Many thanks for those who read and especially to those who reviewed. Apologies for the delay but Christmas rather crept up on me. Happy New Year everyone.

Home Secretary's Office, Whitehall

5.00pm approx

"Christ Harry, what's happened to you this time?"

So went Towers immediate shocked unparliamentary response to the curt, "Home Secretary," Harry had uttered in greeting when he strode into the room as swiftly as his injured knee would allow.

Harry didn't reply immediately as his eyes, as hard as hazelnuts, raked across the spacious, comfortably appointed office, picking out the three remaining men. His carriage radiating the fury he felt at being dragged away from his daughter's bedside at the behest of the CIA, the very organisation whose machinations were responsible for her current fight for life. His original downright refusal to attend had resulted in an argumentative telephone call with Erin,

"Harry I'm really sorry but it is a direct order."

"Fuck that, Catherine might be unconscious but Jane isn't, and I'm not leaving her to possibly face the worst on her own."

"Harry my orders are you either come voluntarily or you'll be arrested and dragged there in a pair of handcuffs. Which is probably what the CIA demanded in the first place.

Erin quietly entering the room in Harry's stormy slipstream, discreetly clutching a file of hastily printed Intel, noticed that as usual Harry was effortlessly dominating the group. Tieless, his shirt torn and grubby, sporting a technicolour face that for once owed nothing to his blood pressure, confronted by four men, two of whom topped him by a good three inches or so, all impeccably dressed in expensive suits throated with silk ties, and he was the only one not to look apprehensive, although in Towers case that expression was co-mingling with a glimmer of expectation. As she attempted to blend unobtrusively against the heavy damask curtains situated in a corner by the window, breathing in the polished scent of the wood lined, oaken furniture that gave her surroundings the ambiance of an exclusive gentleman's club, Erin was highly relieved to be standing unobserved in the wings of a centre stage awash with angry testosterone; all the while paying a silent tribute to her boss's ability to second guess a situation and formulate a rough game plan before they had even crossed the threshold of Towers' inner sanctum.

'Erin when we arrive I need you stay in the background. I don't want anyone asking about that file before I'm ready. The deplorable fact that, with the exception of Towers, they'll revert to caveman mode and ignore the only woman in the room will be to our advantage. Towers will, I hope, take his cue from me."

"Thank you gentlemen for sparing the time. A pleasure as always."

The words were polite; the sarcastic inflection skewing through every syllable was searing enough to strip the varnish from the polished timber book shelves lining the walls. As he registered the startled reaction to his appearance, Harry, like Erin, was also assessing the group of four, although with the more forensic eye borne of longer experience. Mentally he was compartmentalising the company as he prepared to adapt his tactics.

The Foreign Secretary, one Miles Webster, was, as Harry had anticipated, looking seriously out of his depth. But he'd also present that appearance if he was standing in a toddler's paddling pool with only his shins submerged, his sole qualification for office being his ability to hum the Eton boating song in harmony with the PM. Harry had long since written him off as a twerp with an overblown confidence in his own abilities. Webster's ill advised attempt to demonstrate his facility with the German language when greeting that nation's Chancellor had practically created a diplomatic incident. On a sweltering day the blockhead had intended to enquire of her, 'I am hot, are you as well.' Cataclysmically let down by his translation software this had emerged as 'I am horny, are you horny too', thus confirming forever the continental contempt for English linguistic skills.

The DG, the recent replacement for the politician who'd been parachuted into post as the preferred candidate to Harry a few years ago, was at least a graduate of the intelligence community. Sadly owing to his pedigree as an ex desk spook he was also afflicted with the inexplicable belief that the intelligence agencies should all carol together in an international version of the Mickey Mouse club, while Harry was of the firm belief that they should co-operate only on a need to know basis - and for the most part their sister agencies didn't. Harry while much preferring the cut and thrust of Section D, where he was rarely troubled by a need for diplomacy, just occasionally – heaven help him –regretted not getting the top job. At least someone sensible would have been at the Security Service helm.

