Thanks to those who read and even more to those who reviewed. I'm not sure if the plot is thickening or unravelling.

The Grid 9.00am approx

The Grid that Harry and Dimitri returned to was beginning to fill up. Their arrival seemingly just preceded by that of Laura and Jason. The former struggling to balance two large circular items that Harry immediately identified as cake tins, plus a bulging handbag apparently designed to carry everything up to and including the kitchen sink. Hazarding a quick guess as the weight of that typically feminine accessory Harry calculated that it could serve dual purpose as a more than adequate knock out weapon. Personally he'd always opt for a tie, more portable, flexible and usefully lethal.

Calum, the ever chivalrous, took a close look at the two containers being juggled by Laura and then smirked as he addressed Jason, "I thought you were after a hard drive." Jason, having soundlessly returned this salutation with a wan smile, turned to Malcolm, unzipping the sports bag he was carrying, prior to handing over its contents.

Malcolm fingered the hard drive like a lover before asking, "Any problems?"

"None at all regarding the computing side of the operation." The inflection held a lingering, 'but'.

Harry, still within earshot as he stalked his way back to his office, performed an instant about turn on hearing those words. Jane, who was holding an intense conversation with an exhausted looking Erin, nonetheless became aware of Harry's incipient growl. With a quick, "Excuse me Erin" she ambled over to the group, just as Laura dumped the cake tins on the nearest available desk, which happened to be Calum's, stuttering an apprehensive, "S...s..sorry Sir, er ...Harry but..."

Whatever misdemeanour Laura was intending to apologise for remained forever secret when Jane cut across her stammering with an amused, "I gather you met Mabel." It wasn't a question.

Laura, still shivering with the anticipation of being bawled out, completely missed the twinkle in Jane's eye as she muttered, "Yes. We couldn't avoid her as she was in the house when we arrived."

As Laura was rapidly fading in confidence Jason picked up where she had trailed off, "She was trying to tidy up a little. The place was a bit of a mess."

Jane sighed, "Is that a euphemism for totally trashed?"

Jason's reply formed an indirect affirmative, "She asked if she should contact her own cleaner as she knew you'd refund her when you were better. I said that would be okay."

While Jane had anticipated that Robin would walk out, leaving her the punishment detail of returning the place to acceptable order she still couldn't prevent her face becoming wooden with distress, a reaction closely chased by fury at the realisation that the state of her marriage had now become evident to the Grid at large. Harry, watching the kaleidoscope of emotion sweep across her features, was silently notching up Jason's description as one more black mark against Robin. By the time Harry had finished with him Robin would wish that he'd kept his hands, along with other more sensitive appendages, well away from Jane. For now, given that his paramount concern was to keep Jane's current docile hidden from her soon to be discarded spouse, Harry's chief concern was to ascertain exactly how far secrecy had been breached.

"Laura." That one word encapsulated a command that did not require further vocalisation.

"Yes Sir, nothing to worry about. We gave Mabel the note from Jane explaining that she'd been taken ill while visiting friends, and that we were their children come to collect a few clothes."

Calum had to interject, "So how did you explain away the hard drive? As a piece of weird jewellery!" Turning to Jane he grinned, "You'll look lovely with that around your neck."

Jason, in a move that unwittingly earned Harry's approbation, opted to ignore the witticism in favour of answering the question. "We didn't have to. Mabel was quite concerned to hear that Jane was ill so she invited my sister here..." - uttered in a long suffering lugubrious tone implying that Jason would happily revert to being an only child - "back to her house to pick up some home cooked delicacies. While she was gone I sorted out the computer. Er... I also photographed the house and garden before Mabel ordered more clearing up."

While Harry and Malcolm nodded their unspoken thanks to Jason for following their instructions to the letter the rampaging Calum intervened again, "Ah that explains the mystery of the cake tins – aren't they a bit on the large side for chicken soup?"

Harry still had other lingering worries, "I trust you didn't mention Jane's current whereabouts to Mrs Trenchard."

