As ever thanks to all those who read the last chapter and even more thanks to those who reviewed.

Harry's House

Approx 7.00pm

It had been years since Harry had been forced to sit on the sofa in his own home awaiting a woman finishing whatever it was women did before venturing forth for an evening event. Even after a near decade of marriage, plus the experience of several other less formal liaisons, he knew rather more about how women removed their clothes after an evening of jollity than how they donned them in the first place. He did however remember enough to know that any remonstrance to the effect that time was ticking ever onwards would be greeted by a straightforward scream informing him that, "It's alright for men, shower, shave, black suit, white shirt, black tie, and you're ready." Anxious to avoid a bad start to an evening that promised to be tortuous, even without his infuriating Jane at the outset, he held his peace and sank into the cushions, mentally recapping the events of past few hours.

Unusually it had been a day in which virtually everything had gone well. The first act of the morning had seen Jane dispatched with Erin, their mission impossible: to scour the various fashion houses of the capital in a doomed search for the non existent perfect outfit. At the prospect of Harry hallowed shopping trip in Grid time Erin had positively beamed, Jane in contrast had protested voraciously at the notion of a minder accompanying her.

"Harry I'm quite capable of finding my own way to the shops."

"But not of dealing with Coaver, who regrettably is still at large."

With that she'd subsided and given into the eternally feminine pleasure of retail therapy. Harry overhearing Erin as they headed towards the pods, 'I suggest we start with a small shop I know, designer dresses at reasonable prices and then we can move on to...' was uttering a silent prayer that Jane would manage to curb Erin's professional enthusiasm before they'd explored the merchandise of every fashion salon in London.

Next up had been Malcolm invading his office with an update on the 'divorce project'. The previous evening's midnight trawling had yielded some fascinating results. Tom's suspicions of corruption and deception had been confirmed. A little light hacking of home computers had provided proof positive of a longstanding affair between Rogerson and his secretary, alongside the total ignorance of the cuckolded husband, whose belief in wifely fidelity and platonic friendships was destined to be fractured forever. Further incursions into the local authority records had unearthed an entire correspondence covering concerns in respect of the school's accounting process. Put together it was a saga of corruption, pungently spiced with a sex triangle that was guaranteed to ensure that the various disparate sections of the press world would be salivating. The right wing moralists demanding chalk, talk and a more stringent curriculum, the one that demanded cold showers and birching as an adjunct to character building, would seize on this as proof that the libertarian tendency had come unstuck. The left wing intelligentsia, for whom any government decree was an anathema imposed by heartless authoritarians, would in some warped way manage to attribute these events to a failure of imaginative leadership. A mindset that would selectively ignore the inconvenient fact that the Rogerson had been a wholesale enthusiastic adoptee of every allegedly progressive theory of child centred learning that had flitted across his innovative radar. Readers who remained unmoved by the argument riven world of education, but who had sorely missed their weekly fix of dirt aka 'News of the World' would fasten upon the salacious aspect, claiming to be shocked while mentally hovering up every last detail and then some. Harry, who so usually muzzled the press, was ecstatic at this opportunity to present the fourth estate with a gift that included Randolph Rogerson's appellation. He was already anticipating in advance the ribald headlines that would be crafted around old Randoph's inevitably shortened first name. It was a suitable starter, giving a foretaste of the main feast that was Robin Tindall. Considering the issue of Robin Harry had an alarming thought, for once he'd overlooked something.

"Robin Tindall might try to get near the Reception tonight if he wants to track Jane down. He may know she was invited."

Malcolm almost smiled, "Tom and I are ahead of you. We've located the hotel he's staying in at present and Tom's ensuring that he'll not dare leave tonight." Harry just stared, forcing Malcolm to elucidate further, "Let's just say that due to an unfortunate stomach upset he'll need to remain in very close proximity to his ensuite for a few hours."