Towers he didn't need to worry about in any showdown with the CIA. The latter's disgust with the treatment meted out to Harry by their personnel during his short lived detention at the Embassy had been total. In as far as any politician could be considered a man of his word Towers was, and he hadn't appreciated being hoodwinked. Towers was nearly as brilliant an exponent of the impassive smooth expression as Harry, but the latter, like Erin, had caught the slight flicker of anticipation.

That left Charles Jeffries, the latest gift from the Cousins. Any initial concern generated by Harry's furious appearance was now subsumed by a smirk. Enveloped by an invisible cloak of Transatlantic superiority, a subliminal illuminated sign suspended above his head was flashing out the message, 'Gotcha Harry Pearce'. It was an attitude that constantly made Harry wonder which particular stone the CIA bred them under. The last decent CIA liaison had been Christine Dale and she'd eventually walked; a victim of disgust, weariness and love. After her had come a short lived substitute, a party animal whose preferred mode of relaxation had been forever captured in a home video, the highlight of which had displayed him bent double over a coffee table, trousers around his ankles, snorting cocaine while a rent boy clad in a stars and stripes tabard was servicing another orifice entirely - it had been an instant hit with the soft porn addicts who trawled the Internet - although rumour had it that Langley had gone viral for entirely different reasons. He'd been swiftly succeeded by Bob Hogan, all around bad apple, followed in turn by Sarah Caulfield in hock to the Nightingale conspirators, although possessed of the semi saving grace of being considerably more decorative then the current representative, a badly shaven Richard Nixon lookalike, seated in Towers office staring around him with all the arrogance of one who was under the impression that Britain was the umpteenth state in the Union.

It fell to the DG, aka Nigel Cavendish, who occasionally masqueraded as Harry's Line Manager, an optimistic appellation given that Harry more frequently managed him, -usually by circumventing his dictates - to state in a voice that he hoped was masking the apprehension he inevitably experienced when confronting the maverick that was Harry Pearce.

"Mr Jeffries has formally complained about the injury and subsequent unjustified detention of a number of his officers, presumably on your instructions."

Harry's voice was dangerously calm, ominous in itself, as he answered this impertinent complaint, "In essentials correct, barring the use of the word unjustified, and the omission of any reference to my officers' right to defend themselves."

Jeffries proved to be Harry's twin in the explosions department, "God dammit, do you think you can do what you like?" His final wards being addressed to Towers, "I must insist that my officers are released at once and that a formal apology is issued."

Towers, who took a dim view of being bawled out in his own office, especially by a CIA agent with a yet to proven justification, responded with a politician's characteristic temporising, "As we summoned Sir Harry here to explain I do think we should afford him the courtesy of listening." The word courtesy having struck a chord he added, after a further glance at Harry, "I'd also suggest he sits down, before he falls down."

Thus abjured Harry, without waiting for a further invitation, found himself a comfortably upholstered chair to sink into. Grateful for Towers' perception he was nonetheless careful to avoid any indication of sagging with weariness as he took the weight off his knee. Once he was settled Towers, hoping that Harry could perform one of his usual carpet pulling tricks, took control with a crisp, "Harry."

Aiming with for the American jugular Harry concentrated on the more recent events first. "We are holding five officers identified as CIA. One or two others, whose identity we are trying to confirm, are being held by the police. When we do have a definite identification they may be transferred to us." Before Jeffries could convert his sceptical snort into further demands Harry continued, "Civil charges are matter for the police to pursue. I would remind Mr Jefferies that as foreign nationals they are subject to our laws. When we've finally completed questioning them the CIA officers being held by us may well be charged with crimes under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. We have evidence of conspiracy to place a bomb, kidnap British civilians and..."

Jeffries mouth had rediscovered its mojo. "I refuse to listen to this crap any longer. I must insist that my men are released. Also I have been informed that my superiors will be requesting the extradition of Sir Harry yet again to answer for his actions against American citizens."

Surprisingly it was the DG who intervened, his voice cold as frost, "On what grounds precisely?"

