Thanks to those who read my previous chapters and even greater thanks to those who took the time to review.

Hospital

7.00pm approx

Harry's dash to the hospital, accomplished with a rapidity that would have made Concorde blink – and was subsequently responsible for Malcolm and Calum working overtime to expunge numerous speed camera records – served as yet another reminder of the nightmares he'd travelled with three nights ago when he'd been summoned to what he'd assumed was Catherine's bedside. If all life was a circle then his existence was continually resembling a turbo charged not so merry go round. Now, not only was he was reliving that horror, he was also encumbered with an additional burden; concern about Jane's state of mind. Having been unable to obtain the slightest detail as to why he'd been dragged out of his meeting his stomach was steadily plummeting towards his bomb scuffed footwear. Phoning from the car on a mobile borrowed from his driver had yielded no result beyond that of slamming his head into a stonewall of silence. Ironically he'd now become a victim of his own policies, put in place with the laudable aim of ensuring that information on injured security personnel as secret as the service that employed them. That there had been a change in Catherine's condition seemed obvious, and ominous. You were rarely called into hospital to admire patients high kicking their way around the ward – with the exception of that officer who'd gone completely Looby Lou at Tring a few years ago. Normally by now Harry would have been savouring the triumph of hamstringing the CIA in the mellow company of a well deserved celebratory whisky, but for now sheer unalloyed dread was stifling all other emotions.

Disgorged at the door of hospital reception by his driver he limped hurriedly towards the secure unit, living up to its title as two uniformed security staff were struggling to bar the entrance of an obstreperous newcomer.

"I tell you, it's my sister in there, so stop coming the traffic warden bit and let me through."

A relieved guard greeted Harry's approach with a look of sheer thankfulness. "This young man claims to be your son, Sir."

"I don't claim, I bloody well am. Worse luck." Graham was obviously in fine obnoxious form.

Ignoring Graham's truculence which, to give him the benefit of the doubt, might owe something to concern for his sister, Harry answered the officer, "Thank you for being so vigilant. He's with me."

Not a statement Graham thrilled too, "Only until I get through this sodding door."

On Harry's nod the guard stood aside to let them past. Spinning around with the swiftness of youth, fully intending to spit yet another disparaging comment in his father's face, Graham actually saw Harry for the first time since the latter's arrival. Curiosity at his father's battered state overcoming shock he stammered,

"Dad, what the fu..."

"Later Graham. Thanks for coming. Your mother might need you."

"Yeah, well you obviously weren't here as per bloody usual." Having vented that opinion Graham added in a more concerned tone, "What's up with Catherine? "

As Graham made to stalk down the wrong corridor, Harry touched his son's arm, an action that made Graham jump with shock. Understandable, his last physical contact with the parental digits lingered in the mind, and the bruising down below.

"This way Graham."

To Graham's surprise he found himself being forcibly steered into the bleakness of the relatives' room. Hunched with his hands in his coat pockets, and haunted by the sense of inferiority that his father's presence inevitably induced, he expostulated, "I came to see Catherine and Mum."

If he'd thought that statement was his immediate ticket out the door he was in error. His father showed no signs of relenting as he cast a firm eye over Graham although in an attempt at conciliation Harry acknowledged the demand. "I know, but I want to bring you to speed. Your mother has enough to deal with..."

"Like you for starters."

Tact could only stretch so far. "Glad you appreciate the problem. Now shut up and listen."

At the menacing inflection in Harry's voice Graham subsided, subduing his anger at his father's chosen mode of address. As he listened to Harry's bowdlerised outline of the day's events his eyes darkened with horror and indignation combined. When Harry reached the crux of the tale, that it had been an effort of revenge on Harry that now saw Catherine drugged, possibly dying, Graham could contain his spleen no longer,

"The bastard. If he wanted revenge on you okay, I sympathise. But to drug up Catherine..."

