I was trying to write this in one go so that I could post it all without long gaps between updates. However, I'm afraid I failed miserably; I just ended up tweaking it to death. On that basis I thought it best to at least get chapter one out there. I started this in the early hours of last Thursday, as you can probably tell...

'What the hell does that mean?' asked Tariq.

Erin, flipping through the papers in front of her, looked up. 'It means that the evidence which came to light during the inquiry suggests that Harry has a criminal case to answer.'

'They're going to try him?'

'Precisely.'

'In a court of law?'

'That is generally what it means, Beth. And that's all the information I have at this stage. So, can we move on to the next item on the agenda, please? Ruth?' She gave an exasperated sigh. 'Ruth, could we have your attention on the matter at hand, please?'

'Um. Sorry. Yes. Um...'

'Mobius?' The sarcasm in Erin's tone prompted all eyes around the table to drop to the desk.

'Um. Yes. Mobius. I-its a German far right group that was been created shortly after the dissolution of the Nazi Party in 1945. It was originally an intellectual think tank...er...it had no formal political affiliations that I've been able to establish, and after a brief flurry of activity, mainly economic treatises, it disappeared off the radar in the early 50s. It re-surfaced again some twenty years later with Chancellor Brandt's policy of Neue Ostpolitik...um, basically a thawing of relations with the Soviets...only this time it achieved a much higher profile. By the end of the 70s it began to attract those with an interest in more direct action and gradually that side won out. These days it draws its membership principally from Autonome Nationalisten, or Independent Nationalists, whose economic beliefs are actually...'

'How about we cut to the chase?' asked Erin. 'Are these Nazis likely to pose a threat to the talks?'

Ruth frowned. 'It's not as simple as a yes or no; I..'

'Of course it is. Do they have the manpower, the resources, the motive?'

'Motive, certainly; the Israeli...' She saw the look on her section chief's face. 'Y-yes. I suspect they do, yes.'

Erin sat back in her chair. 'Right then. Beth, what do you have on the delegates?'

Towers handed him a heavy crystal tumbler.

Harry gazed at the amber liquid within. 'I'd better savour this. Could be my last for a while.'

'Why did you do it, Harry? Why did you just roll over and play dead? You were never going to get your tummy tickled, just kicked in the balls.'

'Is it that you're bothered about, or the hornet's nest I've just poked a sharp stick into?' asked Harry, drily.

Towers contemplated the contents of his glass. 'Both, I suppose. You're a good man, Harry, and while I didn't expect you to come out of the inquiry smelling of roses I had hoped the verdict would be a slapped wrist and an early retirement. A much more fitting end to a distinguished career.'

'Not so distinguished, as it turns out.'

'Oh, come now. Plenty in the security services have done far worse than you. You don't rise to the giddy heights without having a few skeletons closeted away. And needs must, old boy. The end justifies the means, and so on and so forth.' He put his glass down on the table with a sigh. 'But that's not to say I'm happy at the prospect of embers being raked over, even if they are 30 years old. Still, what's done is done, eh? We'll cope with the fallout, whatever it may be, as and when it happens.'

Harry pursed his lips, but said nothing.

'So, how are the team? How is the formidable Ms Watts getting on?'

Harry sipped at his whisky. 'I don't know. I haven't had any contact with them since I was suspended.'

Towers smiled. 'Yes, I know that's the party line, but...'

Harry shook his head.

'...Oh. Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but I thought that Ruth...'

'Home Secretary, you were at the inquiry. You heard my testimony. My relationship with Ms Evershed was purely a working one. My feelings for her were not reciprocated and my decision to trade her life for Albany put paid to any respect or - or fondness she may have felt for me.'

'But that damned blueprint never worked!'

Harry shrugged.

The older man regarded him, his face troubled. 'Talk to her,' he said firmly.

The words while you still can hung unspoken in the air between them.

Harry understood the conversation was at an end. He downed the whisky in one, and sliding the tumbler onto the desk got wearily to his feet. 'So, what happens now? Will the boys in blue pounce the moment I set foot in the corridor?'

'It's been agreed that you will report to your local station at 10am tomorrow. There, you will most likely be charged and released on bail. You'll have to surrender your passport, I'm afraid.' He eyed Harry. 'All of them.'

Harry managed a smile. 'Thank you. If I might ask one last thing?'

'Of course.'

'I-I haven't cleared my desk. I'd like to go back to the Grid. Say my goodbyes.'

Towers stood and came round the desk. Both men knew that the request breached just about every protocol in the book.

'I'll see to it,' he said quietly, and held out his hand.

Harry shook it. 'Home Secretary.'

When Ruth finally returned to her desk an 'eyes only' envelope had been placed in her tray. She sat down, placed her mug on the desk, and scanned her emails. Fifteen minutes later, the replies sent, she returned her attention to the envelope. A quick glance confirmed that everyone within sight on the Grid was intent on their work. Bundling the envelope into a pile of files, she made her way to the pods.

Her first port of call was the registry. She signed the files back in, then with the envelope tucked under her arm she made her way to the first aid room. To her relief it was unoccupied. She switched on the light, bolted the door, and hitched herself up onto the treatment table.

The fingers that eased the manilla file from the envelope were not entirely steady.

She began to read.