Apologies for the delay in updating. As ever thanks to those who read and greater thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapters.

The Grid approx 10.30am

Harry's declaration elicited an immediate response from Erin as, for the second time in the morning, she flatly vetoed his declared plan.

"No you won't. Harry, you can't."

Her peremptory tone was productive of nothing more than a hotly delivered reminder. "Erin it's my neck on the line, not yours."

If Harry believed that the magisterial tone of his insistence was sufficient to settle the matter he was mistaken. Erin yielded little, if anything, to anyone in the persistence stakes as she abjured, "Harry, you're not thinking through the implications."

Considering that he was nearly twice Erin's age and the survivor of countless high risk operations the suggestion that he was not streetwise went down with Harry about as well as a vegetarian waving a pamphlet under the nose of a steakhouse proprietor. Both Dimitri and Malcolm were inwardly wincing at Erin's crassness but before the pressure cooker that was Harry could explode, Jane, her earlier shock now diminished, had an enquiry. The ice in her voice indicating she wasn't planning to endorse Erin's opinion.

"And exactly which implications are we discussing. It seems fairly clear that if Harry doesn't do as he's been asked Catherine will die. Tell me Erin, if it was Rosie what would you do?"

It was of course the killer question; one that left Erin fumbling for an answer would not severely undermine her Mummy credentials while simultaneously allowing her to maintain her absolute refusal to condone Harry offering himself up as the sacrificial lamb. Harry, never one to ignore his opponent's weakness, took advantage of her enforced confusion to indicate that he was ahead of her on all possible counts.

"I assume Erin that you are considering that this might be a CIA double bluff. One in which they setup Chris Coaver to set up Lanyon and Brad, on the basis that if they did not retrieve Franklin's evidence they at least would be sure of capturing me, in their eyes a not inconsiderable prize."

Although Jane was taking a certain wicked pleasure in the revelation that Erin had miscalculated Harry's grasp of the situation and its multitude of variables, she also sensed the walls of reality caving in around her. A few days ago her life had been so simple, straightforwardly unhappy, but at least it had been straightforward. Now she seemed to have accidentally strayed into a maze of deception, one composed of endless meanderings and blind pathways from which any central kernel of certitude seemed to be entirely absent. Even worse, she was actually growing accustomed to it. Three days ago she'd have boggled at machinations that she was now gradually becoming conditioned into regarding as commonplace. Heaven help her, after a marriage in which she had been an outsider she was now being sucked inexorably into the whirlpool that was Harry's corkscrew world with scarcely a flinch. Jane, while never excelling at Maths had absorbed certain concepts as immutable, one of which was that the most direct route between points A and B was a straight line. No longer could she believe this, on the Grid the fastest route survival wise was to go up the hill, around the corner, turn right, turn right again, straight ahead, go left, then double back in the near futile hope that your opponent was less tricky than you.

Erin, having recovered her breath, returned to the attack, "Yes I do think that is possible. And Harry it isn't what I think that matters. Towers will never agree to what you propose."

"Towers isn't going to be informed. Is he Erin?"

It was a question, couched as a statement, that was quite definitely an unsubtle challenge. Once again Erin was unable to reply, unless unthinkably she was prepared to admit publicly to an unspoken truth; namely that she had been confidentially charged by the Home Secretary with the unenviable task of keeping him up to speed on Harry's more questionable decisions. Pushed into stilling her tongue Erin compensated by shooting sparks at Harry with her eyes. As he watched the two senior officers on the Grid glaring at one other, each equally unwilling to give ground, Dimitri was ransacking his brain cells trying vainly to formulate an excuse to justify pulling Erin out of the Meeting Room. His secret objective: to submit her to a Harry history revision session.