Seeing Graham's fury reflected in the features that were so similar to his own, Harry had a sudden startling perception as to how he himself must look when flushed with anger. It wasn't a pretty sight. Graham suddenly cut short his rant to enquire, "But how did you get away?" Harry, now he'd given Graham the basic outline of events, and keen to locate Jane and Catherine simply stated, "I managed to get the lock open and carried Catherine out, with some help from Dimitri."

Graham, despite his frequent ongoing impersonation of a bolshie idiot, wasn't so easily fooled. It was quite obvious that his father was holding something back. "As simple as that – Come on Dad you didn't get into that state by just..."

Harry cut him off, "Never mind me, we really need to find your mother, and remember Graham shout at me all you like, I can take it, but your mother is not as tough as old boots."

"Come off it she's..."

"You can't see that most of the time it's a facade?" With a weary sigh Harry ended, "And I thought you were showing some glimmerings of intelligence."

On that not very amicable note Harry signalled the end of the conversation and exited, leaving Graham with no option other than to follow suit. As he trailed resentfully behind his father Graham nonetheless found a fresh thought beginning to wriggle its unwelcome way into his brain, one that embraced the very, very vague possibility that his mother was not the only parent to be shielding their real self behind an assumed persona.

Any such speculation ceased when his father stopped at a door manned by yet another couple of guards. Not in uniform, but their purpose was plain from the military type stance and the hard assessing stare they gave Graham as he advanced towards them. Whatever his father's motives it was apparent to Graham that his allegedly uncaring parent was taking no further chances with Catherine's current safety. At the sight of their approach, or more accurately Harry's presence, the pair instantly straightened up. Harry merely acknowledged them with a brief nod and,' Gentleman,' before opening the door, very cautiously Graham noted, as if he was worried about what would greet him on the other side.

In reality Graham wasn't far wrong, Harry had used his explanation to Graham as a displacement activity that had temporarily subdued his mounting anxiety, since then, during that silent short walk with his hostile son towards Catherine's room, dread had begun to seep into every body cell. Harry had previously believed that Ruth's death had marked his emotional nadir. Nothing, he'd thought, could ever hurt him so badly again. His sole consolation lay in knowing that he'd now been immunised against any further debilitating soul crushing sorrow. Numbness, imperviousness from human passion of any description had become both his reward and his punishment for those numerous errors of judgement that had led inexorably to that tragedy by the Thames. The events of the past three days, whatever their ultimate outcome, had proved the utter inaccuracy of that particular assumption.

The door, when finally opened, revealed nothing untoward. His most immediate dread remained stillborn. Catherine was lying supine, but all the monitors were running, the low hum emitting from the various pieces of medical impedimenta for once a welcome sound. Breathing slightly more easily he swung his eyes towards Jane, seated in the chair beside the bed stroking her daughter's hand, while staring at Catherine as if she was the most fragile item on earth, which at present to both her parents, she was.

The rush of air, accompanied by the muted sound of his footfall, drew Jane's attention. Her eyes weary and tearstained flashed with relief at the sight of Harry.

"Thank goodness. I was afraid the CIA had hauled you off."

"Not to worry, I've been running rings around them for years – more importantly what happened here?"

"I don't know, her breathing seemed to be dropping and I thought..."

"I can guess."

"I insisted that they called you and then she seemed to stabilise – I'm so sorry I alarmed you."

Her eyes were contrite with unshed tears and an apology. Without even hesitating Harry put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting hug as he muttered into her hair, "I was already worried, and after everything I put you through years ago I'm in no position to complain about a couple of missed heartbeats."

