Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Kudos and BBC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note:  There's an additional Spooks/MI5 character in this chapter that, if you haven't seen Season 1, may be unfamiliar to you. But you can find some vids on Youtube if you do a search for Hugh Laurie's amazing and awesome character in Spooks/MI5 named Jools Siviter, head of MI6.  This includes the reference to the opera, Wagner.

I also want to thank you for following the story this far and hanging in there.  Your votes are appreciated a lot and I value all your comments.

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“Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.” 

Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Harry was inside his office when the envelope was delivered by someone from the lobby.  It had been dropped off by courier, the man said, as he handed the thick manila envelope to Harry, its exterior slightly dotted with rain that had just begun to drizzle outside.  Harry thanked the man and watched him close the door behind him.  

Outside his office, the Grid was slowing down its pace.  Malcolm, however, was still hard at work, punching the keyboard in front of him as his eyes looked up at the screen.  Next to him was Liam, watching the older man intently.  Somehow, Harry thought, both of them had gotten along quite nicely, something that surprised even Malcolm.

Liam loved computers, and apparently knew how to work his way around some complex systems in addition to killing some nasty monsters on his handheld game console.  With Ros and Jo at the hospital escorting and keeping an eye on Mikhael Lubienko, the Grid was a bit understaffed at the moment.  

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ben Kaplan, one of his junior case officers, working on some files on his desk.  Connie James, his intelligence analyst, walked in.  She had taken the day off today but Harry had eventually called her in anyway, needing the extra help as they’d encountered some new intelligence through the network and he needed all hands on deck.

Harry watched as Connie walked over to Malcolm’s desk and met Liam for the first time.  Liam laughed at something she said and Harry found himself smiling.  The child deserved a little sunshine on this otherwise frightening day and as Connie reached to tussle the child’s hair, Harry tore open the envelope and pulled out the file contained within.

The file folder contained only photographs, black and white grainy photographs that depicted his god daughter in various forms of abuse.  Harry’s pulse raced as he flipped through the images.  The photographs had dates stamped at the bottom right, most of them from nine years earlier, when Alexa was held captive in Moscow.  The man doing most of the abuse had his back to the camera but Harry didn’t need to have the man turn around to know who it was.  The moment he flipped onto one of the next photographs, with the man turning to look at the camera, he needed no other confirmation.

Arkady Kachimov.

But as Harry put down the photographs on his desk so abruptly, not wanting to touch them anymore, another series of photographs tumbled in front of him.  These were more recent, he thought, but the people in the them didn’t concern him as much as the timing they had been taken did.

They were of Alexa and Lucas in her flat.  Two of the photographs were taken from the living room and the next one from her bedroom.  In light of the fact that Liam was Lucas’ son, Harry wasn’t as concerned over the fact that both of them had connected as soon as Lucas returned from Russia.  

Harry had been so caught up over the events of Remembrance Day and Adam’s death that he’d never bothered to look over Lucas’ life outside the Grid.  But someone did.  Or maybe it was simply Alexa they were checking up on, he thought.  

Arkady, Harry thought to himself.  It had to be Arkady, probably a scheduled delivery from days earlier.

If what Lucas’ said was true, that Alexa was a sleeper, then the last few photographs would probably make sense although Harry couldn’t figure out why.  What didn’t make any sense were the photographs from nine years earlier. 

He set aside the latest photographs and looked through the older ones again, noting how some of them were faded and a bit crisp, maybe from being stored too long.  Many of the photographs were taken from the same room that contained only a bed and a leather armchair.  But as Harry looked through each one, hating himself for seeing the pain and humiliation that Alexa had gone through, he stopped when he found one photograph that was taken from a different setting.

In this one, Alexa was bound to a chair in a dimly lit cell.  To her right was a cart filled with instruments that Harry recognized right away.  A vial of clear liquid and a syringe lay next to it.  To her left was another cart, this one containing a metal box with wires and electrodes.  Oh, God, no.

The knock on the door brought Harry back to the present and he quickly tucked all the photographs back into the folder.  “Come in.”

Connie opened the door and stepped inside.  

“I’m sorry I had to take you away from your day off,” Harry said.  “I understand you had someone over for a visit.”

Connie shrugged.  “High school friend.  I actually preferred getting away from all that reminiscing, so you actually did me a favor with that phone call.”

Harry smiled ruefully.  “Well, we definitely are having one of those days, Connie, so I appreciate you coming in.  What have you got for me so far?”

“I’ve looked into that intel you wanted me to isolate,” she began.  “And it seems that Arkady Kachimov did have another contact outside of the FSB, someone he called Fenix.”

“The phoenix?” Harry asked, tucking the folder of photographs beneath a pile of other folders on his desk.  “Lucas said that Kachimov called him his phoenix during their meetings in Russia.”

