Spooks: "Retreat of Truths" - (1/2)
I'd initially posted this story a few years ago (Dec 06). Given that series 9 is set to conclude next Monday, I decided to post and take a look at a time where Harry & Ruth were closer than they currently are in S9. It's changed only slightly since it's original posting - a few words that had been edited around a bit.
Retreat of Truths (1 of 2)
By: J. Lynn Stapleton (aka Ceridwyn2)
Author's Note: This is the first Spooks story I wrote. The story came about as I recalled a trip I'd taken to Oxford in the spring of 2006, and I'd stayed at the Mal Oxford. It seemed like an interesting place to start a Spooks story there, given its history and the character Ruth's background ties with Oxford. The story is set post-Ep 505, wherein all the events in the episode happened except for Ruth's leaving, and anything up to this point.
Archiving: Please ask permission if you want to archive it.
*******
Tuesday Morning, 7th November 2006
Thames House, London
Life in the Grid of MI-5 was in its usual organized chaotic state. Intelligence officers were moving about collecting and retrieving files to study and analyse. Or at least appeared to be doing so. When in actual fact they were unobtrusively keeping watch on Harry Pearce's office to see when the figures inside would implode, or just kill each other. The section chief had been visited by Juliet Shaw, the National Security Coordinator, and for all intents and purposes, the meeting was something neither of them relished. Suddenly the office door swung open and everyone made quick haste to make themselves look busy.
"I'm telling you, Harry, it wasn't my doing. If you don't like it, take it up with the Home Secretary." Both Juliet and Harry seemed to wear identical expressions of loathing. Perhaps Juliet more so, as the effect of storming out of an office had kind of lost some of its effectiveness when one was in a motorized wheelchair. Malcolm, Ruth, Zaf and Jo watched as Juliet disappeared beyond the pods.
"What did she want?" Ruth asked pointedly, fearing the answer she might get.
"If you've got any plans for this weekend, cancel them. Mandatory working retreat for secret intelligence services. MI-5, MI-6, Special Branch, and Joint Intelligence Committee must send delegates for this. Non-negotiable," Harry managed to growl out. It was most certainly not on his priority of things to do in this, or any other, century. "Apparently they also decided to spring it on us without much notice, so that we'd have no opportunity to pull out of the retreat."
Ros lifted her head from the screen she was viewing. In her usual dry manner, she quipped, "Oh, wonderful. An opportunity for Britain's intelligence services to wipe each other off the planet. Why wait for the terrorists to do it, when the Home Secretary can do it for you."
"Where is this little retreat supposed to be?" Ruth asked.
"Oxford."
"Not in London?" Adam queried.
"No. Apparently the powers that be decided that should this retreat be held in London, most of us would be at Thames House (and respective other parts of the city) rather than be at the retreat. So no, it's being held at Malmaison Oxford. Here's the list of staff that are expected to be there from Thames House: Ros, Zaf, Ruth and myself. Staying in London are Adam, Jo, and Malcolm."
Something clicked in Ruth's memory of what Juliet stated before she left. Then she sighed. "Oh, please tell me the wicked witch is not going to be there all weekend as well?"
The edge of Harry's lips curled up almost imperceptibly as he acknowledged Ruth's comment. But she saw it. "Sorry. But Juliet will be there as well. Not willingly, I can assure you."
"I suppose it's fitting then, that we're staying there," Ruth noted quietly.
"Pardon?" Jo asked.
"The Mal Oxford used to be Her Majesty's Prison Oxford before it got decommissioned. When I studied in Oxford, the prison was on the bus route I often took. Apparently the place is all rather posh now, but still with a prison theme."
"Why fitting?" Adam asked sensing the direction of conversation, and he smirked.
"Because if I have to spend too much time around Juliet Shaw this weekend I'm going to get done for GBH, and end up in a prison. None too swank as that, I can guarantee."
Harry put his hand over his mouth to cover the smile. But the half-laugh died as quick as it started as Ruth looked over at him. The others weren't so reserved and laughed heartily. Eventually Ruth joined in on the humour of the situation. Hell, she figured, she might as well laugh than cry.
After things settled down a bit, Ruth, being quite the pragmatist, asked why the retreat was being held so quickly. "I mean it's not like counter-terrorism has nothing else to do. Especially as Special Branch keeps piling on the reports by the truckload."
"After the Director General's speech on terrorist threats, the Home Secretary decided that it was in the country's best interests if the intelligence agencies worked with more co-operation, rather than passing the buck." Harry walked around the room so that he stood behind Ruth at her workstation.
Ruth scrunched up her face. "All very well and good. Until you remember that someone in the JIC tried to frame me for the murder of Maudsley." She looked briefly up at Harry, slightly exasperated. "I never did get the whole truth on how that was resolved."
"Not now, Ruth." Harry understood her frustration. He felt it as well. But as much as he felt, right then was neither the time, nor the place to discuss it. He gave her a glance, leaning down he quietly whispered in her ear, "Later." He then walked around and headed into his own office.
A lot of discussion followed between the colleagues about the retreat, the possible goals and outcomes that might be brought up, and how much surveillance equipment they'd be bringing. "Just to be on the safe side," Malcolm quipped. After a look from Jo, he added, "You don't think we'll be the only ones intending on covert intel at this retreat, do you?" he asked rhetorically.
"Spooks spying on each other. Sounds like fun," Adam smiled. "Too bad I'll miss it."
Zaf threw a crumpled sheet of paper at him. "I was supposed to have a date this weekend. Gorgeous girl, too."
"I feel for you, buddy," Adam grinned and replied, in a tone that said anything but. "Now, we've got some work to do in advance of this retreat. Let's see how much headway we can make." Each of the officers grabbed some files and headed to the conference room. Hours went by, discussions grew and finally most everyone packed in for the day.
****
Harry was just coming out of his office when he saw the light on in the small office kitchenette. A moment later, he heard the sound of ceramic crashing against the counter, and onto the floor. It was followed by a slew of curses. Quickly he made his way over to find Ruth bent over trying to clean up the remnants of a broken mug. It was then that Harry noticed droplets of blood falling to the floor.
"Ruth, stop. You're bleeding." He inwardly cursed as she flinched. "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."
"It's okay, I was just getting a mug to have some tea. I mustn't have had a good grip because it slipped out of my hand. I'll just get this cleaned up."
"Ruth," Harry added in a low tone that brokered no arguing. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, wrapped Ruth's hand, and then he directed her over to the chair in the corner of the kitchenette.
"It's really not that bad, Harry. Shouldn't even require stitches." Ruth disliked most people fussing over her. And she was a little embarrassed that it was Harry fussing over her.
"Ruth, it's all right. Just sit back and let me do this for you." After a moments hesitation he continued, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but why didn't you leave when the others did?"
"Why didn't you?" she playfully shot back. It had become a rather frequent discussion between the two.
"Paperwork."
"Tell me about it. I swear Special Branch has nothing better to do than make my life a living hell. Do they not have their own bloody analysts?" she asked, knowing full well that there were analysts in the newly formed Counter-Terrorism Command. Ruth sighed, very frustratingly.
As Ruth talked, Harry had found the first aid kit in the cupboard and called her over to the sink. He turned the water on to warm then unfolded the cloth that had been wrapped around her hand. "Here, let me see the cut." Harry gently turned her hand over and examined the extremity. A long thin sliver ran across the palm of her hand. "Put your hand under the water, we need to see if there's any shards in there."
Ruth did so, only because in doing so she found herself less flustered by the attention. They were very much aware that they were interested in each other. They'd had one dinner date that seemed to go fairly well, except for the nervousness both of them felt. After becoming aware that others were talking about them, Ruth stopped wanting the relationship to go any further. She felt it undermined Harry's authority and she felt uncomfortable with their colleagues talking about their relationship, especially as he was her boss. That being said, she was still in love with him, and could tell that at least some of that affection was reciprocated.
After a few moments, Harry dried off her hand and took a look. Then he placed a bandage on her hand and wrapped it with gauze. "There, that should be all right." He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did. After a few moments they both realised he was still cradling her hand in his. It was enough to break the spell that had kept them entranced. He remembered that she'd originally come in to get some tea.
"Ruth, do you still want a cup of tea? Or would you like me to drop you home? It's long past time of the last bus."
"I probably should. The cats will be wondering whatever happened to me. Wanting to be fed and all that. I think that's why I got the kitten, to keep Fidget company for the long hours I'm at work." Ruth knew she was babbling some. She knew it was a coping mechanism when she was flustered. And having Harry Pearce this close to her was doing all sorts of crazy things to her insides. "I need to lock down my computer for the night and put away the files I was working on."
