Many thanks to all who read and those who reviewed. We progress - possibly

The Grid 5.00pm approx

First Erin, now Harry uttering a heart stopping announcement. Was it always this way, Jane wondered. She knew spies weren't turfed out raw into the world to met death and danger, they did receive some training. While she had only the vaguest outline as what that consisted of, until today she'd never even contemplated the notion that these dark arts included instruction from RADA. For that matter how did they know they'd made the grade? Were the successful trainees bidden to a deeply secret graduation ceremony held in the bowels of Thames House where they were presented with scrolls scribed in invisible ink? 'Outstanding student of the year Henry James Pearce, with distinction in deception, disguising, and honey trapping.'

The immediate sense of drama began to recede in the wake of a thickening, lengthening silence during which no one was bold enough request an explanation from Harry. Viewed dispassionately Jane could understand why. Harry was more inclined to make demands than accede to them. The ruination of their marriage was testimony to that. So who was going to be brave and summarily insist that he explained what he had dredged from that swirling vortex of endless changing information.

Surveying the team Harry must have been afflicted with a similar realisation. Avoiding the necessity of anyone rising to the challenge he declared, "I'll explain my thoughts in a few minutes, but first the updating, as I seem to be the only person to have knowledge of every piece of fresh Intel." The flare of irritation in Jane's face forcing him to add, "without this information my theory will make very little sense."

By now, having partaken in previous Briefing Room meanderings through the interminable thickets of contradiction and obfuscation, a thoroughly blooded Jane judged Harry's assessment to be a mite optimistic. In consequence of which she rather doubted his solution, however watertight in its details, would be accepted without question. If asked she would have opined that had Archimedes foolishly announced his game changing discovery on the Grid the subsequent debate would have provided him with ample time to dry and dress himself before being driven in a fit of intelluctual frustration into running along the Thames Embankment yelling Eureka. Oblivious to Jane's cynicism Harry had turned towards the Grid champion of precision and précis. "Malcolm can you describe the kill order and Monica's suggestions?"

With a quick glance at his notes Malcolm obliged, "Erin managed to obtain a message from the CIA contact. When decoded it said ''Operation Rambo. Close down. Kill order confirmed.' Monica, that's the lip reader, was uncertain but thought the man who met Catherine in the cafe was saying something along the lines of 'they are after me', followed by..." – Malcolm made a quick pause to recheck his handwriting, 'however secure they'll find it.' When Catherine, after the argument we'd all witnessed on the CCTV, didn't give in he walked away muttering, 'She won't listen.' The other man, the one she was last seen with as she got into his car said, 'You need a lift." and, 'best not to meet on your own."

Before he or anyone else could speculate further Jane, who'd been listening attentively, asked on everyone's behalf, "So how does this fit in with the memory stick?"

Harry proceeded towards enlightening one and all. "We now know what the CIA wanted to keep secret. My presumption would be that whoever videoed these events was appalled and didn't want to be a party to them. It seems highly unlikely, given the secretive circumstances, that he was an accredited UN observer."

For the second time in an hour Harry had made a gender assumption that was subject to an instant challenge, this time from Erin. "Why he?"

"As I stated earlier, that camp or camps would appear, thank God, to be a women free zone." Reminded of the contents of the stick Erin abandoned the feminist case for total equality in all things,allowing him an uninterrupted wallow in his misogynist thought pool, "I think therefore that it was a trooper who..."

The light bulb moment had arrived, its illumination sparking in the heads Dimitri and Calum; who might have been twinned as they gloried in cogitation, "The bloke with Catherine in the cafe you guessed he was..."

"Military. Quite. Something clicked in my mind when we decoded the Rambo message but didn't quite connect. I'd suggest he passed the stick to Catherine. Somehow the CIA, having discovered that he'd gone rogue, AWOL perhaps, traced him to her. If Monica was correct that explains the conversation in the cafe. He was trying to retrieve the stick before Catherine was hurt and she was refusing. If she knew the CIA were involved she would suspect that her phone and email might be tapped, hence the snail mail postcard to Jane as a precaution."

As a construct it was logical, linking a number of jigsaw pieces into a coherent pattern, but Erin, fulfilling Jane's private prophecy, had to protest, "Why did Catherine come into it at all? Why go to her rather than the press or the British security services?"

Malcolm, with the force of history to draw upon, could readily answer that last question, "In his place I wouldn't approach the security services either. Far too many of our colleagues connive at, or alternatively turn a blind eye to rendition."

