The doors of many of the retail giants of Oxford Street open early on Boxing Day morning to inaugurate the sales. It was here Tessa Phillips found herself, jostling through crowds, glad for the mayhem. Her cash purchases of two mobile pay-as-you-go phones were unlikely to be observed in the midst of the bargain frenzy.

The next port-of-call was an apartment block in Battersea in an area of the city once run down and relentlessly working class, but now offering properties at prices no blue-collar worker could afford unless he won the National Lottery. It was in this former Cockney heartland that Jamie Farrow had bought his 'des-res' along the Thames, a two-bedroom over-priced piece of Norman Foster designed real estate in the Albion Riverside Development. 

It was a simple matter of handing in the brightly wrapped Christmas gift for her 'dear nephew' to the uninterested doorman before she strolled over to sit on a bench in the watery sunlight outside, watching the grey and blustery waters of the Thames. She gave it ten minutes - and then called him.

"Go outside and call me back." She hung up.

Seconds later, Gil O'Brien appeared, jogging past her as he spoke into the phone. He disappeared down the steps to the path along the water's edge, once the tow path, now the joggers' trail. "What is this?"

"Shut up and listen. I know who you are. I know who you're working for. I have a proposition to make and you have ten seconds to decide if you are in or out. Cuthbert's blown. Five know everything. Except about you. You have two choices. And one involves going to prison for a very long time. You seem a smart enough boy. I'm sure you don't want that to happen. I'm offering exactly what Cuthbert offered you - but you take your orders from me now. In or out?"

It took O'Brien less than five seconds to make his mind up. He ran at the steps two at a time and emerged directly behind the elegant but frosty middle aged woman still chatting on her cell phone. He closed his phone "In."

Tessa spun round - but then smiled coolly. "Clever boy. I thought you'd dismissed me as just another old bag feeding the birds. First test passed. Now bugger off before someone sees us together. I'll call you at seven tonight. Make sure you're out of any eavesdropping range. How did you know it was me?"

"Asked the doorman who brought it. He said some old bag..." Gil answered smartly.

Tessa seemed amused. "...And make sure your house guest doesn't find the phone, huh? But stay close. Miss Reynolds - or should I say Catherine Harmison? - is the ace in our hole. No one knows she's been fingered. So carry on fingering her, Gil, my boy. I'm sure she's besotted with you. And who could blame her? But just remember one thing. You couldn't play me if you had the combined services of Mossad and the CIA behind you. So don't even imagine you can try. Seven sharp. Nice to have met you, Mr. O'Brien."

She rose from the bench and stepped crisply away. Gil watched her go thoughtfully, stowing the phone in his back pocket. He'd left 'Catherine' in bed while he went jogging. So he had better make it look good, taking the towpath again and pounding out a few miles, using the time to think. This had to be Cuthbert's Five contact; he had been supposed to meet her after the holidays. Whatever had gone down, either she had shafted Cuthbert or the operation was beginning to unravel. This was very dangerous territory. One false move and he could lose everything.

But fifty percent of the pot was a pretty wild inducement to keep him in. One risk and he would be made for life. Those were the kind of odds Gil had been dreaming of. You get one chance. If you don't take it, you would have to die wondering. If this turned foul, then at least he'd go out knowing he'd given it his best shot.

The events of the past weeks had been a roller coaster, bringing him to a level of involvement he had expected would take years to accomplish. It was all a matter of being at the right place at the right time. Lady Luck either smiled - or she didn't. Gil breathed heavily as he ran the last half mile back to the apartment. The perks of the job were not bad either. He had worked up just enough testosterone for another session with the delectable and extremely willing Miss Reynolds. Could life get any better?

The days after Christmas passed as they always do: relaxed, full of familiar family traditional activities: Games of Scrabble, country walks, impromptu sing songs, meals served round the kitchen table accompanied by a couple of bottles of good wine, slumped before the television eating chocolates, watching favourite old movies. Time seemed to move slowly - and then suddenly it all came to an end. Then it was hard to remember where the days had gone, each one merging into another in the recent memory. Everyone was tired of inactivity and seasonal hibernation. There was a sudden desire to shake it all aside and get back to real life.

