Light up, light up!
As if you have a choice 
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear

 

The drive down to southwest Cornwall gave Terry and Liam a much needed opportunity to talk, in more depth than they had for months. Liam was open and honest for the most part, although Terry had a nagging suspicion all the same that something significant lay beneath the surface unspoken. He didn't push deeply. Liam had a right to his own private life and would no doubt say more when he was ready. Or tell his mother.

"Fliss thinks we should get back together," Liam said. "Just before New Year when I went to pick Nina up, there was a bit of a scene. She's a mess, to be honest. Talked about second chances. Cried a lot. Didn't seem to know what she wanted."

"He still around?" Terry asked, referring to the new man. 

"Yep, I think so. Although she seems to be having second thoughts. I don't know what's wrong with her. She was so together when we met all those years ago. She was always the mature one. Now, she's acting like a spoilt little girl. I don't know what's happened to her..."

"Oddly enough, we don't always get more sensible with age, contrary to popular opinion." Terry observed. "I don't know what to say about it all, Liam. Maybe she's going through some fallout from fame, motherhood, settling down so early, I don't know...? How do you feel about it? You want to try and make another go of it? She's a good woman at heart, you know she is. Worth fighting for..."

Liam accelerated sharply, pulling out into the fast lane; Terry shot him a disapproving look. His son was a maniac behind the wheel at the best of times, never mind when emotionally affected.

"It's over, Dad. I have no desire to go back there again.  But it wasn't easy to walk away. I mean, I still have feelings for her. I guess that won't ever change. She's my Fliss, you know? But, I don't think it's love anymore. She weighs me down like a millstone round my neck. It all so fucking heavy when I see her..."

"She's always going to be Nina's Mum," his father reminded him.

"I know that! And I respect that. I have a responsibility to Fliss as well as Nina, and always will. But I'm not going back. That's final."

"I wasn't trying to make you. No one knows better than me that when it's over, it's over. There is no going back. But all the same, you have to make great efforts for your child. She must never be made to feel that this is her fault or that she isn't as important to you as other kids are to their dads...I should know. I failed Henry...and it took years to put right."

Liam sighed. "I know. I think about that a lot. I think about Andreas and how he always asks questions about his dad leaving as though Nick didn't love him enough to stay.  Why do kids automatically think like that? Why do they blame themselves?"

"Human nature. Insecurity. It begins early..."

"Particularly for those kids who don't have regular family lives, you mean?" Liam asked. "We were so bloody lucky growing up. You and Mum gave us such a good foundation, so secure. I mean, you might not have been the most hands-on father on the planet, but we knew where we were with you. Mum was always there while you were at work doing whatever it was Dads do. It was normal. When you were home you were great. Mum was happy. We were happy. When you think about it, kids don't really need a lot to feel secure. Just love. "

Terry nodded his agreement. "But what about that time when I left? You were very mixed up then; Zoe, too."

Liam looked across. "Can't remember very well. I was only a littlie then, not much older than Andy. But, you came back. I suppose I learned that you would always come back eventually. I never really doubted that. I knew you loved us and you loved Mum. That's all that mattered."

"Yeah, I guess so," Terry replied vaguely, something else having already occurred to him. "What do you think about Andreas and these claims about Nick? Zoe refuses to give it any credence."

"Can't say I blame her. It's a bloody weird notion. Yet, I'm not as fixed in my cynicism as my dear sister. I do believe in the other side. Once or twice I kind of got a sense of Nick over the years..."

"...When you'd been tripping or drinking yourself into a coma?" Terry added. "Let's face it, Liam, your predilection for hallucinatory drugs makes your testimony somewhat suspect."

"Give me a break! You make me sound like a bloody junkie, Dad! I might have experimented with mind-altering chemicals from time to time..."

Terry rolled his eyes. "...but only for the sake of your muse, eh? That what you're going to tell me? Fuck off, Liam, I wasn't born yesterday. And may I remind you, drugs were not invented by your generation..."

Liam cackled merrily to himself. "Whoah, yet another revelation from Daddio, king of the beat generation?  Did they allow soldiers to lie around smoking dope and wearing flowers in their hair?"

Terry grunted. "I wasn't part of the beat generation. I'm not that old. And no, we didn't lie around smoking dope. We were serving in Northern bloody Ireland, doing a man's job. It wasn't quite like 'Nam, sunny Jim. Don't talk like soldiers live in some other dimension from all you hip dudes, either. We were young men, we listened to the music, read the books, tried the same things for kicks...It isn't about them and us, Liam. It isn't as clear cut as that."

Liam nodded his understanding. "She going to be okay, Dad? This guy who died, the spy. I think he was very important to her. She must be doing it tough..." He didn't mention his sister's name; it was hardly necessary. Zoe was on everyone's mind constantly.

"She hasn't said much, but she has to be hurting. I think she was falling for him but I also think she's angry. He was lying to her all along, at least about some of it. Your sister's got a lot to work out in her head."

"She deserves a break, Dad."

"She'll have to give herself one, then. Zoe does not choose the easy options, Liam. But don't get me wrong. I feel for her. Christ, I thought we'd lost them both that day. Which is why we are here now today. She's still my little girl. I have to find out what this was really all about..." 

It was the last cottage on a steep hill that climbed along the edge of the promontory above the sleepy little fishing harbour of Polperro. Rough-hewn, white washed stones, tiny bull's eye windows, a kitchen garden that was probably rich and fragrant in warmer months greeted them. It seemed to Terry an unlikely spot for a City career woman like Tessa.  

"Round the back. Keep an eye out. If the kitchen door's open, go in. Quietly..." Terry muttered to Liam.

His son nodded and did as he had been directed while Terry knocked sharply on the brightly glossed blue front door. It was opened briskly, in the manner of someone who hadn't been expecting trouble. Terry composed his face and looked into hers. He wondered if she was thinking the same thoughts as he was about the unforgiving nature of the passage of time. 

"G'day, Tess. Long time, no see, huh?"

"Terry Thorne! Good God, a flash from the past if ever there was one! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Tessa Phillips recovered her poise rather quicker than he had anticipated. She was good - but then she always had been.

"I don't have time for dancing around the houses with you, Tessa. May I come in?"

Tessa stepped back and let him in. He surveyed the interior, an unexpectedly modern layout, stylish and expensively furnished. Tessa had obviously had the cottage long enough to renovate extensively. "Nice place."

"My bolt hole. I like it down here." she said tersely, watching him carefully. "You came alone? Should I be concerned?"

"Not alone." Liam stepped into the room from the kitchen behind her; Tessa spun round at the sound of his voice, taken by surprise. Yet again she recovered quickly.

"Ah! The famous son! I am honoured." She gave him a thorough appraisal. "You favour your father. I was his lover once, you know? When he was about your age. Did he mention that?"

"S'matter of fact, he did," Liam answered lazily, leaning back against the wall, and then closing his mouth. This was his Dad's show. He had no intention of crossing swords with this woman unless he had to.

"Coffee? Tea?" Tessa asked smoothly, moving towards the kitchen. Liam blocked the door.

"Sit down, Tess," Terry ordered bluntly. We don't require anything other than a bit of honesty. Which is probably a tall order for you. A lifetime in the security services is not the best recipe for truth, I have found."

Tessa sat down, resting her hands neatly on her lap, her eyes fixed on his. "Fire away, Terry. What do you want to know?"

He took a seat facing her. Liam crossed his arms from his position across the room and listened. "Why did you kidnap my grandson?"

She chuckled, amused by his question. "I didn't."

"Cut it out, Tess! Gil O'Brien kidnapped him. I know that. On your orders. I know what happened. I'm not here today to find out what happened. I want to know why it happened. And why you haven't been arrested for a number of crimes already, not the least treason..."

Tessa took her time before answering. "Cuthbert offered me a lot of money. I happen to think I deserve a comfortable old age after what I've sacrificed for my country. I have dedicated my whole life to the service of British Intelligence, only to be passed over for the higher honours because I am not a man, while arrogant little shits get the promotions..."

"Arrogant young men like Tom Quinn, you mean? Are you telling me this was all about your bitterness at missing out on getting your own bloody department? Try again! You don't kill an innocent woman and child and cause a major intelligence breach just to have a tantrum about sexual politics and the glass ceiling! Although I'm sure you did hate his guts. Tom Quinn would have been everything you dislike, wouldn't he? And he was falling in love with a beautiful young woman who felt the same about him.  Tom Quinn had it all. A penis, your job and the girl... Pretty depressing state of affairs for a dried-up old spinster like you to cope with, eh?"

Liam was surprised at how brutal his father's comment was, and then realised his reaction was naive in the extreme. His father was interrogating this woman; his jibe was calculated to annoy her and pierce the cool mask she wore. Yet it still seemed hard to imagine his father treating any woman with such contempt, particularly one who from any point of view he had once wronged, even if unwillingly.

Tessa kept her face straight but her eyes were unable to conceal her emotions. "I never married - by choice. Why has that got to be used as an insult against me? I never met anyone I wanted for a husband. But I haven't exactly been without male companionship over the years. I might resent you boys in the workplace, but I rather like you in my bed. As you may very well recall, Terry. Or are you losing your memory these days?"