"I'll be back in just a moment. I need to get my coat." Just as he said after about five minutes, he'd turned off his own computer, dimmed the lights, retrieved his coat and closed his office door. He placed his hand along the small of her back after Ruth put her own coat on and led them over to the pods before leaving the floor.
********************
Friday Morning, 10th November
Oxford, UK
The usual hustle and bustle around MI-5 kept things flowing. Over the past few days, the security services closed in on a domestic terrorist plot in Manchester, wherein more than a dozen suspects were taken in and interrogated. It was now up to the Home Office to lay charges. It was probably just as well that was wrapped up as Thames House was going to be short a few of its officers over the weekend. By ten
o'clock, the paperwork had been completed, and Harry, Ruth, Ros, and Zaf had piled their rucksacks into the boot of the hire car and left for Oxford. By mutual agreement, they decided to talk about anything other than work, as it would be the topic of discussion and debate for the next two days.
To their surprise, Zaf and Ros found they had similar likes in choices of music, sharing many of the same CD collections. Topics also touched on theatre, film, television, and travel. Given their intended destination, Harry recalled that Ruth had read Classics at Corpus Christie College in Oxford. They'd pretty much finished debating favourite classicists and their philosophies when they arrived at the hotel and dropped their belongings off with the concierge. Harry left to take the car to the nearest car park, as the hotel did not have its own. When they got to the hotel, they worked out the accommodation arrangements that had been made. Two double rooms on the top level of A-Wing with Ros and Ruth in one room and Harry and Zaf in the other, on opposite sides of the hallway. After settling their belongings, Zaf and Ruth swept the room for any surveillance equipment. The actual start of the retreat wasn't to commence until the evening, so they had
plenty of time to kill. Harry had asked Zaf and Ros to check out the interior of the hotel, while he and Ruth walked the perimeter.
It was overcast and about twelve degrees out, with a bit of a wind clipping through the buildings. As Ruth gathered her coat around her, she looked up and regarded the stone masonry of the old castle and prison.
"It remains rather foreboding from the outside. I remember when this was still the prison. Had a much different look to it then. There were these large wooden doors at the entrance with a smaller door within the large for pedestrian entrance. The Guards always stood at the gates. It was all rather terrifying at times, as I took the bus home. Not that I was ever afraid of anyone breaking out or some such thing. But rather to think of being incarcerated with so many others, without the freedom to move about without restriction." Ruth shivered. And she was fairly sure it wasn't entirely from the wind that swept around her.
Harry moved closer to her and gently wrapped an arm around her back. "Are you cold?"
"Not really. Let's just keep moving." While Ruth quickened her pace, she found she also leaned more into Harry's side, taking comfort in his presence. To the right of the A-Wing building, a series of adjoined shops and restaurants formed an external atrium.
"I spent some time in a prison once. In Beirut, during its civil war in the early 1980s. Another intelligence operative and I had gone undercover. We'd gone in search of two men who'd been transporting weapons and cash into and out of the UK via a smuggling ring. We thought we had one of them but couldn't be sure. Anyway, for whatever reason I wasn't privy to at the time, our cover was blown. Kyle and I were convicted of a drugs possession though none were ever found. We were in there for three months. Kyle was killed in the op by one of the inmates. He was one of the first friends I lost in the service. I was able to get word out to the British Embassy via a sympathetic Lebanese guard. Not long after, MI6 got me out of there and back on British soil. I can tell you from personal experience, it's not something I'd ever want to repeat. On British soil, or anywhere else for that matter."
They'd walked around much of the perimeter, getting familiar with the new surroundings and ended up with walking through the exercise yard, to sit on a bench. The wind had abated somewhat with them being surrounded on most sides by buildings. The dismal grey of the sky lent itself to the atmosphere. But hopefully not foreboding the weekends retreat.
"The tower there," Ruth pointed to her right, "is St. George's Tower. Dates back to about the 10th century. This prison and castle has quite the story behind it, as I'm sure most do." She knew she was talking a lot but she was never really comfortable with long bouts of silence.
"Ruth, relax, I can feel the tension surrounding you," Harry commented with a smile to set her at ease. "Everything will work out."
"I just don't like the idea of people talking about us - like we're having some kind of sordid affair. Or that I was just sleeping with you to get ahead in the job. It undermines your authority. Never mind what they'd think of me."
As usual, Harry thought, she puts others ahead of herself. He took Ruth's still bandaged left hand in his, "They'd know you were bright, intelligent, witty, resourceful and beautiful. And they'd realise you were good for my sanity. You keep me grounded when I need to be, and you're a fantastic sounding board." He smiled as Ruth turned her head slightly to look at him.
"Your sanity?" She remarked with a smirk.
"Ask Malcolm. He was there at the time." A chirp from Harry's mobile phone cut their conversation short. "Yes, okay. Thank you." He concluded the call and put the phone back in his coat pocket. "That was Ros. Six have arrived, as has Juliet."
"Ugh. Don't remind me."
"Ruth, be good." Harry laughed slightly as they stood and made their way up the stairs from the exercise yard into A-Wing.
Up in the room that Harry and Zaf shared, the four of them reconvened to review their strategy for the retreat. The previous morning, they'd been e-mailed with a tentative agenda for the retreat. There was a gathering in the hotel bar at 1600h for a Meet and Greet Your Peers. Harry was sure that whoever came up with these Retreat Agenda titles had nothing better to do than annoy the people they're intended for. The rest of the evening was left up to the participants in how they wanted to spend it. No specific plans had been made at that time as they figured it might well depend on the outcome of the Meet & Greet. The attire required was set as dress casual, and most of them had decided to change out of what they had on for different clothes. Zaf had opted for a pair of black dress pants and a forest green v-neck fitted sweater while Harry went with a navy sport jacket and pants with a white polo shirt underneath. When Ros and Ruth emerged from their room, Zaf and Harry stood leaning against the white rails overlooking the lower levels. Both straightened up as they met, each appraising the other. Ros had on a slim black long sleeve dress and high boots, while Ruth wore a similar long black skirt and a deep red silk top with a capped sleeve. The effect on Harry was what she'd hoped - a sudden intake of breath. The short low whistle from Zaf was appreciated as well, but a bonus.
Harry led them all off to the lift. "Let's go join the melee. See what we can learn."
"Try not to kill each other while we're at it, you mean?" Ros quipped with a smile.
A short ride down in the lift and they arrived at the low-lit visitor’s lounge that was the site of the Meet & Greet. Mingling amongst the crowd were Juliet and her attaché from the JIC, four agents from MI6, and a couple from the Counter-Terrorism Command. Juliet directed her wheelchair over to where Harry and all had congregated over by the bar. They'd all ordered their drinks. "Harry, so nice of you to come."
"Yes, well, when you've been given directives from the Home Secretary, its probably best to follow them. What do you make of this little exercise in futility?" Harry asked Juliet, as he took a sip of his single malt.
"Remains to be seen. The Home Secretary and the Joint Intelligence Committee would like the different agencies to work together more effectively to combat terrorism, both domestic and foreign as it pertains to the UK. After the public reaction to the DG's speech, there's been even more pressure to capture terrorist suspects, gather concrete evidence and make arrests."
"All very well and good in principle," Ruth commented rather indignantly, "but with limited budgets for staffing, technical equipment required for intelligence work, and extensive paperwork, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. The field and operations staff workloads have increased nearly tenfold. And I know we're not the only ones feeling the pinch."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
Ruth sighed and took a breath. She was about to speak and then stopped. What she had in mind to say would probably only get her fired. So she turned and moved over to where Zaf and Ros were speaking with two of the Met's Counter-Terrorism Command officers. Juliet meanwhile kept up her verbal jaunting with Harry.
"So, Harry, have you done anything with my suggestion."
"And which one might that be?"
"The woman you've been watching all evening. Please tell me you've at least done something."
"Why this sudden interest in my love life, Juliet? Something you're not telling me?"
"Hardly," Juliet answered. "Just answer the question."
"We went out to dinner. It was very nice."
"And?"
"And nothing." Another sip.
"Why the hell not? Are you blind?"
"She has her reasons. And I can see her point." He didn't quite agree with it, but he did concede that she had one.
"For heaven's sake, Harry. This is not junior high school. Don't waste time." She leaned in closer to Harry. "If you love her, make it work. Yes, it is obvious to anyone who observes the two of you that you're attracted to each other. Sod the bloody rules. If having the two of you together makes you happy, then that makes me happy."
Harry looked at her askance, not really sure what she what game she was playing at. Then he looked over at Ruth, who feeling his gaze looked up at him and smiled. He returned that smile with one of his own. Juliet just shook her head.
