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The Grid cont'd

The name emblazoned below the image read:

JAMES COAVER.

Staring at the enlarged features displayed on the screen Jane was at a total loss to account for the tangible force of the shockwaves that were crashing their way up the Meeting Room table; waves that were ultimately breaking onto the shores of a private memory that quite coincidentally had surfaced in the early hours of her morning.

The face that had the entire team transfixed with that impenetrable consternation was one she also recognised, older, lined, more careworn - as was anyone of her vintage when compared with their fresh faced youthful selves of three decades ago - but quite definitely the tightly packed pixelated laden bombs shimmering on view had recreated the basic delineations of the man she remembered virtually dragging an injured Harry across the family doorstep, that lifetime ago in Cologne. Courtesy of Harry maintaining his usual policy of 'stumm' they had never been formally introduced, but she'd gleaned enough from her battered spouse's occasional pain induced moans to appreciate that despite their differing national loyalties they'd become good friends, fiercely protective of one another, colleagues and allies.

So why then was the room awash with this all pervading aura of distress? There was only one way to find out.

"I remember Jim. How on earth is he mixed up with the threat to Catherine?"

Very unusually, for a team that gloried in their professional skills, no one seemed in a hurry to enlighten her. Observing the eyes that darted from one to another, with an occasional variation in which the bland decor the Meeting Room's floor and ceiling became the objects of sudden obessive fascination, Jane reflected that the last time she'd been subjected to that routine was the occasion on which, when faced with a stony wall of silence regarding whatever had been that day's heinous crime, she'd threatened an entire Year Nine class with a group detention.

Aware that a shamefaced and stunned Harry wasn't about to answer Jane's wholly reasonable question any time soon Erin decided that it was up to her, in her role of Section Chief, to plug the information gap. Forced into such a difficult position she was, not for the first time, cursing Harry's understandable but catastrophic misjudgements. The delicacy of the whole situation required a plausible explanation, one that avoided revealing the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth in respect of Harry's role in Jim Coaver's demise. As if that wasn't complicated enough after the unsolicited but timely support that Erin had received the previous evening from Jane - 'Erin, that you are a single parent is not a reason for that unspeakable woman to avoid doing her job. At the risk of sounding like a latter day Miss Jean Brodie the whole idea of education is to develop the individual, not force them into conforming to whatever bonkers system gives Madam a quiet life.' - meant it was a tossup as to which prospect Erin relished the least, lying to Jane or telling her truths that could well destroy her tentative relationship with Harry. Unfortunately upsetting Jane would in turn bring down the wrath of Pearce, whereas for preference Erin would rather risk the wrath of God, on the grounds that as the latter lacked a physical presence on the Grid he/she/it/whatever/whoever, offered a less immediate threat to her personal and professional safety while being infinitely more forgiving of her transgressions. Under these circumstances it was no contest, she'd have to bit on the bullet and lie.

Observing that the prevailing silence was making Jane restive, and trusting she sounded convincing, Erin managed to utter an answer. "James Coaver is not directly mixed up with this in person Jane." 'That at least is true. Please don't ask anything else!'

Sadly for Erin's hopes an unmollified Jane proceeded to prove beyond a doubt that telepathy was not numbered amongst her talents as she shot back with a reply that verged upon the imperious.

"So I'd gathered. As he's a friend of Harry's I'd be surprised if he was. So what is the connection?"

For the moment Erin was rescued from a further attempt to reveal, while simultaneously exercising the ignoble art of the conceal, by Harry who'd decided it would be less of a strain overall if he fessed up personally.

"Do you remember why I'm at risk of extradition Jane?"

"Am I likely to forget? You were accused of killing a Deputy Director of..." As she demonstrated her good memory for detail a wholly unbelievable realisation began to dawn, "What! You are joking... Harry you wouldn't...I know you've done some unthinkable things in your time ..but surely ... for heaven's sake he was a friend...you can't have ..."

Speechless with horror at the implications, an appalled Jane finally ran out of exclamations. The defeated expression etched upon Harry's face making any rebuttal superfluous.

Before Jane could completely misinterpret previous events and let rip with her fearsome tongue Erin charged in once more where the five dithering males feared to tread.

"Perhaps you also remember Jane the extradition was cancelled because Harry wasn't guilty." She had successfully diverted Jane's shocked attention away from Harry. Choosing her next words very carefully indeed Erin proceeded onwards, "Jim Coaver, like any spy, had to work in the interests of his nation. The Americans were not happy about the recent partnership with Russia. During the negotiations we received Intel that someone was trying to scupper it. Harry thought Jim had some information and tried to question him. When the group that was behind the trouble realised that Jim and Harry were about to finger them they lifted Jim, killed him and framed Harry for his murder."