That resolved the immediate worry relating to the evening ahead, although Harry's instant unspoken reaction was that if Robin found himself obliged to spend too much time enthroned exuding shit nothing much would remain of him beyond a heap of skin and a pair of astonished eyeballs. Grateful for the through thoughtfulness of Tom and Malcolm he still had one further request to make of Malcolm,

"Can you time it so that the scandal bursts upon the world after tonight is over? I'd like Jane to enjoy this evening without worrying about the press trying to chase her for a quote."

From his reply Malcolm had manifestly second guessed Harry on that one as well. "Release late this evening, arrive for writing up tomorrow morning – should give the Sunday's an opportunity to do a spread."

Harry' relief was short lived as Malcolm made a hesitant criticism. "Have you considered that the next part of your plan will still embarrass Jane – she won't relish being portrayed as a victim? Nor as having been stupid enough not to see through her husband."

That statement, as Harry knew, encapsulated the repeatable truth. Contrite as Jane was and he certainly wasn't going to haul her over the coals re Robin's efforts with regard to Catherine, the basic fact remained: she'd been an idiot. That sat alongside two other issues. Firstly Malcolm was right, Jane would not relish having her own judgment and observation displayed as questionable. Investigation and a certain tampering had ensured that the assault charge had been duly buried but her failure to detect Robin's antics still carried with it the threat of possible professional repercussions. Secondly Harry's having approved, indeed actually organised such a public exposure of her folly, would severely undermine his personal agenda of friendship. Knowing Malcolm as he did Harry was certain he'd already have some plan ready for rubberstamping. In that one respect he and Harry were very alike, they only raised questions with a solution in mind. "I know – any suggestions?"

"Tom did wonder about obtaining a comment from Robin's er..." Words failing Malcolm he elided over that point. Having been subjected to a comprehensive exposure of the woman's sexual aerobics as seen on video, the term mistress sounded a little grandiose. An ingrained respect for women further prevented him from adopting the more forthright descriptions of Robin's companion with which an angry Graham had annotated his photofile. Pausing he eventually continued, "Perhaps an appropriate statement. One that suggests Robin was seeking his ...em...kicks because Jane isn't keen on anything kinky."

Harry was biting the inside of his cheeks, hard. It rather depended on your version of kinky, ... and how fortunate it was that he'd discarded the art of blushing years ago. Blissfully unaware of the memories that were threatening to wreak havoc within the confines of Harry's trousers - he might be nearing sixty but his aging body was still subject to the occasional inconvenient flarings more frequently associated with rampant youth - Malcolm trundled onwards expressing his next theory out loud.

"It would help if we knew just how well thought of Robin is in his professional world."

"According to Jane very highly." A sharp look at Malcolm led to his snapping, "Yes."

"Harry no one is going to criticise Robin to Jane's face when they don't know the truth about their marriage. Can I suggest we monitor the informal communiqués of Facebook, Twitter et al when Rogerson is exposed to the world. I find it hard to credit that you are the only person to find Tindall utterly obnoxious."

It would be a comfort to know that Malcolm's surmise was correct, but even if they did acquire confirmation Harry wasn't quite sure of the relevance to their scheme of discredit. "How does that help?"

"We learn from the PR department." A statement that made Harry snort through the nose he usually held whenever that section floated into the conversation, making Malcolm add hastily, "We can assess the likely reaction from the target audience. Tindall will be aiming to sell his ideas, we hijack with our own tailored pitch."

With the rare smile that had pulled his subordinates' loyalty towards him Harry said "You can suggest and organise anything you like in the cause of freeing Jane from that pustule on the face of education. Just ensure that she is depicted as wholesome and caring. " 'She'll simply have to put up with the implication that she's verging on the frigid.'

Malcolm's departure from Harry's office had been hastened by the insistent sound of the secure line ringing. It was Towers, his fruity tones employed in a formal reminder to Harry that the DG had placed a three line whip out on Harry's presence at the Reception, followed by the informal advice that Jefferies, baulked of the more desirable prey that was Harry, was still hunting Franklin and insisting on the return of his officers.

