in her excellent impersonation of a banshee she entirely failed to register that Harry was also looking utterly astounded. Erin's announcement hadn't just set the cat among the pigeons; it had captured, skewered, cooked and served up them up in a pie, sourly garnished with theory on toast. While Jane's tongue was ungainfully occupied in venting her near hysterical anger Harry's mind was preoccupied, rifling through the various possibilities at a lightning speed.

Theory a) Several key figures in the service had made no attempt to hide their irritation at his reinstatement and still wanted him plucked from office. The Albany and Gavrik affairs had publicly demonstrated to the spying world that he was not invulnerable when those he loved were in danger. Had his daughter been captured in an internal blue on blue effort to make him crack? Had they provided the source information underlying the claim of the mysterious Gene Seth Jardvec to know Catherine's father?

Theory b) Had another country's spies grabbed her, hoping that pressure upon his personal trigger points would force him into betraying a state secret once again, or trap him into committing an extraditable offence? Erin had suggested that possibility in their very first discussion. Had she been correct?

Theory c) Did MI5 harbour an operative turned by the CIA? That would leave the theory they'd just advanced intact, albeit with a slightly changed dynamic.

Jane's screaming finally penetrated his consciousness. Galvanised by yet another set of unjustified accusations and thrown off course by Erin's discovery he wasn't slow to follow suit, roaring back at her, "For the last time Jane, I've kept nothing back. If I knew what was bloody well going on I'd be off the Grid sorting it."

Thoroughly engrossed in the verbal mudslinging that characterised their private dispute, publicly played out, neither of them noticed that Erin and Dimitri were merrily creating a similar racket in another corner of the Briefing Room. It was only when Calum, in a raised voice enriched with his usual sarky tones, drawled laconically, "Which pair are you putting your money on to get laryngitis first Malcolm?" that a blessed ear relieving silence fell.

An unusually ruffled looking Dimitri was quick with an explanatory apology, "Sorry Harry but I was furious with Erin for misleading you." Observing Jane, her face ravaged and her breath coming in short gasps, he swiftly amended that to, "the pair of you."

Harry's eyes swivelled instantly towards Erin, who although not timorous by nature, spies couldn't afford the luxury of nerves, was cowering under the gaze of the entire team, plus Jane. For the second time today she'd invoked the legendary Pearce wrath. Most of those unfortunate to do so were lucky to survive a single blasting, two offences was definitely pushing it. An attempt to meet those hard hazel eyes informed her that despite the additional inches afforded by her designer heeled footwear she was ankle deep in manure.

Fortunately for Erin's immediate survival Jane had graciously decided that in this instance she really did owe Harry an apology. Her whispered, "Sorry Harry, it's just that worry got the better of me." effectively deflecting his immediate attention away from the quaking Section Chief.

The sound was music to his ears: that of Verdi of course, not Wagner who featured prominently on the Pearce 'Culturally Averse' index. Harry had never joined the fanclub of that particular composer. Quite apart from the musician's Anti Semitism Harry didn't fancy being bracketed with such dubious 'Ring Cycle' groupies as Hitler and the odiously superior Jules Sivitir. Jane's expression of regret, while introducing a welcome note of harmony, had not earned her a total forgiveness. The previous insulting suspicions still rankled, meaning that Harry chose to lightly acknowledge her words with a brief nod before turning back to the erring Erin. Even without Jane's mea culpa he'd have been furious that she'd been upset so badly and, judging by Dimitri's words, so unnecessarily.

In a voice that brooked no nonsense Harry snapped his order, "Erin, explain accurately. Need I remind you that my daughter's life is at stake? I'd expected better from you given that you are a parent yourself."

Erin's sketchy attempt at an apology was cack handed by anyone's standards. "Sorry Harry, but Jane began to shout before..." She got no further. Despite Harry's recent lack of cordiality towards his ex-wife Jane was not fair game. If Erin thought she could shuffle off her own errors by trying to attribute the blame elsewhere she'd made another catastrophic misjudgement. In a voice whose deliberate quiet presaged another interesting interview later in his office Harry sliced through her sentence.

