Thanks reading and the lovely reviews for my last chapter.

Hospital

Midnight

As Malcolm and Jane approached the door of the relatives waiting room they were accosted by Jason, stationed outside and anxiously scanning the corridor. Malcolm's immediate reaction on seeing him was to wonder if Graham had finally made himself so obnoxious that Section D had staged a mass clearout. Sense informed him that five assorted spooks should be capable of dealing with Mr Motor Mouth, even if one of them was Erin hampered with high heels and hairdo. Before Jane, who'd just obtained her first view of Jason's best bib and tucker in its post Jeffries state, could comment on his crumpled condition, Jason forestalled her with evident relief in every syllable.

"Glad to see you Jane. Someone called Oliver Carstairs arrived at the Main Reception desk twenty minutes ago asking about Harry. He claims to a friend of yours and is refusing to go until he's spoken to you."

In view of the fact that Harry's safety was a paramount concern Malcolm was a little surprised that Erin had delegated this task to a junior. Assuming she had her reasons he enquired, "So who has spoken to him?"

"No one – at least Nat had a word, said Harry was in the operating theatre and he wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to anyone at present. So Carstairs said he'd wait."

Both men looked towards Jane with doubt written across their features. Although she fully understood that the spy default of suspicion when presented with a stranger was fully justified, she still found the constant questioning of the motives of any well intentioned individual somewhat tedious. Hoping to make them relax just a touch she tried to reassure the pair,

"It's okay, Oliver and his wife are long standing friends of mine. Oliver met Harry earlier tonight."

Malcolm breathed a little easier, if Oliver had been at the Reception then he was at least security cleared – although the same could have been said of Jefferies, and how did the friendly Oliver know where Jane was anyway? Jane seemed to be considering the situation before commenting,

"I'd better see him. Knowing Oliver he'll stay all night if I don't."

Malcolm while agreeing that the sooner Oliver was disposed of, in fully legal fashion, the better for all of them, wasn't about to take the chance of letting Jane out of sight, or earshot, once more. With this thought in mind he began to ferret amongst the hidden contents of his inside jacket pocket, finally pulling forth a ragbag handful of small threads and tiny flat discs. Deftly selecting one small inconspicuous item from this collection he held out to her, with an order that his habitual manners disguised as request.

"Very well, but please will you wear this?"

A few days ago Jane would have stared in ignorance at the wires in his hands. After the four days of Grid corruption she had only one question, "Tracker or transmitter."

"It will track, but mainly it's a transmitter." Eyeing Jane's body with an interest that in anyone other than Malcolm she would have considered salacious he finally asked, "Can you turn around Jane?" Puzzled she did so, becoming even more confused as she felt the upper part of her dress zip being eased down. While she began to wonder if Malcolm was quite the gentleman she'd assumed he stifled her barely formulated protest with,

"This will have to do – sorry Jane but finding somewhere on your dress to place an invisible wire is difficult."

"Well Malcolm for some reason evening dresses aren't designed with the needs of MI5 in mind."

The only response to this sally was the slight feeling of breath on her back and gentle fingers fiddling with the zip area of her dress before an absence of cool air and the gradual tightening of material across her shoulders told her that Malcolm had restored her back view to respectability.

Standing back, giving a forensic stare to her shoulder blades as he assessed the effect of his handiwork Malcolm confirmed, "That should hold. But don't move sharply Jane or it may dislodge."

While Jane immediately began to make tentative, experimental movements in an effort to ensure that she wasn't about to shed metal as she walked, Malcolm, very reprehensibly not seeking Erin's permission for what was in effect a stakeout, advised Jason,

"I'll go into the Reception area a couple of minutes ahead of Jane and pretend to be reading. I'll be able to hear the conversation through an earpiece. If I'm not happy I'll buzz you to come out and rescue Jane."

Jason was looking dubious, Malcolm although undoubtedly the most experienced person on the team, barring Harry of course, was not a field officer. He was also elderly, and unlike Harry did not have the background of being a trained fighter. Jason's incipient protest that he should take up a newspaper and walk was forestalled by Malcolm's next piece of reasoning.