Terry laughed. "I have always had a good memory. As apparently so have you. And while we're on the subject of old bedmates... Is Jeremy Cuthbert one of your many boyfriends? Nice choice, Tess - or should I say, bottom of the barrel? Can't imagine what you see in him. He always seemed to me a small dick kind of bloke, ya know? Those sadistic types invariably are..."

"Why do boys always bring it down to penis size? Imagine a woman thinking herself superior merely because she had big breasts? The very idea..." Tessa observed haughtily.

Terry ignored her. "You were the one who raised the penis as a political issue, darling. Don't baulk when it gets thrown back at you.  Okay, let's see what we have here, shall we? Cuthbert brings you his little proposition. You're interested. Your career's in the doldrums and you'd like to go out with a bang. But there's more. The target is personally known to you. Or rather, her father is. For some reason, you think his daughter has to pay for whatever he did to you way back when. Kill a few birds with one stone, you think? Why not?  So you throw in your lot with him.  Cuthbert, however, gets himself arrested. Or did you engineer that yourself to get hold of the whole pot?  Whatever, you take over, arrange the kidnap with O'Brien as your little gopher...and sit back using your insider knowledge while MI5 aids you in reeling in the big fish. It will either work - you make millions and get your revenge - or you fail and turn Queen's Evidence. Either way, you can't lose, eh? I'll bet there are a whole stack of those old beaux of yours in Whitehall, all falling over themselves to do deals on your behalf..."

"If you know so much, Terry, what the hell are you here for? You seem to have worked it all out for yourself..." Tessa interrupted. "Or did you come here with some insane desire for retribution? Should I be scared? Is this a hit?" she added, turning from one to another. "If so, I think you're way out of your depth, kid. Are you really going to stand by and watch your father take out a gun and shoot me? Imagine what a field day the press would have with the two of you later? Because make no mistake, you won't get away with it. Five will want a scapegoat - and who better than the pair of you? That would really take the heat off them. I presume they leaked my details... ?"

"Why, Tessa? Why, after all these years, did you want to get at me? I know I left you in the lurch, but we weren't exactly Romeo and Juliet back then. You had your career and I had mine. We were never going to make the big commitment. How long would we have lasted anyway?"

She looked away, the first sign of emotional discomfort. "After you left, I found out I was pregnant. I told the department I was going away for a while, taking a break. They didn't leave it at that, of course. I was monitored. It went down on my file. Tom Quinn found out about the termination when he was investigating Cuthbert. He put two and two together and realised you had to have been the father..."

There was a silence in the room. Liam opened his mouth and then closed it. Terry blinked rapidly a few times. "Pregnant? You were pregnant when I left? Jesus Christ! Why didn't you tell me?"

She smiled wryly. "I only found out a few weeks later. So, you would have done the decent thing and married me, like you did with the general's daughter? What was the bloody use of telling you? You got married and I got shafted. I didn't need to tell you. It was my always problem..."

"Tess, it was my child as well! I had a right to know. You cannot hold me responsible for something if you don't tell me about it! Christ, we were adults! How is it my fault if you got pregnant? Surely we should both shoulder the blame on that one for being reckless?"

"Reckless?" Tessa stood up, angry now. "I loved you! It wasn't recklessness, you selfish bastard, it was love! You took my love and trampled it under foot for the sake of your damned career! I would have given it all up for you. I would have resigned from the service and married you if you'd asked. Had your babies and kept your home fires burning. That's how much I loved you. But no, you preferred to go running back to that mealy-mouthed little tart, to keep her Daddy happy! Why should I have told you? You gave away the right to my confidence when you put her before me..."

Terry said nothing, but Liam could see he was uncomfortable himself now. There was obviously enough truth in what she was saying to make his father squirm. He felt embarrassed to be a witness to this. Everyone makes mistakes when they're young but shouldn't have to replay them years later to an audience.

"It wasn't the child's fault, Tess. I could have helped you. I would have helped. I wasn't that much of a jerk..."

"You're angry that I killed your baby, is that it? How sanctimonious of you. Angry that I took the decision to terminate instead of devoting my life to bringing up your child alone? Unlike your precious only daughter who naturally made a little martyr of herself when she got herself up the spout to a dead man..."

"Leave my daughter out of this," Terry snapped. "So, this was what it was about? You felt so much resentment because of a decision to terminate a pregnancy made years ago, that you would destroy the family of the lover who you thought let you down? Don't you think that somewhat of an overreaction?"

"She isn't dead," Tessa muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Terry replied. "What was that?"

"I said, she isn't dead.  Our daughter. I chose not to abort. I fed the department a false trail. But in reality, I had the baby, then gave her up for adoption. I've never seen her since. I had no choice. I knew I wouldn't be able to give her what she would need, so I arranged for a family without any children to have her. But it never goes away. Never. I thought at the time that I would eventually get over the pain of losing you both. Well, I got over you easily enough; you're only a man. But she was my child. I will never recover from losing her. I suppose at the time, I thought that one day I would have other children. Of course, I never did. I lost my stake in the future the day I gave her away. And you? You went on to fuck up one marriage, yet another kid's life, but still got it all in the end. Pardon me, if I came to resent everything you stood for, Terry. And most of all that your precious daughter meant so much to you but your first daughter didn't even bloody well exist for you!" 

Liam wondered whether his father had even heard most of the irrational tirade. His face showed he was still dealing with the news that he had fathered a daughter years ago. 

"You had the baby? I have another daughter? Where is she? What happened to our daughter?"

"I don't know. I have never tried to find out..."

"Crap! You're an intelligence officer! You have access to every form of surveillance and tracking device possible, the resources of the entire British Military Intelligence - plus you're obsessed by all of this. You know exactly what happened to her, don't you? Tell me. Tell me now!" Terry stepped forward, hauling Tessa across the room roughly. Liam also stepped forward, ready to intervene if his father went too far.

Tessa shrugged off his grip, rubbing at her arm where he had obviously bruised her. "Her name is Clare Beaumont. Her adoptive mother's a doctor, her father an engineer. She grew up mainly in the Middle East where the parents were working as expatriates. She's a very clever girl, read Chemistry at the University of Durham, subsequently went on to complete her PhD in Polymer Sciences and is now assistant head of Research and Development at Akzo Nobel...you know, they took over Imperial Chemicals...?"

"Where does she live now?"

"Kingston-on-Thames. With her partner, Marcus Reid. They have a twelve-year-old son, Miles... Clare was born about five weeks after your son Henry. I have always kept a watch over her. Just in case. I mean, what if they had met? Your son and daughter? It used to give me nightmares..."

Terry sank back into a chair, running his hands down his face. "A whole life. Lost. My child?"

"Our child. But not our child. We lost that right the day I gave her away."

"You tried to kill my daughter, Tessa. And my grandson. To punish me for what? If you were so traumatised by the adoption, why didn't you make contact with Clare? These things can be arranged nowadays. Why did you want to harm my family instead?"

Tessa drew herself up to her full height and faced him boldly. "I did it so that you would know how I feel. Powerless. Aging. Past it. Too bloody late..."

"You're one sick bitch..." Liam could no longer restrain himself. It wasn't his father's fault. Any guy who sleeps around could have left something of himself behind. He wasn't excusing men of responsibility, but if a guy doesn't know, what the hell can he do about it?

"What are you going to do, Terry? Now that you know? I've got away with it all scot free. You here to bring me to your own sort of justice?" she mocked. 

Terry looked up at her, his eyes hollow with remorse. "I leave revenge up to you, Tessa. I'd prefer to let you live inside that warped mind of yours. That seems justice enough. I'm sorry for my part in all this and for once being a foolish young man. But that is not commensurate with what you have done to me in return.  And I wouldn't be too smug about getting away with this, Tess. You've made some enemies along the way, and I don't just mean me. So has Gil O' Brien. By the way, if you ever see that weaselly little prick, tell him this from me. You better both be looking behind you from now on. Because one day soon, the knock will come. Everything has a price, Tess. Everything...not just the folly of youth..." He stood up, and made for the door.

"Is that it? Am I supposed to be impressed at your generosity? I thought the formidable Terry Thorne was worth more than a lame piece of advice..." she taunted.

He turned and looked back at her, more in pity than anger. "I don't give a damn what you think of me, Tessa. But don't dismiss what I have said as an idle threat. One day, soon....I assure you...the knock will come..."

With that, Terry left the house, Liam bringing up his wake. Outside, he walked ahead at a quick pace, stopping only when he was at the bottom of the cliff road, to lean on the sea wall and stare out over the water. Liam caught him up.

"You okay, Dad?"

"What do you think? Would you be?" he retorted sharply.

"I don't know what to say, Dad. I wish I did. She's insane. You do know that, don't you? And she's probably lying...you can't believe anything she says..."