Graham listening to this exchange was suffering from an acute puzzlement that was cantering towards total mental dislocation. He genuinely couldn't remember a time when his parents weren't snarling at each other, the sweet mood music of his childhood had been banging doors and endless rows. Even when separated his Mum had rarely put in a good word for his absent father, and he'd rarely seen enough of latter to process his own independent views on Harry, instead he'd obediently absorbed the gospel force fed to him by Jane and Robin, the one containing the sole commandment, 'Yea verily we say unto you your shit of a father only cares about himself and his job'. Now, within forty eight hours, he'd suddenly been confronted with a reality in which his mother was defending his father with, as a chaser, his father not only offering his mother hospitality but also spearheading an attempt to uncouple her from the faithless Robin. While that last was perfectly okay by Graham - Sir Harry fucking Pearce might finally prove to be of some bloody use, and about time too - the perceptions fostered by the world Graham had grown up with had suddenly become topsy turvey, save for one continuous theme, all the parental attention was centred around Catherine, always Catherine – never ever himself. Much as Graham loved his sister, the sole person he'd been able to turn too during the past few months, he couldn't prevent a quick resentful flare of jealousy and self pity, second child, second best. As if telepathic Jane, seeing Graham standing uncertainly in the doorway, broke away from Harry as she went up to embrace her son,

"Thanks for coming..." then the thought struck her, "but who...?"

Resentment at the perceived neglect, he was certain that they'd have rung Catherine personally if the positions had been reversed, "Let me know – typical of you both to rely on a stranger. I got a call from a bod called Malcolm- said he was a friend of Dad's."

Jane, picking up on the reason for his disaffection, turned an inquisitive, seriously annoyed eye onto Harry, "Couldn't you find the time..."

In a patient voice Harry reminded her, "As you may recall my mobile got blown up and once Erin had me in the car."

In a spirit of harsh enquiry Graham asked, "Was that literally Dad?"

Jane rounded on her son, "Don't be so vulgar Graham. Your father wouldn't do that." Ruining her doughty defence by adding as an afterthought, "Not with his driver as a witness anyway."

Harry, wearied by the endless carping about certain past incidents that he was trying to live down, snapped. "You were right without that addendum. I was trying to explain, as I didn't have a phone I asked Erin to ring Malcolm with a view to contacting Graham."

Jane remained staunchly unimpressed, "How was Graham supposed to know that it wasn't a CIA trick? They could've taken him instead of Catherine."

Now it was Graham's turn to feel exasperated, first his father, then his mother treating him like a refugee from the Infant school. "Mum I do know better than that. This Malcolm knew Dad was trying to help you dump Robin. I very much doubt he's enlisted the CIA to help with that. I'm still wearing the tracker and I left a couple of messages."

The group row, rapidly building between all members of the incensed trio, was arrested by the sound of some piece of equipment attached to Catherine springing into life with a persistent penetrating cheeping, accompanied by the almost instantaneous materialisation of a nurse, who after a speedy recognisance of dials and a consultation of charts, informed Harry, "I'm going for Dr Reynolds."

The fractured family all stood waiting in silence as they tried to make sense of the various monitors. Fortunately for everyone's sanity Nat arrived fairly quickly. With a face that gave nothing away he examined everything, leant over Catherine, and then turned to face them, smiling slightly at Jane,

"Okay, you can't exactly abandon your worry beads but you can let them relax a little." Jane made no reply as the relief flooding her body rendered her speechless. No so Harry who forthrightly commented, "If you were a parent Nat you'd know you never pension off the worry." A statement that drew an incredulous, "I can't say I'd noticed," from Graham.

It fell to Jane to say very firmly, "Enough." Having shamed her men folk into silence she turned to Nat, "Sorry, but please..."

Employing his renowned tactful bedside manner Nat, who was contemplating knocking heads together, but didn't want to risk being struck off in consequence snorted, "If Catherine can hear this she'd be wise to stay unconscious, but since you've asked nicely Jane..."

Not waiting for any further locking of horns between Harry and his son, and feeling a pang of sympathy for Jane who Nat could have described as piggy in the middle, save that she was a little too attractive to merit the description – lioness perhaps - since unless Nat was mistaken she was fiercely protective of her family. Leaving Harry precisely where? His speculation; Harry's problem.