Liam was the first to leave, eager now to be back in London with his daughter, living his own life again. Within the welcome confines of the family hearth, he became a son again. In time the bonds of family began to chafe, reminding him of all he had to live up to, and all the ways he was failing. He needed to return to being his own person and not having to see himself through the lens of those who loved him. It wasn't that they were critical - very much the contrary. But still they unconsciously held him back, over-protected him. He craved the edge of uncertainty and conflict in his life. Too much safe domesticity made him ill-at-ease, throwing up questions about himself he was not yet ready to answer.

Zoe watched him drive away with an unjust sensation of envy that he could fly free so easily. She supposed that all she had to do was say she was leaving, too, and no one would stop her. Yet, she still felt that it was expected of Liam to float in and out, but she was required to stay with the family and see the New Year out with Mum and Dad. It was unfair of her. Dino and Mel had taken Maddy to Vienna for the New Year's Day Mozart concert and a couple of days in the Tyrol at the swanky ski resort of Kitzbühel. Her parents had been looking forward for some time with Andreas. He didn't want to go back to their quiet apartment in London yet.

But she missed Tom. The dutiful daughter role was suddenly not entirely to her taste.

Oddly enough the opportunity to make an early escape came from Annie herself, the same morning as Liam and Abigail had left. She and her mother were driving down to the nearby village to do some shopping, Terry having taken Andreas off into the woods on one of their 'reconnaissance' missions.

"I had this idea. Andreas must be bored down here in the country. What about a trip to Disneyland in Paris? Your Dad will moan but once he's there, he'll love it. You know what a big kid he is at heart. It isn't fair that Andreas has to be with grown ups all the time. He's so good about it, but he deserves a treat. What do you think? I know you were going back on the 3rd but can't you stay a little longer? At least until the following weekend?"

A window of opportunity appeared in Zoe's mind in an instant. She could easily manipulate this situation to suit herself in a manner reminiscent of her younger teenage self when she set up some scam to allow herself a night away from home to sleep with a boyfriend under the guise of some perfectly acceptable other activity. She doubted her parents had ever suspected the truth (although she was way off the mark on that one). "I need to be back in London, Mum. The new guys all report for duty on 4th. I have to be there. I'm so sorry because you're right. Andy does deserve a treat. He's been such a little darling over Christmas. I feel bad the first few days before school starts he's going to have to come to work with me and amuse himself at the office..."

Zoe knew exactly what her Mum would say in reply. A momentary twinge of guilt caused her some regret, but her need to find some time with Tom was too urgent to stop her from lying. She put on her most appealing and reasonable expression.

Annie took her cue almost as though she had read the script. Parents! You can always rely on them to be good to you. "Maybe we can find a way round this? What if Dad and I took Andreas for a few days on our own?  That way, you can get back to the office and be there for the induction, and Andy doesn't have to be stuck in the office like a latchkey kid. We'll bring him over in time for the new term - and maybe get a chance to see Nina again? What do you think? Would that work?"

It would indeed. Especially as the induction course was not scheduled to begin for another ten days. That gave Zoe the perfect opportunity for at least a weekend with Tom, maybe longer, depending on his work commitments. They could stay in London if they had to, so if he needed to work, he still could. But the nights would be theirs. On the other hand, if he could take a few days, then maybe they could take a holiday together? He had worked right through Christmas to allow the men and women with families to take the time. Surely he had the right for a few days now? Zoe had an urge to call him straight away and make the proposition, an urge so strong that she found it hard to restrain herself. Her heart was beating with expectation; it was a wonder her mother could not hear it.

"Well? You're awfully quiet. What do you think?" She heard her mother say as they pulled into a parking space in the small town square. 

Zoe opened the door and got out, leaning on the roof of the car to speak across. "It's a great idea! Andy would adore it. Of course, I hate not to be with you, but in the circumstances, it's really the perfect solution! Mum, you're the best! I really appreciate it! You can stay with us when you get back to London for a few days too! It would be so cool to have you in the new place..."