Harry, after the three days of strain he'd just suffered, wasn't about to play nice."That will depend on whether the police want to pursue charges, some of which are quite serious." As an afterthought, nothing like reminding politicians that Section D was the jewel in a somewhat grubby crown, "Is he sure he wants them back? If I was inflicted with officers like that I'd be demanding an overhaul of the recruitment procedures. "I've just seen the paper outlining Debra Langham's latest fancy ideas– including tests to ensure that candidates are not racist, homophobic or subject to displaying violent tendencies under pressure.' "As far as the soldier known as Franklin is concerned I have no one of that name in the building.

"So I gathered." Towers, after a couple of years dealing with Harry, had few illusions about the latter's relationship with the exact truth, "So where did you send him – I've turned my metaphorical hearing aid off."

"Ah well, fortunately the individual in question has no sorrowing family, which is why he joined the Rocky Horror Show that is the American military. He's had enough of hot climates and fancies an extreme change. He's quite impressed with his fair treatment here and has agreed to act as an 'eyes and ears' low touch asset."

"I don't hear but..."

"We're sending him with a legend to Scotland, giving him a name appropriate to the American lineage that chimes with the great dietary gift that is Macdonald's. He might prove useful should the madder sections of the Scottish nationalists decide to re-enact the battle of Bannockburn. If he goes as far as embracing the kilt he'll definitely know the meaning of the phrase frozen assets."

With a glint of humour Towers commented, "I understood that you have Scottish ancestry yourself Harry."

"One reason for living in England, it means I can stick to black tie and trousers."

Towers now let fly with his main caution. "That reminds me Harry I'm sorry to say that Jeffries has inveigled his way into the American contingent for this evening. Can I ask you not to deck him?"

"Not to worry, what I'd like to do to him is not for public viewing."

Towers decided to let that one pass in favour of asking a more pertinent question. "And will we be having the pleasure of Jane's company?"

"She's currently scouring London for a suitable dress, and whatever else women deem necessary to outshine the others of their sex on these occasions, so I'm hoping she'll succeed."

He'd rung off feeling that he'd been a little unfair to Jane, like most attractive women she took trouble with her appearance, unlike some she hadn't elevated it to an obsession.

The remainder of the morning had been occupied by scanning the reports from the police and several other interested bodies. On the evidence presented Uncle Sam was rapidly losing the status of heroic defender of the free, exchanging it for that of the embarrassing relative no one wanted to admit to. As predicted the criminals of London, in an attempt to save their own skins, were singing 'I want to break free' in order to avoid a future in which they'd be unenthusiastically carolling 'Working on a chain gang.' Whether the tainted revelations of known liars and criminals would prove enough leverage to encourage the CIA to hand over Coaver remained in doubt. Frustratingly for Harry the whereabouts of his old friend's son remained stubbornly elusive. Until Coaver was dealt with Harry would not rest easy and he could just imagine his family's reaction to spending a lifetime under protection – only marginally less hostile than the Service accountants to the cost of the same.

Once Erin had returned a mere three hours into the shopping trip, laden with bags and accessorised by a disgruntled expression. The latter Harry was inclined to attribute to the speedy truncation of a mission she'd consciously intended to lavish a full working day upon, "Jane asked me to drop her off at the hospital' he called the entire team together for a updated debrief. Most of the paperwork and mopping up activities were going according to plan, requiring a mere watching brief and collation of documents, standard fare for Grid habitués with high level experience, leaving just two loose threads for the personnel of Section D to deal with. Harry took the easier one first.

"Ben Dover needs to remain under wraps until the final full stop is in place. Erin can you arrange a cover story including the need for extended sick leave and send him to a safe house out of London."

Erin nodded before venturing, "And his future?"

"As you suggested, a master class in not being duped and a retainer if he lets us know about any future approaches or strange incidents concerning London's traffic systems."

With Ben disposed of, verbally, Harry moved onto his main preoccupation.

"Coaver is still at large and we need to know where he is. So your priority is to find out."

Dimitri's tentative 'We've been asking," met with a very dusty, "Yes well pretend you're chefs with a lemon."

Life on the Grid was not the haunt of foodies. Shrink wrapped sandwiches garnished with crisps, designer food for desk consumption, setting their normal standards of haute cuisine. In consequence of which he was greeted with a trio of 'out to lunch' stares. With a hint of the acerbic Harry explained. "Squeeze them until the pips..."