It made a pleasant change to receive a definite answer from Laura, shocked out of apologising by the very suggestion that her discretion was at fault. "No. although she promised not to mention our visit. I got the impression that she doesn't like Mr Tindall very much. I think his comments the other day were the last straw."

Harry, recalling Laura's description of Robin's behaviour two days ago wasn't exactly amazed by that statement. Seemingly Mabel, beneath the flutter and fuss of Laura's imitation, was a woman of considerable discernment. It was Laura's next utterance that threw him into mental disarray.

"Sorry Jane, I forgot to pass on a message. Mabel says she'll tell the Vicar that you're away for a few days and can't read the lesson this Sunday."

Whatever else Harry may have been expecting this wasn't part of it. He just about stopped himself from gaping. It was only the other day that Jane had claimed not to be religious, leaving him with the distinct impression that her church attendance was best summed up by the traditional boast, "The first time I went they threw water over me, the next time confetti and the final time it'll be earth.' Jane noting his expression took pity on him.

"Like much mimicry Laura's imitation was accurate but a little cruel. Mabel is a very generous and helpful soul. She might like to gossip about some things, but that is due largely to loneliness. When she moved into the village her husband was still alive, he was a local councillor so a person of importance. After he died the local in crowd instantly dropped her as superfluous to requirements. As I only get by on Robin's ticket and the snobbery of having been to Oxbridge I felt a sort of female kinship with her."

That was not an entirely satisfactory explanation. Harry's continuing confusion made clear by his blurting, "But church and you Jane! You're the woman who, when some sanctimonious prat in the Christian Union announced that Jesus had saved them, asked whatever for. Not to mention your comment that any God who invented childbirth hates women."

Ignoring his expostulation Jane volunteered her reasons for this seeming volte face. "Mabel had a really bad cold a couple of years ago. She is a church goer, brought up to it and has no family so I volunteered to take her to the Christmas midnight service. To my amazement I quite enjoyed it, a set liturgy that was quite soothing, an opportunity to sit quietly and just be. After that I began to take Mabel every so often to the Sunday morning service when it's held in our village." Jane was becoming a trifle narked by Harry's amazed expression. Honestly from his scandalized protest any listener would think she'd taken up fan dancing, instead of something respectably irreproachable. "Harry, you're reacting just like Robin."

Harry threw her his sulky face. Of all the many and varied insults she'd lobbed at him over the years that had to be the ultimate condemnation.

"Oh don't pull the pout on me." There was a slight ripple of movement as Dimitri hastily turned away to hide his amusement. Malcolm, meanwhile, had his eyes fixed unobtrusively on his friend. Harry's reaction to that admonition might be interesting. To Malcolm's astonishment Harry returned his lips to a more usual configuration without protest. Unbelievable! Not even Ruth could have escaped unscathed after uttering such a public rebuke. To date Malcolm had innocently assumed that no relationship could be more confusing than the impersonal, very personal, non personal dizzying circles that had characterised the mutual dealings of Harry and Ruth. Now he was beginning to believe that he'd been mistaken in the extreme. From his observations during the past twenty four hours what passed as Harry and Jane's relationship was bidding to scale new, and hitherto unsurpassed, heights of total incomprehensibility.

Unaware of these considerations Jane had finally extended a measure of mercy towards Harry and was continuing to explain herself. "It helped Mabel out and to be honest it also gave me a respectable reason to go late, or with luck skip, the Sunday canapés and social climbing sessions. Before you ask I did describe my agnostic position to the vicar."

Temporarily, and willingly, distracted from the issue of Robin Harry curiously asked. "What did your local cleric say to that? "

"Basically that most of the people who turn up occasionally have the same view but won't admit to it and at least I was there to support Mabel, not just for social reasons. I didn't mention that I was also winding up Robin."

"Obviously!"