She was aware of how false her words were, but her mother seemed not to notice. Her sense of guilt, however, did not last long. Already another idea had occurred to her of where she might take Tom if he could get out of London. The more Zoe fixated on this notion, the more it suddenly became pressing and of incredible importance, so much so that this chance opportunity began to look God-given, the hand of fate. Her lingering sense that her life was directed by some unseen forces reared its head again.  This time spent apart had proved how strong her bond with Tom had become. She couldn't live without him. It was time for them both to lay the ghosts of the past and make a future together. Only one place could offer them that passport to tomorrow.

Annie walked ahead of her daughter into the charcuterie, swinging a small wicker basket jauntily. She struggled to hide her amusement. Her daughter had jumped on that proposal very quickly. The devious processes of her daughter's mind were familiar to her. They were both women - what would she herself have done in the same position? It was partly why she had suggested the trip, although the idea of some time with her beloved grandson was equally important in the mix. Andreas had been messed about for the past few months and needed some time with his grandparents after this long gap. But Zoe deserved a little consideration, too. Her new life had to be solitary after the set up in Sydney where she had seldom been alone for long, surrounded by family, friends and staff. Suddenly thrust into the role of single working mother in an impersonal metropolis like London, trying to juggle a demanding and stressful career with the needs of a small son? Where was the time for her own needs and private life? Without some outlet, a woman would go crazy.

If there was a man on the scene, Annie thought, so much the better. Whoever the boyfriend was, any woman would want to get some alone time with him. It was difficult enough to have a love life when you were a single Mum. Annie still suspected the mystery man was Sergei Litvinov. Or rather, she hoped it was. Whatever Terry's opinion was. It wasn't for them to judge another man's behaviour. Her fantasy was that Sergei would take the opportunity of this unexpected few days to whisk Zoe somewhere exotic, to see the New Year in with style. She herself had done what she'd planned. Now the rest was up to nature.

*

"Tom? It's me. Can you talk?" It was several hours later before Zoe had found time to call him. After shopping with her mother, they had cooked a meal and eaten with the boys. She was unsure how she had contained her excitement throughout the long afternoon and evening. With Andreas now settled with one of his new toys, her mother and father sharing a bottle of wine in the lounge and catching up on the newspapers, Zoe could at last tuck herself up on the window seat of her bedroom and make the long-awaited call.

"...Sure. Actually I'm in the pub. It was quiet and we adjourned for a swift half or two. Belated Christmas party, you might call it..." Tom seemed relaxed, probably the effect of a few early evening pints - or maybe he was just glad to hear her voice. "What's up? When you back?"

"That's the thing," Zoe continued. "Maybe sooner than I thought. Mum and Dad are taking Andy to Disneyland in Paris for a couple of days. I've managed to cry off. So..."

"...I could meet you in Paris and we could get a hotel and..." his voice trailed off as he chuckled soft and low. "I'll arrange some leave. They owe me plenty..."

She broke in. "Not exactly. I mean, yes, get the leave. But not Paris. It's too close. I don't want them bumping into us after I've told them I've got to get back to the office..."

Tom snorted. "See us? We'll never leave the hotel room." He dropped his voice. The background buzz of a crowded bar had fallen away. He must have moved away from his companions to have some privacy. "I just want you, naked in bed with wall-to-wall sex... No chance of anyone seeing us there..." he murmured.

Zoe giggled. "Fear not, Tom. I think we're on the same page there. I'm so randy I could frot the bedpost...But I have a better idea. Not Paris. Somewhere really special..."

"Really special? Hmmmm...let me think...New Year...snow? Alps? Or do you want a bit of sun? What are you up to?"

But she was determined to give nothing away. "Nope. It's a surprise. Get the leave. I'll arrange the tickets. Meet you at Heathrow on the morning of the 30th. Pack a decent suit - and some very warm all-weather clothes...."

"Come on! I need more than that! Should I bring my passport?"

"No."

"No passport? So we're staying in the British Isles...?"

"You're the intelligence guy. So go figure."

"At least give me a clue?" Tom's breath caught in his throat. Something told him this was significant but he was unsure why his instinct had taken this moment to kick in. Where was she going with this?