Terry eyed his son up thoughtfully. "She's not rational, I agree. But she is not insane, either. Just a very bitter, lonely and confused woman. Not everything she says is wrong, Liam. I don't think she's lying at all... It would be easy to check on her story anyway. And I will do. But my bet is every word she said about Clare Beaumont is true. Everything she said about me was..." He paused and let that admission of guilt sink in. "I was a little shit back then. A selfish bastard, like a lot of young men are. And I spent the next fifteen years of my life paying for it. Or maybe I still am?"

He shrugged and turned again to look out, gazing over the wild seascape, deep in thought. Liam stood by awkwardly, unsure what was going to happen next.

"So she gets away with it?" he asked.

Terry didn't answer immediately. His son thought he might not have heard him until:

"For now. But not for long. As I told her.  She's made enemies, Liam. Cuthbert for one. Even inside, he has his contacts. Who knows how many other people she crossed to put this into action? Make no mistake, there's someone out there...There always is. It's just a matter of time...and she knows it."

"Dad, could she still pose a threat to us? Has she finished with us? Do I need to get some beefed up security for Nina and Fliss?" 

That took Terry by surprise. He'd been so steeped in the actual news that he hadn't yet begun to think of the real implications. But Liam was thinking already. He was impressed with his son's reading of the situation and his calm - and by his immediate worry for his own family. It told him so much about his son and made him feel inordinately proud. He placed a hand on Liam's shoulder.

"I don't think you need to be concerned. I think she's done what she intended already. That little interlude looked to me like case closed. Tessa's had her little act of revenge. At the end of the day she's a smart woman. She knows she's in danger herself - and being watched. One false step and the authorities will have her. Her indemnity will not stretch to any further misbehaviour...Come on, let's go get the car..."

Terry set off walking briskly towards where they had parked it, Liam jogging after him.

"Hey, Dad...There's a pub down the road. Fancy a pint? My shout this time?"

Terry stared over at him. "Are you serious? You think a pint is all it takes, you clown? I've just had life changing news. And you suggest we get drunk? No wonder you're so good at fucking up your own life..."He winced as he said it. It was not at all what he meant, just some gut reaction to this insanity. "Christ, Liam, I didn't mean that! Compared to me at your age, you've got your head well sorted...It's why I've always wanted things to be different for you. And Zoe. But whatever I do, I can't change anyone's fate, least of all my own..." he added sadly.

Liam held up his hands, not in the least offended by his father's outburst. "It's okay, Dad. I deserved that. But I wasn't trying to make light of what happened, and I don't think getting drunk solves anything. I know from past experience it doesn't. But what else can men do at a time like this? For solidarity?  We're fucked whatever we try where women are concerned..." His bitter observation cut through Terry's own melancholy. This was his son. Clare Beaumont - whoever she was - and Tessa Phillips were not part of his life, and never would be. There were enough traumas in his immediate family as it was - he was not planning on taking on any more lost causes.

"What else do we do? We could try acting like men, not spoiled kids. Women are hard work, but then, what else are we? You think we make life easy for them? It's not gender but human nature that fucks things up, Liam. So now, we go act like men..."

"...And then we go get drunk....?"Liam suggested with a grin. . "Well, what the fuck else do you suggest then? Want me to call Yellow Pages and find you a bloody shrink? You don't need it, Dad. You're the sanest and most together man I know. Sure, this is bad shit but you can't do anything about it. You know you can't. Not any more. And that's totally her fault, not yours. You know it is...So, what's it to be, my shout?"

Terry shook his head and found himself laughing along with his son. "Remind me never to recommend you as an agony aunt, you nong. But you know something? You have a point. What the hell else can I do about it? Sense of perspective, hey? I may have just found out some life-changing news about myself, but in reality it does change nothing. And there is no way I am turning down a free drink from you, either. Not here though. Let's get the hell out of Dodge and stop along the coast somewhere. Hotel room for the night and then we can drink ourselves into a stupor. Let the moths out of your wallet, son. This is going to cost you a small fortune. But call your Mum first. Tell her a tyre blew out and I'm getting it fixed; we'll be back home tomorrow. And then I am going to drink you under a table...you up for it? Think you can keep up with me?"

"Am I or am I not the son of an Australian Don Juan with an ever increasing family..."

"Fuck off, you bastard...that was not funny..."

"Why you laughing then...? And I'm not the one who's a bastard, mate...that would be the earlier ones... Are there any more siblings you haven't told me about while we're on the subject? And what the fuck is Mum going to say when she finds out? Jesus, oh to be a fly on that wall...!"

Sergei Litvinov sat at his desk in his office, deep in thought. Three weeks had passed since he had left Zoe and her son safe in the hands of her father. Since then, she had been rarely off his mind. Today he had spent three hours pondering whether or not he ought to go and see her. Indecision was driving him half insane. Indecision? When had he ever been indecisive about anything? Yet, here today he was in a quandary, his hands clammy when he imagined what he would say to her and his heart pounding at the thought of seeing her again. If he got it wrong, what then? He could ruin his entire life by one misstep that he couldn't quite understand. That woman was impossible to predict.

It was perfectly acceptable for him to visit her in the circumstances, he reasoned. After all, he had played a part in the rescue and was naturally concerned to keep abreast of the progress of her son, so to pay a discreet call would surely not be misconstrued. He would go to her house, bring a small gift for the child and maybe some flowers for Zoe, to enquire of their welfare. It would not be seen as inappropriate.

Of course, if Zoe showed that she was interested in more than just a social visit, it would then be permissible for him to take it a little further: perhaps a dinner date or some other suitable invitation? She was a direct woman; he recalled that other occasion in the hotel after Nikolai had been rescued when he had called to see her. It had been so difficult to approach her with what had really been on his mind. She, however, had seen right through his unease and called his bluff. It had resulted in quite a night. In fact it had been the last time that he remembered feeling truly happy. Still somehow they had failed to make anything come of it. Yet Zoe always seemed to know what he was thinking, all the same. 

Sergei banged on the desk in temper at his own vacillation. He would not run away from this like a scared boy. He wanted her. He would go and get her. He called his PA.

"Miss Khusnyetsova? I need some flowers. Something special. Elegant. Stylish. Unusual. You know the sort of thing..."

"May I know the recipient, sir?' she asked in her formal way. Olga had never married, had worked for him for fifteen years, travelled extensively at his side and yet neither of them had ever used each other's first name. He found it oddly comforting. She was someone he could trust. She did not seek to get too close. There were few people in his sphere about whom he could say that. 

"Have them delivered here before six. I'll take them myself. Oh...and something for a child of four or five. What is the name of those dolls Nikolai likes so much?" He knew he ought to know such details but never seemed to pay enough attention to the boy's prattle to remember what he said, even if he enjoyed to listen to it. He imagined Zoe knew such things about her son, though. It occurred to him he wasn't much of a father for the boy.

"Power Rangers. I'll call Hamleys and send one of the girls over to pick it up..."

"Thank you. Much appreciated..." he rang off, embarrassed even by that curt exchange. Miss Khusnyetsova would know he was seeing a woman. She would probably guess there was a child involved. He was unsure why it all mattered so much to him. Why should he feel vulnerable to let those close to him observe even the tiniest chink in his armour? And why was falling in love something to regard as a weakness? 

Olga Khusnyetsova smiled to herself as she put the various calls through to the merchants involved and laid out Mr. Litvinov's requirements in her flawless but heavily accented English. How she wished this lonely man could find some peace for himself and his little boy! Perhaps this time, he might have met someone who moved him - and deserved his love.  She had seen all his many women come and go and despaired of his usual choices. There had hardly been one who was worth a hair on his head. Maybe that was the point. Some men were afraid of what love would cost them. Her loyalty to Sergei was long standing, as was the affection she felt for her boss, a hopeless kind of love that she had channeled into taking care of every aspect of his life with a dedication rarely found even in a wife - and sacrificing her own chances, merely to stay close to him. 

"Should I open a bottle of wine?" Annie asked as Zoe finally returned to the lounge after settling Andreas. Some nights she never even came back, falling asleep holding him. At such times, Annie left them alone even if she knew that it was time her daughter began to ease back. Andreas was fine, ready for going back to school and did not need such smothering kindness. It was not the child who was fragile, but the mother.

"If you like," Zoe added absently with her usual lack of enthusiasm. She seemed to be sleepwalking through her days. Soon Annie and Terry would have to leave her and return home to Australia. What would she be like without their constant attempts to keep her grounded? "I'll open one..."

The doorbell sounded. "Get it, Mum, will you?" Zoe called from inside the kitchen, still struggling with the corkscrew.

Annie opened the door, wondering who on earth would be calling at this time. 

"Sergei? What a lovely surprise!" she gasped. He looked a little sheepish, nervous even, bearing an exotic bunch of flowers and a gift box. His smile was formal, tight-lipped, somewhat forced. 

"I hope I am not intruding. If it is not a good time...?" he murmured awkwardly.

Annie beckoned. "It's a perfect time. We were just settling down after putting Andreas to bed. Please, do come in. I'll go and get Zoe...and make myself scarce. I'm sure you prefer to have a private word with her..."