"Yes but..." Erin was about to repeat herself when Dimitri intervened, his demeanour carrying a slight air of exasperation. "Erin, if you wanted to get something into the public domain and suspected that Six and Five were hand in glove with the CIA who would you go to? The press with the current cosy cartell bewteen the owners and the politicians or would you..." he halted to query, "Didn't you see Catherine's documentary on forced marriage?"

Erin wasn't relishing the implied criticism. "No. I was on an operation at the time."

"Thought not. Well if I wanted to get something out there I'd consider contacting a documentary maker with a reputation for truth telling and to hell with the cost."

While Erin digested this admonishment, her grimace suggesting that she'd be overdosing on stomach medicine later in the evening, Harry and Jane were experiencing a mutual swelling of pride, intermingled with fury that their daughter was so reckless, neither of them wanting to admit responsibility for her impetuous behaviour. Fortunately for the sanity, not to mention the eardrums, of the team, the impending parental argument as to just whose chromosomes had gifted Catherine with her stubborn, driven approach to life, was derailed by another of Erin persistent, tiresome objections. "So why didn't she just go to Harry, surely she'd know that he'd never countenance..."

Harry was beginning to feel pressured by disparagement. After several sessions in which the team had groped for answers he'd have appreciated some credit for finally penetrating and dissolving the veil of mystery shrouding the actions of the CIA. A few short months ago he would have insisted that his view must prevail forthwith, but after his spectacular misjudgements over Albany, Lucas and Elena his long standing reputation for near infallibility had been badly dented, as in severely trashed. That was the lesser disaster. Blinded by trust in Elena he'd been played with fatal results for Tariq, Jim Coaver and Ruth. He knew it, they knew it. Harry was a realist, if he required the team's help then he had to swallow the price tag and graciously accept some element of collaborative discussion, aka argument. He'd allow them to consider the alternatives, just as long as they affirmed his final opinion, aka decision. He needed them with him. Catherine's life might depend upon it.

Jane, as the parent who was closest to their daughter, although she'd stoutly contend that the actions of said daughter were more atuned to her father's nature, came to Harry's rescue, saying with some asperity,

"There is another possibility. That it was the other way around and she contacted him." The facial reactions of the team, unaccompanied by speech, ranged from bemusement, through scepticism, docking at disbelief. Cutting through the silent swathes of doubt she advanced her theory, emboldened by the thought that it was no more improbable than other suggestions flung across the table. "It's just a thought but one of Catherine's friends said she had an idea for a new documentary. If she was putting out feelers and this man had the information, well work it out for yourselves. She wouldn't go to Harry as she wants to be independent, be recognised as Catherine Townsend, not the daughter of Harry Pearce."

Harry's nearly imperceptible wince was missed by everyone with the exception of Jane. Immediately hypersensitive to his reactions and recalling certain passages in the past, which she had regretfully encouraged, Jane could have bitten her tongue when realisation dawned as to how that statement would appear to the uninitiated. Trying to make amends she apologised, "...sorry Harry I didn't mean..."

"Sadly it's the truth. She refused to own me for years." The casual tone smoothed over the lacerating hurt that had pierced his well hidden heart when he'd heard Catherine's bitter voice declare to a secretly wired Danny Hunter that her father was dead. Despite the peace they'd subsequently made, the memory held a trace of residual anguish. Noting Jane's distress and acquitting her of malicious intent, he reassured her, "But I understand what you really meant to say."

"Yes, well she would also realise that this could put you in a difficult position, she wouldn't want you compromised. But if she was in danger she'd also know you'd not sit back. That memory stick was her legacy."

Jane ended on an inflection of hopeless inevitability. Yet again Catherine had ignored all the danger signs and lumbered her father with the task of rescuing her. Jane experienced an unanticipated flicker of anger on Harry's behalf. She'd continually chided Graham for failing to accept the consequences of his own decisions. It now occurred to her that Catherine, while a huge improvement on her brother in most respects, should really be exercising a much greater degree of personal caution than was currently in evidence. It was most definitely time that she ceased relying on Daddy to provide the troubleshooting backstop when one of her ventures went awry. While Jane knew that Harry did not begrudge the effort he was no longer a young man, one day he would not be there to help. Catherine needed a reminder that even her seemingly indestructible father was mortal.