Alone among those locked into the current debate Dimitri had been present when Lucas had made a near identical threat and demand of Harry. Consequently it was with a deep sense of deju vue that he was recalling the events that had kickstarted Harry's downfall. Determined not to allow his staff to interfere in his endeavours to rescue Ruth, Harry had neatly circumvented them all. Dimitri could still, in his mind, hear the hiss of the choking gas from the canister that Harry had released to overcome himself and Beth, prior to vanishing with the Albany deterrent. Reliving those memories and the subsequent aftermath, culminating in the unworkable weapon transported to China, Lucas dispatched to his grave and Harry's career struggling on life support, Dimitri really wanted to revert to Neanderthal mode and drag Erin outside - by her superbly styled hair if necessary - prior to advising her that anything, repeat anything, would be better than setting up circumstances that impelled Harry plunge off into the uncontactable dark yet again. Admittedly unlike that previous occasion Harry wasn't being forced to trade a state secret for a life, this time it seemed to be a simple swap, Harry's life for Catherine's. But no sooner had that comparison flickered into Dimitri's head than it occurred to him that Harry was a state secret in himself, a fact that did justify Erin's worries, if not her method of expressing them.

The staring contest, in which eyeball remained sternly affixed to eyeball, would have been absurd had it not been so serious. When it showed no signs abating, the impasse was broken by the quiet voice of Malcolm.

"You are both correct." Looking Harry squarely in the eye he appeared initially to be backing Erin. "If you go in without any backup you are wide open to whatever fate young Coaver or the CIA have planned." Before Harry could protest he was addressing Erin, "If Harry doesn't do as requested then he risks his daughter's life."

Harry, never renowned for his patience, was chafing at having to wait for the clock to strike twelve. Forced inaction pushing him into an increasingly frustrated mood with what he regarded as an academic issue, even if it was being postulated by Malcolm. A fact attested by his impatient demand to the techie.

"So how do we square this circle Malcolm?"

Malcolm the ever calm had his reply at the ready. "As we normally do, we seem to comply while being secretly covert."

The announcement of Malcolm's projected solution to this conundrum was delayed by Calum crashing through the door, his haste to impart news rendering him utterly oblivious to the sensitivities of the atmosphere.

"I managed to track our stranger on CCTV to the Southwark bridge. He dumped the motor bike there and legged it. Unfortunately he hit a blind spot in the streets just beyond the Cathedral and disappeared. I think he must have gone to ground somewhere nearby."

"Or he's taken the tube." This last from Erin produced a reaction in Calum that almost exactly mirrored Harry's earlier irritation.

"No, he went off in the wrong direction. I've left Jason pulling up any CCTV from private cameras and rechecking the general area."

Erin, temporarily defeated by Harry, seemed determined to impose a compensatory authority on Calum. "He could have doubled back."

Calum's testy back answer proved that Harry wasn't the only member of the team to object to his judgement being questioned. "I checked the entrance."

"Even so."

Harry becoming riled was as regular an occurrence as the twice daily tides that washed the banks of the Thames, whereas to wind up the notoriously laid back Calum was a real feat, and judging by his expression, Erin was about to become garlanded with an unwanted laurel wreath. Before she could stoke up tempers any further the potential acrimony was neatly defused by Batman. His movement towards the door signalled by the jingling of his chains as he stated flatly,

"At present this is our best lead so let's assume it's correct. Harry, how about I go for an amble around the local scenery. Jason can update me as and when."

With her daughter's life at stake Jane was anxious not to defy the instructions given. "Supposing Chris Coaver detects you?"

Batman grinned, "I'll just be a regular bloke going about an obvious business. He won't suspect or come near me, not when I'm sniffing out the area with Fluffy and Cuddles in tow."

Jane's forehead wrinkled at the names. 'Fluffy, Cuddles', as monikers for spies they sounded even more bizarre than Batman and Robin. Dimitri, trying not to laugh at her bewilderment, explained to Harry's uninitiated ex, "Batman's referring to his pair of Rottweilers."

Like most pet owners Batman needed little encouragement to expiate on the endlessly fascinating subject of his four legged friends.