"Please, don't feel you must leave...not on my account..."

"I'll be in my room, no worries..." Annie gave him a rather knowing smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Sergei grimaced. He knew he was not handling this well already, but the tension he had felt all day seemed to be rising even higher now he was so close to her. She was not ready to see him and would no doubt be annoyed with him for presuming that he might call at such a time. He glanced around the large, well-appointed room without taking any real details in, unusual for Sergei Litvinov who normally noted everything about his surroundings carefully, learning much from his meticulous observations. But his mind was too preoccupied tonight for his usual cool scrutiny.

"Zoe...it's Sergei!" Annie burst through into the kitchen.

"WHO? Oh my God! Sergei Litvinov? Here? Now? Jesus, look at the state of me!" Zoe responded immediately to the news of his arrival with rather more animation than she had shown about anything in a long time. That alone spoke volumes to her mother. 

"You're fine. He knows he's caught you on the hop. I get the impression that may actually be the point. He's nervous himself. Go on, don't leave him in there sweating any longer. Put the poor man out of his misery..." she grinned and pulled on her hand.

Zoe allowed herself to be tugged forward, bending to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She'd do, she supposed, although her jeans and T-shirt were a little shabby. Thank God she'd washed her hair earlier.

In the lounge, Annie dashed away to her own room, leaving the two of them uncomfortably alone. Sergei had spun round as the women entered, sporting an expression almost as if he had been caught in some embarrassing act. Zoe merely stood in silence, unable to say anything of coherence.

It was he who made the first move, stepping forward, rigidly formal. "These are for you. And something for your son. I hope he likes it. A toy. Nikolai has something similar. It seems to be the sort of thing small boys like..." he began.

His stilted opener relaxed Zoe. It gave her the strong urge to smile. How like Sergei to be so way out of his comfort zone at a moment like this! She understood immediately that whatever he was prepared to say in the next few minutes, it would be an excuse. He was here for entirely other reasons of his own.

"They're beautiful! What an unusual arrangement. I love those oriental blooms and foliage! So elegant and ridiculously intricate..."

He extended the bouquet. She took it and then fumbled with the gift he also handed over. "Gosh, thanks! Andreas loves presents. It is very kind of you, Sergei..."

He made a motion somewhere between a nod and a small bow in acknowledgement of her words. "I...I am aware that you are probably not receiving many visitors at this time but I had to find out how you were...and your son, of course. I left before we had time to speak...that day...I knew you were safe but...I have been concerned. Sometimes the aftermath is more gruelling than the actual events. Especially for a child, no...? He has been well?"

Zoe smiled. "We're both well. Doing better than expected, really. I'm just so grateful he is safe that everything else pales into insignificance in the face of what might have been. Actually, he seems oddly unaffected by it all. He has a strange conviction that his father came to him and helped him. I know it's absurd and probably some hallucination brought on by whatever drugs they gave him - but thankfully it's steered him past the worst reactions and left him oddly buoyant, for which we are very grateful..."

"Ah, good then. I am relieved to hear that. It was a very unpleasant experience. His father, you say? How bizarre. Still, one never knows, no? They say children see things we are blind to..."

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's not really something I can get my head round. I'm so glad you came tonight though. I wish we'd had time that day to speak. I'm very grateful for all you did. It was a great act of bravery and generosity in the circumstances. I won't forget it... Come, come through to the kitchen. I need to put these in water..." She rested down the gift box on a side table and led him through to the kitchen, a little embarrassed by her halting attempt at thanking him. She felt the weight of their past intruding. She was unsure why he had been there that day, how he had known, and why he would have cared after what she had once done to him. Yet, care he clearly did. What exactly was he really trying to tell her?

Sergei stood by the work top, shifting from one leg to another, out of place in the domestic setting, almost as if he was unsure what a kitchen was. It was an odd impression but one that reminded Zoe how far removed a man such as Sergei Litvinov was from the concerns of daily life. It was why he was so unsure of himself when his position and wealth could no longer offer him a barrier against the world. She realised then that at heart he was a rather reserved man, shy even. It was a sweet fragility she had never noticed in him before but it explained that steely wall he erected and the brusque way he repulsed many approaches.

He watched as she filled a crystal vase with tap water and then arranged the flowers with a few deft movements. Her hands were exquisite, long and slim, delicate and womanly, as she tweaked and pulled the blooms into place to create a perfect display. He felt humbled before her, as if he was too harsh and brutal for this spirited lovely woman with her beautiful sad eyes. He wished he could find something to say to fill the silence, but his brain seemed to have seized up now that he was in her presence; even his tongue cleaved to his palate, leaving his mouth dry. In a moment, he would have to leave unless he could establish a reason to stay.

"Voila!" She lifted up the vase and extended it towards him with a flourish. "Could you carry these through to the lounge room for me? I was just opening some wine. Would you like a glass?"

He took the vase and mumbled. "Er...no, I...no....but please, pour one for yourself..."

She screwed up her nose, a rather fetching girlish expression. "Don't feel like it, really. Would you prefer a Scotch? I know you like a fine malt...?"

He smiled. "Yes. I would like that. Without ice..."

She smiled. Sergei needed a serious drink, it would seem.  That amused her. He followed her silently into the lounge again, resting the vase down on the table she had indicated.

"To the left a bit? And just turn it a little...no, no, the other way...yes, perfect!" She busied herself meanwhile with a bottle of expensive malt and a chunky crystal glass, while he stood observing her, hands behind his back. Her hands shook slightly as she splashed in the liquid. "You spoke only of your son. But what of yourself? He was largely unaware of what was going on. You, however, were not. I saw them hurt you, Zoe. Your face was bleeding...You must have been very afraid. And...you lost someone you cared about that day. How are you coping with all that?" He avoided using words like 'lover' or 'boyfriend' but his very question revealed his curiosity. It also made her understand that he was tentatively asking her a very different question. 'Is there a place in your life for me?'

Zoe placed the glass down on the table before him and took a seat across from him, sliding her hands under her legs.   "I'm as well as can be expected, I suppose. I met this guy in London when I moved back here. His name was Tom. I liked him. A lot. We became lovers..." she looked Sergei directly in the eye as she said that.

He found himself avoiding her gaze, glancing away. 

"But he wasn't what he seemed. He was with the intelligence service, investigating me. Did Dad explain?" 

Sergei shrugged, implying he knew some of what was behind it, if not all. 

She decided not to enlarge on it further. "So, it was a set up, you see. He was only dating me to get information. I don't quite know what I think of him now, Sergei, to be honest. He betrayed me. Very much as I betrayed you, ironically. Except, he had a good reason for doing what he did. Whereas I didn't. It's probably only what I deserved in the circumstances, even if it still hurts. I know I should forgive him. He saved my life. He lost his own in doing so. But he led people to kidnap Andreas, even if he didn't mean to. It seems like everything I thought he was is now a lie...You could say I'm pretty confused about him. Although I am sad. Terribly sad. He was a good man. A fine man with a successful career. A young man who should have had his whole life ahead of him..."

"I doubt he lied to you in the things that mattered. No doubt he took a job and then found himself falling in love with the beautiful woman he was sent to watch. And who could blame him?" Sergei said simply. There was a certain admiration in his voice, an unsentimental understanding of men that bypassed the more emotional reasoning of a woman.

"Thank you. I deserve your schadenfreude and yet I receive instead your kindness..."

"Stop that, Zoe! We finished with that back then. I do not bear any grudges against you! I do not enjoy your pain. If anything, I think I made a great mistake in letting you go. What seemed important in the wake of Nikolai's rescue, no longer seems even to make sense to me. I don't wish for you to keep comparing what you did to me and what has happened here. It is not relevant. We closed the book on all that..."

"Why were you there, Sergei?" she interrupted. "Was it true someone contacted you, but you don't know who?"

Sergei held up his hands, exhaling heavily, still unsure how quite to explain it all. "I had a strange email. It gave me the address and told me to bring my Glock...that's a gun..." he added.

"I know what a Glock is..." Zoe smiled.

"It is illegal for me to carry a gun in Britain. No one knows it is in my safe. I didn't understand how this person could have known. Even identifying the correct make name. I went to the safe, to check, and...Christ, I can't explain it! The safe opened itself. I saw the dial move and then it clicked and swung open, as if by an unseen hand..." He shrugged, embarrassed by this episode that he could neither explain away nor understand.  

"You didn't need to go. It wasn't your concern..."

"Of course it was my concern! How could you think I wouldn't have moved heaven and earth to save you?" Suddenly he buried his head in his hands. "I was wrong, Zoe. I should never have let you go. My foolish pride..." His words failed him.

She swallowed hard, knowing what this admission must be costing him. "You had no choice, Sergei. Neither did I. We couldn't have gone forward then...we both knew that," she reasoned.

Sergei looked up at her, his eyes riven with emotion. "You may be right. But the months in between have taught me differently. I no longer even remember what I left you for. All I know is that I think of you every moment of every day. I miss you..."

She gave a rueful sigh. "Sergei, you miss a girl called Madeleine Harris, a woman who does not exist. You don't even know me!"