If that revelation was productive of nothing else it at least told Harry that Jane hadn't spent all of the past few years in slavish thrall to her husband. Her boast that she'd go down fighting had not been an idle one. Until two days ago he'd been under the impression that she was happily married, leading the quiet orderly life she'd claimed to want at the time of their divorce, and now ... her existence seemed to have become just at turbulent and every bit as precarious professionally and personally as his own. What other surprises was she going to spring on him? Much against his will and commonsense he found himself becoming increasingly intrigued by her, and that was despite being aware that this was a ridiculous reaction to have towards his ex-wife. He parked that thought in favour of calling his troops to order. "Meeting Room now, Senior Team, plus Jane."

A grin hovered across her face making him sigh, "What now?"

"Nothing, it's just that it's many years since I was your plus one Harry."

The team collectively held their breath remembering Harry's most recent plus one, and the subsequent disastrous events. Fortunately for their paramount mission in concealing all matters Ruth related from Jane, the latter was distracted by Laura providentially piping up once more. Her intervention prefaced, naturally, by her customary apology.

"Sorry Jane, I should have mentioned I packed an evening dress for you. I hope what I picked is appropriate for the Reception."

Jane was grateful for the thought, but... "Thanks Laura although I won't be going. I can't party, not with my daughter missing."

Laura looked crestfallen for a moment before smiling, "I'm sure she'll be found before then."

"Grateful as I am for your vote of confidence Miss Dixon if we don't get into the Meeting Room that will be an unlikely event." As an afterthought Harry gave an additional instruction, "Jason, if Batman arrives before we've finished send him into us, I need his report as soon as possible. Otherwise everyone, now."

Jane made no immediate attempt to obey, her absence of alacrity justified with, "I'll join you as soon as I've briefed Laura about my notes on the Reception."

Starting with Laura's favourite opener. "Sorry Laura, but you'll have to fend off Gawain on your own."

Apology over Jane handed Laura a file containing printouts featuring various scenes, all neatly annotated with comments and underlined suggestions for presentation, the latter including a number of red starred 'do nots'.

Scanning casually thorough the paperwork Jane sternly instructed Laura."Each of these documents relates to a specific scene from a specific play. Stick to the running order, the costumes and interpretations as given. No additions. I estimate the running time as about one hour. Gawain might want some music to mask crossovers, Tudor period, instrumental only and the musicians stay in one spot. He is not putting in anything contemporary and I'm certainly not affording him the opportunity to insert dubious lyrics. This file is to be regarded as the Reception equivalent of the Bible. If Gawain wants to divert or reinterpret the word herein written by a single iota ring me. Is that clear?"

On receiving a nervous nod of agreement from Laura she added a, "Good Luck" and departed for the Meeting Room, leaving a very apprehensive spook flicking disconsolately through the documentation. Jane might have faith in Laura's ability to cope but Laura herself felt that she lacked the certain something that allowed Jane to deal summarily with the likes of Gawain. Confidence, a razor sharp tongue, Sir Harry's ear, and that was just for starters ... to quote the Bard, or in the phraseology of Gawain the Pretentious 'The Glorious Bard', it was a case of 'Once more unto the breach' –she'd just have to hope that she didn't become one of the English dead, although if she stuffed up she wouldn't quite put it past Sir Harry to organise her demise.

Once everyone was ensconced in the Meeting Room Harry lost little time in bringing all comers up to speed with developments; concluding his combined lecture diatribe with, "After that revelation he didn't really have anything further to add."

Dimitri endorsed this view, "He's on the level, believe me Harry stopped just short of thumb screws to check his story. The real clincher is that when we offered him a safe house he said he'd rather stay in one of our cells."

Harry agreed. "He expressed the opinion that what they lack in decor they compensate for in CIA inaccessibility. It's fortunate he has no family because he's going to have to spend the rest of his life hiding under a legend."

Jane, after a moment's thought, reminded the gang, "So Graham was probably correct in thinking that the man Catherine was last seen with was American, even though he was trying to sound English."

"He was also right in saying that he wasn't to be trusted." As Harry spoke he experienced something he'd not felt for years, a small flicker of pride in his son. Scratch below the appalling attitude and foul language and the boy was showing promise. Not only had he been spot on concerning the mystery man, he'd also come up trumps with evidence to help his mother. Maybe Jane's agnostic prayers had paid off.