"Cease. Dimitri you were present at the interview. Kindly elucidate. At once."

When Harry spoke in that tone the wise leapt to it. Knowing that if Harry was ever secreted behind Team GB's high jumping squad a gold medal would be in the bag Dimitri hurried to oblige his boss. He fully realised that upsetting Jane was a privilege that Harry had reserved unto himself. Understandable, he felt exactly the same way about Erin, even if she had just put herself in the frame for the 'Idiot of the Day' award.

"Ben Dover." Stumbling over this absurd nomenclature, he halted to make a plea. "Can I just call him Ben from now on?"

"Please do." The semi snarl belied the ostensible politeness, making Dimitri translate the two words as, "Get on with it NOW."

Needing to draw some fire away from Erin Dimtri resumed, hoping that Harry would endorse their unauthorised actions.

"Ben said he was approached by two men, one claimed to belong to Special Branch, the other to MI5. He was told that they suspected terrorists lived in the area of Catherine's flats and they planned to conduct a raid under cover when the CCTV was switched off. However as those dates were on a variable rolling programme they needed confirmation on the day from an inside source. As he'd be working for MI5 a one off fee was payable."

Harry's restrained comment of, "Didn't the idiot realise that we could get that information elsewhere?" was challenged by Erin. An act of bravery considering that that her most sensible course would have been to crawl under the table and stay there for the duration of the meeting.

"That's a bit harsh Harry. We can't except civilians to know how we work. Seemingly he was told that they suspected a mole in the Service hence the need to check the information they'd been given from an alternative source. He claims that he did ask for proof of id and phoned the number they gave him for confirmation. How was he to know they had a mate on the other end?—And they came equipped with a copy of the Official Secrets Act that they insisted he sign."

Dimitri piled in afresh to support her defence, "We've been known to make one off payments. He really was aghast to discover his error."

Oh God, Romeo and Juliet had just been reincarnated on the Grid. Harry felt a tidal wave of jealously. If only he and Ruth could have been so open. Instead like Shakespeare's lovers they had always been private, diffident, even covert. Unlike Shakespeare's suicidally inclined teenagers they'd been condemned by circumstance to celibacy. Their mutual support and love shown in the occasional touch of the hand, the soothing phrase, in the veiled glances that spoke the words their tongues could not essay. A love openly admitted only in those despairing frantic minutes as he watched Ruth's lifeblood ebb away, seeping into that muddy grass bank by the Thames. Even now, enclosed in the windowless Briefing Room, he could still recall the brush of the gentle uncaring breeze across his face, its coolness a contrast to the warm blood smeared over his hands as he tried vainly to staunch the flow. The quiet ripples of the river making its sluggish way to the coast echoed through his mind, an accompaniment to the uncaring, mocking cry of the wheeling seabirds and the distant throbbing motor of the helicopter that would arrive too late to salvage their dreams. Ruth was dead. His heart alive only in the sense that it was still beating.

Harry's temporary reverie was abruptly disturbed by Malcolm throwing his mite into the debate.

"I've had a report from the financial trawl. They've traced the money through several accounts, terminating with one that seems to service various American firms, some of which are on our radar for no good reason. Ben..." Malcolm also baulked at adding the surname, "seems to have spent the money on providing care for his grandmother who has Alzheimer's."

Malcolm's voice carried an edging of sadness. Jane temporarily distracted from her own troubles recalled Harry mentioning that Malcolm was recently bereaved. What had he gone through? She must ask Harry before she unknowingly said something hurtful. The she remembered that could be tricky when they were scarcely on speaking terms. While she was speculating Dimitri continued to describe the fate of Mr Dover.

"Due to the Rambo kill order that Erin obtained we've sent him to a safe house. If the CIA suspect we've traced him..." Catching Harry's glare of disapproval he ended lamely with, "Well we've already had one murder."