"That is the exactly the point! I want to know the real you. I saw enough of Zoe Thorne in Tecala to recognise that, as singular a woman as I thought Madeleine to be, the real woman was infinitely more beguiling. Answer me this, honestly. Now, from where you stand today, does what we thought lay between us really matter anymore? Or, like me, have you found that only one thing really counts in the end. Why did we throw away the chance to be happy together?"

Zoe swallowed hard, her expression showing her discomfort with this line of questioning. "We couldn't be happy together. That was what we decided," she affirmed with a hint of desperation in her voice

"We were wrong. It was a failure of courage. We could have made it work but it would have been too much of a challenge - and we both did not have the strength to face it then. But now, in the face of what has happened since, loving you is not the hardest challenge. It's living without you in my life that seems to be the insurmountable obstacle..."

"Sergei, it's madness to bring this up again! Your mother would never accept me!" Zoe exclaimed.

"My mother is dead, Zoe. She passed away in early December. It was for the best. She would never have recovered and enjoyed any real quality of life. So, the only obstacle you can think of is no longer present...where does that leave us?"

There. He had said it. Sergei Litvinov wanted her to consider him again as a lover.  At this point in her life, it was inappropriate to say the least, she knew that. And yet, she also knew that every word he said was true. Nothing they had discussed as an obstacle back then made any sense any more. All her priorities had altered - his, too.

"What are you saying, Sergei?" she asked, although she knew the answer well enough.

"Friday. I have bought a few tables at a formal charity ball held annually in the City. The tickets are ludicrously expensive. The guests are unremittingly pompous and insufferable, rich men and women who will only be there to preen at their own ability to donate vast sums of money to fashionable causes, without any real cost to themselves. Will you be my guest? Will you give me the honour of being your escort? Will you turn this tedious obligatory function into a glittering pageant, just by virtue of your presence at my side? No pressure, Zoe. No promises. No demands. No agenda. Just be my friend - because I need one. And I promise I will be your friend - because I believe that you too need a friend now more than ever.  I don't expect to be your lover again overnight. I know you are in mourning for another man. I understand that. But I can still be your rock. Lean on me. That's all I ask...Even that would be enough..."

"My rock?" Zoe whispered  back his words as if they were precious cargo. "You have always been my rock, Sergei! My rock to cling to. In my head, I have so often conjured you up when I was scared and confused! Right now, a rock seems like the most wonderful thing in life. A place of safety. A shelter from the storm. Who better than you to offer me that protection?" she murmured, almost as if she were thinking aloud.

"Well then? Friday? You will consider it?"

And then she smiled, a warm glorious smile that lit up all the cold and lonely corners of his soul. "Of course! I would be delighted to be your guest! It would be my honour! And I do need to get out of this place, and move ahead. Yes, I would like to attend very much. So very, very much," she repeated.

Sergei stood up, slapping his hands resolutely against his thighs. "Good. Then it is settled. I will call for you at seven. Until then, I will count the hours," he added flamboyantly, smiling himself now, boyishly, threatening to break out into a wide grin of pleasure. "I must go now. Your mother is waiting for you.  And I need to..." He raised his hands helplessly. "...I need to...go take a cold shower or something...!"

Zoe laughed brightly; Sergei joined her as they walked back towards the door.

"This was a good talk, Zoe, one we needed to have. Whatever happens from now on, let's promise to be honest with each other, shall we? No more pretence?"

"I promise," she answered softly, reaching up to place a tender kiss on his lips. 

Her action surprised him; he barely responded in his shock 

"Thank you, Sergei. For all you are and for all you have done for me. You really are the most beautiful of men..." she whispered. 

He considered kissing her again - but changed his mind. This was the better note to end on tonight. Time enough for passion in the weeks ahead. Her tentative soft advance, this gesture of her gratitude and affection seemed to carry with it more intimacy than all the heady sexuality they had already shared.

"Goodnight then, Miss Thorne. Until Friday, no?"

Zoe closed the door behind him - and only then gave free rein to her emotions. Sinking to the floor, she buried her head in her hands. Moments later her mother ran up. 

"What happened? Are you okay?"

She lifted up her head, her eyes shining with tears. "He came back to me! Sergei came back to me! I can't believe it. He's asked me to a ball on Friday...God, I have nothing to wear! Mum, we have to go shopping tomorrow! Oh God, I need my hair restyling and a facial and a manicure and some new shoes...!" She jumped up. "I know it's too soon, Mum, but I don't care. I want him. I think I probably always have. I can't even remember now why he scared me so much before. He's just a boy really. Alone and tired, and so in need of a woman of his own..."

Annie smiled, slipping her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "Take things slowly, sweetheart. He loves you and will always be there when you're ready. He's the one, Zoe. He always was the one. But sometimes the time, it just isn't right. And sometimes, it is...Bloody hell, your father is going to have a fit...!"

Sergei Litvinov strode out of the apartment block, heading for his waiting limousine with the same ebullient walk he was always known for, leaning slightly forward, daring anyone to cross his path. But once in the shelter of the interior, after giving a curt instruction to be driven home before closing the adjoining window, he relaxed his guard. At last he was alone. Thumping one fist into the opposite palm, he threw his head back against the leather headrest, closing his eyes in relief. Tension rolled from him as he finally let himself believe in what he had just achieved. She had agreed to see him again when he had expected her to throw him out for his audacity! His heart still pounded in his chest as the urge to laugh possessed him. And so he did, burying his head in his hands, laughing and delighting in the unfamiliar sensation of lightness in his heart. No victory in the boardroom or in a court of law had ever been this sweet. She was the ultimate challenge of his life. It was going to be a privilege and a pleasure in making her his.  

"You look like death warmed up," Annie observed as they got ready for bed. She was at the dressing table, brushing out her hair, observing her husband through the large mirror. Terry balled up his shirt and slung it into a corner, an action guaranteed to make his wife annoyed. His trousers followed, tossed onto a chair, slithering off into a heap. Annie jumped up and gathered the trail of his clothes - but decided against raising that particular domestic issue tonight.

He did not answer her, instead walking into the bathroom, and slamming the door. She hung up his pants and stowed the other items in the wash basket. Terry was stoking himself up for a confession. She could read him like a book.

So, he got rat-arsed last night with Liam. So what? Annie suspected something else must have taken place to put him in this agitated frame of mind, something other than high jinks for the boys once they had dumped the women for a night. Since the two of them had arrived back, his mood had been subdued. One thing amused her, though. As bad as Terry looked, Liam had looked worse. It would appear her husband could still weather a night of self-abuse better than her wayward son. 

They hadn't really had much time to talk as yet. Andreas had been around most of the evening and she hadn't wanted to announce Zoe's news in public even after he had gone to bed. All Terry knew was that the girls had been out shopping all day. All she knew was that the boys had got drunk.

He came on through, hauled back the covers and got into bed; she let him stew a while longer, finishing her nightly routine, methodically going through the usual ritual. By the time she joined him, he was leaning back against the headboard, deep in thought.

"You going to tell me or do I start on your fingernails?" she threw at him.

"Tell you what?" he answered obtusely. 

Annie jumped onto the bed - and onto him. "Oh, don't bloody tell me anything, then. I am not going to drag it out of you seeing as I've got better news of my own. Sergei Litvinov was here last night. And he's asked Zoe out tomorrow night. And, what's more, she's going..." Annie announced with a grin.

"Fuck!" Terry answered. "Jesus fucking Christ! What have I done to deserve my family?"

Annie laughed, unconcerned at his annoyance. "Well, I think it's great news anyway. I was right all along. She has always had the major hots for him - and he's been walking round with a hard on for her since the start. By the way, how much did you two drink yesterday? I thought Liam was going to throw up all over the kitchen during supper..."

Terry rolled his eyes. "No, he did that along the motorway hard shoulder several times on the way back. That boy's a lightweight. He was honking his guts up like a girl..." he smirked. "A lot. But, he paid, so who gives a shit?" He giggled to himself. "Christ...my head's been hammering all day!" he groaned. 

"So, what did you do then?" Annie enquired all innocently.

"Drink," Terry replied unhelpfully.

"Well, yeah, but..."

"...and talked about men stuff..."

"You mean you had a male bonding moment? You showed your emotional sides to each other?" 

"Yeah we had a male bonding moment, all right. But not quite what you mean. By man talk, I meant we were very dirty. Very, very dirty. Jesus, that boy's been round the houses and then some..."

Annie rubbed her hands together. "Tell me!"

"Not a chance..." He went to turn out the light. She straddled him. 

"Tell me!"

"What you gonna do? Seduce me to get the secret intel? Woman on top, hey? No chance. Because even that won't make me talk, love," he added smugly, as he unlaced the front of her negligee. "It might, however, make my headache go away..."

She yanked her breasts away from his grasp. "Okay, let's try this then, buddy. How about you tell me why you and he felt the need to get pissed in the first place?  Because something important happened yesterday. Something that I think I need to know."