Erin, whose shadowed eyes bespoke a sleepless night, attributable to maternal worries, brought them back to reality with a thump. "We'd already concluded that the CIA don't have Catherine. I assume that this opinion still stands." She turned to Harry for confirmation before continuing, "So why on earth was she hobnobbing with someone who's in touch with one of their agents?"

She had, of course, summed up the crux of the new problem facing them. The answer to which was escaping even Harry, as he openly admitted.

"I wish I knew. But if our mystery man is Gene Seth Jardvec then it might explain why he claimed to be the son of a friend of mine and how he obtained details sufficient to deceive Catherine."

Jane objected instantly, "Catherine would only believe him if he had private details known to few. Even if she didn't realise that he was American she'd know that extra information could only have been obtained from American sources. We know from her hiding the stick that she'd taken note of Franklin's warning. She's not a fool."

Harry was the only other person present not to consider that statement questionable. By contrast the assembled group of non Pearce parents were fighting down the desire to say something very rude indeed about the intelligence of their boss's daughter. They refrained, Malcolm could always walk, but as for the others, well Franklin wasn't the only one to have concerns about potential postings to the armpits of the globe.

While everyone waited for a colleague to respond to Jane's debatable assertion with words that were neither acrimonious, or unwise, a welcome diversion arrived in the looming shape of Batman bearing, not gifts, but a mobile which he handed to Jane uttering the ominous phrase, "Laura needs to speak to Mrs Townsend quite urgently."

Batman had never actually met Jane but it didn't require a Mensa level intellect to work out who she was. He already knew Erin, Calum and Dimitri plus Harry. That left two strangers in the room. As Malcolm was obviously male, then there was one.

"Hello Laura. Problems!"

No one who'd been present the previous day needed the unused speakerphone to know the difficulty, it was condensed into one joint thought, and word, "Gawain'"

Jane made a movement suggestive of a desire to take the call elsewhere, but was prevented by Harry's very slight shake of his head. Leaning back in her chair she wearily moaned, "Very well put him on."

Dimitri, having been present at the earlier Jane v Gawain intellectual wrestling match, had an expectant grin decorating his face.

"Yes Gawain." The two sharp words were followed by a pause, preceding the school teacher severity that flavoured her follow up statement. "No, we've already been over this, despite the context, nudity, even in the Grecian tradition, is simply not acceptable."

It was quite obvious to Harry from the straight thin line into which Jane's normally attractive lips were compressed that Gawain was arguing the point.

"No Gawain – if you want to drape the actress in a flowing sheet that will not fall off when she moves yes, but she must have underwear beneath it just in case of accidents." Any hopes that Gawain had backed down were dashed with Jane's next words, "Nipple shields are not acceptable, and neither is what I believe is known as tit tape – I don't care if she has had a Brazilian, Peruvian or Venezuelan the answer if still no, that area must be clothed in something more substantial than a thong - clear."

While the others around the table were battling with their varying degrees of embarrassment depending on gender, age and attitude to soft porn, Harry now understood that his private, unspoken suspicions that Jane, with her devotion to drama, may have mildly exaggerated yesterday's encounter with Gawain had been unjust. From what he was now hearing if anything she seemed to have rather underplayed her struggles. Before Jane could finish the call he held his hand out for the phone; it was time to intervene in person.

"Laura, talk to the cast and inform them that if their choice is between ignoring Gawain or upsetting me, the Home Secretary and whichever jobsworth has been fobbed off with the Ministry of Culture this month they'd be wise to..." Whatever Laura replied drew a rare smile of approval from Harry as he commented, "Exactly so. Good girl."

Jane was casting him grateful looks. "Thanks Harry, It serves me right for including that extract. I only did it because some people would think it romantic."

Calum in a spirit of mischief enquired, "Not a Romeo and Juliet fan then!"