As Jane fell silent Harry was considered her interpolation, unconsciously echoing her secret thoughts. "It's quite possible, I've spent nearly thirty years of my life trying to restrain her headstrong rush into places Lucifer would avoid entering. Who approached whom is not, at this stage a matter of huge importance. I'm convinced the basic premise is correct, if only because of those books we found in her flat."

Addressing Jane alone, his eyes alit with quick thrill of comprehension: "Remember I remarked upon the topic, now I know why she was reading them."

Jane flipped her mind back before exclaiming, "Of course, they were on torture of different kinds. Background research."

Harry's eyes met hers with a twisted, mildly amused spark. "Well I'm assuming she wasn't planning to partake in any hands on experiments."

Malcolm threw in some confirmation, contrarily positive in the sense of being almost entirely negative. "With her phone missing I managed to get access to her records. No texts of any importance. Actual calls to the people we'd expect and Jane contacted most of them for us. However there were three calls, all from phones that were reported stolen shortly afterwards, I'd suggest the contact stole them, used them once and then ditched them. Otherwise, she is Harry's daughter – she'd know about dead drops, she's used the post and generally avoided an electronic trail, which in itself suggests she was involved in something dubious."

Calum, his face decorated with an unaccustomed scowl, added his critical mite. "But if she was taking all this trouble surely she'd want to broadcast something more original than this. The English have Punch and Judy, the Yanks have kicking the shit out of everyone on the basis that the US of A knows best. It's their national sport, excluding their version of souped up rounders."

Harry and Jane's stare across the table was far from benign. Erin made a mental note to self that at the earliest opportunity she'd have to give Calum a tutorial in the more advanced facts of life. One of which was that you did not criticise other people's children prior to donning an asbestos suit. At present the best she could do was to intervene sharply with, "And your point is?"

Calum was unabashed. "Everyone knows that the Cousins are behind this sort of thing." Recalling some of what he'd seen he added, "Politically as well as physically. So where's the story?"

Harry had recovered sufficiently to slap him down. "Cover Calum. Torture by proxy is deniable."

Calum might have understood him but Jane looked mystified. Harry seeing her frown remembered that her civilian status meant that she was not fully cognisant with the nuances surrounding the everyday horrors that formed the fabric of his job. How he wished he didn't feel obliged to fracture her ignorance.

"Torture by proxy means that a suspect is rendered, or sent to another country. The security and military services of the host country undertake the necessary actions to wring a confession on behalf of the client country." In case she hadn't quite grasped the facts he put it terms she might be able to follow. "Think of it as a form of outsourcing, to a call centre equipped with hot irons and presided over by sadists. It means the client country gets the information they need, but can claim clean hands and deniability."

Jane's next statement informed him that his concern for her sensibilities was somewhat misplaced. "That wasn't what puzzled me. I thought that Obama was supposed to have banned rendition." As Harry's brow wrinkled in astonishment she snapped. "Oh don't look so dumbfounded I spent most of our marriage listening to the news to get clues as to what you were up to. No sooner had I got rid of you than I had to worry about Catherine."

He decided to let that last part pass. "Supposed is spot on Jane. These shots show the US military actively, continuously, participating in appalling physical torture, systematic torture that can't be written off as the high spirits of a few out of control squaddies making game of their prisoners, reprehensible as that is. It's proof positive of a deliberate ongoing policy of humiliation and vile abuse that they can't shrug off. Once broadcast to the world this would virtually destroy American moral standing on the international stage."

Harry had made his point, the expressions of the entire team indicated that finally they all understood his theory, and the gravity of what he was implying. With this registered he continued "In addition we have a question of timing. At present it is imperative that the CIA keeps everything under wraps. What I'm about to tell you goes way above your clearances so..."

Pavlov's dogs couldn't have reacted more swiftly as the team chanted in a unity that would have had a choir master weeping with joy, "So we didn't get this from you." At Jane's quirk of puzzled amusement Erin hissed, "It's okay Jane he's always doing this to us."

With the Section Chief's stage whisper over the Section Head continued dryly. "If I have your attention. An agreement is on the table that would basically allow America to demand the extradition of anyone they like on the vaguest suspicion of any activity that threatens world security, ie America's. Those people will have no rights and their government no right to query their treatment. It's Abu Ghraib on the USA mainland. Further to that the extradition requests will be retrospective for the past ten years. The US government is well aware, as are we all, that the current extradition arrangements with America are already one sided and a cause of disquiet. If the contents of that stick were broadcast to the British public this treaty would have to be forced through by the government at the cost of potential political annihilation. Towers is trying to get a stay of execution as I've informed him that our European sister services are unhappy. The Kremlin in particular is threatening to pullout of the recent partnership. Not something the Government will want after all the trouble its signing caused. If Towers is to kick this into touch he needs inarguable proof. Equally the CIA want to ensure that he doesn't get it."