He gave her his long-suffering face, indicating she should slip off his body and come lie in his arms. There, curled up in bed, lit only by the light of one low lamp, he told her about Tessa Phillips and the revelations of the day before. Annie said little as he recounted the details. He was unsure whether or not that was an ominous sign.

"Well? Say something, Annie!"

She rolled over and eased onto his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. "I don't really have anything to say, Terry. I mean, what can anyone say? The woman's clearly mental. Probably post-menopausal. Okay, so when you were a young man you knocked a girl up. She never told you. You are not responsible if she never even shared that with you! Her recent actions were just plain evil. I would add, however, that your taste in women is clearly appalling, although it has improved massively over the years. You were right to go see her, Terry - and you were right to leave her be."

Terry weighed up her words thoughtfully. "It doesn't bother you that I have another daughter out there somewhere?"

"Well, I did rather like being the mother of your only daughter, but I can deal with that. The more important question is, does it bother you? She isn't my flesh and blood, Terry.  What are you thinking? Do you want to get in touch with Clare? I'll support you in any way I can. You know I will. And I think Harry and Zoe need to know as well...Tessa was right in that regard. At least they should know of her existence, her name and that of her son and partner. As a precaution..."

He nodded. "Definitely. But no, I don't want to meet her. Or rather, I do want to meet her. But she doesn't need to hear from me. What would it gain? She has a family and a sense of who she is. Why would I devastate her now at this point in her life with something that can only mess up her head? It's the least I can do for her now. It might help my conscience to get to know her but the opposite would be true in her case. Anyway, I'm not her father. Tessa isn't her mother. We were just the donors of the ovum and sperm. As we both know, there's a hell of a lot more to being a parent than that."

"You sure you can live with that?" Annie asked, secretly relieved. It was what she herself thought preferable at this point.

"I have to. Sure, I can live with that. Of course, I'd like to know my other daughter and grandson but it would only be for curiosity's sake. The time to be there for her was long ago. Not now," he added, closing the subject on it for the time being.

Annie read his desire to move on, so changed the subject somewhat. "What happens now to Tessa Phillips? Is she really going to get away with all this?"

He gave her a rather enigmatic look. "Doubt it."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "Someone knows. She'll pay in time.  I'll leave it up to other people to settle the score. But mark my words, she will pay. Eventually."

There was no further shaking him on what he meant by his oblique comment. Maybe he merely meant it in a general sense, although Annie detected an implication beneath his words that suggested he knew something more than he was telling. But she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't talk unless he wanted to.

Terry cradled his wife as she dozed off. He might be exhausted after the previous night's carousing but his mind was still active enough to keep sleep at bay. One fact was playing in his head, something that had not settled easily with him all along.

Why had Tom Quinn's body never been found? His daughter has mentioned that there was to be a memorial, but no actual funeral, which was odd. Even charred remains are accorded a burial. The Service takes care of its own. They would have sent in divers to recover the body and made sure he was given a decent send off. So what had happened? 

It was possible he had tried to jump from the car as it hit the water - and been swept away. But Tom Quinn was a very experienced field agent, with high fitness levels, well-used to dangerous situations. If he had escaped the wreckage, just maybe he had swum for shore- and reached it. It was possible. There was something in all this that simply did not fit. Terry was sure the man was still alive.

Not that he would ever reveal his suspicions to his wife or daughter.  If the guy wanted to be 'dead,' then he must have had his reasons. At the very least, Quinn obviously had no wish to continue his relationship with Zoe, or he would have let her know somehow that he had survived. That was the last thing he would ever contemplate telling her. The knowledge would only leave her more adrift than ever. It was better that they all closed the chapter on Thomas Quinn for good - and how better to do that than in death? It was the ultimate final closure.  Furthermore, if Annie's instincts were correct - and when the hell was she ever wrong?- Zoe and Sergei Litvinov were going to be cosying up again before too long. Good luck to them both, he thought. Litvinov was probably the better catch for his daughter anyway. She'd be safe with him.

But if by any chance Tom Quinn was out there alive somewhere, Tessa Phillips ought to be worried. Gil O'Brien, too. A little voice in his head told him that this man had loved his daughter in his own fashion. Terry knew enough about men in his game to understand how their minds worked. He would want revenge. No doubt about it. And who better placed to kill and get away with it than a ghost?

Adam Carter had thought long and hard about making the trip down to the hospital to see Tom Quinn. Why should he bother? They had never been friends. Quinn's 'death' had raised his own profile and set him up nicely for the second role in the department. There wasn't anything he needed to say to the man. And yet, he couldn't get out of his head that whatever Quinn was involved in now, it was madness. He had guessed what proposals had been put to him by Harry Pearce, the sort of thing that had happened before in these circumstances.

So Adam had finally cleared his visit with Harry, been granted a reluctant permission - and was now about to meet the dead man himself.

Tom was much improved, working on his fitness levels, already walking without a stick. The gunshot wound in his left arm had healed well enough to require nothing but a bandage; his right arm was still in a sling after further corrective surgery. He was returning through the grounds after a long walk when he heard the rustle from the tree cover, turned, and saw Adam Carter stepping out to join him on the path.

"Bloody hell, you look a bit better than the last time I kissed you..." Carter opened with a grin.

Tom raised his eyes. "Thank God I don't remember the mouth-to-mouth. You bloody better not have given me any tongue..."

"You should be so fucking lucky, mate," Adam laughed back. "How're you feeling?"

"Not bad seeing as I've been dead six weeks," Tom replied sardonically.

"You were never much to look at anyway," Adam threw back. They fell into a stroll side by side. "Why aren't you coming back to Five?"

"I'm dead, haven't you noticed?  They cleared my desk, had a whip round for flowers and attended the memorial like good little officers."

"I'm not joking, Tom. You can't go through with this. Why would you want to? Leave the service, by all means. I would in your position. But go into this? It's insane. You were always the one with the principles, not me! How are you going to deal with this sort of work? You'll be little more than a hired assassin..."

"I'm no Nick Costello."

"Funny his name should come straight into your mind. This is to do with her, isn't it?" Adam asked him bluntly.

Tom laughed wryly, looking across over at him. "You think I want to become Costello? That she'll like me better then? Are you out of your mind? She liked me well enough as I was. This is not about her. This is about me. And it's none of your business."

"What about your parents? Your Mum and Dad looked devastated. I felt like a heel faking my condolences for a man I knew was still alive! And how the hell does this help you? I don't understand you, Quinn. They'll turn you into their animal and a few years down the line, you'll either be really dead, lose your soul and be as good as - or be putting a gun to your own head...Or maybe that's what this is really all about? You wish you were dead, that it? Then why wait? Blow your own fucking brains out now. Save us all the bother..." Adam withdrew his handgun from the holster under his arm.  Tom walked on, stony-faced. Adam followed him, still badgering.

"I know that's just an act, mate. You're hurting. I just don't understand why.  You could go get the girl, tell her you love her, make it right. Instead you do the spook equivalent of joining a monastery."

"More like the Knights Templar, I would think," Tom suggested, with just an edge of superior mockery, the very style that had always irritated Carter most. He guessed Quinn's comment was meant to have just that effect, make him give up trying to talk him round.

"Fuck you, you smug bastard! I'm trying to bloody help you. Instead of acting like the Cambridge egghead you think you are, why don't you get some real common sense into that thick skull of yours?

"I don't need help. My mind's made up. My reasons are my own."

"She didn't go to your memorial service." Carter watched carefully and noticed the almost imperceptible flinch that the news brought to Quinn.  

"Why should she have gone? No doubt she hates me. All the better. She thinks I'm dead and hates me enough not to care. Better all round..." Tom observed coolly.

"She went to your place, though. Met Ellie. They both cried. She took away a book of yours. Some Shakespeare shit...Ellie told me. That's another girl who deserves to know you're still alive. She still loves you, too, you know? Two women, and you bail on both...?"

Tom swung round. "What the fuck is this about, Carter? You want to know why I'm doing it? I'm doing this because I don't give a shit any more.  Conscience? Principles? Yeah, Nick Costello was right. They don't mean a fucking thing. You could say I've lost my faith. And as for Zoe Thorne, I would never, ever contemplate going near her again. Can you seriously imagine the two of us together? She's a wealthy and spoiled young woman used to the millionaire lifestyle. Life in suburbia with me? How long would that keep her interest? It was a dream, Adam. Both of us were caught up in an impossible dream. She was attracted to me because I wasn't a dangerous killer. Or a Russian billionaire. Or a Hollywood movie star. I was just Tom Quinn, a pretty ordinary and boring guy, the sort of bloke she'd known in her youth, except there was this one rather alluring fact about me - I was a spy. But even spies go home at night and watch the telly, mend their own cars and buy what's on special at Tesco's at the weekend. The novelty would soon have worn off. Christ, I earn about enough a year to keep her in shoes, man! We never had a bloody chance. I might have wanted her more than anything I have ever wanted, but I'm a realist. I'd rather lose her this way than a few miserable years down the line with a baby or two in the equation to make it even worse. I am going undercover. I am going to disappear. And I am never going to see you again, so I suggest you forget all about me and buy into the legend. Tom Quinn died in Scotland. He no longer exists. And, in a way that's true. I'll never use my own name again. So, Tom Quinn is dead after all."