"When the new agreement is signed next week we won't need to detail them, but since you ask, the man's a delusional loose cannon and we all know he killed Director Coaver."

For Harry the first part of that statement summoned up the words, 'jumping' and 'gun'. Not having seen the more recently added documentation the DG, if he'd been a dancer, would definitely have been stumbling on the back foot, "But the agreement doesn't.." His sentence petered out as he desperately stared around for enlightenment.

Towers came to his rescue, "I understand that some last minute amendments have been incorporated that effectively mean the USA can demand whosoever they like on virtually no proof." Turning to his Cabinet colleague he complained very pointedly, "Miles, I sent an urgent message to your office two days ago advising caution until the lawyers had been consulted." His temperate tone transforming into something more savage as he continued, "The only reply I received was that it was being hurried ahead at the request of the US administration."

The Foreign Secretary remained stubbornly silent. The hostile glare Towers shot in the direction of his mute associate making Harry wonder if Malcolm the geekmeister could realistically explore the possibilities of bugging Downing Street; the next Cabinet meeting might prove interesting. The DG, despite Harry's low opinion of his abilities, was not slow to grasp essential implications. Harry might be a thorn in his flesh, but if he was right then the entire security service might just owe him a debt of gratitude. Furious at having been kept in ignorance of such major developments, with all formality abandoned he exclaimed,

"Harry what is this about?"

Harry reckoned that an apology of sorts was in order, it was no part of his ongoing feud with the DG to expose him to embarrassment in front of Charles Jefferies and his ilk."Apologies Nigel. I was going to inform you. I received a courier delivered pair of appendices to the agreement three days ago. I wanted to obtain an independent legal opinion before I troubled you. In view of my cuddly relationship with Grosvenor Square I didn't want to endanger our warm friendship by anyone thinking that I'm – what was it - ah yes - a delusional loose cannon."

Jefferies sensing that the argument was heading for patriotically dangerous ground expostulated, "For God's sake he's even admitted to kidnapping Jim Coaver, and you still claim he's innocent.

Towers had had his fill of Jefferies, an over promoted thug in a three piece suit without either the intelligence, humour or officer class code that made Harry so interesting and acceptable. Also, setting snobbish considerations aside, Towers' highly developed politician's antennae was positively shrieking that the man was panicking while trying simultaneously trying to conceal an American attempt to pull a fast one. In the tone that he usually employed at the Despatch box to reduce members of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition to flinders Towers interjected.

"I would remind you that the CIA was provided with a full disclosure as to the events surrounding the death of Deputy Director Coaver. Further to that we have on file the full medical records relating to the physical condition of Sir Harry undertaken some four hours after his removal from CIA custody. Those records state categorically that he suffering from dehydration, had not received any food, and furthermore had been subjected to considerable physical abuse that could only have taken place during the time he was held by your officers. These conditions were not consistent with the conditions the British Government considers acceptable, especially when Sir Harry surrendered voluntarily."

With a total lack of humility Jeffries, not even slightly abashed, had the gall to claim, "We've explained that was due to an unfortunate misunderstanding and is not our normal practice."

Having been excluded from the conversation Harry re-entered it with an interrogative "Really?" accompanied by a raised eyebrow, an indication to those in the know, a category that embraced Towers and Cavendish, that the speaker was about to be subjected to the Harry Pearce trashing experience.

Under the impression that he needed to say something, in a futile attempt to prove that he wasn't a nonentity, the Foreign Secretary bleated,

"Perhaps Sir Harry we could have your explanation relating to the current complaint?"

"And evidence, not his anti American prejudice." Jeffries of course.

"Absolutely." Taking a deep breath and pinning the audience with an unnerving stare Harry moved with relish towards the main feast, the pleasurable experience of taking down the CIA.

"We have CCTV evidence, analysis from the Bomb Squad and various recorded statements, not made under duress, to the effect that the flat of a young documentary maker was bombed, two, sorry three nights ago."