"My young sister's a Harry Potter fan and insisted on naming the older dog after Hagrid's three headed friend. The other one is so soppy and exuberant you wouldn't believe it. She's still as lively as a puppy gambolling around, wanting to be friends with the world, and signalling that by barking very loudly. I'll introduce you to them sometime Jane."

With that enthralling promise he clanked his way out of the room. Once the whoosh of the pods proclaimed his departure, Calum, noticing a stunned expression on Jane's face hissed across the table, "Tell him you're allergic to dogs." With an artistic shudder he continued his reminiscences. "When he introduced the mutts to me they got so excited they jumped up and knocked me over. I ended up on the floor with the pair of them slobbering over me. Between them they display more teeth than the entire Osmond family, and far worse breath. I only just lived to tell the tale."

Calum had actually misread Jane. Dogs didn't bother her, what was concerning her was that she'd been so absorbed with her own concerns she'd completely forgotten to ask Harry to account for the absence of Scarlett. For years she'd castigated Harry for selfish thoughtlessness and throughout two and half days of accepting his hospitality she'd failed to make such a simple, fundamental enquiry!

While Jane was mentally lashing herself, Harry unaware of her feelings, had blocked any further comment with. "And we are so grateful you survived something falling for your fatal attraction. Where else would we look for light relief?"

With Calum's levity disposed of he turned to Malcolm, awaiting the continuation of the original discussion. A matter of deep personal interest since Harry assumed that Malcolm's suggestions were aimed at trying to increase the odds of his, Harry's, chances of survival in the face of Coaver Junior's probable intentions.

"Your ideas for backup Malcolm?"

Malcolm, in the process of drawing breath, was once again stymied by the increasingly tiresome Erin as she posed, what even Harry had to admit, was a pertinent query. "How much will Chris Coaver know about surveillance techniques?"

Mindful of the degree of spy lore that the estranged Graham had apparently managed to absorb sans any formal contacts with Her Majesty's Service, and equally mindful that Coaver Junior had clearly inveigled his way into the CIA, despite Jim's best efforts to avoid that particular form of education, "Hal we must be the only parents alive who really really don't want their kids following in their footsteps.' Harry was forced into admitting, "I think it's safe to assume that he'll know about trackers, ear pieces and most manifestations of normal kit."

Malcolm, on hearing this, almost visibly rose to the challenge, "But he won't know about my recent experiments. No one does as they are all prototypes." As five pairs of eyes swivelled towards him he suggested, "We copy the hardcore drug smugglers and insert an internal tracker inside the body."

Dimitri couldn't avoid a smirk, for years Harry had been obliquely suggesting to various senior representatives in the service and the political world that they shoved their ideas where the sun didn't shine, now it would seem some lucky person would be getting the opportunity for revenge. Calum, as usual unable to resist a quip, gave voice to the thought, "There'll be a queue for the rubber gloves."

Any anticipation on that score was hastily disabused as Malcolm, having seen Harry's aghast expression, flounderingly added, "You don't stick it up your...er... no you swallow it, like an extra large pill."

The dubious expressions still hovered as Malcolm pressed onwards, "Basically it's a tracker coated with a substance that prevents your stomach dissolving it, or anything from the tracker leaking into your gut. We'll be able to track your location until it ...er ... passes through the system, meaning that.."

Calum on a roll finished the sentence for him, "Harry prays for constipation."

In line with her self appointed role of the Grid Doubting Thomas Erin commented. "But even if it tells us where Harry is we won't know what is happening will we?"

Annoying as Erin was she did have a point, but if she'd hoped to wrongfoot Malcolm she'd miscalculated, although in answering he passed on the man woman eye contact, preferring to address Harry, "Do you remember the prototype jacket that Colin," he stumbled slightly recalling his murdered friend, "And I developed?"