The utterly expressionless tone of Harry's voice as he elided over the words 'Kremlin' and 'partnership' triggered a connection in Jane's mind. The name' Ilya' shouted in the darkness of the previous night, it sounded Russian; with a reference to a task they had to do together! Working with the old enemy was something that might well give Harry, veteran of the Cold War, nightmares. Was that partnership linked in some way to whatever was troubling him? If so, how? Hmmm...A little discreet googling might be in order. She recalled reading some early summer news reports discussing this political about turn. Her memory of the exact details was hazy, other than at the time her instant reaction had been to gleefully visualise Harry choking into his whisky. After all his efforts to shaft the Soviets in Berlin he was now being ordered into political bed with them. Loyal as he was to his country he must surely have felt that he was being pimped, a rent boy for the government. She had a starting point for investigation, although whatever was bothering him to the degree she'd witnessed in the early hours of the morning was surely went deeper, and was more personal, than a governmental volte face.

The deep hush of shock drew her back into the real time present. When Harry had confided in her the previous evening he'd omitted to mention the retrospective aspect of the proposed treaty. From the appalled reaction of Harry's subordinates she suddenly realised that every person in the room was at risk if the Americans got their way. That didn't exactly surprise her, however nice and normal spies might seem they all had a dark side; you forgot that they were trained killers at your peril. Erin and Dimitri, while oozing an enticing attractiveness would both have murdered, or if you preferred euphemism, executed enemies of the state. Calum's entire manner seemed designed to rile allcomers, while Malcolm the self confessed hacker probably wasn't on the CIA's Christmas card list either. As for Harry, if his personality plait of ruthlessness, workaholic obsession entwined with a broad streak of mischief, had failed to make him flavour of the day, month or decade within his own service, she could only guess at how the CIA would salivate at the prospect of taking him out, with the aim of doing whatever was the next best thing to shooting him - presumably along the lines evidenced by the unseen obscenities imprinted on the memory stick. With a jolt she wondered about her own position. Given the current cover up paranoia of the CIA did being the sole surviving witness to their bomb attempt put her at risk? Had she suddenly been transformed from Jane Townsend, neglected wife of Snuggle Bunny and part time teacher of English Literature into a potential enemy of the world's superpower? And if she was so dangerous why didn't she feel empowered?

Erin having processed the implications was the first to respond as she blurted out, "But in that case why the CIA threat against your life a few weeks ago?" I mean if they knew they'd be able to demand your scalp once this was passed why bother?"

That alarming revelation had instantly put Harry's scalp in more immediate danger from Jane than from the CIA. Jane's head whirling around so quickly it was itself at risk of spinning off. "Harry."

If he'd belonged to the younger generation his response might have been 'Am I bovvered!' Being nearly sixty with an ingrained formality he snorted in short order, "I'm not taking this seriously Jane, that's why I didn't mention it."

Erin wasn't standing for that dismissive tone, "Towers does."

"Towers takes focus groups seriously and look at the rubbish they come out with. Starting with the one that postulated the idea that the Secret Services should keep the public informed of their activities."

Harry might be taking the opportunity to vent a long felt annoyance but Jane wasn't going to stand, or sit, for being ignored, "I repeat Harry!"

Jane wanted an answer. In Harry's experience she'd nag until she got it. "Very well a few weeks ago we received some newspaper print threats, dropped into Thames House. Just general – but the words used suggested American in origin and the phrases referred to the death of the CIA Director that I was implicated in. I've been forced, on Towers orders, to make sure I'm never on my own off the Grid and have a surveillance team watching my house overnight."

She decided to take him to task for this latest sin of omission in private, they'd already embarrassed the team with public rows, this one could wait. "I can see how that might cramp your style Mr Maverick. But are you really being shadowed? I've not noticed anyone following you."

"Of course not. I trained them." Having made this profoundly modest statement Harry conceded, reluctantly given the number of unnecessary objections previously spouted by his Section Chief, "But Erin's right it doesn't make sense with that treaty hovering in the ether."

Malcolm added, "Neither does your theory entirely." All eyes turned to him, "I accept your construct as far as it goes Harry but it doesn't cover everything. As regards Catherine it can't be the CIA who have her or they'd have located the memory stick before we did. So where is she?"