Towers, recalling his meeting with Harry forty eight hours earlier, began to suspect that a neutron bomb was travelling in Langley's direction. With an imperceptible sideways flick of his eyes he detected a certain wariness creeping into the American's demeanour. Having taken a deep dislike to the CIA man Towers was content to lean back and savour the forthcoming demolition job.

"Preposterous! Why should we even consider doing that?" Uttered with an air of finality that suggested this was an unanswerable question. A sadly mistaken assumption.

"Because she'd obtained incontrovertible evidence that not only is your allegedly whiter than white administration still undertaking extraordinary rendition, in defiance of several treaties and public claims, they are also employing a variety of unmentionable techniques to brutally torture their unfortunate captives."

Jefferies reverted to insult and obduracy. "The man's mentally disturbed. I refuse to listen to this rubbish any longer."

The DG, his interest was now thoroughly roused, felt obliged to warn, "Sir Harry, these are very grave charges with serious implications."

"For Christ's sake the man's had it in for us ever since we made a few mistakes with his custody. I repeat we do not torture agents from friendly powers."

The bluster was making the DG increasingly alarmed. Contrary to Jefferies' opinion he knew very well that Harry would have cast iron proof. Despite the Albany disaster and the misjudgements surrounding the Partnership agreement, Harry remained as sharp in the field as ever. While the DG could never have described as Harry's greatest fan he was also by nature a listener, indeed he'd obtained his current appointment on the back of a reputation for even handedness. Although he was sure that Harry wouldn't turn down the chance for revenge, and was not above a certain degree of skulduggery - to be fair an important part of the job - in view of his treatment in American custody Cavendish certainly wouldn't blame Harry for holding a grudge against the CIA. But he also knew the man's history; country first, Harry second.

Harry gave a brief grim smile, reminding Erin of a big cat, seemingly torpid and then all claws as he pounced, "So the torture of agents from unfriendly powers is acceptable."

There was only one answer to that, at least in this company. "No, you're twisting my words."

Harry continued to act as if Jefferies hadn't spoken, taking advantage of the man being palpably rattled he cast an unnerving gaze around and then commanded, "Erin."

Moving from the shadows, where she'd most uncharacteristically been lurking under the orders issued prior to their arrival, Erin handed Harry the manila file she'd been guarding. Harry, as he received it, addressed the DG conversationally, with the leading question to which he already knew the answer. "Do you remember Marcus Treloar?"

With an air of puzzlement - why was the conversation veering in this direction - Cavendish gave the required confirmation, "Yes of course, highly thought of, got caught out and then ran, although nothing was ever proven his guilt was assumed when he vanished without trace." His face shaded into horror as he began to understand were Harry was going. Harry didn't bother to elucidate,

"Exactly. He's been enjoying hospitality in a CIA health spa, warm climate, detox from reliance on food and drink, regular exercise in the gym with weights and stretching exercises. He looks well on it."

Removing a piece of paper from the file Erin had just surrendered and with the merest hint of a flourish, he was after all a spook not a circus act, Harry placed a ghoulish still, extracted from the memory stick, in front of the DG. Processing the scrawny figure dressed in rags, only just recognisable as the allegedly rogue agent, the DG passed it over to the Foreign Secretary, who passed it to Towers. As if they were participating in a particularly toxic game of 'pass the parcel' the photograph completed its journey in front of Jefferies. Not even looking at it he declaimed "Fake all fake."

The DG, recovering from his moment of revulsion, announced in an unusually firm voice, "That issue will be investigated although I'm sure Harry abided by the protocols." It wasn't exactly a question but Harry felt the need to respond, "Indeed, several witnesses to the opening and sealed copies were made."

"By his staff and taken off a stolen memory stick. I insist it is returned to us at once."

Harry's stony face concealed a giant swooping moment of triumph as his mind registered that Jefferies had fallen into a trap so obvious Harry had actually scorned to use it, the intention had been to let the evidence speak for itself. Only the two who knew him best, Towers and Erin, sensed, rather than saw a subtle change, a miniscule, quickly subdued flare of joy as he closed in for the kill. Amber eyes pitilessly boring into the American he asked harshly,

"Did I mention the provenance this happy snap?"