"The machines are calibrated to alert us to any sustained change that falls outside certain parameters, usually that is bad news but on this occasion..."

Noting the dawning expectation on Jane's face he uttered a warning, "We've some way to go, but her pulse is stronger and her breathing less shallow, she's still deeply unconscious, but at least for now she's heading in the right direction."

A downbeat question floated across from another direction, "And the possibility of a relapse?"

Nat gave Graham a hard stare – obnoxious, but not one to be easily fooled he decided. Taking his parentage into account, coupled with the knowledge Graham must have acquired from his druggie past, no surprises there.

"Possible of course, but the tests we ran suggest no damage to her vital organs. Obviously as she's unconscious we couldn't be as comprehensive as I'd have liked."

Graham, seeing Jane trembling with relief, unconsciously copied his father as he put his arm around her shoulders. "See Mum, chances are she's going to make it." For once remembering his manners he uttered a reluctant, "Thank you" to Nat. Nat having been forced, while attending to the Graham's badly bruised genitals, to listen extensively to the latter's endless grievances on the subject of Harry, informed Graham bluntly, "It's your father who needs thanking, he got to her just before she reached the point of no return."

In their concentration upon Catherine no one had been paying attention to Harry, until Nat's words reminded both Jane and Graham that he seemed unduly silent. Twisting around to face him Jane saw with alarm that he'd quietly slumped into the chair she'd only recently vacated. His eyes, while open, seemed vague, unfocussed. Dropping onto her knees in front of him Jane seized both his hands with an urgent, "Harry," accompanied by a panic stricken look at Nat.

Nat, equal to the occasion, was across the room in an instant, wielding his stethoscope and a small light. Bending down he proceeded to shine a beam into Harry's eyes. Revived slightly by the twin incursions of Jane's voice and Nat's torchlight, he managed to produce an irate, "I'll be fine. I just felt a bit giddy. It'll pass over."

"So will you if you keep ignoring my advice."

Initial checks completed Nat announced, "Right. I'm taking you to a separate ward for a further examination."

Harry's instant and inevitable reaction was to spring up shouting, "I tell you I'm..." The swift movement proving unwise as he lost his balance and staggered onto his son. Graham, who'd seemingly prepared himself for this, managed not only to keep himself upright, he also steadied his father. Ignoring Harry he suggested to Nat,

"If you can grab his other arm I'll help you haul the stubborn old sod to wherever..." Noting Harry's jaw begin to move he stymied the imminent protest with, "And you can shut it, you're worrying Mum, which is far more than you bloody well deserve considering how you treated her when I was a kid."

On this bracingly unaffectionate note and upon Graham's receipt of a nod from Nat, Harry found himself sandwiched between the two younger men as they half carried and half dragged him outside. That he'd stopped arguing was really frightening Jane. Sitting back down on the chair as she watched the rise and fall of her daughter's now steadier breathing she was wondering why, oh why, she had ever argued herself into the belief that Harry didn't care – carelessness on his side, misunderstanding on hers. His total inability to articulate emotion, her hatred of what she thought the job had turned him into, and what a price they were now all paying for that fundamental failure to sit down and talk properly.

Graham reappeared rather more quickly than she'd anticipated. Her interrogative expression forcing an explanation, "That doctor has put him a single ward a couple of doors down, he said he'll come back shortly to have a word."

Jane groaned, "I've heard that so many times since setting foot in here." Then all too aware of how Graham felt about his father she tentatively enquired, "And your Dad?"

"Dunno – when he was told it either lie back quietly or knock out drops he agreed to lie back – control freak that he is."

Having been more shaken that he'd ever admit to by his father's near collapse, it was a little like seeing the Rock of Gibraltar suddenly crumble into dust, he enquired, "How the hell did he get into that state anyway?"

Jane gave him a hard stare, then realising that his enquiry was genuine she sighed, "What exactly did he tell you?"

"That he managed to carry Catherine out of danger before a bomb went off...Mum!"