Having glowered at Dimitri's casual reference to a piece of Intel Jane had yet to be advised of Harry leant back in his chair, awaiting the inevitable. Jane did not disappoint. Alert to any proof that Harry was not to be trusted she fastened instantly onto the first part of Dimitri's speech with a sharply spoken, "Something else you forgot to tell me about!"

A nervous hush descended. Harry, after inhaling deeply, groaned, "Yes and sorry. I'll add that we had the lip reader in as well. So can we get the shouting over with now?" The flash from her eyes making him state, "We made these discoveries while you and Dimitri were wiping the floor with Gawain."

Jane debated the possibility of doing likewise with Harry but was once again defeated by a natural fair mindness. Other than their disastrous tete a tete in his office, when he'd been consumed by worry over the wretched memory stick, he hadn't really had a private opportunity to update her. She considered for a moment before saying, "Thanks. I'll accept that, as I assume all is about to be revealed."

"Not unless Harry changes his mind about allowing you to see the film show." Calum murmured this so quietly only Erin overheard. Harry, whose hearing was normally excellent, was still reeling with relief at the news that Jane had passed up the opportunity to indulge in more noisy recrimination in full view of his staff. He had no chance to respond to her as Erin, after hushing Calum, and anxious to retrieve herself chipped in,

"I know we have to run a check but assuming that Ben is telling us the truth we've arranged for a cover story to explain his absence. If the CIA still think he thinks he's working for MI5 they may keep him on as an asset, so we can use him as our asset without them knowing. Someone in the traffic department could be useful."

Jane's head couldn't have spun more if she'd obeyed her earlier impulse to glug down Harry's whisky. What amazed her; stunned her in fact,was the unblinking acceptance of such convoluted thinking. Harry pursed his lips before replying,

"I'll consider it once we have proof that he has been played by the CIA. Until then I'm not discounting the possibility of a mole in the security service. I assume approaching an outsider would be one way of avoiding electronic detection."

This last statement wasn't exactly a plea but Calum and Malcolm both exchanged glances while Dimitri fumbled in his jeans pocket. The entire attention of the table turned towards him as he finished shuffling and extracted a mobile phone with the words, "This belongs to Ben. He made his call from it so we took it off him. Can you trace anything from this?"

Calum reached his hand out smirking. "Do ducks swim? Is the Pope a Catholic? Do politicians lie? Okay pass on that last one."

The interlude had given Harry a brief interlude of thinking time. Matching his various theories against the information provided by his team he expressed his revised opinion.

"Before Erin made her announcement we were certain the CIA was behind the bombing. A mole in MI5 would not automatically discount that theory. It wouldn't be the first time someone had been turned. If Ben was approached by a mole I'll just have to hope that it's not anyone in Section D."

Jane wasn't sure which shocked her more, the matter of fact way in which Harry mentioned this, or the lack of any protest from the team forcing her to blurt out, "Surely no one..."

"Unfortunately Harry is right. We have had people turned in Section D. Members of the Senior team at that. One even managed to frame Harry, and very nearly succeeded."

As Malcolm spoke a telepathic memory of long distant pain passed between himself and Harry. Connie James was a name rarely spoken, but frequently remembered. Her epitaph: the woman who'd left a lingering legacy of doubt when it came to trusting even their closest of colleagues. Malcolm, sickened by her treachery and then worn out by the immediate aftermath, had finally discovered in himself a sudden longing for retirement. Harry had remained in post. His stalwart determination not to allow the bitter taste of betrayal to destroy that precious need to trust had resulted in his protecting Lucas North - he never could think of him as John Bateman - well beyond the boundaries dictated by sense and protocol. A spectacular misjudgement, setting in train the events that had resulted in a second accusation of treason. Nothing said, but much understood between these two emotionally buttoned down individuals, the grizzled survivors of Section D.

The present remained to be dealt with, as Harry summarily made plain with his next words, "Malcolm send some pictures of known CIA agents and assets to the guarding officer, see if Ben Dover can identify them. If he can't then follow up with pictures of MI5 agents who fit his description, plus a random assortment of photos. Again see if he recognises anyone."

"And do give this operation the code name Backwards."