"Not really, I deal with too many angst ridden teenagers, but this is from 'The Winter's Tale'" Seeing from Calum's puzzlement that he probably didn't even know the play, and impelled by her endless mission to educate, Jane drew breath to continue, while for Malcolm alarm bells were clanging with the same urgency as a callout to subdue an inner city riot. Nor could he think of any legally acceptable way of shutting Jane up as she plunged ever onwards, "Hermione, the heroine, is believed to have died early in the play due to errors made by her husband. The extract I chose was when her husband, who's never ceased to mourn her, is taken several years later to view her statue, only it isn't a statue. She's been in hiding and returns from the dead. She forgives him for everything and with the misery and misunderstandings of years cleared away it all ends happily – personally I think a more normal reaction would be for her to knee him in the groin for messing everyone around."

As Jane finished her speech she suddenly became conscious that a complete and utter silence had descended. A dead hush in which, since everyone sat as immobile as Hermione's reputed statue, the sound of a pin dropping on the Grid would have resembled the crashing of the Big Ben into Parliament Square. What she'd previously thought of as Harry's frozen look was positively animated in comparison with his current total lack of expression. Once again she'd inadvertently crashed into the mystery that stubbornly kept outcropping. The instant it was touched upon Harry's whole demeanour transformed in something as solid as granite or basalt, and every bit as damn near impregnable. Jane was no geologist but from her vague recollections of long gone lessons on the rock cycle she recalled that beneath any extrusive strata lay something liquid and tumultuous, in his case a concealed world of emotion named Ruth Evershed, ever threatening to explode upwards, but into what? If the granite was ever breached what exactly would be revealed?

Calum, who was feeling guilty for introducing that unexpected bombshell, sought a distraction. Groping for the two cake tins he'd accidently on purpose portaged into the Meeting Room with him he commented, "After listening into Gawain's latest brainwaves we need fortifying. Let's see what Mabel sent to aid Jane's convalescence." As he opened up both containers a delicious aroma of spice and sugar wafted across the table, reminding everyone that they'd breakfasted early. After a second's glance at the contents Calum announced, "Time for early elevenses. I'll go for the gingerbread. How about everyone else?" Noticing Batman still propping up the doorway he sent one tin skidding up the table, "Fancy a fairy cake."

Batman took this with a good humoured grin that was at huge variance with his alarming personal appearance. Jane could feel courage oozing from her at the intimidating sight of the shaven headed, heavily tattooed spook, clothed in a working garb consisting of industrial quantities of black leather. Even more bizarre was the vision of his well developed muscles rippling as he picked up one of Mabel's dainty cakes while replying, "Don't mind if I do.", in an accent redolent of a public school background. This auditory experience forming a counterpoint to the unmusical jangling of the several chains attached to his vest and trousers. Gazing upon the various pieces of ironmongery that adorned him, the glint of the chains being reflected in his nose studs and other sundry body piercings, Jane trusted that neither Malcolm nor Calum were carrying any magnetised gadgetry, otherwise they were at grave risk of becoming welded in a permanent embrace with the metallically enhanced Batman.

Harry had been intending to decline the frivolously offered refreshment but as the team to a man, and woman, fell upon the tins like starving vultures he decided to join them. He'd regard it as an exercise in team building solidarity. As the gingerbread warmed his tastebuds he was grateful that he'd succumbed to temptation. He was beginning to like what he was discovering about Jane's neighbour, not only did she possess the assumed virtue of loathing Robin, she was also an excellent cook.

Batman, as he swallowed the final cake crumbs, spoke for all of them. "Mmm, ages since I had a home baked cake." Catching Harry's impatient eye he recognised that the interlude was past and it was time to get down to business.

"I've just reported in from clearing up the aftermath of the raid. Jason said you required an immediate update."

"Good news I trust." Despite his scary appearance Batman was nervously relieved that he could reply positively.

"The gang were caught red handed. They were planning a ram raid on a jewellers so the police were waiting for them."

This wasn't quite the breakthrough Harry was hoping for. "Yes, very nice for our uniformed colleagues but anything for us."

"Ah well Sir, while that group were being staked out, the police simultaneously raided the addresses that the gang operated from and guess what..."