This last was uttered as reaction to the expression of combined exasperation and resignation that crossed Jane's face. She might have anticipated that Harry would downplay his actions; he always had in the past. In part because she'd hated so much of what he did in his job, and in part precisely because it was his job, it wasn't heroic; it was what he was paid for. Graham was still staring at her with a scowl so like Harry's it startled her.

"What he omitted to mention was that young Coaver thumped him twice on the side of his head, tied him to a chair, smashed him in the face, and then having set the bomb, ran. Your father had five minutes during which time he managed to free himself, get out, and haul Catherine down three flights of stairs. Dimitri – the one you assaulted – disobeyed orders to help him carry her down the last set of stairs. They just got out when the building was torn apart, catching them on the edge of the blast."

Graham, shocked beyond comment at this revelation, was spared a reply by the return of Nat.

"Jane can you tell me, how much has Harry eaten today and when?"

Jane ransacked her memory, "Let me think, he had some toast and tea this morning, around six o'clock, he was called in early so it was only a quick bite. He had a cake mid morningish and a sandwich..." She paused and then backtracked, "No, sorry, Harry had gone to met Coaver before Erin insisted we all ate."

"So basically next to nothing."

"Why are you asking?"

"Because I think his collapse a few minutes ago was due to a mild concussion combined with low blood sugar. For such an intelligent man he really is an idiot."

"Thank you Doctor Reynolds for that masterly diagnosis."

Harry, in best spook style, had crept on silent feet into the room behind Nat. An unrepentant Nat was not put off his stride by a single iota, "And now you've just proved it. I told you to rest quietly while I spoke to Jane." Copying Graham's habit of ignoring Harry – even a repellent pest was right occasionally – Nat followed up on his proclaimed intent, "Jane he needs to rest up in a quiet environment. And get some food down him, something plain please. I'm relying on you to take him home and sort him out."

Both Graham and Harry were choking at this instruction, although for very different reasons. Graham knowing his parents' history thought that Nat had probably just arranged the fight of the century. Harry because he could recall plenty of ways in which Jane had sorted him out in the past, times that had revolved around wine, herself, and on one occasion a memorably exhausting copy cat experiment featuring Ravel's Bolero; not tea, bland scrambled egg and a solitary bed. Those were the days, or even more pleasurably, the nights. Stuck in the sterile present he stated flatly, "I'm staying here with my daughter."

Nat had had enough, "In which case I'm informing the DG that you are unfit for duty for the foreseeable future."

"Nat don't be ridiculous – how can Jane and I both leave Catherine here alone?"

Amazingly it was Graham who cut in, "You don't have to, as per bloody usual I'm not on your radar at all, but for your information I am here – now you.." as he turned to Nat, "Catherine is slowly moving upwards – how long before she wakes up – approximately will do."

Nat didn't relish this form of address, but at least Graham had managed to silence Harry. "Difficult to predict but at least seven to eight hours – possibly longer."

Bypassing Harry Graham spoke to Jane, "Right, I'll stay - you take that stubborn git home."

Harry, still feeling a little light headed, managed to mutter, "I never knew you cared."

"Frankly Dad I don't but Catherine does – nice for her to come too and find you on the scrap heap. Anyway I don't want to be putting up with you all night so get lost."

Faced with the trio of Nat, Graham and Jane, a far more emotionally formidable combination than that of the FS, HS and DG, Harry gave up, gave in, and feeling far worse than he was prepared to admit to, succumbed.

"Very well Nat – can you call my driver? Graham thanks but any change."

"I know, haul you off your sickbed."

On that note Harry allowed himself to be led away by Jane, wondering if he just acquired an invisible nose ring.