"The details of how it worked no, but that it very efficiently relayed speech, absolutely. As I recall it was abandoned on the grounds of bulk and that, as the first item of clothing removed from by captors is the jacket, its use versus cost would be limited. Malcolm are you telling me that you've been surreptitiously developing this?"

"Not exactly, but I have been experimenting with weaving small microscopic fibres that will pick up speech into a seemingly normal material that can be inserted into an item of clothing. The problem is that the patch must be at least three inches by three inches to be effective. It also has to be located on the upper item of dress and the range is limited to about five hundred yards if we insert the minimum amount."

While the spooks scratched their heads over this problem Jane, the homemaker and occasional sewer enquired, "Malcolm when you say in the top item of clothing do you mean visible, or could it be sandwiched into a lining?"

Malcolm considered the proposition before making a measured response." I've done a little work on that. My results suggest it would work in a lining, but depending on angle and thickness of the upper material the pickup range could be reduced. The larger the patch the better the quality of sound and the longer the pickup range."

"So if we sewed a larger patch into Harry's jacket lining he'd be recorded, but Coaver wouldn't see it, or that know you were listening in."

Close attention to the previous conversation had given Erin yet another ground for objection. "Jane, we don't know what Coaver will do and if he removes Harry's jacket..."

Erin hadn't yet dealt with a really argumentative Jane. Harry as he leaned backwards prepared to enjoy a brief moment of relaxation. His life offered few pleasures these days, but watching his waspish ex-wife and authoritative Section Chief slug it out just about qualified. He revelled in Jane's crisp tones, so refreshing when he wasn't the object of scorn.

"Erin, if we sew a patch into his trouser lining and a smaller one into his underwear as well then he's covered, in more than one sense of the phrase."

"And who is going to do that? A home sewn job will show on his suit. Coaver will almost certainly know that Harry patronises a top class tailor."

Erin's scathing inflection was ensuring that Harry's tailor wasn't the only person to be subjected to patronage from a member of Section D. Dimtri, still wanting to shake Erin for her seemingly endless negative arguments, now found himself in the precisely the same position of Malcolm a few minutes earlier, ie, he agreed with both combatants. After a moment's thought around this problem he made a suggestion, "How about if I take your suit jacket and trousers to your tailor's for a quick alteration. At least..." Suddenly he saw the Official Secrets Act problem looming large. Harry however didn't,

"It's worth a try, but you'd best go Dimitri. If Calum turns up in those clothes he'll be shown the door on the grounds that they don't admit scarecrows."

Calum's soft, "Hey just because I don't strangle myself with a tie." was greeted with "No but it's proved useful for strangling other people on occasion." A statement accompanied by a threatening frown in Calum's direction. One that both Dimitri and Jane individually thought would have been better directed at Erin.

This side conversation was fortunately, totally ignored by Jane. With the question of Harry's suit alteration resolved she was volunteering her services. "I can do the underwear, at least... Malcolm what colours did you create this material in, and do you have it on you?"

"White, black and grey – I wanted to experiment, and as I'm now contracted to Section D I brought in my prototypes for testing in the field."

Recognising with a degree of alarm that Jane's next effort would be to institute herself as the chairperson of a public enquiry into the secrets of his underwear, Harry hastily re-entered the conversation,

"When you've all finished! Are you seriously suggesting that I strip off and sit in my office nude while you assault my clothing?"

Jane had the grace to look abashed, "Sorry Harry." Then she rallied, using the intonation that she'd only just finished subjecting Erin to, "No strike that. I'm not sorry since we are trying to protect you. And surely you don't need to sit in the buff. I seem to recall you had a spare outfit the other day."

Knowing he was beaten, at least as far as going totally untracked was concerned Harry sighed, "I'd best go and change." His exit was halted by Jane asking, "Can you give me your spare vest and underpants, I'll sew a couple of patches in them. I'm assuming you keep a change of all items of clothing here, knowing how many all nighters you pulled when we were married."