"Anyone in a dinner jacket will be obvious and if he is on a post Reception fishing trip that could break our cover." Somewhat ruefully he concluded, "Whereas I'm not the sort of person anyone notices."

Jason wasn't going to dispute that last statement, like most of the recent appointments to Section D he'd known that Malcolm's technical skills were nearly as legendary as Harry's exploits. Consequently his first meeting with the man had been productive of an air of disappointment. Unlike Harry, from whom presence radiated in waves, Malcolm had seemed so ordinary, nondescript even. While that illusion had been dispelled about five minutes into their introductory conversation considering the underlying purpose of the current low key operation Jason was forced to agree with his senior's self assessment.

Jane, while considering these precautions to be somewhat excessive for a meeting with a man she'd known for years, knew better than to argue with spooks. Accompanied by the pair she moved towards the double doors leading into the Reception area and then halted. Malcolm went ahead, while Jason managed to wriggle himself into a viewing position, ready to intervene if necessary.

Walking into the Reception area about two minutes after Malcolm, and carefully not looking in his direction Jane felt unaccountably nervous as she gave herself a quick shake and silent talking too: really this was ridiculous she was becoming infected with the spook tendency to regard everything as suspicious. Yet another grievance to chalk up to Harry? Oliver wasn't difficult to spot, confirming Malcolm's advice that few attended casualty sporting dinner jackets, whereas Malcolm himself, secreted behind an early edition of one of tomorrow's broadsheets was practically invisible, making even the cream distempered walls look vibrant in comparison. As she approached Oliver, who'd clearly been looking out for her, stood up to greet her, catching both of her hands in a friendly squeeze.

"Jane, thank goodness you're okay." With that said he enquired, "Any more news of Harry."

"Not yet. But how did you know where I was?"

Oliver gave a fleeting grin, "I've not been stalking you, and I'm not a spy either. I was waiting with Caroline outside to see if you were hurt, it was a bit confusing in there, and we saw them taking Harry out. I heard the ambulance men mention the hospital they were going to."

Malcolm listening in was making a mental note to advise Harry of yet more security protocols that needed fixing, it would give him something to mutter about while he convalesced, assuming he survived to do so. Suppressing his own worries on that score Malcolm tuned back into the conversation still taking place, reassured that Oliver was, to all appearances, exactly what he had claimed to be, an old friend of Jane's.

"Is there anything at all I can do for you Jane?"

Jane swallowed hard. "If you see Robin at the conference next week, please don't tell him you've seen me." Seeing Oliver's slightly raised eyebrow she added, "If you must know I've left him – only he doesn't know that yet." That last coming out with an embarrassed rush.

After a pause Oliver, in very measured words, commented, "I see, so I'm guessing that Harry is more than just a friend."

Warily and hastily Jane informed him, "I know how it looks, but honestly it's not what you think."

The friendly hug she received from Oliver was giving Malcolm instant palpitations concerning the security of the roughly secured bug, "What I think is - well if... no... I'm an optimist...when Harry recovers just tell him from me that the next time we met I'll shake his hand."

Smiling at Jane's evident confusion he added, "He'll understand. I'll go now, but if you need any help at all in dumping Robin just ask. I've only ever put up with him for your sake, and Caroline can't stand him, thinks he's an arrogant creep."

Malcolm, mind working overtime, was assessing the chances of drafting Olivier into that increasing inclusive body, the 'Take Tindall Down Cooperative." The addition of a trustworthy man on the spot could prove a useful addition to the merry band. Pondering how they could approach and then utilise Oliver occupied a pleasant few seconds, during which Jane was doing nothing more noteworthy than bidding farewell to her friend. After her disappearance back into the private areas of the hospital Malcolm gave it a few minutes, making sure that Oliver really had departed the premises before folding up his paper and following Jane.

Malcolm's delay to ensure that security was preserved meant that by the time he reappeared in the relatives room Jane was being mercilessly grilled about her absence, especially by Erin who, in attempting to establish her authority over proceedings, was seemingly upbraiding Jane for her vanishing act. He arrived just in time to hear Jane, determined to preserve her privacy, snapping back,

"Right at this moment Erin my main concern is to get this transmitter removed, so I wonder if you could do the honours."