Harry swallowed nervously before proceeding to reopen what was a very sore subject. "Jane and I checked the notes we retrieved from Catherine's flat. They included a reference to someone who seems to have contacted her claiming to be the son of a friend of mine."

The various faces brightened at this announcement, at long last a tangible clue, and one that Harry could unravel, the end was in sight, only to revert to crestfallen expressions when Harry continued, "Unfortunately I have never to my knowledge met anyone called Gene Seth Jarvdec, father or son." The slight hrrumph from Jane indicating to the ever alert Malcolm the cause of the recent argument.

Dimitri suggested, "Then the person to trace would be Gene Seth Jarvdec. I'd bet he was one of the two men." Calum wasn't far behind him in stating the obvious, "Another thought where is the one in the cafe?"

Malcolm was forced to do what he hated, namely admit defeat, "I tried tracing him from the cafe but he just vanished."

Erin postulated, "Any GCHQ Chatter?"

"I can check. Also of course the police log for dead bodies. If he was military and was the owner of the stick I'd assume the Rambo reference referred to him – disturbed soldier returning home ultimately not happy to just obey."

Harry's, the ex-army officer proffered another line of thought, "If he's had survival training he may well be living rough, moving around, avoiding detection. We need him to confirm the evidence trail."

Malcolm computed the idea, "That would match the reference as well and it's possible. If a small city in East Anglia can have immigrants living on a traffic roundabout undetected for weeks, someone could easily disappear in London."

Feeling that recently he'd been snatching at enough straws to have converted The Grid into a haystack Harry added, "Very well, what about the DNA check?"

"Negative on an exact match. I could run a further match for family DNA, spread the net wider."

Dimitri having balanced the various theories spoke, "I'd think that Gene is the man who collected her, the one we thought we recognised. Remember Harry?"

Before Harry could reply a polite hesitant knock on the door interrupted proceedings. Despite a lack of permission a junior officer entered the room, looking around nervously, before relieving herself of her message, "Sorry Sir but the Home Secretary is on the secure line for you. He says it's urgent."

Groaning loudly, "It always is." Harry prised himself from his chair, "Erin allocate the tasks please."

Presented with the opportunity for power Erin arose to the challenge instantaneously, "Malcolm, you and Calum DNA, further combing of the CCTV, stills and additional assessment from the memory stick, anything to find Catherine and scupper that treaty. Dimitri you give Batman his orders, and then, in view of Malcolm and Calum's work load contact GCHQ for chatter. I'll check for assets who live on the streets and contact their handlers." It occurred to her that Jane had been omitted, she wasn't part of the team, but Erin had noted that she objected to being cast as A.N Other. "Err."

Grateful for the recognition Jane solved the problem for her, "Don't worry Erin I'll be gainfully occupied drawing up the list of play extracts for the Reception, a task that sadly includes combing the text for any possible ways in which Gawain could infiltrate boobs, buttocks and blasphemy into the performance. As his mind is positively bizarre that will take sometime to accomplish."

Dimitri in the process of exiting turned back with some sage advice, "Perhaps you should run everything past Calum, he possesses the weirdest mind on The Grid."

Calum wasn't accepting that compliment, defending himself as he pursued his colleague out the door, "And yours is in perfect condition despite frequent oxygen starvation acquired while sitting in a submarine with about twenty other sweaty blokes!" Making Erin utter a mild sigh as she followed on with a dramatic roll of the eyes.

With their exit from the Briefing Room Jane found herself alone with Malcolm. Noticing her looking grave Malcolm enquired, "Are you alright Jane?"

Jane was uncertain as to she should reply. She'd taken a liking to the solemn, oddly old fashioned, courteous Malcolm, but as he was a long standing friend of Harry she had few illusions about the emotion being reciprocated. While she knew that it was highly unlikely that Harry had confided the minutia of their marital breakdown to anyone it hadn't taken long for her to realise that Malcolm had probably worked out much that was unspoken. Haltingly then she said,

"I think so but..." she was trying to find the correct words with which to frame the question she daren't ask Harry. "Malcolm can I ask you something, it's a little delicate so I daren't approach Harry?"

Malcolm really was trying to avoid becoming entangled in the Harry Jane imbroglio, but being handicapped by politeness he found it difficult to reply to her plea in the negative. He tried to temporise with, "I know the pair of you have a difficult history but if this is about Gene Seth Jardvec I really think he's telling the truth Jane."