Dimitri and Calum were looking at Erin with total awe; she'd managed to produce an explanation that approximated to the truth while completely omitting the salient details concerning Elena Gavrik, in particular her avoidance any reference to the even more pertinent fact that it was Harry's completely illegal kidnapping of Jim Coaver had provided RussiaFirst with the window of opportunity through which to commit murder. It was a masterclass in obfuscation. Providing Jane bought it. If she did Calum was debating the possibility of submitting this conversation as a training case study, with names redacted of course.

Jane remained slightly puzzled. Somewhere, despite the clarity of the seeming explanation, it affected her in the same way as a slightly blurred photograph, the essentials seemed in place but that final outline lacked precision. Her suspicions really roused not only by Harry's continuing silence, in itself unusual given his tendency to led from the front, but also by the apparent linking of Jim's death with the negiotations surrounding the Russian partnership. That political turnabout was, she was certain, linked in its turn with the perpetual mystery of Ruth Evershed. Complications to ponder upon as she carefully articulated her response.

"I remember you also saying that the CIA didn't buy Harry's innocence. But whether they did or didn't that still doesn't explain why Jim's DNA was in Catherine's flat."

Malcolm, who had sat out of the earlier part of the discussion on the basis that his knowledge of the events inaccurately described was, at best, second hand, moved to correct that statement."

"No Jane. Not Jim's DNA but a family match, sibling or child probably."

Having cleared up that misapprehension he looked at Harry, still blank faced with guilt, to enquire gently, "What do you know of Jim's family, anyone who'd want a misplaced revenge?"

Harry gave a rueful groan, "Like myself Jim didn't give much away about his family, even to friends. His first marriage broke up. The occupational hazard, his wife couldn't stand the strain. They had two sons, who I think would be in their late to mid twenties by now." Not daring to look at Jane directly as he pushed these revelations into the general domain he nonetheless saw her start, not surprisingly considering the reasons for their own acrimonious parting of the ways.

Malcolm made no reply, beyond a muttered 'I wonder.' Something in the last few minutes seemed to have hit a chord as that word pair was succeeded by an 'of course'. Suddenly with his head down he quickly began to scribble various letters onto the plain paper in front of him, a scowl of total concentration setting an invisible barrier around him that none dared breach with mere words. The failure to do so also owing something to the sudden distraction created by a second excited, "Of course." from a completely different quarter.

This utterance, which had been spat out by Dimiti, made everyone turn in his direction. Seeing all eyes upon him he said an excited voice, "Erin and I thought the photofit of the man in Catherine's flat looked familiar, remember you thought so as well Harry. That's why. He bears a strong resemblance to Jim Coaver. He must be family, that's the only logical reason for the DNA."

Analysing Dimitri's theory on the spot Harry conceded that as a solution to the presence of the stranger it had its merits.

"It would explain how he got Catherine's confidence, he must have learnt snippets from my past with Jim, or at least sufficient to convince her."

Thinking over several of the more X rated activities he and Jim had indulged in Harry hoped Jim had been discreet. He had good memories of happier times revolving around whisky, mischief, women, but none of them were tales he'd want to share with his children. He was a lousy moral arbiter to begin with, his exploits with Jim, if related in their entirety, would completely undermine whatever tattered fig leaf of mentorial credibility he still retained with his offspring. And then, as he relived that past, his throat tightened as he recalled his final sights of Jim. The awful fatal moment of seeing him thrown out of that van like an abused ragdoll; watching helplessly as he saw Jim expire, bloodied, in pain, then those final gasping words from his old buddy forgiving him, Harry the doubter, Harry the stupid, Harry the greatly deceived, for the unforgiveable. A pricking in his eyelids gave an advance alert of tears that were threatening to fall, impelling Harry into hastily slamming down his mental shutters. By an effort iron will he forced himself to expunge that heart breaking dying scene on the London streets as he resurfaced into the reality of the Meeting Room.

While he'd been immersed in his appalling betrayal of Jim Coaver, Jane, in a perilously trembling voice was pointing out the hole in the previous reasoning.

"I thought we'd decided the mystery man was called Gene Seth Jardvec?"

The quiet but positive tones of Malcolm swept into the discussion. "We were probably right in that assumption. We'll have to research Jim Coaver's family to confirm but I think the name Catherine scribbled down is an anagram." With his finger hovering about his laptop keyboard he gestured towards the screen, "Watch."

Much to the relief of everyone the reproachful face of Coaver was replaced with the disputed name.

GENE SETH JARDVEC

That relief however was short lived when, with a further push of Malcolm's finger, the letters magically, or in terms of modern technology, digitally rearranged themselves to read.

JCS DEATH REVENGE

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