“This one is definitely not Lucas,” Connie said.  “I’ve had Malcolm run the voice through the usual suspects but he hasn’t found a match.  This one is much older, probably Kachimov’s age.”

“So there’s someone else out there we need to watch out for,” Harry said.  “We’ve been wrong all along, thinking that the phoenix was meant to be Lucas.”

“It seems like it,” Connie agreed.  “Have you heard from Lucas?”

Harry shook his head.  “No, he’s gone off comms.  His phone is off and we have no idea where he is at the moment.”

“Malcolm told me about Lucas being Liam’s father, although looking at the boy, there’s no mistaking the connection,” Connie said, smiling.  But her smile faded as she asked the next question.  “And Alexa?  Does anyone know where she is?”

Harry sighed.  “No idea.  Lucas said that she’s a sleeper, which I find hard to believe.  After all these years and all the times I’ve spent with her, with Liam, I just hope he’s wrong.”

Connie frowned.  “Sleepers can go on for years, Harry, without doing anything related to their mission.  They usually require a phrase to get activated.”

“Lucas said she did have a phrase.  ‘because they wished to see too far before them, backward they look, and backward make their way.’  Have you heard of it?”

Connie pursed her lips, her brow furrowing.  “It’s a quote from Dante’s Inferno,” Connie said slowly.  “The sorceress Manto was condemned to walk the eighth circle of Hell with her head turned backwards so that she could not see ahead of them.”

Suddenly Harry’s phone rang.  It was Ros.

“Harry, you need to come to the hospital right now,” Ros said.  “Something’s come up.”

“Is Mikhael out of surgery yet?”

“Yes, he is,” Ros replied.  “But it seems we have an additional player in the game.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, as he stood up and gathered his coat.  In front of him, Connie opened the door and left before him.  Harry watched as she returned to her desk and sat down, her attention back to whatever was on the computer screen.

“You’d never guess,” Ros said.  “But big sister is here.”

>>><<<

‘Big sister’s’ entourage comprised of three men dressed in suits, two of whom were now standing just outside Mikhael’s hospital room door.  Jo stood outside with the men, their expressions none too happy to be standing next to each other.

As Harry walked along the corridor that begun just outside the fourth floor elevator in front of the nurses’ station where most of the employees seemed to hover, Ben walked quietly next to him.  In his hand, Harry carried the manila envelope that had been couriered to Thames House just an hour earlier, gripping it tightly.  The corridor extended to a part of the floor where the private rooms were situated.  

Mikhael Lubienko had just emerged from surgery to clean up the bullet wounds he had suffered that afternoon - one bullet wound to the side of his torso and another to his thigh.  He had refused to take the prescribed dose of painkillers for fear that he’d fall asleep before Harry arrived, Ros said.  

“Just as good,” Harry said as Ben navigated his way through London traffic.  “The bastard needs to suffer for everything he’s done.”

But Mikhael’s suffering was the least of his worries now, for another party had entered the picture.  Jools Sivitir, head of MI6, was sitting on a chair next to Mikhael’s bed and smoking a long tapered cigarette, clearly ignoring hospital protocol.  Harry knew it wouldn't have mattered.  Jools Sivitir did whatever Jools Sivitir wanted.  He wore an immaculately tailored striped suit and for a moment, Harry wondered if Jools had been on  his way to see an opera.  

Tension hung in the air between both men, still palpable as Harry opened the door.  It was as if they had simply sat where they were, glaring at each other, and suddenly realizing the curtain had gone up, slipped into the roles they’d agreed to play.   Harry blinked for a moment, wondering if he’d just imagined it all.  

But it was there.  Harry swore he could slice through the tension with a knife.

As soon as Harry walked in, Jools took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke, courteously turning his head away from where Mikhael lay.

“Ah, Harry Pearce,” Jools said, uncrossing his leg as he sat.  “It’s been a long time since our paths have crossed.  I’ve quite missed our drinking games at the club.”

“I’m afraid our paths have crossed sooner than I would’ve wanted,” Harry muttered, pulling up a chair and positioning it across from Jools so that they both flanked Mikhael, who was sitting up on the bed.  Harry noticed that Mikhael’s left arm was handcuffed to the hospital bed railing but said nothing.

Harry pulled out the folder containing the photographs from under his arm and passed it towards Jools.  “Is this your idea of a sick joke, Jools?”

Jools flipped open the folder and glanced through the photographs before handing them over to Mikhael.  “Too skinny for my taste, really,” Jools said.  “But to answer your question, that would be stooping a little too low for my taste.  I like them older, with maybe having a vast knowledge about the opera and how to make the perfect cup of tea.  No, it seems you’ve got yourself a secret admirer, Harry.  Perhaps he or she thinks it would be more to your taste - though I hardly doubt it.”