"Because, right now you're bloody miserable, which in turn makes my life miserable." Juliet downed the remainder of her glass of red wine.
"Ah, so now we're getting at the heart of the matter."
"Just remember what I said. Or else I'll take matters into my own hands. And you don't want that." Juliet pushed off with her chair in the direction of the senior representative from MI6, not even giving Harry a passing glance.
Another hour passed with small talk discussions and some mingling between security service agents. Gradually everyone left to head off for supper plans. As they left, Harry directed Ruth towards one end of the atrium.
"Ruth, would you join me for dinner?"
"Harry," Ruth started. Then her stomach rather audibly growled. "That's probably a very good idea. I fear I've had a bit too much to drink, and not enough food today. Not a good combination. I think I want to change though."
"Do you have to?"
"Pardon?" Ruth looked closely at him, tilting her head slightly.
Harry put his hand on her shoulder. "You look very lovely this evening. If it's not too uncomfortable to wear, I would love it if you would consider leaving that outfit on a bit longer."
Ruth smiled and ducked her head, her face blushing slightly. "All right...Thank you." Raising her head, she asked, "Did you have any place in mind?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you could recommend a place."
"Well, there is a pub my mates and I would go to called the Eagle and Child. They've got some good food and drink. Relaxed atmosphere, if a bit loud at times. University crowd and all."
"I'll just let Zaf and Ros know that we're off." Harry took his mobile phone out of his pocket and switched it on. After relaying the message, they headed to the front lobby and asked the registration staff if they could order a taxi for them.
The ride to the restaurant was quiet, yet not uncomfortably so. The pub, being suppertime was very busy and they ended up waiting by the bar for a table. Hanging their coats on a nearby hook, they stood observing the crowds until the bartender asked for their drinks order. About half an hour later they were directed to a small table where they ordered their meal and then just sat back and chatted. Harry had asked her some of her favourite things she liked about going to university in Oxford, favourite places to go, things to see and do. The lively chatter about them and the cozy atmosphere served to relax Ruth more than Harry had seen her in quite some time. She smiled more and that warmed his heart more than anything.
As the evening passed, the pub had become louder and more crowded with the usual Friday night clientele. Harry and Ruth, having finished their meal settled their bill and proceeded to the exit. Harry fixed the collar on her coat as he faced her. A shy smile crossed Ruth's face. A nod of thanks and they left the pub heading out into the chill evening air. The wind from earlier in the day had ceased so while it was a little cold, it was comfortable enough. The sky had darkened to a deep purple hue and the city's night lampposts shone over the streets.
"Ruth, would you mind if we walked a little back to the hotel? It seems like such a lovely evening to waste." Harry asked. He wished to continue their conversation and enjoy their closeness.
"That sounds wonderful." They headed down St. Giles Street towards Broad. As they walked, Harry gently pulled Ruth closer to his side and wrapped an arm across her back. Ruth's head briefly rested her head against his shoulder and caught a hint of his cologne as she breathed in. It was a smell that always seemed to comfort her. After some time, Ruth's curiosity got the better of her.
"Not that I'm complaining, Harry, because I'm not. I really like being here and I'm damned good at what I do. But how..." Ruth tried to articulate her thoughts but they weren't coming as clear as she'd hoped. She lowered her head briefly, then raised it with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. "What happened? Why am I still here, still at MI5?"
They quietly came to a stop and Harry turned to face her. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder and with a calm smile he spoke. "Relax, Ruth."
"I just wish I could make sense of it. One moment I was crouched down along the river front by the barges with Zaf in the early morning hours, the next thing I know I'm being herded into a black unmarked car and taken to a safe house and told to wait there for further instructions. For three days, Harry, I had to wait, not knowing what was going on. I can't remember the last time I was so scared. Then Adam came and picked me up and brought me back to Thames House." Ruth was aware that Harry knew much of this information already, but she needed to vent. She'd heard the official story, the resignations of the Defense Secretary as well as JIC Chairman Oliver Mace, but she knew there was more to the issue than that.
"I am sorry that I hadn't told you this before. You deserved the truth then."
"That's fine, Harry." Ruth looked up at the guilt that seemed so prevalent in his brown eyes. She understood him more than most that the guilt itself would eat away at him. She reached up and placed a gloved hand on the side of his face.
"While you were waiting out with Zaf, after I was released from police custody, Adam gave me the microfiche and the supporting documents and satellite photo surveillance. I called in a few markers within the JIC, those who disagreed with the special interrogation measures that Mace and his associates used. Special Branch had been told to release the false report on Cotterdam to implicate Maudsley. Following the fallout of resignations, I was able to clear you of charges of murder and conspiracy to treason. We had to wait out the decisions by the PM before we could bring you back into the service safely."
"Harry, if Mace can use me to get to you, don't you think others will try as well?"
"Not if they know what's good for them."
"Now who's being naïve?" Ruth smiled at him, returning a familiar exchange between them.
"I'm serious, Ruth. I know we're still navigating the beginnings of this relationship, but I've already nearly lost you once." Harry looked at her face, the light from the lamp post shone over her face, making the grey irises of her eyes almost invisible. She smiled at him and he continued. "I don't know what I'd do if you had left for good. Look, there are things I should have told you years ago."
Ruth moved her hand from his cheek to cover his lips. "Shhh, Harry. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." She understood what he was trying to tell her. It also confirmed something for her that her own feelings were reciprocated. Ruth removed her gloves and placed her hand back on his face before reaching herself up and towards him, bringing their lips together in a tentative kiss at first. That first kiss became two then three, before she broke it and leaned into his arms in an enveloping hug. After several minutes they separated themselves from the hug, but maintained contact through their linked arms. They'd picked up their pace to a brisk yet comfortable walk back to the hotel.
In the hotel room that she shared with Ruth, Ros leaned back in one of the plush lounge chairs and tucked her long legs up underneath her. On the desk next to her was her laptop with the web browser opened to the Sky News on-line news service. A small folded stack of papers were nestled in between Ros and the arm of the chair. She'd been writing notes on a legal pad which lay on her lap. The BBC 24 news service was running a continuous replay of the days lead stories on the wide-screen flat-panel television on the wall.
"...in the news today, British National Party leader Nick Griffin and party activist Mark Collett have been cleared of inciting racial hatred after a retrial at Leeds Crown Court...Chancellor Gordon Brown has told the BBC race laws may have to be revised in light of the acquittal....An internal investigation into the abuse of prisoners at Wormwood Scrubs prison from 1995 to 2000 has just been made public. They were suppressed for years by the Home office... In other news, MI5 knows of 30 terror plots threatening the UK and is keeping 1,600 individuals under surveillance, the security service's head has said. Dame Eliza Manningham-Buller warned the threat was "serious" and "growing". She said future attacks could be chemical or nuclear and that many of the plots were linked to al-Qaeda. Prime Minister Tony Blair said the terrorist threat was "very real" and spoke of "poisonous propaganda" warping the minds of young people...."
While the news continued to play, Ros gathered her sleepwear from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom for a nice bath. She'd turned the water stream on as hot as she could stand it. As she waited for the deep claw-footed tub to fill, she undressed, folding her clothes and placing them on the narrow table. After a few minutes the water level was to a point where she could get in and start to soak as it continued to fill. She allowed her thoughts to wander as the heat seeped through her muscles, relaxing them.
Ros was generally secure in her abilities for work, yet most days she still felt as though she had to prove herself to the team at Section D. She'd felt that she was right in following Ruth at the time when she'd gone to Maudsley's place. She'd informed the JIC and Harry on Ruth's suspicious activities, as she'd not been privy to the circumstances in which Maudsley had dropped information to Ruth. Unfortunately reporting on Ruth had resulted in some serious trust issues with regards to Ros's continued presence on the Grid. She'd realised her error nearly too late. Whilst Ruth was being monitored by the police services, Ros showed up at Ruth's place unannounced and undetected.
Though she had stated that she didn't apologise, Ros had effectively done so by volunteering to act as a decoy so Ruth could slip out to meet with Zaf and Adam. It was a small step to regaining some of the trust she'd lost. It was difficult enough coming into an established team, especially when the initial circumstances of her being recruited followed the treasonous actions of her father and his cohorts resulted in the death of one of the members of the MI5 team. Some days, Ros felt like she was swimming upstream in treacherous waters. Slowly but surely through her actions and team work, she'd been building respect amongst the team. She was more than hopeful that the Home Secretary's engineered exercise in joint intelligence information sharing would continue to build on that trust and respect.