With that she presented her back to the Section Chief, who had little choice other than to comply as she unzipped Jane's dress, distracted from further enquiry by Catherine's horror stricken,

"Mum it's ruined, what on earth did you kneel in to get that all over the front?"

Normally Jane would have exerted more tact, but through sheer tiredness replied succinctly, without thought to the effect of the truth,

"Your father's blood. At the time I had worries other than the state of my dress."

Her children, both surveying the quantity of gore decorating Jane's material covered knees, displayed their shock differently. Catherine, the knowing veteran of several war zones, and therefore able to compute the seriousness of their father's injury from the amount of blood split, blenched. Graham, wanting to disguise the unexpected heaving of his stomach, reverted to flippancy as he muttered a half remembered quote, 'who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him'. His inadvertent investing of the glorious Bard with modern day relevance might have thrilled Gawain – had he been present - down to his pedicured toes, but it did nothing whatsoever to improve relations with the parent now glaring at him. He was saved from almost total alienation by Erin. The latter, horrified by this evidence of crime against couture, grabbing Jane's attention as she helpfully advised,

"I know a very good cleaner Jane who specialises in evening dresses. I'll give you the address."

A statement responsible for ensuring that the smallish room they were occupying was now hosting a gender gap that had, in an instant, assumed the proportions of the Grand Canyon. While Jane was politely thanking Erin, and Catherine, having recovered her colour, was examining the stain in more detail, tutting as she did so, Graham was for once in fellowship with the trio of younger males, all rolling their eyes in unison. A fragile alliance shattered when Graham shouted to the company at large,

"Never mind the sodding dress, where were you Mum?"

Malcolm knowing that Jane's trip to the chapel had been a personal pilgrimage answered for her,

"Repairing a potential security breach – which reminds me Erin..."

Whatever Erin was about to be reminded of remained unknown for the moment as her mobile, very reprehensibly left on, cheeped into life. With glance and a groan she announced, 'Text from Towers wanting to know if we have any news.'

As they all watched Erin, now the officer in charge, text back a negative reply Laura commented, "I just can't imagine the Grid without Sir Harry."

Even Erin, whose auto response was set at 'diss' to anything emanating from Laura's mouth wasn't inclined to disagree. Graham who'd been about to utter a statement along the lines of 'I'd have thought it was good riddance' was halted less by a flowering of discretion, and rather more by the sight of the already grieving faces. For his father – unbelievable – then he supposed his despised parent must put on a different show at work. Typical – he'd always considered his father to be two faced anyway. But if his staff were so easy to fool, considering the nature of their job, then God help the country. How come he was the only one to see Harry as he really was, a whisky soaked killing machine caring only for himself. Mum and Catherine were no better, after years of complaining about the old sod they were now were looking every bit as bereft as the team.

Impelled to point out a few home truths he tried to get them all to man, or woman up. "Come on – he's only your boss, and he'd send you to your deaths if he had to."

Malcolm giving Graham a look of disgust agreed. "That is true." But before Graham could congratulate himself on his perspicacity added, "And then he'd organise the death of the perpetrator."

Calum in support of this position postulated laconically, "Not that it matters much whether Harry lives or dies." At the shocked gasps of breath he continued innocently, "Not if you're Coaver or Jefferies anyway."

"Thank you -that's my Dad you're talking about."

Looking at Catherine Calum simply grinned sardonically,

"Well if your Dad does survive this he'll really be gunning for them, literally since Graham is the only member of his family they've not had a serious attempt at killing."

In the following deliberate pause an invisible cartoon thought bubble was suspended be above more than one head charged with two words, "Worst luck'. Having allowed time for reflection Calum concluded his analysis."If he doesn't survive then we'll be drawing straws for the honour."

"Okay mate I get the point – my Dad's a saint, so just stop upsetting my Mum and sister unless you want me to shut your mouth for you."

Dimitri, like the rest of the team suffering under a considerable strain that would be temporarily relieved by action, replied on Calum's behalf, "Just try it then and see."

"I'll take you any day of the week."

Jane swiftly intervened. "Graham we are in this mess due to violence, and your father certainly wouldn't approve of its unnecessary use."

"Como on Mum, do you really think this lot are fucking choir boys."