Adam Carter nodded, kicking at the ground as they continued back towards the car park where he had left his vehicle. "To be honest, I do understand. If not for Wes, I would have done the same when Fiona died. I just thought I'd try and talk you out of it, all the same. There's one thing more if I can't change your mind. You might be interested in this instead..." Carter reached inside his inside pocket and pulled out a small envelope, handing it over. "I'd be grateful if you'd burn it after you've seen what's on it..."

They came to a stop at his car. Tom held out his right hand. "I appreciate this, Adam. You saved my life back in Scotland. I would have gone through with it had you not been there to stop me. And now you've tried to save my life again. You're a good mate. I won't forget this. But don't ever try and see me again. I mean that..."

Adam shook his hand before climbing behind the wheel. As he drove towards the main gate, he watched Tom through his mirror walking slowly back to the hospital building, opening the envelope as he went.  He saw him read the brief message then turn back sharply, stepping backwards, his good hand raised in thanks.  Something positive might come out of this after all. Tessa Phillips at least would soon pay the piper.

The Belgian chocolatier was discreetly located in an alley off an elegant side street not far from Regent's Street, in an area known for its Edwardian mews and bijou apartments. It was not a place Terry Thorne had visited before. Inside was as dark and richly furnished as its heady brews were thick and decadent, with an ambience somewhere between Arabia and Mexico. His eyes took a while to adjust to the low light that created an impression of steamy nights in a fin-de-siecle bordello even on this blustery mid morning in February. Yet, the idea of a hot creamy cup of chocolate did not go amiss in such wintry weather.

At first he was surprised that Fliss had asked to meet him in a public place but as he pushed aside the heavy red velvet arras to enter the inner section of the establishment, he realised why she had chosen this cafe. It was extremely expensive and not a typical haunt for celebrity watchers. He also supposed he was not going to rouse any suspicions if he was seen with this young and famous woman. Onlookers would imagine he was her father. There was a time when such a meeting with a young woman might have given rise to gossip, but that would have been a long time ago.

Fliss was seated on a low divan stirring a large cup of chocolate that was set on an ornate brass-topped low table before her. Little Nina was in her push chair, enjoying a bottle which contained something like chocolate milk, no doubt an overpriced baby version of the adult selections. He approached slowly, observing the young woman who was lost in thought and hadn't noticed his arrival. Only when his body blocked out the smoky light from a lampshade hung with lace, did she snap her head up.

"Terry! It's good of you to come!" Fliss exclaimed, appearing relieved. Nina dropped the bottle from her lips and reached out her hands. She knew her grandfather and recognised him immediately.

"No worries. May I?" he indicated his granddaughter, asking permission to lift her from her buggy.

"Sure, but she's sticky..." Fliss smiled, wiping a damp cloth over her daughter's mouth and trying to clean her fingers as the little girl reached for Terry's face.

"I've had worse. She's a hell of a lot neater than her father was at this age..." He held the baby to his shoulder and jiggled her about. Nina chuckled and pressed chocolate lips against his cheek in a kiss. She was such a sweet-tempered little child, easy and friendly, no trouble at all. He had missed her sunny presence and that cute little mouth of hers that reminded him so much of his son.

Fliss sat back down and let Terry take a seat across from her, dandling the baby on his knee. She watched as he played with Nina, a knot of sadness inside. The child saw so little of the other side of her family these days - never mind her father. "Should I order you something or do you want to peruse the menu first? They have some amazing concoctions here," she asked him.

He looked up. "Just a hot chocolate. No whipped cream. I'm not much of a one for sickly sweet things. You choose," he replied.

It gave Fliss something to do while she gathered her wits, calling a waitress and outlining their requirements. When the girl had brought the drink, she took her daughter from him - protesting - and settled her back in her buggy, distracting her with the chocolate. He sipped at the rich hot drink, and found its bitter-sweet allure rather more to his taste than he had anticipated.

"It's the real deal, not those sugary cocoa drinks," Fliss observed. "This is a bitter and more seductive version for grown ups. Like chocolate was meant to be."

"I'll say," he agreed, taking another mouthful. "Annie would love this place. I must bring her here before we leave."

"Does she know?" Fliss asked. "Annie, I mean. That you're meeting me today?"

Terry shook his head. "No. But she will when I get home. I'm not keeping this a secret from her."

"Don't tell Liam, please..." Fliss broke in.

"I won't. That's different. What's this about, love? As much as I appreciate a chance to see my granddaughter - and taste this heady brew - I can't imagine that this was your real reason for asking me to meet you. Something on your mind?" He gave her an opener, although he knew full well what was coming.

She picked up the teaspoon, and began feeding sips of her chocolate to Nina. "I want to ask for your help. Well, intervention, I suppose. With Liam. He listens to you! He respects your opinion...I just thought you might be able to make him see reason..."

"Reason?" Terry asked. "About what?"

Fliss sighed heavily. "I want us to try and make another go of it. He refused even to discuss it. I understand he's hurt and has a right to punish me for what I did but it's been a long time now. Maybe he's had time to think. Maybe he just needs a little push? I know if you said something, he would view things differently. Would you do that for me, Terry? Would you talk to him for me and try to make him see that it's in everyone's best interests to have one last try!" She was desperate. He felt immeasurably sad for her predicament. But there was nothing he could do nor did he have any intention of raising false hopes.

Reaching out a hand, he took hers in his, caressing it gently. "Fliss, I can't. He's his own man and, if his mind's made up, there's really nothing I nor anyone else can do or say to influence him..." He hoped that she would take her cue from that, but he doubted it. This was going to be a painful interview either way.

"You could try! You're so good at making people see sense. Please..."

"No."

"No, you can't, or no, you won't?" Fliss insisted.

He stroked her face tenderly. "Neither. I'm saying no because I believe Liam's made the correct decision, as much as that saddens me to admit. Fliss, he's moved on. You raised the issue, started this thing off - and now it's rebounding on you. But that's the thing in relationships. If you're not on the same page at the start than by the time one of you catches up, the other has finished reading the book. Fliss, it's 'be careful what you wish for.' And that makes me very sad because I thought you two had found that elusive thing. You were the best thing that ever happened to my son in the years when he needed stability and love the most. I really believed you were both lucky enough to be heading for that rare thing, a young love that lasts the test of time. Try to accept the positives, sweetheart. It was so good when it was good - and you have this beautiful child to prove it. But let it go now. It's time..."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I thought you would be on my side. You're like a father to me," Fliss whispered.

Terry winced. Even though he knew he was right, he still felt like a heel for not being able to take away her pain. "I'm on no one's side. This is not about taking sides. It's about acknowledging things as they really are. I can't make a man love you just because I wish he could. Just like back then, there was nothing anyone could have said to you that would have made you stop seeing this other guy. By the way, what's the status on that? You left him?"

Fliss shrugged. "He's away. Things haven't been good. He says he's giving us a break to think it out but the writing's on the wall. He knows I'm not happy. He knows I want Liam back although I've never put it in those words," she answered in a monotone.

"You do feel like a daughter to me, Fliss. I couldn't be more proud of you if you were. But I'm not your father, I'm Liam's dad. I'll be here for you and Nina if you need me but I am not going to approach Liam about this. Fliss, Liam and I have already talked. I happen to agree with his judgement on this one. I'm sorry. So very sorry."

She nodded, biting on her lip but managing to keep her composure in public. Nina gurgled away at her side, oblivious to what was going on.

"What will you do? You're gonna be all right, aren't you? Maybe you should have your Mum with you?" Terry suggested, worried for her state of mind.

Fliss shook her head. "My Mum? Christ, she'd be the last person in the world I'd turn to now! What will I do? Dunno. Finish with Damon for starters. Sort my life out. Throw myself into my music. Raise my little girl. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal or anything crazy like that. I won't hit the bottle or the pills. It was never really my scene. I'm tough and I have a daughter to think of. She'll keep me focused. I've been a fool, haven't I?" she suddenly observed.

Terry shrugged. "I doubt Liam's totally blameless in all this. It always takes two, baby..."

"I've been a fool. Liam was a perfect partner compared to most. But nothing's ever completely perfect, is it? You have to expect problems, even in paradise. I never gave him a chance. I never gave myself a chance," she added. "I'll always love him. I'll never forget him. I just hope I learn from all this. And that Nina doesn't suffer too much..."

"He won't let her. You know that. My son may be a lot of things, but one of them is a good father. And let me tell you this, and I got this from the horse's mouth. He will always love you. He will always be there for you both. This is not about a failure of love, Fliss, but a failure of life. They're different things. You want me to see you both home?" he asked, aware that she needed to get away and be alone now that this last ditch attempt had failed.

She shook her head. "I can manage. I have to manage. I want to take a long walk. When's he leaving London?"

"Middle of next week. He'll be around for Nina later. They're staying with us at Zoe's for a last weekend before Annie and I jet off to Sydney and he takes a short holiday before his tour kicks off."