The sounds of voices in the outer room startled Ros as she rose from her submerged position in the tub. She was briefly disoriented as she took in her surroundings. Directly above her was the rounded stonework of the old cell ceilings and the high three paned window that let in a modicum of light. The softly lit lamps left a glow around the room. She took a deep calming breath when the voices she heard to be her colleagues, Ruth and Harry. A knock rapped on the bathroom door.
"Ros, Harry and I are back from dinner. We're going over to his and Zaf's room if you care to join us when you're finished."
"I'll think about it and let you know," Ros called out. Truth be told, she really didn't feel like being much of a third wheel. However, an extended olive branch went a long way.
"All right. Just give a ring when you do. See you later." A few moments later she heard the heavy room door close. A little while later, she'd emerged from the tub, dried herself off and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a shirt and pullover hoodie. It was one thing to socialise with your boss off hours, it was something completely different to show up wearing pajamas doing so. Grabbing her room key card, and pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she went, she headed out.
Throughout the late evening, they were chatting about this and that, including a debate on the DG's speech earlier that day and what if any changes would be coming down the pipeline for MI5 in general and Section D in particular. Frankly, if they were able to get further funding for more recruits, both field and intelligence officers that were sorely needed, it would be a bonus. But the likelihood of that occurring was about as likely as Mace becoming the next PM. Ros had noticed that whether by conscious choice or unconscious design on both their parts, gradually over the course of the evening, Ruth and Harry had moved closer so that towards the end of the evening they were curled into each other. Ruth's head rested on Harry's shoulder as his arm wrapped around the back of her shoulders. Ros wondered if their outward show of affection towards each other was something they were simply becoming more comfortable with displaying in general or if she was being entrusted with this aspect of their growing relationship. At any rate, she felt honoured.
When Zaf returned a short while later, Ros quickly ushered him out of the room before he could say anything stupid.
"Whatever you're thinking, don't. Let them have some semblance of privacy. They deserve this bit of happiness. And if I catch wind of you running a book on this, it won't be Harry you have to worry about."
"I never would have taken you for a romantic, Ros."
"When properly motivated." Ros stopped, a wry grin on her face, and looked down at him. "Not on your life, Younis."
"Do you think...I mean --" Ruth started as she half turned and glanced up at Harry, and she sighed.
"Not if he wants to live to tell the tale."
"Harry," Ruth shot him an exasperated look.
"Not by me," he smirked at her. "Come here." He dipped his head down and kissed her gently. A soft moan of pleasure escaped Ruth's lips, which encouraged him to intensify the kiss. Several long and heated kisses more passed before both reluctantly broke apart. Their breaths coming in rushes. At times like this, Harry felt like he was still a young rebel in university, when the world seemed so much broader and love was this vast great concept that he had much to learn about. A gentle glance and a smile at Ruth and he realised that he still had much to learn. But this time he had the wisdom and the experience to enjoy the relationship and not to take it for granted. To nurture this love and not let it die. Harry lay a small sweet kiss on Ruth's lips, before standing and reaching his hand out to her to pull her into a standing position.
"Come, we mustn't let Mr. Younis think that there won't be reprisals if this little tete-â-tete becomes part of a betting pool."
Ruth smiled. If Ros's quick actions hadn't already scared the crap out of Zaf, he was in for a rude awakening.
************
Saturday, 11 December 2006, 0830hrs
Malmaison Oxford, Meeting Room
Representatives of MI-5, MI-6, Special Branch, and the JIC had gathered in the assigned executive meeting room. In the center of the room was a large round table, around which was set twelve chairs and thirteen settings, allowing for Juliet's motorized chair. Glasses of water were set around as well as legal notepads, and pens and a couple dossiers.
Ruth and Harry shared a glance and smirked.
"Knights of the Round Table. Someone has an interesting sense of humour," Zaf commented, with snickers emerging from most of the attendees. They'd all gone to their assigned seating and awaited the instructions for the morning's exercise.
"If you'll all open your folders," Juliet started the session off. "This morning's exercise will involve analyzing intelligence data reports, photographs, linkage reports, immigration status reports. The purpose of all of this is to combine our knowledge, instinct as intelligence officers, and skills to determine likely suspects for a terrorist attack. Now, we've only got the materials in front of us to use as our resources."
They got cracking on the work ahead of them. Discussion on the reports, surveillance pictures taking them well through the morning. Whereas most of the intelligence officers present were field officers, Each officer had some specific area of expertise in which to lend the exercise.
From within MI-5, there were diverse backgrounds. Harry looked round at his officers scattered around the table. Both Zafar Younis and Ros Myers had been recruited from their sister organization, MI-6. Zaf had many aspects to his career having spent the past three years as an MI-6 officer in North Africa. And as he had quite pointedly put it to Harry, not many young Asian men sought out employment in Her Majesty's Intelligence Service, thus he was able to fit into some communities where others may not. No one would suspect that he was an intelligence operative. Ros was still a bit of an unknown quantity. While she had not been privy to the details of her father's treasonous activities alongside Michael Collingwood, the previous head of MI-6, it did somewhat paint a bit of a dark cloud over her own history. While Harry himself was willing to overlook that part of her past in lieu of her current work with MI-5, he was not blind to it either. His own history in the military and his work as an MI-5 officer gave him a fair insight into operations and playing politics, something which he loathed but was oft required to participate in whilst keeping atop his counterparts.
Harry smiled when he thought of Ruth. Ruth's lateral thinking and data analysis were key to pointing out several components, and in cross-referencing points. In addition, her love of mysteries and puzzles, along with an innate abilities to pull some otherwise inconsequential detail out of a myriad was uncanny. Her experiences at GCHQ helped narrow down some specific detail elements. Suddenly Ruth got up and came over to Harry. She held a few documents and photographs in front of him and pointed to something in particular. Something had twigged her memory.
"Harry, are we sure this is just an exercise?" Ruth asked him quietly.
"Ruth?"
"It's just...this man here. His face is familiar. I'm sure it came up in some Interpol report I was looking at earlier this week. The name here is wrong though, but I can't put my finger on it."
"Are you sure?" he asked, casting a sidewards glance at her.
"Yes. I need to check a couple things, but I remember the face."
"Something wrong, Harry?" Juliet called over to him.
"Hopefully nothing." Harry looked down at his watch. "As it is getting towards noon, I suggest we take a break for lunch, if that's all right by every body else." After brief consultation, all agreed that it would be a good time to break and reconvene at 1300hrs. A quick nod of Harry's head and all four representatives from MI-5 met at the internal atrium in the middle of A-Wing.
"Upstairs, now," was all Harry had to say. Ruth went into her room to retrieve the laptop she brought with her. Once they'd all arrived at Harry and Zaf's room, he let the rest of the team in on Ruth's information. She opened up her laptop and accessed via secure connection the MI-5. Pulling up recent Interpol reports she scanned them for the photograph they'd been given as part of the morning's exercise.
"Here," Ruth pointed at the screen. "Jamal Hassan, arrived in the UK on 3rd November by way of Syria. Interpol sent out a green notice earlier this week as he was wanted in connection with charges of bombing a civilian hospital in Northern Iraq. He left Iraq under disguise but was picked up again by Syrian intelligence the week before. Whilst waiting extradition back to Iraq he slipped past the Syrian officers holding him. Gone underground, until he arrived in the UK under the name of Mihyar al-Basri."
"What's he doing here?" Ros asked. "And how did it come under our radar for this exercise?"
"I don't know, but I'm betting Juliet might," Harry said before ducking into the bathroom to make a quick call on his mobile phone. A few times Harry's raised voice could be heard before silence and Harry walking out of the bathroom. "Ruth, keep working on this. See if Adam, Jo and Malcolm can pull up some additional information. We need to keep on top of this. I'm going to go have a little chat with Juliet and Charles McIrney."
McIrney had taken over the directorship of MI-6 after Michael Collingwood's 'unfortunate' demise earlier in the year, and as far as Harry was concerned McIrney was treading in his predecessor's footsteps. Harry had hoped this director's ambitions wouldn't lead him to such an illustrious end as said predecessor, but quite frankly Harry wasn't hedging his bets.
After Harry departed, Ruth went to work, running through the reports she'd compiled. After tinkering around a bit in a few databases, she got some more information she needed. A few phone more calls back and forth to Thames House. Twenty minutes passed and Ruth was avidly pacing the room as she worked her way through analyzing all the information in her head.
"Bloody hell. Tell Harry to meet us down in the meeting room in five minutes!" Ruth quickly packed up her laptop and headed down to the room.
"What is it?" Zaf asked her, as he and Ros followed quickly behind Ruth.