A blanket silence descended as Jefferies suddenly realised what he'd just admitted to.

Towers was the first to voice the obvious inference, "So you did know about this torture and were attempting a coverup."

The reply was unconvincingly, and if you were Harry, satisfying feeble, "Of course not I just meant..." His flounderings were sharply cut off by the DG.

"In view of what Sir Harry has told us and the evidence presented I must call in reports and review it myself. Until then your men remain in custody. I'm sure Section D can be relied upon to treat them well. Now if you'll excuse us I must ask Sir Harry for a private debrief."

With that brusque dismissal Towers buzzed for his Secretary and Jeffries was firmly escorted outside, all the while continuing to protest an ignorance that not even those who believed in the Giant Pixie could give credence too.

Left with just his own superiors to deal with Harry allowed himself the luxury of relaxing slightly. Towers, taking in the damage wrought on the man he regarded as something as a friend, and after waving Erin who'd now abandoned her post by the curtains to a seat, stated, "I'm still waiting for an answer to my first question Harry, what happened? And how does this tie up with the memory stick and your daughter – I assumed she was the documentary maker mentioned. I also assumed you didn't want your family involvement known."

Harry gave Towers one of his very rare genuine smiles, the warmth of which made Towers realise exactly why Harry's staff put up with him, beneath that tough shell lurked a sensitive individual of infinite charm, a hard taskmaster who truly cared for them.

The DG as he absorbed Harry's breaking news was looking speculative."I assume that your personal relationship had no bearing on your actions." Unadmitted by anyone the twin spectres of Ruth Evershed and Albany hovered in collective memory, before Harry forced himself to answer what was a pertinent question in any circumstances, even excluding the events of recent months.

"Only in as far as I object to having my daughter killed. Her involvement was a coincidence that became mixed up with Jim Coaver's son seeking revenge on the basis that I murdered his father. In view of Jefferies' comments I can guess the story he was fed."

Towers was becoming impatient. "Harry please, the basic outline will do, but we need to know as the CIA will be planning their next move."

A truth Harry had to acknowledge.

"Very well. In brief, a US soldier who took a dim view of the goings on at the reopened detention unit at Ain Aouda smuggled out a memory stick with evidence of the various atrocities being committed by the US military. He contacted Catherine who was already searching for material on the theme. He passed the stick to her but when the CIA realised what had happened they put a kill order on him and tried to capture her. To that end Jim Coaver's son was drafted in as a honeytrap. But what the CIA recruiters didn't know he was serving his own ends, not theirs."

The DG was frowning, "Why so keen to retrieve?"

"Fear that it would put paid to the additions the Americans are trying to sneak into the agreement regarding arrest and detention. Our other partner services are very unhappy with the rumoured provisions, and that was before the production of the appendices that were suddenly presented to me for inclusion."

Having turned his analyst's brain towards an entirely different trajectory Cavendish was frowning as he mused, "And who exactly knew that yours was the final opinion to be canvassed and that you were late with your submission. I find it very convenient that these amendments were delivered just as the agreement deadline was being hurried forward, presumably with the intention of getting it signed before this evidence could surface."

Harry's response was laconic, "Leaky plumbing Nigel."

"Agreed, but not I think from the Security Services."

"Turkeys and Christmas."

"Exactly." Nigel made no further comment as his eyes, in tandem with Harry's, swivelled towards the Foreign Secretary. Caught like a rabbit in the headlights of their dual glare he faltered an unconvincing, "I'm sure no one in my department."

The DG's tone was falsely reassuring. "No need to be concerned Foreign Secretary. I'm sure a discreet investigation will track down the culprit." Aware that they had strayed from the narration of Harry's recent daring doings he instructed his Section Head. "Continue please Harry.