There was a pause. Zoe was giving it some thought. "It's a special place. Special to me, anyway. My secret hideaway. No one really knows about it. I haven't been there for years but it's really important that I take you there now. Tom, I can't really explain why it's so important until we're there. Except to say, that I can lay my ghosts to rest if I take you there. We can face the future from there, once we've put the past and all its secrets behind us. And it's a beautiful place, Tom. Remote and pure. Where we used to go to be free...!"

Her explanation was cryptic. But what was she really saying? She had a place that no one knew about connected to her past. They thought they had pieced together everything about this woman's life and yet, it seemed, they had missed a very important detail. She owned a private retreat somewhere in the British Isles. But there was more.  If she was referring to 'laying ghosts' then this place had to belong to Costello. She had even made that oblique remark... 'Where we used to go to be free...!' Who was the 'we'? Had to be her and Costello. His secret bolthole. The one place no one had ever known about.

Zoe was planning to take him to this significant place, deeply linked to her past because she considered him to be her future. Zoe was reaching out to try and bring the shattered pieces of her life together. Here was the missing link they had been searching for all along. The one place no one had known to look. A cold chill ran down Quinn's spine, like a fingers creeping from the grave, dragging him down into its mournful depths. Dead man's shoes. Someone traipsing on his grave. Doomsday.  Odd phrases scudded across his mind, each with its own gloom-laden connotation.

"Tom?  Are you still there? Did we get cut off?"

He cleared his throat, trying to cast off the sense of foreboding that had settled over him. This was what they had been waiting for. If he could find the elusive material in this place, he might just be able to wrap up the case without Zoe ever knowing the hidden agenda that had dogged their tracks all along. The ace card of the treachery of Tessa Phillips and the shadowy involvement of Jeremy Cuthbert gave him a firmer foundation; he could play this hand if Zoe ever found out his true purpose. Now was not the time for vacillation. It was all or nothing.

"Yeah, I'm still here. I'm trying to second guess you but you're far too clever for me. Okay, you're the boss then. 30th at Heathrow. I'll bring my toothbrush. And Zoe...Christ, I've missed you so much! I'd go anywhere you asked. It wouldn't matter as long as I was with you. You know that, don't you?"

This time her long pause was emotionally based; tears had pricked her eyes and choked up her voice, preventing her from speaking. Her tone was husky when she finally found her words. "Oh, Tom...you have no idea! I can't wait. I simply cannot wait to see you! Every minute without you feels like a year...I swear everything will make sense when we get there...You'll understand everything about me when you're there. I just want you to know who I really am, Tom. I'm tired of hiding and trying to be strong..."

"...I know who you are. You're the woman I love. The strongest and purest woman I've ever known. We've got a lifetime to learn all the other things that matter about each other..." he whispered, closing his eyes, praying to a god he didn't believe in to make this miracle happen. I'm not lying to you, Zoe. I mean every word I say. Please, believe me! Know who you are? You're not the one in hiding. That would be me. 

"God, I love you so much, Tom! So very much...!"

Andreas burst in the bedroom, chased up by Terry who had decided that it was way past his bedtime. The child threw himself at his mother, screaming: 'Hide me! Hide me! Terry's going to tickle me!"

"...I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow...promise..." Zoe hang up, thrusting the phone under a cushion as her father charged in, as if she thought he would discover her secret merely by its presence. She gathered up her son. "No tickling! He's silly enough without making him worse! Okay, tiger, let's get you in the bath...and Dad, grow up! You're worse than Liam at winding him up...."

Tom made his way back to the bar, settling back in on the stool where a fresh pint was waiting for him. This was the nearest the team had got to a Christmas get-together: a few drinks then dinner at a nearby Pizza Express.

"Everything okay? Don't tell me we're on?" Danny groaned. 

Tom shook his head. "No, nothing much." He took a long draught of the cold pint before setting it down. He decided to be honest with them. The Costello case was now about to kick off.  "Actually it is something big. Zoe Costello. The link we've been looking for, I think. She's got a place somewhere no one knows about. If the Costello files exist, they have to be there. Thank Christ, we could be near a resolution...At last..."