"I'll be able to tell you more when I get the papers in front of me. But I think I've just uncovered something about a planned terrorist attack. For real. Not some bloody exercise!"
**********
Retreat of Truths (1 of 2)
By: J. Lynn Stapleton (aka Ceridwyn2)
Author's Note: This is the first Spooks story I wrote. The story came about as I recalled a trip I'd taken to Oxford in the spring of 2006, and I'd stayed at the Mal Oxford. It seemed like an interesting place to start a Spooks story there, given its history and the character Ruth's background ties with Oxford. The story is set post-Ep 505, wherein all the events in the episode happened except for Ruth's leaving, and anything up to this point.
Archiving: Please ask permission if you want to archive it.
*******
Tuesday Morning, 7th November 2006
Thames House, London
Life in the Grid of MI-5 was in its usual organized chaotic state. Intelligence officers were moving about collecting and retrieving files to study and analyse. Or at least appeared to be doing so. When in actual fact they were unobtrusively keeping watch on Harry Pearce's office to see when the figures inside would implode, or just kill each other. The section chief had been visited by Juliet Shaw, the National Security Coordinator, and for all intents and purposes, the meeting was something neither of them relished. Suddenly the office door swung open and everyone made quick haste to make themselves look busy.
"I'm telling you, Harry, it wasn't my doing. If you don't like it, take it up with the Home Secretary." Both Juliet and Harry seemed to wear identical expressions of loathing. Perhaps Juliet more so, as the effect of storming out of an office had kind of lost some of its effectiveness when one was in a motorized wheelchair. Malcolm, Ruth, Zaf and Jo watched as Juliet disappeared beyond the pods.
"What did she want?" Ruth asked pointedly, fearing the answer she might get.
"If you've got any plans for this weekend, cancel them. Mandatory working retreat for secret intelligence services. MI-5, MI-6, Special Branch, and Joint Intelligence Committee must send delegates for this. Non-negotiable," Harry managed to growl out. It was most certainly not on his priority of things to do in this, or any other, century. "Apparently they also decided to spring it on us without much notice, so that we'd have no opportunity to pull out of the retreat."
Ros lifted her head from the screen she was viewing. In her usual dry manner, she quipped, "Oh, wonderful. An opportunity for Britain's intelligence services to wipe each other off the planet. Why wait for the terrorists to do it, when the Home Secretary can do it for you."
"Where is this little retreat supposed to be?" Ruth asked.
"Oxford."
"Not in London?" Adam queried.
"No. Apparently the powers that be decided that should this retreat be held in London, most of us would be at Thames House (and respective other parts of the city) rather than be at the retreat. So no, it's being held at Malmaison Oxford. Here's the list of staff that are expected to be there from Thames House: Ros, Zaf, Ruth and myself. Staying in London are Adam, Jo, and Malcolm."
Something clicked in Ruth's memory of what Juliet stated before she left. Then she sighed. "Oh, please tell me the wicked witch is not going to be there all weekend as well?"
The edge of Harry's lips curled up almost imperceptibly as he acknowledged Ruth's comment. But she saw it. "Sorry. But Juliet will be there as well. Not willingly, I can assure you."
"I suppose it's fitting then, that we're staying there," Ruth noted quietly.
"Pardon?" Jo asked.
"The Mal Oxford used to be Her Majesty's Prison Oxford before it got decommissioned. When I studied in Oxford, the prison was on the bus route I often took. Apparently the place is all rather posh now, but still with a prison theme."
"Why fitting?" Adam asked sensing the direction of conversation, and he smirked.
"Because if I have to spend too much time around Juliet Shaw this weekend I'm going to get done for GBH, and end up in a prison. None too swank as that, I can guarantee."
Harry put his hand over his mouth to cover the smile. But the half-laugh died as quick as it started as Ruth looked over at him. The others weren't so reserved and laughed heartily. Eventually Ruth joined in on the humour of the situation. Hell, she figured, she might as well laugh than cry.
After things settled down a bit, Ruth, being quite the pragmatist, asked why the retreat was being held so quickly. "I mean it's not like counter-terrorism has nothing else to do. Especially as Special Branch keeps piling on the reports by the truckload."
"After the Director General's speech on terrorist threats, the Home Secretary decided that it was in the country's best interests if the intelligence agencies worked with more co-operation, rather than passing the buck." Harry walked around the room so that he stood behind Ruth at her workstation.
Ruth scrunched up her face. "All very well and good. Until you remember that someone in the JIC tried to frame me for the murder of Maudsley." She looked briefly up at Harry, slightly exasperated. "I never did get the whole truth on how that was resolved."
"Not now, Ruth." Harry understood her frustration. He felt it as well. But as much as he felt, right then was neither the time, nor the place to discuss it. He gave her a glance, leaning down he quietly whispered in her ear, "Later." He then walked around and headed into his own office.
A lot of discussion followed between the colleagues about the retreat, the possible goals and outcomes that might be brought up, and how much surveillance equipment they'd be bringing. "Just to be on the safe side," Malcolm quipped. After a look from Jo, he added, "You don't think we'll be the only ones intending on covert intel at this retreat, do you?" he asked rhetorically.
"Spooks spying on each other. Sounds like fun," Adam smiled. "Too bad I'll miss it."
Zaf threw a crumpled sheet of paper at him. "I was supposed to have a date this weekend. Gorgeous girl, too."
"I feel for you, buddy," Adam grinned and replied, in a tone that said anything but. "Now, we've got some work to do in advance of this retreat. Let's see how much headway we can make." Each of the officers grabbed some files and headed to the conference room. Hours went by, discussions grew and finally most everyone packed in for the day.
****
Harry was just coming out of his office when he saw the light on in the small office kitchenette. A moment later, he heard the sound of ceramic crashing against the counter, and onto the floor. It was followed by a slew of curses. Quickly he made his way over to find Ruth bent over trying to clean up the remnants of a broken mug. It was then that Harry noticed droplets of blood falling to the floor.
"Ruth, stop. You're bleeding." He inwardly cursed as she flinched. "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."
"It's okay, I was just getting a mug to have some tea. I mustn't have had a good grip because it slipped out of my hand. I'll just get this cleaned up."
"Ruth," Harry added in a low tone that brokered no arguing. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, wrapped Ruth's hand, and then he directed her over to the chair in the corner of the kitchenette.
"It's really not that bad, Harry. Shouldn't even require stitches." Ruth disliked most people fussing over her. And she was a little embarrassed that it was Harry fussing over her.
"Ruth, it's all right. Just sit back and let me do this for you." After a moments hesitation he continued, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but why didn't you leave when the others did?"
"Why didn't you?" she playfully shot back. It had become a rather frequent discussion between the two.
"Paperwork."
"Tell me about it. I swear Special Branch has nothing better to do than make my life a living hell. Do they not have their own bloody analysts?" she asked, knowing full well that there were analysts in the newly formed Counter-Terrorism Command. Ruth sighed, very frustratingly.
As Ruth talked, Harry had found the first aid kit in the cupboard and called her over to the sink. He turned the water on to warm then unfolded the cloth that had been wrapped around her hand. "Here, let me see the cut." Harry gently turned her hand over and examined the extremity. A long thin sliver ran across the palm of her hand. "Put your hand under the water, we need to see if there's any shards in there."
Ruth did so, only because in doing so she found herself less flustered by the attention. They were very much aware that they were interested in each other. They'd had one dinner date that seemed to go fairly well, except for the nervousness both of them felt. After becoming aware that others were talking about them, Ruth stopped wanting the relationship to go any further. She felt it undermined Harry's authority and she felt uncomfortable with their colleagues talking about their relationship, especially as he was her boss. That being said, she was still in love with him, and could tell that at least some of that affection was reciprocated.
After a few moments, Harry dried off her hand and took a look. Then he placed a bandage on her hand and wrapped it with gauze. "There, that should be all right." He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did. After a few moments they both realised he was still cradling her hand in his. It was enough to break the spell that had kept them entranced. He remembered that she'd originally come in to get some tea.
"Ruth, do you still want a cup of tea? Or would you like me to drop you home? It's long past time of the last bus."
"I probably should. The cats will be wondering whatever happened to me. Wanting to be fed and all that. I think that's why I got the kitten, to keep Fidget company for the long hours I'm at work." Ruth knew she was babbling some. She knew it was a coping mechanism when she was flustered. And having Harry Pearce this close to her was doing all sorts of crazy things to her insides. "I need to lock down my computer for the night and put away the files I was working on."