The notoriously laid back Calum interjected. "Actually we prefer to leave that job to the clergy."

Jane winced, on Malcolm's behalf as well as her own. She'd be the first to acknowledge that all professions had their bad apples; she was after all married to the rotting Cox's pippin that was Robin, but having just found some solace in the nearby chapel she loathed the notion, now increasingly embedded in the national psyche that anyone wearing a dog collar was automatically either a hypocrite or a pervert. She blamed the press and popular drama. The first being happy to report the scandalous but not the unsung; while the latter revelled in producing scripts in which the priest was invariably unmasked as the villain.

"Enough. I suggest we all sit quietly in silence since we can't talk in a civilised manner."

At that schoolmarmish rebuke everyone - with the exception of Malcolm - looked abashed. And everyone not daring to gainsay the instruction became an instant mute, creating a silence that was maintained throughout the next creeping twenty minutes. The waiting was unbearable, but so too was the idea of conversation. When the quiet was finally interrupted it was again courtesy of Erin's phone. With the glimpse of an apology she mouthed 'the DG' followed up by a finger to her lips. A gesture that conveyed, even to Graham, that the forthcoming conversation was likely to involve state secrets.

Phone pressed to her ear, her normally attractive lips were gradually compressing into a thin line as her eyes began to burn with a fury that was igniting the curiosity of the hushed group. The subject of the discussion become clear when she finally spoke,

"Yes Sir I understand that but I really can't authorise anything until we know the prognosis for Sir Harry." Not even blushing as she lied, "Also my team are currently examining the Intel from this evening, plus data from the incidents culminating in the events near the Clink."

Malcolm, experienced in the pressure brought to bear by politicians had little doubt as to what had happened. Scribbling a few words he stretched his arm out and passed the scrap of paper to Jason with a nod to Erin. Erin seeing this murmured, "I understand Sir but..." With an extended arm she snatched the note, scanned its content and then said, "I have been advised Sir that we have actual CCTV footage of Jefferies letting Coaver into the premises."

The DG had apparently responded in a satisfactory manner allowing Erin in a pale, but passable imitation of Harry's manner, to respond,

"Absolutely. Please reassure the Americans that we will expedite this asap. In the meantime my staff are ensuring that all appropriate medical treatments are given. I've insisted that they follow the agreed guidelines stating that due to the nature of the possible injuries or mental state of the detainees we can't proceed with interrogation until they are certified fit."

With that she rang off, an utterly mulish expression stamped upon her face. Not improved by Graham's savage accusation,

"What's all this with my staff and I'm insisting– can't wait for the old boy to snuff it then."

Erin was about to take offence, Harry had ordered her to take command in the event of his probable death at the 'The Clink', and he was currently insensible while being hacked around on the operating table, but a look at the faces surrounding her was indicating some support for the infuriated Graham,

Hoping her nerves weren't showing she ventured a form of apology.

"No of course not. But for your information the Service is still something of an old boys club. If I sound unwilling to step up to the plate then some ghastly desk bound jobsworth taking the line of least resistance with the likes of Jeffries will be parachuted in."

While Graham looked totally unconvinced by this reasoning two completely unexpected voices chimed up in Erin's defence.

From one corner Catherine, "Quite – the number of production meetings I've sat in and because I'm the only woman present I'm expected to fetch the coffee."

Malcolm wasn't bothered about the cafeteria inspired grievances of the sisterhood, but with memories of more fraught experiences than the requirement to play waiting wench, he accepted that in spite of her various inadequacies as a Harry substitute they could do a whole lot worse than Erin. While she in no way measured up to the commanding standards of the late lamented Ros Myers - who by now would have eaten the Americans for breakfast with the Foreign Secretary pencilled in for lunch - it would seem that Erin had at least absorbed enough from Harry's mentoring to continue fighting the good fight against the dark forces of pusillanimity that were spreading through the service like a latter day Black Death. Her use of selective protocols as a delaying tactic proof that Harry's tuition had not been in vain, encouraging him to remind everyone.

"That's true. The last time Harry got shot we were all suspended, and nearly arrested in the interests of greater government inference. We only avoided it because Harry, against all medical advice, signed himself out of hospital. Even so it was a close run thing."