“Where’d you get this?” Mikhael asked, flipping through the pictures hurriedly, stopping to look at the most recent photographs of Alexa and Lucas together.  Mikhael stared at the last photograph which featured a view of Alexa’s naked back, the tattoo completely visible to the camera.

“You should recognize them, Mikhael.  After all, you’re the one who kept her captive when you could have sent her back to England,” Harry said as Mikhael shot him an angry glance.  

“Ah,  yes,” Jools said.  “I’m forgetting my manners.  I believe you two haven’t met yet.  Harry Pearce, Mikhael Lubienko, deep cover MI6 operative.  Mikhael, meet Harry Pearce, head of Section D.”  He clapped his hands together.  "There!"

Harry ignored Jools, not in the mood to play any of the man’s mind games just yet, though he appreciated the formal introduction.  “Since when did MI6 turn captive nineteen-year-old girls into assets?”   Harry asked.

Jools stubbed his cigarette onto one of the plates that served Mikhael’s dinner minutes earlier and stood up, walking towards the window.  “Since Alexa George managed to open a heavily encrypted flash drive containing names of your Sugar Horse assets and then proceeded to erase the entire thing before it managed to get into the hands of the Russians..”

Harry shot up from his chair.  “What did you just say?”

Jools turned to face Harry.  “You heard me.  Sugar Horse.  I believe it’s your operation, isn’t it, Harry?”

“How did you know about Sugar Horse?  How long have you known about it?”

Jools shrugged.  “Just long enough to know that once upon a very long time, your operation was compromised, Harry.  Either that, or you have a mole in your organization.  Now as your older sister, I’d like to remind you to keep your little hands away from my business, and I’ll keep my hands away from yours.  But, having set up your grand scheme in Russia over twenty years ago, I’ll pretend I don’t know anything about it and tell myself that you actually were doing me a favor.” 

Harry did not say anything, which gave Jools the opportunity to continue - not that he would have needed additional prompting to do so.  

“Had it not been for my deep cover here, Mikhael Lubienko, or rather, Michael Smith - which I hate to say, is the dullest name I could ever want to be named after - your operation would have been doomed nine years ago.  And all your assets would have been long dead.”

Harry frowned.  He’d heard the name before - Michael Smith - and he glanced at MIkhael before turning his attention back to Jools. 

Jools, in his immaculate Saville Row suit, walked towards the coat hanger and began to slip on his coat.  “Michael has been working deep cover for me for the last fifteen years.  Too long, if you ask me, and I’m afraid he’s paid such a high price serving his country, don’t you think?  Five years in Russian prison, getting tattooed for lying to Kachimov about the death of an asset, almost getting blown up to smithereens, and getting shot up.  Stuff of movies, if you ask me.”

Mikhael said nothing.  He simply glowered at Jools and Harry noticed how his hands clenched and unclenched on his lap.  “We still need to talk, Jools,” Mikhael growled.

“I apologize, Michael,” Jools said, forcing a smile.  “I’m still in a state of shock realizing that you were finally in England, and working so deep undercover that I had to hear it from intel gathered from my younger sister here instead of hearing it from you.   You know how I hate eavesdropping.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me,” Mikhael growled again.  

“I never meant to patronize you, dear boy,” Jools said a bit more cheerfully than necessary.  “But during the debrief, we can talk about certain matters much further, like the fact that you managed to kidnap a British national in broad daylight, and shot her neighbor dead in front of the public.”

“You know who that man really worked for, Jools,” Mikhael said, his voice turning low.  “You’re skating on thin ice right now.”

Harry barely heard the conversation between both men, his face having turned pale in the flickering lights of the hospital room.  His only concern was Sugar Horse.  “All this is impossible, Jools.  No one could have acquired my Sugar Horse names.  That flash drive could have been a bluff.  For all we know, there could have been nothing in that drive.”

“Only Alexa will really know what was really in that thumb drive, Harry, but at least the Russians never got a hold of it.”  Jools took a deep intake of breath and proceeded to walk towards the door.  He stopped just as he reached for the door knob, about to let himself out.  

“How did she come upon the names?  Where did she get the names from?”

“Now I don’t care how the names were acquired, Harry.  That would be your problem since they were your assets.  I’m just glad that it never got to Russian hands.  However, it seems we now have a different problem.”    

“And that is?”  Harry asked.

“One of our moles inside FSB, Oskar Millivic - or Oskar the Ferret, as he was called - managed to smuggle a thumb drive containing names of Russian moles in the United Kingdom nine years ago.  Alexa was his contact.”  

At the mention of Alexa’s name, Harry’s brow furrowed.  Oskar the Ferret was efficient, yes, but he was also dirty - known to dance with the FSB and MI6 when it suited him.  He had been a double agent and Harry knew that he had gotten what he had deserved.  