"I'll be back in just a moment. I need to get my coat." Just as he said after about five minutes, he'd turned off his own computer, dimmed the lights, retrieved his coat and closed his office door. He placed his hand along the small of her back after Ruth put her own coat on and led them over to the pods before leaving the floor.
********************
Friday Morning, 10th November
Oxford, UK
The usual hustle and bustle around MI-5 kept things flowing. Over the past few days, the security services closed in on a domestic terrorist plot in Manchester, wherein more than a dozen suspects were taken in and interrogated. It was now up to the Home Office to lay charges. It was probably just as well that was wrapped up as Thames House was going to be short a few of its officers over the weekend. By ten
o'clock, the paperwork had been completed, and Harry, Ruth, Ros, and Zaf had piled their rucksacks into the boot of the hire car and left for Oxford. By mutual agreement, they decided to talk about anything other than work, as it would be the topic of discussion and debate for the next two days.
To their surprise, Zaf and Ros found they had similar likes in choices of music, sharing many of the same CD collections. Topics also touched on theatre, film, television, and travel. Given their intended destination, Harry recalled that Ruth had read Classics at Corpus Christie College in Oxford. They'd pretty much finished debating favourite classicists and their philosophies when they arrived at the hotel and dropped their belongings off with the concierge. Harry left to take the car to the nearest car park, as the hotel did not have its own. When they got to the hotel, they worked out the accommodation arrangements that had been made. Two double rooms on the top level of A-Wing with Ros and Ruth in one room and Harry and Zaf in the other, on opposite sides of the hallway. After settling their belongings, Zaf and Ruth swept the room for any surveillance equipment. The actual start of the retreat wasn't to commence until the evening, so they had
plenty of time to kill. Harry had asked Zaf and Ros to check out the interior of the hotel, while he and Ruth walked the perimeter.
It was overcast and about twelve degrees out, with a bit of a wind clipping through the buildings. As Ruth gathered her coat around her, she looked up and regarded the stone masonry of the old castle and prison.
"It remains rather foreboding from the outside. I remember when this was still the prison. Had a much different look to it then. There were these large wooden doors at the entrance with a smaller door within the large for pedestrian entrance. The Guards always stood at the gates. It was all rather terrifying at times, as I took the bus home. Not that I was ever afraid of anyone breaking out or some such thing. But rather to think of being incarcerated with so many others, without the freedom to move about without restriction." Ruth shivered. And she was fairly sure it wasn't entirely from the wind that swept around her.
Harry moved closer to her and gently wrapped an arm around her back. "Are you cold?"
"Not really. Let's just keep moving." While Ruth quickened her pace, she found she also leaned more into Harry's side, taking comfort in his presence. To the right of the A-Wing building, a series of adjoined shops and restaurants formed an external atrium.
"I spent some time in a prison once. In Beirut, during its civil war in the early 1980s. Another intelligence operative and I had gone undercover. We'd gone in search of two men who'd been transporting weapons and cash into and out of the UK via a smuggling ring. We thought we had one of them but couldn't be sure. Anyway, for whatever reason I wasn't privy to at the time, our cover was blown. Kyle and I were convicted of a drugs possession though none were ever found. We were in there for three months. Kyle was killed in the op by one of the inmates. He was one of the first friends I lost in the service. I was able to get word out to the British Embassy via a sympathetic Lebanese guard. Not long after, MI6 got me out of there and back on British soil. I can tell you from personal experience, it's not something I'd ever want to repeat. On British soil, or anywhere else for that matter."
They'd walked around much of the perimeter, getting familiar with the new surroundings and ended up with walking through the exercise yard, to sit on a bench. The wind had abated somewhat with them being surrounded on most sides by buildings. The dismal grey of the sky lent itself to the atmosphere. But hopefully not foreboding the weekends retreat.
"The tower there," Ruth pointed to her right, "is St. George's Tower. Dates back to about the 10th century. This prison and castle has quite the story behind it, as I'm sure most do." She knew she was talking a lot but she was never really comfortable with long bouts of silence.
"Ruth, relax, I can feel the tension surrounding you," Harry commented with a smile to set her at ease. "Everything will work out."
"I just don't like the idea of people talking about us - like we're having some kind of sordid affair. Or that I was just sleeping with you to get ahead in the job. It undermines your authority. Never mind what they'd think of me."
As usual, Harry thought, she puts others ahead of herself. He took Ruth's still bandaged left hand in his, "They'd know you were bright, intelligent, witty, resourceful and beautiful. And they'd realise you were good for my sanity. You keep me grounded when I need to be, and you're a fantastic sounding board." He smiled as Ruth turned her head slightly to look at him.
"Your sanity?" She remarked with a smirk.
"Ask Malcolm. He was there at the time." A chirp from Harry's mobile phone cut their conversation short. "Yes, okay. Thank you." He concluded the call and put the phone back in his coat pocket. "That was Ros. Six have arrived, as has Juliet."
"Ugh. Don't remind me."
"Ruth, be good." Harry laughed slightly as they stood and made their way up the stairs from the exercise yard into A-Wing.
Up in the room that Harry and Zaf shared, the four of them reconvened to review their strategy for the retreat. The previous morning, they'd been e-mailed with a tentative agenda for the retreat. There was a gathering in the hotel bar at 1600h for a Meet and Greet Your Peers. Harry was sure that whoever came up with these Retreat Agenda titles had nothing better to do than annoy the people they're intended for. The rest of the evening was left up to the participants in how they wanted to spend it. No specific plans had been made at that time as they figured it might well depend on the outcome of the Meet & Greet. The attire required was set as dress casual, and most of them had decided to change out of what they had on for different clothes. Zaf had opted for a pair of black dress pants and a forest green v-neck fitted sweater while Harry went with a navy sport jacket and pants with a white polo shirt underneath. When Ros and Ruth emerged from their room, Zaf and Harry stood leaning against the white rails overlooking the lower levels. Both straightened up as they met, each appraising the other. Ros had on a slim black long sleeve dress and high boots, while Ruth wore a similar long black skirt and a deep red silk top with a capped sleeve. The effect on Harry was what she'd hoped - a sudden intake of breath. The short low whistle from Zaf was appreciated as well, but a bonus.
Harry led them all off to the lift. "Let's go join the melee. See what we can learn."
"Try not to kill each other while we're at it, you mean?" Ros quipped with a smile.
A short ride down in the lift and they arrived at the low-lit visitor’s lounge that was the site of the Meet & Greet. Mingling amongst the crowd were Juliet and her attaché from the JIC, four agents from MI6, and a couple from the Counter-Terrorism Command. Juliet directed her wheelchair over to where Harry and all had congregated over by the bar. They'd all ordered their drinks. "Harry, so nice of you to come."
"Yes, well, when you've been given directives from the Home Secretary, its probably best to follow them. What do you make of this little exercise in futility?" Harry asked Juliet, as he took a sip of his single malt.
"Remains to be seen. The Home Secretary and the Joint Intelligence Committee would like the different agencies to work together more effectively to combat terrorism, both domestic and foreign as it pertains to the UK. After the public reaction to the DG's speech, there's been even more pressure to capture terrorist suspects, gather concrete evidence and make arrests."
"All very well and good in principle," Ruth commented rather indignantly, "but with limited budgets for staffing, technical equipment required for intelligence work, and extensive paperwork, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. The field and operations staff workloads have increased nearly tenfold. And I know we're not the only ones feeling the pinch."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
Ruth sighed and took a breath. She was about to speak and then stopped. What she had in mind to say would probably only get her fired. So she turned and moved over to where Zaf and Ros were speaking with two of the Met's Counter-Terrorism Command officers. Juliet meanwhile kept up her verbal jaunting with Harry.
"So, Harry, have you done anything with my suggestion."
"And which one might that be?"
"The woman you've been watching all evening. Please tell me you've at least done something."
"Why this sudden interest in my love life, Juliet? Something you're not telling me?"
"Hardly," Juliet answered. "Just answer the question."
"We went out to dinner. It was very nice."
"And?"
"And nothing." Another sip.
"Why the hell not? Are you blind?"
"She has her reasons. And I can see her point." He didn't quite agree with it, but he did concede that she had one.
"For heaven's sake, Harry. This is not junior high school. Don't waste time." She leaned in closer to Harry. "If you love her, make it work. Yes, it is obvious to anyone who observes the two of you that you're attracted to each other. Sod the bloody rules. If having the two of you together makes you happy, then that makes me happy."
Harry looked at her askance, not really sure what she what game she was playing at. Then he looked over at Ruth, who feeling his gaze looked up at him and smiled. He returned that smile with one of his own. Juliet just shook her head.
"Because, right now you're bloody miserable, which in turn makes my life miserable." Juliet downed the remainder of her glass of red wine.