"So do I...now." She gave a small rueful smile, "What I really wanted to ask was, do you really think we've any chance of finding Catherine," with a brief pause she added the crucial word, "alive."

Malcolm, while mentally performing somersaults of relief that she hadn't asked about Ruth or anything pertaining the Albany and Gavrik affairs, considered that this question was nearly as difficult to answer honestly. Malcolm's track record with women might be next to non-existent, but having seen the results of Harry's more robust manoeuvring in that unpredictable arena he felt that a certain wariness towards Jane was fully justified. Macbeth had his ambition, Othello his jealousy, Harry's fatal flaw was an almost pathological loyalty to those he'd once loved, ruthlessly exploited by Juliet and then Elena. Malcolm couldn't avoid the suspicion that Jane might prove to be a bird of similar feather, playing his friend for her own ends, in this case help with her divorce. On balance though he was forced to admit that, despite his reservations concerning her overall motives, her question was fair and sensible. He was therefore struggling to find a truthful answer that was not depressing. Jane mistaking the reason for his uncertainty explained, "If I ask Harry he'll think I'm doubting him – again."

On somewhat surer footing as he remembered Harry's earlier statement about preparing Jane for the worst Malcolm gave an honest reply. "I think the possibility that she's still alive exists, but it recedes the longer she's missing."

He waited for her reaction. Jane was still a virtual stranger and he had no idea how she would respond. Computers when presented with a theory of probability just calculated the odds and pinged, human beings either whooped, got angry or burst into tears, plus Jane was a woman, a gender grouping that was notoriously unpredictable. Fortunately for his equilibrium Jane's sole reaction was to bit her lip before answering, "Thank you Malcolm. I can see how worried Harry is, plus he's trying to spare me as much as he can, but I needed to know."

"I think if you'd asked Harry he would have said the same, but I understand why you didn't want to tackle him directly." Taking a further brave forthright step into the uncertain territory that was Jane Townsend he added, "Harry's had to cope with a great deal of loss over the past years so, Jane I might be speaking out of turn, but..."

Picking up on his lengthening hesitation Jane was straightforward, "So I'd gathered. Is this the please don't hurt him talk?" Seeing his discomfort she went on with emphasis, "Don't worry, such is not my intention, but as you've just said with our history it's difficult."

Nodding as he gathered his papers up Malcolm resisted the temptation to inform her that it was Harry's past history sans Ruth that was his real concern. On his first visit to Harry after Ruth's death he'd discovered him sprawled across the sitting room carpet unshaven, red eyed and rendered semi conscious in a whisky induced stupor. Malcolm's middle aged muscles still ached at the memory of heaving Harry's not inconsiderable bulk onto the sofa. Gradually over the succeeding days, weeks, months, that high water mark of visible grief had receded as an emotionally debilitated Harry fought on, standing lonely and joyless, once again the target on the wall, attempting to take on allcomers inside and outside the service. In his decision to wring some sense out of Ruth's sacrifice he'd been propped up by whisky, work and sheer bloody determination. Malcolm wasn't sure that these supports would suffice in the event of his losing of his maddeningly obstinate, idealistic and deeply loved daughter. You expected your parents to predecease you. It was a fifty fifty chance that your partner, if you had one, would die first. But these days no one expected to bury their children. Even Harry, who dealt with death on a daily basis, might find himself unable to cope with that.

Following Malcolm out of the Briefing Room Jane branched off in search of Harry. Tracking him to his office she knocked on the door. She'd noticed this was a courtesy he insisted on and decided compliance was advisable, particularly when she had to check, after the recent passages between themselves, that she could continue to claim squatter's rights to his spare bedroom. Considering what she'd shouted at him she wouldn't blame him for throwing her out.

She discovered him sitting at his desk with his head, if not exactly in his hands, very near to it, his remaining hair ruffled, hinting that he'd been running his hands through it. Overall he seemed winded, as if someone had just sandbagged him. Alarmed by his appearance she abandoned the topic she'd intended to broach in favour of,"Harry what's happened?"

"The stay of execution, the Home Secretary tells me that unless I can produce some definite evidence implicating the Americans the treaty will be signed next week."

"But you have the evidence so what's the problem?"

Even during the past forty eight hours she'd not seen him look so haunted, so worried, or so defeated. With a voice that enhanced the hollow expression in his eyes he said quietly,

"Jane you don't understand. If I fail to hand this over everyone in the security services is at risk. And if I do I might just be signing our daughter's death warrant."

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