Ruth pricked up her ears.  Whirling her glass of red wine thoughtfully, she observed, "What are you saying, Tom? You know where this place is? If we can send someone in now, they can wipe it clean. She'll never know anything about it. You'd be totally in the clear!"

"It's not quite that simple, I'm afraid. She won't tell me where it is. She says it's a 'surprise'. She wants us to go there for a weekend alone.  But it's in the British Isles and remote. That much I do know. She's taking me there on the 30th. Flying from Heathrow..."

"...So not quite as cosy as you hoped, then?" Zoe Reynolds added coolly. "You're going to have to do the dirty work yourself? And she's smart enough to suss your game, isn't she?"

Tom glanced across at her. There was still such bad blood there. Costello must have hurt her badly. It did not endear him to the man any more than his former contacts had.

"Why don't you just have your dirty weekend in peace?  You don't need to take any action. We can go in after you leave. As long as we find out where it is, what's the hurry? The crap's been there five years. A couple of days longer won't make any difference - and then she'll never find out..." Danny suggested.

Tom smiled sadly. They cared. It came almost as a shock how much they were trying to make things work for him. He wondered had he ever made any such allowances for their private lives? He was a hard and unrelenting taskmaster, little interested in excuses. Maybe he deserved the fate that was ahead on their account alone?

"We might have rumbled Cuthbert, but who knows if he was working alone - or if there aren't others after this? The moment she takes me there, the cover's blown.  Anyone could have tracked us. I can't take the risk that we could lose it all at the eleventh hour. It has to be me. I have to see this through. "

"Could it be dangerous?" Ruth said as though the idea had only just occurred to her. "I mean, do you seriously think that hostile elements might be following your movements so closely?"

Tom shrugged. "Who knows? Potentially anyone could know what we know. We'd be fools not to allow for that. Christ knows what she'll be walking into..." He dropped his head and stared into the dregs of his glass. In a sense, like Ruth, a bitter truth was dawning on him, one that the Cuthbert-Phillips connection had thrown into sharper relief. They were not playing around here. This material was dynamite. It could have brought any number of rats out of the sewers of the shadowy world of counter-intelligence. The rest of the party said nothing, respecting the unspoken dread he had to be feeling, instead filling the uneasy silence with meaningless chatter while Tom sank morosely further into his own head.

"Dance?" He looked up. Zoe Reynolds indicated the small floor of the bijou bar. Post Christmas revels were still ongoing. Another office party was also in swing; couples were fooling about and smooching. "Isn't it obligatory to get pissed and shag your boss on these occasions?" she grinned.

"I should be so lucky. And I don't fancy Harry Pearce anyway...Ginger hair never did it for me..."

They both laughed as she pulled him off the stool, heading for the floor. 

"How's the boyfriend anyway?" Tom asked as they pushed their way past the crowds to the dance space. 

"Gil? Well, he's partly business, as you know, but a whole lot of pleasure at the same time..." she grinned.

"Looks like someone's been getting some for Christmas," he teased.

She rolled her eyes suggestively. He took her in his arms. The record was an up tempo modern rock song, but smoochable all the same with its feel-good romantic appeal. Tom held her close; she threw her arms around his neck, the wine she had consumed loosening her usual inhibitions.

Zoe Reynolds was a voluptuous woman, not as slender and sleek as his Zoe, but with a soft, curvy sexuality that any man would desire. His libido was affected by her presence, even if his thoughts were far away on another very different woman. Unconsciously he eased his body into a lover's pose and they moved sensuously to the beat.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to sound like a shrew before...I hope you two make it. I know you love her. And she'd be a fool to let you go..."

The drink, the closeness of a woman and the driving beat of this anthem to love in the moment lulled the melancholy that had been threatening, keeping the demons at bay for a while. He just had to take each moment, one step at a time. Nothing ever lasts forever. One day, maybe Zoe Costello might come to know who he really was. She might even come to love the real Tom Quinn, that elusive man she had never really met - or maybe she would not. Who could predict the future? But, in the final analysis, he'd give up forever just to touch her once again: the woman who was the closest to heaven he would ever be...

And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
'Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am...

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am...