Fliss stood up, putting on her outer coat and bundling Nina up warmly. "Then I better get moving. She'll need a nap and a bath before he comes. Thanks, Terry. Thanks for telling me the truth. Like you always do. No bullshit. I needed to hear it once and for all. Goodbye. I'm not sure when I'll see you again. Give my regards to Annie and Zoe. I'm not just losing Liam, am I? I'm losing my whole family..." She dashed for the door, struggling with the buggy to mask her distress. He stood up to help her negotiate her way out, but a waitress intervened and he thought better of it. Fliss was right. She was on her own now. He had an urge to take the china cup and smash it against the wall. It just didn't get any easier.

Sergei arrived on the stroke of seven, the proverbial Prince Charming. Terry opened the door to find the Russian standing there in a tuxedo that even he had to grudgingly admit the man had been born to wear. They nodded and shook hands. Terry invited him in. Sergei stepped over the threshold, standing silently at the entrance of the lounge, his cashmere overcoat hanging stylishly from his shoulders. 

Liam loped over, his daughter slung over his shoulder. "You must be Sergei, mate. Liam Thorne. The brother... This is my little girl, Nina." Sergei shook his hand, smiling distantly at the child. He was not very good with babies. With an amused look over at his father, Liam crossed to the steps up to the bedrooms. "Oi, Zo, your bloke's 'ere..."

Terry restrained the urge to snigger. Liam was such a bloody card. "So, where you off to then, Sergei?" he asked for something to say.

"The Dorchester."

"Ah. Great. Nice place."

"Adequate enough," Sergei replied dismissively.

The stilted exchange was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Zoe, the sight of whom even shut up Liam. She was swathed in a tight silk sheath artfully draped with deceptive simplicity to give maximum effect. The gown made the most of her natural gifts: her full, high bosom, smooth flawless skin and tall athletic slenderness. Diamonds glittered at her throat and wrist, gifts from Nick that she rarely ever wore these days. Her thick glossy hair was swept up into an elegant roll, baring her long pale neckline and accentuating the gems at her ears. Sergei glanced up, his eyes instantly riveted on the vision of loveliness she presented. 

Liam whistled. "Bloody hell, they don't get many of them in a pound weight..." referring, no doubt, to the swell of her breasts above the wired bodice.

Zoe gave him a warning glance before turning her whole attention onto Sergei. He looked simply magnificent, wearing the bespoke evening dress with a stylish confidence. He was a man whose attention to elegance and high fashion were always meticulous, but not slavish. He looked almost as if he had been cast in bronze, his fair hair and the golden glow that tinged his skin giving him a leonine aura,  as if raising him to some pedestal of 'man amongst men.' Zoe's lips parted softly, their eyes made contact, and Sergei gazed longingly at her as if there was no one else but the two of them in the room.

Liam smirked. "Would that dress be purple then? Or pink?" 

Annie fixed him a stare as she swept into the room from behind her daughter. "Magenta."

"Magenta, what the fuck's magenta?" he asked.

"That dress is magenta, obviously. So now you know. And don't swear when you're holding Nina..." she answered tersely.

The sound of Annie's voice dragged Sergei's eyes from her daughter. "Anna...good evening...Lovely to see you again...!"

"Sergei! Likewise! You look so handsome tonight!" Annie came up; he kissed her on the cheek while she muttered in a stage whisper. "Take no notice of my son. He thinks he's funny. Actually we all think he's probably mentally unstable..."

Sergei smiled politely, unsure whether her comment was meant as joke or fact. Annie handed him Zoe's wrap; he deftly arranged it around her shoulders. "Enchanté, Madame! Zoe, you look amazing. Quite unbelievably beautiful tonight," he muttered into her ear as his arms encircled her. "And so we had better go. Time runs on. It was very pleasant to see you all again." Sergei was obviously eager to get out of there as he cast a courteous farewell over to the rest of the family, idly wondering where Andreas was. Had they decided it was preferable to keep him occupied in the bedroom and miss his arrival?

"Not too late home, hey?" Terry said smugly as they walked towards the door. Annie dug him in the back. Zoe threw him a frosty glare. 

But Sergei refused to rise to the bait, merely nodding in reply, with an expression on his face of tolerant amusement. Say what they liked, it was he who had the girl tonight.  It was not the ideal venue for a first date, although in the circumstances it had been a safe enough choice. They were seated at a VIP table. The atmosphere was formal and the conversation predictable, all safe and uninspiring topics, polite questions and discreet comments. The only really interesting aspect of the evening from the point of view of the other guests was who exactly this mystery woman was. Litvinov had merely introduced her as an 'old friend;' no amount of subtle prompting would elicit anything more than that from either of them.

There was the usual dull speechifying, an elegantly presented but unsurprising menu and a decent enough selection of fine wines. Zoe sipped carefully, taking mostly water, scared to let her guard down in such lofty company or embarrass Sergei in any way. As a result she was reserved, feeling shy but inadvertently giving the impression of remote and distant beauty, only arousing more interest in her. She longed for the occasion to end, beginning to wish she hadn't agreed to come. She had no wish to see her name in some society gossip column; even the starchy set on the table had guessed she was the sister of Liam Thorne, just from her name and nationality.

But there was one plus point: Sergei. Zoe basked in his attention. She revelled in his complete mastery of the environment and how he reduced even fellow corporate titans to a deference. The enigmatic Russian had created an image and persona for himself that kept the world at his feet. Zoe was well impressed.

They made their excuses and left as soon as they could, acceptably early as befitted people of great importance, but not so prematurely as to appear arrogant and give offence. As they made their progress out through the ballroom, doors swinging open to accommodate them, an almost hush settling as heads craned to observe them passing, both looked straight ahead, impassive. As they mounted the wide staircase from the ballroom to the foyer, Sergei muttered: "Home? Or would you prefer to go on somewhere? We're free agents now. Duty done..."

Zoe gave it some thought - but not much. It was not yet eleven. She did not want to go home mostly because she wanted some time alone with him.

"Where do you suggest?" she countered as they approached the front lobby and headed for his car, parked at the entrance.

"Club? Casino? Bar? Or maybe we just cruise around in my car where no one can see us? I have drinks there..."

She noticed he had not suggested going to his home, either because he thought it untimely to make such a move - or because he was still reluctant to bring her near Nikolai, until he was sure.

"I'd like some privacy. Somewhere we can talk? I hated that in there. I didn't dare even look at you without ears out on stalks, eyes swivelling to get a better view - and speculation mounting..."

"Get used to it. That is my life," he answered. "I have an idea. What about my office? Fairly neutral ground - but there will be no one around at night. We can have a nightcap there and then I can see you home at a reasonable enough hour to please even your father," he grinned.

Zoe giggled. "He was just arsing about.  I think," she added. "Liam was being a pain as well. I'm sorry, he thinks he's funny."

Sergei smiled across. "I think most families would behave just so. It was charming in its way. I am always fascinated by close family bonds. Mostly because I never had them in my own life. May I ask, where was Andreas tonight?" As she had not refused his offer, he leaned forward, spoke rapidly to the driver, and then ushered her into his limousine, immediately closing the connecting window, leaving them hermetically sealed in the walnut and leather-lined space, invisible to anyone outside. The car sped off smoothly into the night.

"He was already asleep, as if by some miracle. Liam took him out all afternoon to the park with Nina and must have run him ragged. He was dropping off over his supper. He didn't even seem to realise I was going out."

"Ah!" he answered. "It's not far. My office. Very central. St. James'..."

Zoe whistled. "Rentals must be crazy..."

"I own the building. Georgian... used to be part of the Admiralty, I believe...The official residence of the First Sea Lord..."

She had to remind herself again of the fortune this man had acquired. She was wealthy herself but this sort of money was beyond the wildest dreams of all but a select few. The concept of billions was almost impossible to imagine.

"Ah!" It was Zoe's turn to run out of things to say. They sat in silence for a while until they reached Piccadilly and onto St. James', to draw up before an imposing historic building. The driver assisted her out; Sergei swept her into the entrance hall, which had the appearance more of an Art Gallery than a corporate establishment. The night staff rushed to attention, accessing the private lift that led to his penthouse office suite, but not appearing unduly fazed by this unexpected arrival. Sergei apparently often worked late into the night and was familiar to them.

As the elevator doors glided open, Sergei held out a hand, guiding her onto the plush carpet corridor to the imposing double doors beyond ,activated by hand-print recognition. They opened out onto an ante-room, traditionally wainscoted. State-of-the-art electronic equipment was the only tell that this was a twenty first century work-place; other than that it could have been from a bygone era. "The main offices are on the floors below. This is just my PA and a few close assistants. Follow me..."

Past the antique desk, he opened another door. Zoe found herself in a vast apartment comprising several rooms: a study, a regally appointed lounge replete with wall tapestries and early eighteenth century furniture, together with a modern set of leather couches.

"The bedroom and bathroom are beyond...there is a small kitchen, too..." he indicated.

"Bedroom?" she asked.