“Something happened before Alexa could hand over the drive to Mikhael and for nine years she’s denied any knowledge of having the thumb drive in her possession,” Jools said.  “But as of this afternoon, we know she has it and by now, the Russians probably do, too.”

“What makes you think she has this thumb drive?” Harry asked.  “Does this have anything to do with that phrase you said to her on the ship, Mikhael?  The one that sent her running off?”

“It’s from Dante’s Inferno,” Mikhael said.  “When Oskar handed Alexa that thumb drive, it all went to hell.  It was a bloodbath, and Alexa was nearly one of the casualties.  When everything was over, she was in a coma for almost two weeks and woke up with no  memory of what had happened right before her meeting with Oskar.  I had to keep her hidden.  As far as Arkady was concerned, she was dead, and I had to keep it that way.”

“Five dead, including Oskar,” Harry whispered, remembering how the news had traveled throughout Section D then, and how Harry had sent Lucas to Moscow immediately to recover whatever was left of Alexa.  

“It was simply a botched operation,” Jools interjected.  “Oskar went out of his mind, drunk as a skunk and just about announcing to the world that he had the intel against the Russians.  He’d lost his mind, poor man, and he nearly took Alexa down with him.”

“Well, whatever information Oskar handed to Alexa, it was nowhere to be found.  And she had no memory of it,” Mikhael continued.  “We had no idea what the information was for he only told Alexa at the same time we believed he handed the thumb drive over to her.  The only thing he told us through some sketchy intel was that it was Russia’s biggest secret, something big enough to destroy the UK.”

“A great big mess, if you ask me,” Jools said, shaking his head.  

“But now you know that Alexa has it?” Harry asked.  “Are you sure about this?”

“The phrase I said to Alexa,” Mikhael began.  “It was part of the intel that Oskar used in his last message to us before he was killed, the same phrase he must have told her when he handed her the thumb drive - if indeed he did.”  

“‘Because they wished to see too far before them, backward they look, and backward make their way,’” Harry whispered.  “Connie said that it was about a sorceress condemned to walk the eighth circle of hell.”

“When I said it today, Alexa recognized it immediately.  She has the thumb drive.  She told me as much,” Mikhael said.  “I’ve been thinking about since it happened, but the bomb inside the ship, and Anatoly Rubiev, the assassin.  The Russians know she has it.”

“Which means you have a big problem in your hands, Harry,” Jools said.  “Do you even know where Alexa is right now?”

“Yes, Jools,” Harry lied.  “She’s safe.”

“Good,” Jools smiled.  “I’m going to need to debrief her as soon as possible, and get that thumb drive before the Russians do.”  Jools finally opened the door.   “Well, I’m off.  You’ll know where to find me.”  

He took a step out of the room before Harry said something that he didn’t catch and stopped to look at him.

“Wagner?” Harry asked again, and Jools thought for a moment, shaking his head as an expression of distaste crossed his face.  

“You just made me remember that awful piece of crap from years ago, Harry,” he said.  “The Cry of the Valkyrie in scuba gear.  But no - no more Wagner.  Tonight, it’s Tosca.”

Harry watched as the door shut behind Jools, his heart beating wildly inside his chest.  Damn the arrogance of the man, he thought to himself.  

Harry turned to face Mikhael, needing to direct his rage elsewhere yet knowing that it would be wrong for him to do so.  If there was one thing that Jools was right about, it was that Mikhael Lubienko, or Michael Smith - if he indeed had worked deep cover all those years - had paid too high a price serving his country.

“You don’t really have her, do you?” Mikhael said, his voice tired.  Harry could sense a hint of disappointment there as well.  

Harry shook his head, finally sitting back down on the chair.  Suddenly he was exhausted, his knees weakening beneath him.  Sweat gathered upon his brow.  

Sugar Horse.  Alexa’s kidnapping nine years ago had all been about Sugar Horse.  Yet as much as he tried to look back at any time that his operation could have been compromised, Harry came up with nothing.  

Twenty years earlier, Harry and two other men - Hugo Prince and Richard Dolby - had set up an elaborate plan of setting up moles throughout the Russian political system whose goal was to ensure that Russia would never succeed in any of its future nuclear aspirations.  Each of the men would have their own assets with neither one knowing about the others.  When Hugo passed away a few years earlier, Harry and Richard split his assets between them.  

And though Jools claimed that the Russians never managed to get their hands on the names, Harry still needed to know who among his two friends had betrayed Sugar Horse.  Who had leaked the names?  And why? 

Harry turned to look at Mikhael.  He sighed.  His only hope for an answer to his questions would come from the same man who’d abducted his god daughter years ago, and in some twisted turn of events, turned her into an asset for MI6.  

“Start from the very beginning,” Harry said wearily as he leaned forward on his chair.  “And don’t skip on any details, no matter how horrific they may be.”

It was going to be a long night.

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