A few hours earlier, Adam himself would have barely cared, stricken with what he perceived to be grief after Ros had left, he was totally disillusioned and ready to blow the whistle on the spectacular cockup in Iran, that they themselves had engineered. Now though, looking at Harry who was mirroring his own destructive self was absolutely terrifying. For months they had done their best, covering and defending him from the mounting criticism that Juliet just kept on hurling, praying that he would eventually rise above the loss and return to being the strong and responsible leader that he had once been.
Ignoring as best he could, what appeared to be Harry's indifference and acceptance of their fate, he turned his back on him and addressed the sea of nervous faces.
'We've got plenty to work on but precious little to work with, but most importantly we're running out of time,' he told them. 'Jo and Ben, you work as a team. Connie, wrack your brains and remember anything and everything you can about the likely makeup of the bomb, and Malcolm, do whatever it takes with that computer and find me Davey King. I'm off to make some calls and to find us a way to dig ourselves out of this mess, I won't be long.'
Gabriel Plaza was bathed in sunshine and more worryingly filling up with tourists, unless of course you were Davey King, who was holed up in an empty office on the seventh floor and armed with an array of weapons and a ready- made bomb, set to explode in less than an hour. He was brimming with confidence and had been left to him, he'd have been more than happy to inflict multiple killings, but his employer had been specific and it wasn't until the square was clear of civilians that he was to detonate the bomb. There was a much bigger picture they had told him, and his only guarantee to get a safe passage home, was to stick to the plan. When he'd received the call, he'd hardly been able to believe his luck, it was a non-bloody brainer. 'Harry Pearce,' the caller had said, the one man who he had spent half his life hating, was being presented to him on a plate. Payment wasn't important, other than for the cost of the taxi, the bomb and the weapons, plus of course the guarantee that he would be able to slip away unnoticed, the same way as he'd come in. A dead and buried Harry Pearce was a far bigger prize.
'Right concentrate everyone, times running out,' said a focused Adam when he returned after his meeting with Jason Belling. 'Malcolm's worked his magic and the taxi's here,' he said, pointing at the screen and to Gabriel Plaza. 'Davey's on the seventh floor of this building which will place us in his direct line of sight. I've pulled a few strings and six are sending us two of their operatives, who when I give the order for the crowd to disperse, will create our diversion. Malcolm will simultaneously jam the detonator and hopefully the combination of the two will distract Davey for long enough, so that Jo and Ben can get into that building.'
For Ben in particular, entering the square on a beautiful summer's day and knowing that you were quite probably about to die, was ironic. Through no fault of his own, other than through his association with Jo, he'd been dragged away from the relative safety of journalism and wouldn't get the chance to write, what for him would have been the story that would have set him up for life. They were all deep in thought, but none more so than Harry who knew Davey like the back of his hand and was far less trusting or sure about the outcome as Adam. As he stepped forward, brandishing his identity card and he Connie and Malcolm crouched behind the taxi, he closed his eyes. Her beautiful face and her voice telling him not to get shot flooded his consciousness. Wherever she was, he just prayed that she was safe and that if she ever found out what he was about to do, that she would forgive him.
'Security Services clear the square now,' brought no reaction from the dozens of people who were enjoying the morning sunshine. 'Security Services, there's a bomb had them flying in all directions, chairs and tables tumbling in their wake,' as within less than a minute the square stood empty, but there was no diversion, they'd been betrayed. In the blink of an eye and to the horror of his colleagues, Harry dragged himself to his feet and walked from the relative safety at the back of the cab, until he stood face on to Davey King. Adam was paralysed and it took him a moment to realise what Harry was doing. The stupid man was setting himself up as a target and he was powerless to help him. Malcolm had already jammed the detonator and he had to stay put to help Connie diffuse the bomb and somewhere up there, Davey would be watching this and reacting.
Despite Harry's vehement protests, Adam had insisted that he take him to the hospital. He'd gambled and won, his backup plan which as it happened had been a wise decision, had saved the day. What he hadn't planned, was that in his attempt to fake a shot through the heart he would have inflicted so much pain. In addition to the bruise on his chest, he'd slammed against the body of the car and not only hurt his back but also cracked his head on the ground which had rendered him unconscious. It wasn't until they'd got the call from Jo which had confirmed that Davey was dead, that his colleagues had discovered that he hadn't joined him.
He hated hospitals, 'over my dead body,' he muttered at the doctor, when he suggested that as he'd suffered a head injury, that they should keep him in overnight. Then to add to his humiliation, they'd taken Adam to one side and suggested that perhaps he could persuade him, which suggested that they thought he was Adam's father. Well, he didn't need Adam, it was Ruth that he needed and he wanted to go home. Armed with a huge bottle of painkillers and seizing up to the point where he was struggling to walk he finally got his wish, as with Adam's help, he limped out of the hospital and home to his own bed. As was the case almost every night and through interminably long days since she'd left him, he was drunk with a desperate longing and there wasn't a dam thing he could do about it. For months now, he had actually considered the possibility that he was going insane and today, walking out in front of Davey King to his quite probable death was a case in point. Bed too held no joys only missed opportunities and the deepest regret of his life, that 'the something wonderful' had never been said. Alone, sad and in pain, he surrendered to his misery and wept.
Several hours later and from the depths of the horror of yet another nightmare and the pain that was stomping its way through his head, he could hear his doorbell ringing. When he eventually opened his eyes and looked at the clock, he realised that it was well past ten and that he'd overslept. Christ he was in trouble, he'd missed his meeting with the Home Secretary.
'You look like hell,' from a concerned looking Malcolm didn't help, although Adam had apparently been to pacify Blake. 'You know what you need,' Malcolm continued, handing him a cup of coffee and some toast, as he re appeared downstairs, having taken a shower and dressed.
'Stating the bloody obvious now are we Malcolm and how do you propose I manage that?' He answered him, berating himself that he was starting to lose his temper again.
'I've got some news and before you fly off the handle again, don't shoot the messenger, because believe you me I didn't bloody volunteer to get you out of bed this morning, I was sent,' was said in a voice that Harry hadn't heard since the night that Colin had died.
'Blake,' questioned Harry incredulously, his mind racing, as Malcolm relayed the story that Adam had told them, that it was the Home Secretary that had sanctioned their assassination.
'There is an upside to all of this, apart from the fact that we're all still here to tell the tale,' Malcolm continued, now grinning at him, 'he owes you one Harry, so he can hardly refuse a request for Ruth to be able to come back to Britain.'
In a small and sleepy village on the coast of Northern Brittany, Ruth had already been at work for several hours. It was boring and mind numbingly repetitive clerical work that occupied her days, but never her thoughts. Her only comfort was that the small flat that she rented above her employer's studio had a balcony, which offered her a view of the sea. It was a constant reminder that as the crow flies, he was only a stone's throw away. Her plan had she stuck to it, had been to country hop her way around Europe until somewhere felt like home, but she'd been offered a lifeline and had jumped at the chance when her brother Malcolm, alias Giles, had offered her a way to keep in touch, with news of their elderly Mum. The messages such as they were, were few and far between but in the main they told her that their Mum was fine, but was still missing her. She wasn't a fool and she knew that this was a crazy thing to do and that she should accept what she herself had instigated, and move on. But love plays tricks with people and the expectation that her love for him would diminish was so far removed from reality, as to make it impossible. His smile when it was just for her, his eyes and the sheer magnetism of him when he touched her, were wrapped around her like a protective blanket, and she wasn't ready to let it go.