Was this an unspoken rebuke for the times she'd been left on her own, or even a dig at his unfaithful past? Harry, with other more urgent concerns on his mind, primarily Catherine's survival, decided to take her words at face value and be grateful that Jane wanted to preserve his life. He just hoped that it was for reasons that were less self serving than guaranteeing her divorce from Snuggle Bunny.

"Yes if you must." A thought suddenly occurred to him, "Malcolm how do you turn the sound relayed by these patches on and off?"

"You don't. It records everything."

Appraised of this nugget of information Calum was muttering darkly to Dimitri, "If I'm listening into Harry's underpants I hope he didn't have beans for breakfast"

Erin, relieved that Harry had finally been forced to agree to a modicum of surveillance, could only trust that Malcolm's new gadgets would work in the field. She'd have protested more loudly at the reposing of Harry's fate upon the efficiency of untried technology if she hadn't, in the very short time he'd been on the Grid, acquired a deep hidden respect for Malcolm's expertise. In her judgment the chances were that Malcolm's prototypes would outperform most standard issue kit. Erin was all too aware that the team had rated her recent attitude as obnoxious and obstructive, but then, she alone on the team had been charged with mission impossible. The Home Secretary, having advised her of Harry's imminent post Gavrik return to the Grid, had called her into his Whitehall sanctum with the express purpose of assigning her the hopeless task of keeping Harry in line. 'Miss Watt, I'm trusting you to avoid the scenario of Harry's distinguished career ending in disgrace, or a reckless death.' To which Erin's reply, had she dared to utter it, would have been along the lines of, 'Thanks for that. Reining in Harry Pearce is like trying to halt an avalanche; he'll bowl you over and carry on regardless.' While she still retained serious concerns about the operational planning as currently outlined, what Jane had stated was inarguable. If Erin had been standing in Harry's shoes with Rosie at risk whatever the danger to herself she wouldn't hesitate to follow the captor's instructions, so how could she condemn Harry, who'd suffered so much loss, of which the tragic death of Ruth was the culmination, from doing whatever it took to save his daughter. Short of locking a naked, handcuffed Harry in a cell overseen by a four man CO19 team on a twenty four hour watch, there was nothing she could do or say that would prevent him from keeping the date with his old friend's son. At this juncture all Erin could do was to thank God that Malcolm's geek magic had averted the likelihood of Harry meeting the vengeful Coaver completely unsupported. Hoping that she wouldn't have to carry ill tidings at twilight to Towers, Erin began to parcel out the tasks.

"Calum can you and Jason try to narrow down where Coaver vanished to, we need to be in place well before Harry has to turn up there. Remember we'll have to be fairly near but inconspicuous."

Malcolm intervened to say, "I'll run the disc again and see if I can get any clues through sound separation. I'd like Calum's opinion and he needs to know what Coaver is up to. I thought I heard some noises in the background. That might help to narrow down the possibilities. Calum says the Southwark area, and the room we saw looked as if it might be a basic office."

Erin nodded, "Very well, I'll check to see if my assets have come up with anything. I'd really like to know if the CIA operatives are looking for Coaver Junior as avidly as we are. Harry..."

Resigned to the inevitable Harry stood up, "Yes I know – I give my suit to Dimitri and spare underclothes to Jane. Once I've done that I need to be alone for half an hour. I have some urgent paperwork to complete."

Jane expostulated, "Even with our daughter at risk!"

'Yes Jane I do."

With an exasperated huff Jane flounced out. Harry sighed to himself. In her worry she was projecting her anger onto him, and with his track record Harry knew that she was entitled to assume that once again he was putting the job first. He could attempt to disabuse her of that notion, but his curse, his inability to be emotionally forthright rendered that impossible. Watching her indignant back retreat from the Meeting Room he found himself inarticulate, unable to meet her angry criticism. But even if he could bring himself to say what he really meant could he, should he, tell her the stark truth?

"That if this is truly my turn I need to leave letters for my family writing the words I never managed to utter when alive.'

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