Those last words had floated over from Calum's corner. Before anyone could take him to task for his misplaced levity Harry, keen to advance towards the kernel of the discussion, announced in a statement that instantly removed the smile from Calum's face.

"Now for the matter of the memory stick."

Restored to full operational mode, Harry, the father and ex-husband... friend... opponent...whatever... of the still simmering Jane surveyed his troops, wondering whose opinion to canvas first. Not Erin or Dimitri; neither was privy to the full contents of the stick. Calum; jokes set aside was swallowing, fighting down a resurgence of the bile that had threatened to overcome him previously. Malcolm remained his usual calm, static self, a quality that the notoriously hot tempered Harry had long envied him. No contest then, the choice was obvious.

"Malcolm your assessment of the contents please?"

Malcolm acknowledged this order, disguised as a request, by extracting a sheet of paper from his sheaf of notes saying, "I'll give my views and then Calum can add anything he thinks necessary." A declaration greeted by a look of deepest gratitude from his fellow techie.

"The stick contains twenty nine minutes and thirty two seconds of film. To be even more precise that time is divided between a number of separately filmed scenes or incidents, timings and other details in my notes. From the length and camera angles they would appear to have been captured surreptitiously on a mobile phone and then later spliced together and saved onto the stick. The content also includes a number of still photographs, again, judging by their appearance, taken covertly. I've not yet managed to confirm whether they are stills from the films or odd shots from other separate incidents."

"Genuine or fake Malcolm?"

"I'd need to do a more in depth analysis frame by frame to double check. From what I was able to do at this stage I would say genuine. That was what my initial assessment and recommendations suggest."

"And you Calum?" Harry turned to the younger man.

"Agreed on grounds both technical and dramatic. I really can't see how most of that could be faked." Calum's voice was even, but his slight shudder indicated that the emotional rawness lingered.

Malcolm felt obliged to urge a mild caution based on his final pre-retirement Grid operation. "It is possible though. We were once nearly taken in by a video of Harry being shot. It was only the fact that they didn't actually show the bullet entering his body that made us continue checking." Looking over at Harry he voiced a long overdue confession, "I'm ashamed to admit that I was deceived. It was Ros Myers who insisted that we entertained the possibility that it was a fake."

Admittance of this embarrassingly rare instance of fallibility produced a resigned response from Harry. "Water under the bridge Malcolm. I've seen the tape. The first part made it clear that I expected to be killed and the sight of me comatose with my head lying in a lake of blood was utterly convincing. I'd have made the same call."

The revelations of the last five minutes were making Jane gulp. While appreciating that Harry's job was dangerous she had assumed, naively it would seem, that he could at least rely on his colleagues and subordinates to guard his back. Instead it was becoming apparent that the military concept of a Band of Brothers had not extended itself across the threshold of the impressively appointed Thames House foyer. That he'd managed to remain sane and functioning in the midst of this whirling maelstrom of uncertainty was verification of his tough mindness. Marvelling afresh at his relative sanity she now understood that his words of the previous day, that it was having family to come back to, that he had a sense of something normal to make him fight, had not been an empty phrase, uttered simply to appease her. For once he'd been starkly truthful. So what then had been his anchor during those empty post divorce years? And what did he have to cling to now? Judging by last night's nightmare nothing at all.

Harry, with or without anything to anchor his life, was eyeing Calum thoughtfully. The key to much that was perplexing them obviously lay in the now unsealed contents of the memory stick, the details of which had to be debated. Preferably without the contents of Calum's guts revealing themselves.

Harry opened with, "For the benefit of those who've not seen the memory stick contents in their entirety."

Jane interjected, "Or at all" wishing she hadn't when Calum recovered enough to say in a voice thick with envy, "Lucky woman."

Harry, adept at ignoring these distractions when he chose, continued, "The clips show instances of some utterly revolting torture. I have no option other than to ask Malcolm and Calum to work on it, but I'm hoping that no one else in the section will be obliged to view it. I've been forced to sit through similar videos before. This is easily the worst I've ever had to witness. I will mention the words, electrodes, genitals, buggery, anal rape, water boarding and shit smearing. The only relief from my unreconstructed non PC standpoint is that no women seemed to be involved."