Harry's guttural snarl of 'Get on with it'" spoke of a refusal to join in quiz games, particularly the now defunct but appositely entitled 'Blankety Blank'

"The undercover police officer witnessed an American instructing the gang to abduct the occupant of a particular address."

"And!"

"It was Ben Dover's home address."

The Grid staff weren't given to exuberant displays but Dimitri and Calum managed a discreet high five when Batman added, "From the information Calum gave me before the police operation I was able to prove that he was probably CIA. I insisted on having him transferred to our holding cells. When I mentioned your name Harry he looked a little concerned."

Calum was about to make a comment but after one look at Harry's blazing eyes bit his tongue. When the CIA operative was finally appraised as to precisely whose daughter he and his little chums had tried to bomb out of existence 'a little concerned' was likely to translate into 'Shat himself."

Harry was trying not to let hope run ahead of caution. They still hadn't found Catherine but gradually pieces of Intel were blending into a discernible picture , step by step they were uncovering a web of intrigue that would make future talks with the Cousins interesting. Some links though remained obscure. Malcolm intercepted him on the next question. Pushing a picture over the table of the man Catherine was last seen with he asked quietly, "Was this the man you've brought in?"

That would have been too good to be true, a hope that was strangled when Batman shook his head sadly, "No but..." Picking the photograph up he examined it more closely from a number of different angles, frowning with intense concentration. "It looks familiar. I think our new arrival had a similar snap in his wallet, he was asking the group if they'd seen or had any dealings with him. It'll be with the gear we took off him so we can check it out."

If Batman was correct it gave them a tenuous link that supported Franklin's contention, but a big question mark still hovered. Once again it was Erin who articulated the puzzle.

"So this man who has been seen talking to the CIA, who obviously know him somehow, and who we thought was setting up Catherine, is now being sought by them!"

The White Queen had trained herself to believe six impossible things before breakfast. Jane, whose own breakfast had been a quick slice of toast with Mabel's gingerbread as a chaser, wondered if she could beat that total. Her own supplementary question revolving around whether the Grid was located in Wonderland where everything kept altering, or the Looking Glass where everything was reversed. Gratifyingly even Harry who could usually see a clear run through any thicket encrusted maze of confusion was looking mystified as he announced,

"I can only assume that for some reason the CIA were willing to cooperate with him, but have been played themselves. Normally I'd be congratulating him."

Jane still didn't get it. "But why?"

"Remember what Frank said, about him pretending to have more information, I'd guess the CIA were using him to find out if she had the stick."

That made sense but Jane wondered aloud, "So when they found out that was the case they planned on bombing her flat and killing her if they couldn't lift her."

Dimitri returned to the nagging question posed by the actions of the mystery man "So why then did he grab Catherine instead of handing her over?"

The only reply Harry could make was, "I think when we know exactly who he is we'll have the answer."

At that moment there was a knock on the door as Jason entered, his excitement radiating like electricity, "Malcolm, that programme you were running, the DNA match, your computer has just indicated a positive match."

Malcolm, despite his mature years and sedentary occupation, was out of the door at a speed that would make a greyhound blink. Everyone else looked at one another in relief, the feeling that the case was finally breaking was tangible. The faces fell again when Malcolm returned within the two minutes that seemed more like two hours, carrying his laptop and accompanied by a facial expression that was not suggestive of glad tidings. To Jane, suddenly very sensitive to the wavering change in atmosphere, it seemed that he was looking at Harry with considerable apprehension as he said,

"There is a familial match with DNA from Catherine's flat... with this person."

Walking down the Meeting Room Malcolm passed by his own seat and placed the laptop firmly in front of Harry. For once Harry's famous impassivity vanished like ice on the Equator, his expression a mingling of utter horror, shame and anguish. Erin, who was sitting nearest to him leaned across and immediately let out a gasp of alarm.

Having given Harry a few seconds to process the shock Malcolm pressed the button. In a flash the face that had so shaken all three of them appeared onto the Meeting Room screen.

Highlighted, and staring down upon the assembled group, glowed the supersized image of ...

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