"Coaver Junr wanted to grab Catherine as a means of trapping and killing me. The CIA concluded that as the memory stick was probably in her flat they'd bomb it. Coaver knowing what they'd planned had grabbed her, meaning that the casualty they caught was my ex wife. When they discovered the bombing had gone wrong they also tried to grab Jane but fortunately she got away. Catherine having realising she was in danger had sent me a message on a postcard via Jane, which led us to the memory stick."

Towers who'd just about managed to follow this mangled explanation interjected, "None of which explains your injuries Harry, or the arrest of various CIA operatives."

"The CIA has been using a London criminal gang to cover black ops and we caught some of their agents in the ongoing investigation into the bombing of the flat. As for the others, Coaver drugged Catherine and then used that to force me to meet him. By this time the CIA were also looking for him and Catherine. They must have worked out where we were. Thanks to their interference Coaver set off a bomb. In the process the CIA assaulted my officers who were there to help me escape alive. I got these injuries due to the bomb and a couple of brushes with Coaver."

The Foreign Secretary looked ill, not being a fisherman he wasn't used to cans of open worms "But that agreement is supposed to be signed next week and the Americans are threatening to reduce cooperation if we don't sign. They were extremely disturbed by the partnership, so diplomatically it would be difficult to refuse."

Towers looked impatient, "Miles it has to be postponed, it would be electoral suicide to proceed."

Completely forgetting the presence of the three representatives of the security services, the Foreign Secretary argued, "But the PM is keen to have this in place before his visit to the President next month, it's been intimated that it would help enormously in his reception, as for the next election it isn't due for three years. The public will forget."

It would be impossible to say who was the most appalled by this self serving statement. Catching sight of the DG Harry realised that unusually they were of one mind. Webster was seriously suggesting that the PM would be willing to endanger the entire security service of the country, and its relationship with other agencies, for the sake of a jolly at Camp David and an insincere handshake from the President. Sadly it was all too believable. Harry and Cavendish exchanged glances as they underwent a mutual re appraisal. Clearly the DG was not quite the brown nosed pushover Harry had believed him to be, while Cavendish in his turn was beginning to understand that Harry's enthusiastic adoption of the mushroom theory of management in relation to the political class was not completely unjustified. Of the two Harry was the less surprised, his army days had proved that emergencies produced odd alliances, not unlike that he'd forged with Ilya Gavrik when...never mind that now. Depressingly he also recognised that the Foreign Secretary might well be correct in his assumption. Where the public was concerned the drug fuelled pubic cavortings of some third rate, oversexed, spray tanned, pop singer were of far more importance than the safety of Britain's spying community.

The DG got in first. "If Harry is correct then our European sister services and the few Asian services we deal with will have no option other than to withdraw from all agreements, informal or otherwise. The damage would be incalculable."

Harry in cahoots with the DG added helpfully, "Further to that our agents in both Five and Six would be working with the constant worry that if they incurred the wrath of the USA they'd be extradited with no rights, basically we'd be a puppet regime." The DG gave him a scowl, as Harry hurriedly précised the other gems he'd gleaned from the legalise presented to him. "That's the other part Nigel, anyone extradited will be considered to be a US citizen but minus USA rights, such as they are."

The Foreign Secretary remained unconvinced, "But they are a democracy with the same basic rules as us so I don't see that as a problem, especially with our Special relationship. Our partners will only know if they are told. As I understand it the evidence is at present known only to a few and is a state secret." Adding as a low blow, "Presumably we don't want any more treason enquires"

Erin, as she contemplated stabbing the Foreign Secretary in a very painful place with her stiletto heel, was wondering how on earth Harry was managing to restrain himself. The answer came with the sturdy statement. "I forgot to mention that the soldier who passed on the stick implied that others were involved in the compilation. We would be unwise to assume that we hold the only copy."

The Foreign Secretary was looking bemused, "So?"

And this man held high office, God help the country! Harry explained in a very patient voice, appropriate for addressing a three year old, although come to think of it both Catherine and Graham at that age would have been quicker on the up take. "So we can't guarantee that another copy won't find its way onto social media, I would guess that if we take no action that is what will happen."