The three individuals fortunate enough not to have had these graphic images forcibly imprinted on their retinas turned their sympathic gaze upon Calum. Calum while grateful felt, despite Harry's statement, that he'd been weighed in the balance and found wanting. In his anxiety he felt compelled to explain the true cause of his shock.

"To be honest while the events were ghastly what really made me want to vomit was the pleasure those troops were taking in their actions. That wasn't emergency torture of one or two individuals with the aim of extracting vital information to save lives. It was systematic brutality for sheer perverted enjoyment. Those poor devils..." His words tailed away.

The listeners were stunned. They were so accustomed to Calum's habitual flippancy that his total seriousness with no hint of humour rendered his words nearly as disquieting as the outrages he was describing.

Malcolm's sympathy for his colleague slightly overcame his sense of discretion as he endorsed the viewpoint. "Indeed, the perpetrators made Charles Grady look like an amateur."

Harry's wry response, "Agreed and I never thought I'd say that." added to what was rapidly becoming Jane's default mindset of total puzzlement. Seeing her perplexed expression Harry offered her a part explanation, "When I was framed it became necessary to extract a confession from me so..."

Appalled by these revelations an indignant Jane completely forgot, for an instant, her own squabbles with Harry.

"God, are you seriously telling me that you were tortured by your own side! If you were a stick of rock you'd have 'Regnum Defende' stamped through your core. How could anyone even begin to think that you'd ever turn traitor?"

Only she and Harry could truly appreciate the irony of that charge. During their marriage the majority of Jane's grievances had been attributable to the various revolting deeds Harry had undertaken as proof of his devotion to 'Her Most Gracious Majesty', while simultaneously neglecting 'His Most Ungracious Spouse'. Had Jane not been so caught up in her doughty endorsement of Harry's integrity she would have noticed the expressions on the faces of the team, all of whom were recalling the Albany enquiry that still cast its overlong shadows in certain quarters, most notably in the unattributed, sibilant whispers that the great, impassive Harry Pearce was now considered flaky. Harry himself, although touched by her not wholly accurate defence, shrugged off her words with, "As we said it has been known. It is right that no one is above suspicion."

Jane may have remained unconvinced but Harry was anxious to move onto a more relevant issue. Loath as he was to extend Calum's suffering questions remained. " Malcolm, Calum, you mentioned troops. Can you confirm the uniform and the nationalities of all those featured, including the prisoners? "

The pair stared at one another before Calum, now somewhat restored, gave his assessment. "Uniforms, not always in evidence but what I could identify seemed to belong to our favourite cousins. We'll try to make some stills and analyse badges etc. The question of location remains to be answered. Namely as to whether what we saw took place in several spots in one location or alternatively in several separate bases. Prisoners, I'm not sure about identification. Malcolm is probably better at picking out the languages the detainees were screaming in than I am."

Thus appealed to Malcolm responded. "I need to do some sound separation to verify but I'd say mixed nationalities, mainly men of Asian descent but one or two looked European. Again we need to have some stills to analyse. I'll try to get something from freeze frames in terms of faces from both the troops and prisoners. A run through facial recognition might give a more specific lead. Places, I'd agree with Calum. It's difficult to be more exact. In one still the victim was pegged out in beating sunlight which implies the locations are largely desert areas."

"And probably distant and deserted." Harry looked directly at Malcolm for corroboration, "Thank you Malcolm and Calum. You've confirmed my suspicions."

From the faces turned towards him Harry realised everyone present was too intimidated to venture a theory through fear of being rebuked for exaggerated stupidity. Hoping he sounded calmer than he felt, unusually his stomach was performing contortions that could have matched Calum's, Harry took the verbal floor.

"Assuming that what we've been discussing is genuine, and the effort going into covert retrieval suggests that it is, I think the mystery as to why the CIA are desperate to get their hands on that memory stick is now obvious. That reason further explains why Catherine had it in her possession, and how she came by it."

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