"Squeak," supplemented Calum.

"Or are completely crushed...and yes this is personal."

Debrief ended and instructions given he'd departed to collect Jane from the hospital, detouring on his way to make an unscheduled private shopping trip. If his driver was surprised by his interim destination he had the sense to remain silent. It was a given that anyone who gossiped about Sir Harry's private life – not that he seemed to have one - was speedily transferred. Grumpy old devil he might be but there were worse people to work for. At least Sir Harry usually remembered to say thank you, and had the decency to refrain from treating the car as a form of mobile brothel. More than one of his fellow section heads had been known to vacate the luxurious back seat, leaving behind them a litter of condoms as souvenir for the unlucky driver to dispose of.

At the hospital Harry was greeted with pleasure by both women. Before he had had time to say much more than, "You're looking very well Catherine." Jane burst in with an excited news flash.

"Catherine can go home tomorrow, although the doctor wants someone to stay with her for a week, just to ensure that she doesn't relapse. We decided that as it's half term next week I'll stay with her at her flat. "

That was good news, expect of course for the fact that with Coaver still on the loose Harry would have much preferred to have placed Catherine somewhere outstandingly secure. The Tower of London, Vault of the Bank of England, the secure cells in Thames House – Fort Knox being a non starter for obvious reasons. As it was he'd have to compromise.

"All sorted without asking me, and now Jane you dump me." For a moment Jane felt a pang of guilt, before she caught the twinkle in his eye. 'Fifteen love'

"How you've survived without being murdered escapes me. I dumped you years ago, and anyway I'm sure your ears would like the rest." 'Fifteen all'

"To quote the Duke of Plaza Toro, "It's extraordinary what unprepossessing people one can love if one gives one's mind to it." 'Thirty fifteen'

Jane, having during the past few days taken an ex-marital refresher class in not rising to Harry's efforts to wind her up, inquired sweetly, "Since when did you listen to Gilbert and Sullivan instead of Verdi?" 'Thirty all'

Squaring his shoulders in a wholly imitation attempt at hurt dignity Harry huffed, "I'll have you know I'm a man of many and varied tastes." 'Forty Thirty'

"That's true, and the presence of our daughter prevents me from mentioning some of them." 'Deuce'

From the bed Catherine chipped in, "Thanks for remembering I'm here." 'Daughter stopped play.'

Her parents had the grace to look bashful, "Sorry Catherine." 'Match abandoned?'

Catherine just chortledi, "Well at least you're managing to talk to each other, and what's this about you taking Mum out tonight Dad?"

The eagerness with which she said this made him sound a warning. "Catherine a Reception attended by various stuffed shirts is not a hot date."

Like her parents Catherine was rarely lost for an answer. "Shame Mum's wasting that gorgeous dress on it then."

"Do I get a peek?"

Glancing to ensure that her bags were securely closed against his prying eyes Jane informed him. "Not before tonight. All you need to know is that I've bought one that will disguise my shoulder injury, and the doctor here changed the dressing so you won't have to."

"I'm relieved by both those pieces of information, but I wasn't under the impression that you'd been buying a wedding dress."

A sudden shadow crossed his eyes as he remembered the hope with which he'd married Jane, and then the later, rejected proposal he'd made to Ruth – one had looked gorgeous on the day, an attainable ice princess come to life, the other, well they'd never made it that far. He was quick to recover, but not quickly enough to avoid Jane's noticing, although she averted her eyes before he realised this.

Smoothing over the awkward moment with a pretence of blindness Jane got down to more immediate business, "Wedding dress or not – we need to leave. I have to get ready and pack for Catherine's."

"And I have to return to the Grid after I've taken you home.'"

At Jane's flash of anger he explained, "If the pair of you are going back to Catherine's flat I need to put some security measures in place."

"But surely Coaver won't..."

"Jane one of the fixed tenets of the Intelligence service is that you can never completely second guess a fanatic with a sense of mission. " He'd thought it sensible not to add that he also wanted to ensure that if Robin came within a mile of either female alarm bells would sound out loud and clear.