Hospital

8.30am approx

Graham was startled out of his doze by the gentle opening of the door. Eyes still slightly sleep blurred he eventually managed to focus on the figure of his father, wearing his habitual work garb of suit and tie, and therefore looking much more like the autocrat Graham recalled from their infrequent encounters of recent years, and several moves away from the shattered figure of yesterday evening. Caught napping Graham defensively mumbled, "Just dropped off for a moment," all the while annoyed with himself for even attempting to seek approval from his despicable parent.

Harry feeling a little less ragged around the edges due to a plain but filling meal, "Eat Harry or I'll confiscate your whisky.' followed up by a few hours undisturbed sleep, was feeling quite in charity with his son as he replied mildly, "I don't doubt it. I've sat on these chairs often enough to know that no one can sleep properly on them."

Harry might have been unwilling to condemn but Jane following behind had no such inhibitions as she exclaimed in an accusatory voice, "The ventilator's gone and you promised to..." Only for Harry to cut into the potential diatribe, "I'm guessing that as it's a good sign Graham didn't want to interrupt our rest."

Dammit, his father was correct. Graham was suffering from annoyance at how easily his father had read him, they were strangers, he had no right to walk in and out of Graham's head as if it was his own home, yet at the same time Graham was feeling a reluctant gratitude at being shielded from his mother's wrath.

Any further familial efforts at communication were stifled by Nat bustling in. Noting the new arrivals he beamed, "Good the happy family all together. Just let me run a couple of checks and I'll update you all."

"Good grief, Nat were you here all night?"

"No Harry. I thought I'd pop in on my way to Thames House – now just let me update myself."

After a few moments during which the medic exercised the mysterious skills of his trade the three 'happy family all together' members were yet again glaring at one another with varying degrees of hostility. Jane was furious with Graham for not keeping his word, Harry was cross with Jane for bawling out their son when for the first time in years he'd actually done something to help his parents, and Graham was just in his usual default position of angry with everything. Nat putting up a defence of blissful unawareness of these cross currents, having spent a few minutes deciphering the charts at the end of Catherine's bed, straightened up to deliver his verdict.

"It's looking much better than we'd hoped when she came in. She no longer needs assistance with breathing, and her pulse is returning to normal. She seems increasingly responsive to various tests and..."

He was interrupted by a faint murmuring from the bed. The sound was so indistinct that for very brief second no one could quite believe it, had hope deceived reality? A slightly louder sound, just above a whisper confirmed that their ears were all in working order, " ...please...don't..."

Nat and Harry were the quickest to move, with Nat at one side of the bed hastily running yet another interminable check while Harry gently stroked Catherine's hand and bending down spoke quietly into her ear, "It's alright Catherine, it's Dad. You're safe ...he can't hurt you." Pausing he shot Nat a questioning look, Nat didn't need to ask, he'd been here before with other patients, "She probably can hear Harry, and she's definitely coming too." It wouldn't be Nat if he didn't add something irrepressible, "She's bang on cue – has she ever considered branching out into acting?"

Before anyone could respond to this the sounds from Catherine grew louder and more agitated, "No... I won't tell you..." culminating in a low agitated scream. Jane, catching the expression shooting into Harry's eyes, decided that Coaver would be wise to leave the country asap. If Harry ever caught up with him it was highly probable that in his thirst for revenge he'd consider adopting some of the more extreme suggestions depicted in embargoed memory stick. For now though retribution was on hold. Harry was fully occupied in trying to calm Catherine as he spoke to her quietly,

"Catherine. I repeat you're safe. You're in hospital. I'm here. So are your Mum and Graham." Bending over her to catch some whispered words, he ended with, "I've got it. You can relax. Just get better." As Catherine's eyelids slowly began to lift he let out a sigh of relief as he beckoned Jane forward. "I know you don't listen to me, so here's your Mum." Yielding his place to Jane he glanced at Nat. "Yes Harry it looks as if she's going to make it virtually unscathed physically. Mentally might be different."

Harry's response to this was to suddenly sweep out of the room, to the astonishment of Graham, already reeling from the sight of his hard nut of a father being so tender. In Harry's absence and watching the preoccupation of his mother now bent over Catherine's ear, he tackled the implications in Nat's last comment, "Are you saying that she might end up as a nutcase?"