"Ah, so now we're getting at the heart of the matter."
"Just remember what I said. Or else I'll take matters into my own hands. And you don't want that." Juliet pushed off with her chair in the direction of the senior representative from MI6, not even giving Harry a passing glance.
Another hour passed with small talk discussions and some mingling between security service agents. Gradually everyone left to head off for supper plans. As they left, Harry directed Ruth towards one end of the atrium.
"Ruth, would you join me for dinner?"
"Harry," Ruth started. Then her stomach rather audibly growled. "That's probably a very good idea. I fear I've had a bit too much to drink, and not enough food today. Not a good combination. I think I want to change though."
"Do you have to?"
"Pardon?" Ruth looked closely at him, tilting her head slightly.
Harry put his hand on her shoulder. "You look very lovely this evening. If it's not too uncomfortable to wear, I would love it if you would consider leaving that outfit on a bit longer."
Ruth smiled and ducked her head, her face blushing slightly. "All right...Thank you." Raising her head, she asked, "Did you have any place in mind?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you could recommend a place."
"Well, there is a pub my mates and I would go to called the Eagle and Child. They've got some good food and drink. Relaxed atmosphere, if a bit loud at times. University crowd and all."
"I'll just let Zaf and Ros know that we're off." Harry took his mobile phone out of his pocket and switched it on. After relaying the message, they headed to the front lobby and asked the registration staff if they could order a taxi for them.
The ride to the restaurant was quiet, yet not uncomfortably so. The pub, being suppertime was very busy and they ended up waiting by the bar for a table. Hanging their coats on a nearby hook, they stood observing the crowds until the bartender asked for their drinks order. About half an hour later they were directed to a small table where they ordered their meal and then just sat back and chatted. Harry had asked her some of her favourite things she liked about going to university in Oxford, favourite places to go, things to see and do. The lively chatter about them and the cozy atmosphere served to relax Ruth more than Harry had seen her in quite some time. She smiled more and that warmed his heart more than anything.
As the evening passed, the pub had become louder and more crowded with the usual Friday night clientele. Harry and Ruth, having finished their meal settled their bill and proceeded to the exit. Harry fixed the collar on her coat as he faced her. A shy smile crossed Ruth's face. A nod of thanks and they left the pub heading out into the chill evening air. The wind from earlier in the day had ceased so while it was a little cold, it was comfortable enough. The sky had darkened to a deep purple hue and the city's night lampposts shone over the streets.
"Ruth, would you mind if we walked a little back to the hotel? It seems like such a lovely evening to waste." Harry asked. He wished to continue their conversation and enjoy their closeness.
"That sounds wonderful." They headed down St. Giles Street towards Broad. As they walked, Harry gently pulled Ruth closer to his side and wrapped an arm across her back. Ruth's head briefly rested her head against his shoulder and caught a hint of his cologne as she breathed in. It was a smell that always seemed to comfort her. After some time, Ruth's curiosity got the better of her.
"Not that I'm complaining, Harry, because I'm not. I really like being here and I'm damned good at what I do. But how..." Ruth tried to articulate her thoughts but they weren't coming as clear as she'd hoped. She lowered her head briefly, then raised it with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. "What happened? Why am I still here, still at MI5?"
They quietly came to a stop and Harry turned to face her. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder and with a calm smile he spoke. "Relax, Ruth."
"I just wish I could make sense of it. One moment I was crouched down along the river front by the barges with Zaf in the early morning hours, the next thing I know I'm being herded into a black unmarked car and taken to a safe house and told to wait there for further instructions. For three days, Harry, I had to wait, not knowing what was going on. I can't remember the last time I was so scared. Then Adam came and picked me up and brought me back to Thames House." Ruth was aware that Harry knew much of this information already, but she needed to vent. She'd heard the official story, the resignations of the Defense Secretary as well as JIC Chairman Oliver Mace, but she knew there was more to the issue than that.
"I am sorry that I hadn't told you this before. You deserved the truth then."
"That's fine, Harry." Ruth looked up at the guilt that seemed so prevalent in his brown eyes. She understood him more than most that the guilt itself would eat away at him. She reached up and placed a gloved hand on the side of his face.
"While you were waiting out with Zaf, after I was released from police custody, Adam gave me the microfiche and the supporting documents and satellite photo surveillance. I called in a few markers within the JIC, those who disagreed with the special interrogation measures that Mace and his associates used. Special Branch had been told to release the false report on Cotterdam to implicate Maudsley. Following the fallout of resignations, I was able to clear you of charges of murder and conspiracy to treason. We had to wait out the decisions by the PM before we could bring you back into the service safely."
"Harry, if Mace can use me to get to you, don't you think others will try as well?"
"Not if they know what's good for them."
"Now who's being naïve?" Ruth smiled at him, returning a familiar exchange between them.
"I'm serious, Ruth. I know we're still navigating the beginnings of this relationship, but I've already nearly lost you once." Harry looked at her face, the light from the lamp post shone over her face, making the grey irises of her eyes almost invisible. She smiled at him and he continued. "I don't know what I'd do if you had left for good. Look, there are things I should have told you years ago."
Ruth moved her hand from his cheek to cover his lips. "Shhh, Harry. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." She understood what he was trying to tell her. It also confirmed something for her that her own feelings were reciprocated. Ruth removed her gloves and placed her hand back on his face before reaching herself up and towards him, bringing their lips together in a tentative kiss at first. That first kiss became two then three, before she broke it and leaned into his arms in an enveloping hug. After several minutes they separated themselves from the hug, but maintained contact through their linked arms. They'd picked up their pace to a brisk yet comfortable walk back to the hotel.
In the hotel room that she shared with Ruth, Ros leaned back in one of the plush lounge chairs and tucked her long legs up underneath her. On the desk next to her was her laptop with the web browser opened to the Sky News on-line news service. A small folded stack of papers were nestled in between Ros and the arm of the chair. She'd been writing notes on a legal pad which lay on her lap. The BBC 24 news service was running a continuous replay of the days lead stories on the wide-screen flat-panel television on the wall.
"...in the news today, British National Party leader Nick Griffin and party activist Mark Collett have been cleared of inciting racial hatred after a retrial at Leeds Crown Court...Chancellor Gordon Brown has told the BBC race laws may have to be revised in light of the acquittal....An internal investigation into the abuse of prisoners at Wormwood Scrubs prison from 1995 to 2000 has just been made public. They were suppressed for years by the Home office... In other news, MI5 knows of 30 terror plots threatening the UK and is keeping 1,600 individuals under surveillance, the security service's head has said. Dame Eliza Manningham-Buller warned the threat was "serious" and "growing". She said future attacks could be chemical or nuclear and that many of the plots were linked to al-Qaeda. Prime Minister Tony Blair said the terrorist threat was "very real" and spoke of "poisonous propaganda" warping the minds of young people...."
While the news continued to play, Ros gathered her sleepwear from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom for a nice bath. She'd turned the water stream on as hot as she could stand it. As she waited for the deep claw-footed tub to fill, she undressed, folding her clothes and placing them on the narrow table. After a few minutes the water level was to a point where she could get in and start to soak as it continued to fill. She allowed her thoughts to wander as the heat seeped through her muscles, relaxing them.
Ros was generally secure in her abilities for work, yet most days she still felt as though she had to prove herself to the team at Section D. She'd felt that she was right in following Ruth at the time when she'd gone to Maudsley's place. She'd informed the JIC and Harry on Ruth's suspicious activities, as she'd not been privy to the circumstances in which Maudsley had dropped information to Ruth. Unfortunately reporting on Ruth had resulted in some serious trust issues with regards to Ros's continued presence on the Grid. She'd realised her error nearly too late. Whilst Ruth was being monitored by the police services, Ros showed up at Ruth's place unannounced and undetected.
Though she had stated that she didn't apologise, Ros had effectively done so by volunteering to act as a decoy so Ruth could slip out to meet with Zaf and Adam. It was a small step to regaining some of the trust she'd lost. It was difficult enough coming into an established team, especially when the initial circumstances of her being recruited followed the treasonous actions of her father and his cohorts resulted in the death of one of the members of the MI5 team. Some days, Ros felt like she was swimming upstream in treacherous waters. Slowly but surely through her actions and team work, she'd been building respect amongst the team. She was more than hopeful that the Home Secretary's engineered exercise in joint intelligence information sharing would continue to build on that trust and respect.