And so went the circumstance that had left Harry banished to his sitting room sofa, suffering from unaccountable nerves. Ridiculous really, anyone would think he was a schoolboy on his first date, although rifling through his memory he realised it was years since he'd actually dated anyone. Ruth and that one dinner was the last time, excluding the occasional working lunch with female colleagues; more than one of whom had hinted at the possibility of some mutual indulgence in strictly off the record night time operations.

Before he was completely swallowed in maudlin regrets for times past, today, in the shapely form of Jane, appeared in the doorway, "Will I do – I'd hate anyone to think you were really desperate."

For a moment Harry caught his breath, Jane had made no effort to hide the fact that she was of mature years but with her hair swept up, a few loose tendrils artfully framing a face enhanced by a becomingly applied makeup, she looked at least ten years younger than her calendar age. Eyes travelling downwards he noted appreciatively that her still slim figure was shown to excellent advantage by a simple close fitting black sheaf overlaid with lace of the same colour. Floor length, arms fully covered, she was revealing little in the way of flesh. The entire effect was subtle, elegant, understated. The negligee, accidentally packed by Laura, may have more revealing, but Harry, drinking in the vision before him, concluded that nothing could possibly have made her look more alluring.

With that thought in mind his response, which alarmed Jane, was to close his eyes as he intoned, "Oh God."

"What's the problem Harry, I thought it was formal – is my dress wrong?"

His eyes snapping open he exclaimed in mock horror, "Jane how could you, I was planning a restful evening. Instead I'll be engaged in fighting off a stampede of males in your direction."

Jane's temporary lack of confidence translated into laughter, "At my age that is unlikely, so much more of that and I'll be stabbing you with these high heels – which incidentally are doing my ankle no good at all. I take it that the correct answer is yes you'll do."

Harry rarely stated the obvious, and he wasn't about to break that habit. "Just one thing Jane – I wondered if you would be willing to wear these."

Having thus conjured up an intrigued expression, he magiced a small square black jeweller's box from its place of concealment behind the sofa cushions and handed it to her. Opening it carefully she gasped at the sight that greeted her, a pair of gleaming diamond drop earrings. Beautiful in their simplicity, selected with an obvious care to appeal to her tastes. Stammering with shock she exclaimed, "But Harry what...I don't like to sound ungrateful but I can't possibly accept something so expensive"

Harry, having half expected this, was ready with a prepared reply. "Regard it in the light of a roll up of the birthday and Christmas presents you'd have received if we'd remained on good terms."

Seeing her struggling to subdue the well documented desire of the female gender for expensive jewellery versus her personal doubts about the propriety of accepting a present from her long loathed ex-husband, while still married to her even more despised current disaster in trousers, he added what he hoped might prove a clincher.

"At the very least then consider it an apology for those awful trackers I made you wear the other day."

Seeing him half expecting her to follow form and throw them back in his face, perhaps literally, she hesitated. It was a completely unlooked for gesture, symbolic of what– a peace offering, a bribe, atonement. She was faced with a problem, she didn't want to seem ungracious after all he had done over the past few days, and yet she wasn't entirely comfortable about accepting them. Quite apart from the inescapable fact that she was still married to Robin, Harry was still held in some, as yet to be explained, emotional thrall by a secret he wasn't prepared to divulge. And yet...yes... no... damn him - why did he have such mesmerising eyes, seducer's eyes, as she and heaven only knew how many other women had discovered to their cost... and yet he'd shown no signs of any attempt on her long fractured virtue - so what the hell was he playing at...was he actually...-weird concept for one whose entire lifestyle was based on deception - but could he actually be on the level. Struggling and confused she finally composed an answer.

"I'll accept them on condition that you understand I'm merely a guardian holding them in trust for Catherine."

Harry, his point won, acknowledged this with a nod "As you wish Jane. I don't think they'd suit Graham anyway."

Thanks for reading and if you have a free moment please review. Advance apology - due to life being madder than usual the next chapter might be subject to a longer delay between postings than I would wish.