"Possible, but l was thinking more that she might experience flashbacks or anxiety attacks."

Had Harry been present he might have chuckled at the sight of his son in the protective and indignant male role. "For your information Catherine's survived being injured in Middle East hellholes so this isn't..."

"At all the same thing. Being kidnapped, mentally abused and forcibly drugged is a different scenario and we all react in different ways."

Silenced Graham found another grievance, "And where the Hell has Dad got to – trust him to just walk out on us."

Jane, despite her attentions to her stirring daughter, had overheard this final exchange. Weary of Graham's continual carping she slapped him down, "Perhaps we should settle for just trusting him."

"Mum, you are joking!" Graham scanning his mother's face finished on a note of uncertainty. Jane was saved from answering by the reappearance of Harry complete with suspiciously watery eyes. If it had been any one else Graham would have suspected that they'd been crying, but that wasn't his father's style at all. He'd arrived back just in time to hear Jane, who having rebuked Graham was now concentrating once more on her eldest child, "It's alright Catherine – if you want to sleep I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

Harry, alarmed turned to Nat, "She's just come round – it this normal?"

"We don't know the exact cocktail of drugs he fed her. But there is a difference between sleeping and being unconscious. You can all stay here if you wish. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

Jane took immediate charge, "We don't all need to remain here now we know she's going to be okay. Harry you must have work to do, and Graham really needs some sleep. I'll stay." Harry's mouth opening to protest at these peremptory orders was stopped by her next statement, "Harry from what you said last night if you don't get those papers to the DG the consequences for the entire security services could be dire, meaning that Catherine will have risked her life in vain."

Graham was experiencing yet another instance of the world view he'd grown up with suddenly being banged into reverse. "Mum, am I hearing correctly – after years of telling us what a bastard he was to keep putting work first you're sending him off to do some!"

Jane, trying to conceal her personal guilt at the damage inflicted by two decades plus of undiluted Harry criticism, attempted to justify her about face. "Graham the difference is that this time he's here, and I know he'd prefer to stay."

If the situation hadn't been so serious Harry would have savoured the sight of Graham flustered with confusion. As it was he just said, "Very well. But allow me to demonstrate my uncaring nature by first taking Graham home."

"No bloody fear – I'll get the tube. I don't want you knowing my address."

Jane was beginning to wonder if being back on speaking terms with her son was a blessing, "Graham stop behaving like a stroppy adolescent, at your age it doesn't become you – your father has respected your desire not to be in contact for years. Quite honestly if he really needed to track you down he'd be able to do that in five minutes, without even leaving his desk."

"Actually Jane hacking databases would fall to Malcolm or Calum. Graham outside please."

Once outside Harry spoke quickly, not allowing Graham a single second in which to sound off. "Two things, first of all Graham I suggest my driver takes me to Thames House, and then drops you off wherever you chose, that should prevent me snooping. Secondly much as you wish to retain your privacy I'm asking you to continue wearing that tracker." Noticing his son's face collapse into its usual scowl he reasoned, "As young Coaver got away, and won't be able to get to either Catherine or your Mum, I'm guessing he'll go for me, but the outside possibility exists that he might just try to grab you. And not a word to your Mum please, you know I don't want her worried."

Graham tossed his father's requests around in his head, "Okay to both – but you get one of your dogsbodys to let me know when I can stop wearing the tracker."

"Of course – now come on, I'm sure you need your bed." And to that self evident truth Graham had no answer.

As he trooped towards the hospital exit, once more positioned three paces behind his father, he was unknowingly 'enjoying' an experience common to the CIA, most of those inhabiting Her Majesty's Security Service, assorted politicians, and numerous terrorist scumbags; that of wondering if he'd ever manage to best the devious old bastard.

For now all he could do was hit the sack and dream on.

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