The sounds of voices in the outer room startled Ros as she rose from her submerged position in the tub. She was briefly disoriented as she took in her surroundings. Directly above her was the rounded stonework of the old cell ceilings and the high three paned window that let in a modicum of light. The softly lit lamps left a glow around the room. She took a deep calming breath when the voices she heard to be her colleagues, Ruth and Harry. A knock rapped on the bathroom door.
"Ros, Harry and I are back from dinner. We're going over to his and Zaf's room if you care to join us when you're finished."
"I'll think about it and let you know," Ros called out. Truth be told, she really didn't feel like being much of a third wheel. However, an extended olive branch went a long way.
"All right. Just give a ring when you do. See you later." A few moments later she heard the heavy room door close. A little while later, she'd emerged from the tub, dried herself off and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a shirt and pullover hoodie. It was one thing to socialise with your boss off hours, it was something completely different to show up wearing pajamas doing so. Grabbing her room key card, and pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she went, she headed out.
Throughout the late evening, they were chatting about this and that, including a debate on the DG's speech earlier that day and what if any changes would be coming down the pipeline for MI5 in general and Section D in particular. Frankly, if they were able to get further funding for more recruits, both field and intelligence officers that were sorely needed, it would be a bonus. But the likelihood of that occurring was about as likely as Mace becoming the next PM. Ros had noticed that whether by conscious choice or unconscious design on both their parts, gradually over the course of the evening, Ruth and Harry had moved closer so that towards the end of the evening they were curled into each other. Ruth's head rested on Harry's shoulder as his arm wrapped around the back of her shoulders. Ros wondered if their outward show of affection towards each other was something they were simply becoming more comfortable with displaying in general or if she was being entrusted with this aspect of their growing relationship. At any rate, she felt honoured.
When Zaf returned a short while later, Ros quickly ushered him out of the room before he could say anything stupid.
"Whatever you're thinking, don't. Let them have some semblance of privacy. They deserve this bit of happiness. And if I catch wind of you running a book on this, it won't be Harry you have to worry about."
"I never would have taken you for a romantic, Ros."
"When properly motivated." Ros stopped, a wry grin on her face, and looked down at him. "Not on your life, Younis."
"Do you think...I mean --" Ruth started as she half turned and glanced up at Harry, and she sighed.
"Not if he wants to live to tell the tale."
"Harry," Ruth shot him an exasperated look.
"Not by me," he smirked at her. "Come here." He dipped his head down and kissed her gently. A soft moan of pleasure escaped Ruth's lips, which encouraged him to intensify the kiss. Several long and heated kisses more passed before both reluctantly broke apart. Their breaths coming in rushes. At times like this, Harry felt like he was still a young rebel in university, when the world seemed so much broader and love was this vast great concept that he had much to learn about. A gentle glance and a smile at Ruth and he realised that he still had much to learn. But this time he had the wisdom and the experience to enjoy the relationship and not to take it for granted. To nurture this love and not let it die. Harry lay a small sweet kiss on Ruth's lips, before standing and reaching his hand out to her to pull her into a standing position.
"Come, we mustn't let Mr. Younis think that there won't be reprisals if this little tete-â-tete becomes part of a betting pool."
Ruth smiled. If Ros's quick actions hadn't already scared the crap out of Zaf, he was in for a rude awakening.
************
Saturday, 11 December 2006, 0830hrs
Malmaison Oxford, Meeting Room
Representatives of MI-5, MI-6, Special Branch, and the JIC had gathered in the assigned executive meeting room. In the center of the room was a large round table, around which was set twelve chairs and thirteen settings, allowing for Juliet's motorized chair. Glasses of water were set around as well as legal notepads, and pens and a couple dossiers.
Ruth and Harry shared a glance and smirked.
"Knights of the Round Table. Someone has an interesting sense of humour," Zaf commented, with snickers emerging from most of the attendees. They'd all gone to their assigned seating and awaited the instructions for the morning's exercise.
"If you'll all open your folders," Juliet started the session off. "This morning's exercise will involve analyzing intelligence data reports, photographs, linkage reports, immigration status reports. The purpose of all of this is to combine our knowledge, instinct as intelligence officers, and skills to determine likely suspects for a terrorist attack. Now, we've only got the materials in front of us to use as our resources."
They got cracking on the work ahead of them. Discussion on the reports, surveillance pictures taking them well through the morning. Whereas most of the intelligence officers present were field officers, Each officer had some specific area of expertise in which to lend the exercise.
From within MI-5, there were diverse backgrounds. Harry looked round at his officers scattered around the table. Both Zafar Younis and Ros Myers had been recruited from their sister organization, MI-6. Zaf had many aspects to his career having spent the past three years as an MI-6 officer in North Africa. And as he had quite pointedly put it to Harry, not many young Asian men sought out employment in Her Majesty's Intelligence Service, thus he was able to fit into some communities where others may not. No one would suspect that he was an intelligence operative. Ros was still a bit of an unknown quantity. While she had not been privy to the details of her father's treasonous activities alongside Michael Collingwood, the previous head of MI-6, it did somewhat paint a bit of a dark cloud over her own history. While Harry himself was willing to overlook that part of her past in lieu of her current work with MI-5, he was not blind to it either. His own history in the military and his work as an MI-5 officer gave him a fair insight into operations and playing politics, something which he loathed but was oft required to participate in whilst keeping atop his counterparts.
Harry smiled when he thought of Ruth. Ruth's lateral thinking and data analysis were key to pointing out several components, and in cross-referencing points. In addition, her love of mysteries and puzzles, along with an innate abilities to pull some otherwise inconsequential detail out of a myriad was uncanny. Her experiences at GCHQ helped narrow down some specific detail elements. Suddenly Ruth got up and came over to Harry. She held a few documents and photographs in front of him and pointed to something in particular. Something had twigged her memory.
"Harry, are we sure this is just an exercise?" Ruth asked him quietly.
"Ruth?"
"It's just...this man here. His face is familiar. I'm sure it came up in some Interpol report I was looking at earlier this week. The name here is wrong though, but I can't put my finger on it."
"Are you sure?" he asked, casting a sidewards glance at her.
"Yes. I need to check a couple things, but I remember the face."
"Something wrong, Harry?" Juliet called over to him.
"Hopefully nothing." Harry looked down at his watch. "As it is getting towards noon, I suggest we take a break for lunch, if that's all right by every body else." After brief consultation, all agreed that it would be a good time to break and reconvene at 1300hrs. A quick nod of Harry's head and all four representatives from MI-5 met at the internal atrium in the middle of A-Wing.
"Upstairs, now," was all Harry had to say. Ruth went into her room to retrieve the laptop she brought with her. Once they'd all arrived at Harry and Zaf's room, he let the rest of the team in on Ruth's information. She opened up her laptop and accessed via secure connection the MI-5. Pulling up recent Interpol reports she scanned them for the photograph they'd been given as part of the morning's exercise.
"Here," Ruth pointed at the screen. "Jamal Hassan, arrived in the UK on 3rd November by way of Syria. Interpol sent out a green notice earlier this week as he was wanted in connection with charges of bombing a civilian hospital in Northern Iraq. He left Iraq under disguise but was picked up again by Syrian intelligence the week before. Whilst waiting extradition back to Iraq he slipped past the Syrian officers holding him. Gone underground, until he arrived in the UK under the name of Mihyar al-Basri."
"What's he doing here?" Ros asked. "And how did it come under our radar for this exercise?"
"I don't know, but I'm betting Juliet might," Harry said before ducking into the bathroom to make a quick call on his mobile phone. A few times Harry's raised voice could be heard before silence and Harry walking out of the bathroom. "Ruth, keep working on this. See if Adam, Jo and Malcolm can pull up some additional information. We need to keep on top of this. I'm going to go have a little chat with Juliet and Charles McIrney."
McIrney had taken over the directorship of MI-6 after Michael Collingwood's 'unfortunate' demise earlier in the year, and as far as Harry was concerned McIrney was treading in his predecessor's footsteps. Harry had hoped this director's ambitions wouldn't lead him to such an illustrious end as said predecessor, but quite frankly Harry wasn't hedging his bets.
After Harry departed, Ruth went to work, running through the reports she'd compiled. After tinkering around a bit in a few databases, she got some more information she needed. A few phone more calls back and forth to Thames House. Twenty minutes passed and Ruth was avidly pacing the room as she worked her way through analyzing all the information in her head.
"Bloody hell. Tell Harry to meet us down in the meeting room in five minutes!" Ruth quickly packed up her laptop and headed down to the room.
"What is it?" Zaf asked her, as he and Ros followed quickly behind Ruth.
"I'll be able to tell you more when I get the papers in front of me. But I think I've just uncovered something about a planned terrorist attack. For real. Not some bloody exercise!"
**********