Given the role of Ruth in extracting Harry from his sickbed, plus the part that Tom Quinn, now semi restored to the fold, had played in creating the crisis, Malcolm wasn't keen to expand the topic but registering Erin's shocked face he added, "Does the name Oliver Mace convey anything?" The appalled look he received in response a testament to Erin's inside knowledge regarding the less magnificent moments of service history.

Jane, although noting down his statement as further pieces of the jigsaw that might serve to illuminate some of Harry's hidden secrets, asked harshly,

"So what was that call about?"

Normally Erin would have cavilled at sharing this information with a civilian, but in this case was she had no option as she made an exception, "The American Embassy are claiming unfair detention, brutality and demanding an immediate release of Chris Coaver and Jefferies." Giving gratitude where due she turned to Malcolm, "Thanks for that advice," then hesitating, "But is it true?"

Before Malcolm could reply Calum answered for him, "Who cares, we've confiscated the footage so the Yanks won't know."

Dimitri was scowling, "I thought after Harry's meeting with Towers the other day the DG was on our side. And never mind the CCTV footage we actually have a room full of witnesses to Coaver blasting a hole in Harry."

Erin groaned, "I know. But the Foreign Secretary isn't, on our side I mean, and the Americans are trying for damage limitation, especially in view of what we've learnt so far. Which makes me more determined than ever to hang onto Jefferies. The DG isn't arguing for their release, but he is forced to pass on American concerns."

Further debate along the lines of exactly where most of the occupants in the room thought American concerns should be stuffed was halted as the door opened to reveal Nat. At the sight of him Jane immediately ceased to be certain of the exact location of her heart. Was it physically possible for it to plummet to her elegantly shod feet, while simultaneously leaping into her mouth?

Nat must have realised this as he gazed across at the tableau of frozen figures. Taking a deep breath he was wondering who to address first. Erin, as this was a matter of National Security, in capitals, or Jane as the approximate next of kin. He was a doctor – family came first so he chose Jane,

"Harry must have a guardian angel working triple time. Either that or Satan doesn't fancy the competition. Whichever it is he's set to stay with us for now."

Nat might have addressed Jane but the wind produced from the group exhale would have blown out a ten branch candelabra. As Jane tried to gather her breath it was Catherine who asked, "Yes but surviving the operation is not the only issue – how is he really."

Nat gave her an understanding look, "In better shape than we had any right to have hoped. The bullet missed the main arteries and any vital spot. Due to previous damage we won't know exactly how much movement he'll get back but the surgeon is hopeful. "

Almost rooted to her chair as she fought down the impulse to cry with relief Jane enquired, "Can we see him."

"Of course, he's in Recovery. He did come round for a few seconds, but is sleeping and partly semi conscious. I estimate that it'll be a few hours before he does wake up properly and he might still be a little confused at first. Obviously we'll have all the usual monitors on him and we'll be moving him to the secure unit, I assumed that is what you'd require." This last was addressed to Erin who gave an affirming nod.

Reassured Erin switched into direct command mode. "Very well I want one of the team with Harry – I'll need to contact Towers, he may not know about the latest demands from the Cousins, and get him onside." Surveying the group she decided, "Calum go home and get some sleep I'll need a technical officer on the Grid by nine trawling Intel." Hoping she hadn't offended Malcolm she hastened to say, "I thought you might prefer to wait with Harry's family, but I'll have you relieved tomorrow, or rather later this morning at around seven. If you could then get some sleep and make the Grid for early afternoon." It was a question rather than order. Harry wouldn't have ordered either; he'd have just assumed agreement. In the absence of a reply so did Erin as she continued, her next words paying off an earlier score,

"Laura we'll need you less than anyone so you can go home now and then return at seven to relieve Malcolm. I'll see who else can be spared in the afternoon."

Laura not reacting to the almost insult smiled sweetly, "I'll be honoured, after all I can tell Sir Harry not to worry as you've got everything under control."

And that Malcolm thought, as the group prepared separate into their different destinations, would be threat enough to ensure that Harry would sign himself out of the institution the instant he'd revived sufficiently to scrawl his mark on the discharge papers.

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