No one listening had any doubt about the source of this putative leak although Towers did manage to utter a, "Harry you wouldn't!" Only to receive an utterly insincere, "Of course not, but I can't guarantee that someone else won't." 'A someone else I might just employ, rendered untraceable by Malcolm and Calum'

Towers, a pragmatist who, despite a career in politics, had miraculously retained some grasp of basic ethics, was not overly happy with his fellow politician. Before Harry could potentially incriminate himself he swiftly closed down the discussion.

"I share the Security concerns on this, plus the underhand methods used by the USA to sneak this in unseen, which suggests to me that they knew it was controversial. Until those appendices are removed and everything else is re-examined by an independent body, I will recommend to the PM that the agreement is placed on hold."

"But .. well the Coaver accusations."

Towers, having heard this argued endlessly every time the Americans graced any event to which he was also bidden, was beginning to resemble a parrot as he repeated yet again irascibly, "Are precisely that Miles. Along with the Albany investigation they were resolved sometime ago. As you may recall Harry's defence based on Ruth Evershed's importance as a security asset was accepted, especially when it was agreed at the highest level to offer her promotion on the basis of the report he produced." Towers, the politician re-emerging with a vengeance, proceeded to stick the knife into his not very esteemed colleague. "As for the US administration I would remind you that they have wanted to reassert their role as our major ally ever since the Cabinet, on your advice, decided to insist upon the partnership. Harry and Jim Coaver may have been friends, but Coaver wasn't over here to offer us congratulations on our new policy, a fact which fully justified Harry' suspicions and investigation."

The DG added, "I'd concur. Intelligence sharing and cooperation is one thing, handing over our agents with no right to question the grounds or their subsequent treatment is unacceptable. Especially in view of the evidence Harry has uncovered concerning their treatment of European personnel." Getting up to leave he finished with, "I'd like to formally thank you Harry. Can you forward reports, evidence, charges when decided and please have a complete debrief on my desk as soon as possible. I want to find Marcus before he vanishes off the radar again."

"Of course, and thank you for your support." No one was more surprised at these words than Harry himself, but for once he had few complaints about his boss, he might even get to like him – scratch that as the next few words were uttered.

"And I expect to see you at the Reception, no excuses, we need you there to reassure our foreign friends that all is well." With that he left, accompanied by a disconsolate looking Foreign Secretary. Judging by the latter's depressed aura he was anticipating that his report to the Prime minister would terminate in a punishment order 'Trousers down and six of the best for failure.' which wouldn't surprise Harry in the slightest, given that he'd long since concluded that the PM ran his government along the lines of a very disorganised public school, complete with the vision of himself as the firm but beloved headmaster, a sort of parliamentary Mr Chips, whereas Harry thought of him more as Mr Potato Head, literally handing his ear to whichever person happened to be standing next to him.

Towers looked across at Harry who, now the others had left, was prepared to show something of his inner exhaustion, "I'd very much like to see you and Jane at the Reception if at all possible. Judging by a conversation I had this morning with 'Call me Gawain darling,' an invitation I didn't avail myself of, I owe her a drink at the very least. But more importantly Harry - your daughter?"

Towers last question was sparked by concern. Harry's bald outline of events had skimmed over the anxiety and pain he must be experiencing. How much more could the man actually take? Harry's quiet answer confirmed his worse suspicions.

"Seriously ill with a drugs overdose. It's not looking good."

No sooner where the words out of his mouth than the door opened and Towers' grave faced Secretary appeared,

"Sir, a call for Sir Harry. He's wanted urgently at the hospital."

A/N Three men are asked at an interview for their theory of management. No 1 'I see it as a tree. I'm the trunk feeding out to the branches, twigs and leaves. No 2 'I see it as a wheel with me as the hub feeding out to the spokes.' No 3 'I believe in the mushroom theory - keep the bastards in the dark and throw shit over them every so often.

Thanks for reading and do review if you have a moment.