THE PAST REVISITED
Despite the credibility gap of imagining that the Greek God that was Peter Firth in his 20's would have successfully blended in in undercover operations in Northern Ireland in the late 1970's I have nonetheless decided to base this new fanfiction on that period. I started this fic back at the beginning of August when I envisaged that the inclusion of references to Harry's Diary was foolish and would only result in an extensive re-write when the 'genuine article' came out a few weeks later. As it has transpired however the published Diary does not contain much information on the time of the Troubles and certainly does not include nearly enough later references to Harry's thoughts on Ruth (IMHO) so I have no qualms in retaining my version of certain extracts & hope they won't irritate too many fans of the Diary. The usual disclaimer that none of this has the slightest bearing on the original characters created by the Spooks team of course applies as usual.
THE GRID
Harry's eyes softened as he watched Ruth ploughing her way through endless paperwork – was the job so onerous or was it just that like him she had nowhere better to go? So near and yet so far. He judged that it would only take six paces and an ocean of courage to cross the floor and tell her how he really felt; but of course he wouldn't. Caution, the better part of valour, he consoled himself bitterly. Sometimes he caught her bewitching gaze directed at him and thought for a fleeting moment that he saw something of the same desire and longing that burned as a dull ache inside himself, but then dismissed the idea as fanciful. Ruth was younger, much younger than him; she was beautiful, highly intelligent and open-hearted. Despite the opportunities afforded to him he had not sought to investigate her private life beyond the initial vetting when she joined the department and for all he know she could already have someone special in her life; although somehow he doubted it. No one with someone waiting for them would spend every possible waking hour chained to their work desk. Still she could have someone and even if she didn't, how could he think that she would be interested in him? – imagine the embarrassment if he propositioned her and she rejected him. Harry shook himself out of his daydream and pulled on his overcoat.
"Don't you have a home to go to?"
"I'm a workaholic made in my boss's image."
"Well even workaholics have to sleep occasionally Ruth. I'll give you a lift home."
Ruth glanced at her watch which showed 10.37 pm.
"No, don't worry Harry, I'm fine. The buses run until 11.40. I've got heaps of time."
Harry appeared unconvinced by this argument as he came round to the side of her desk and lifted her coat off the back of her chair.
"I'm not happy with you hanging around bus stops on your own late at night. Come on, it's only a few miles out of my way."
"Harry I'll be fine I often catch the last bus."
Harry snorted with exasperation
"Don't be so bloody stubborn. Put your coat on. That's an order not a request."
Ruth was determined not to be steam-rollered by Harry.
"What will people think if we're seen leaving the building and driving off together?"
"For God's sake Ruth what does it matter? I'm offering you a lift not a proposal of marriage."
A tense, embarrassed silence fell between them and both avoided catching the eye of the other in case their feelings should be betrayed. A clearly flustered Ruth grabbed her coat and Harry stood back to give her room and watched mutely as she hastily crammed a pre-packaged Pret-a-Manger salad and smoothie back into her bag that had obviously been intended as a dinner substitute. He was guiding her towards the pods whilst weighing up the likelihood of her saying yes if he suggested they might find dinner somewhere enroute when his mobile phone rang. Harry pulled it impatiently out of his pocket intending to silence it, when the name flashed up on the screen made him pause.
"Excuse he one moment Ruth, I need to take this."
Harry turned abruptly and went back into his office, shutting the door behind him. Ruth waited anxiously. It was not like Harry to be secretive in front of her. This was either something very serious and personal or possibly both. Ruth could see through the glass partition that Harry's face was troubled and his unconscious gesticulations indicated that he was arguing with whoever was ringing him. After what seemed like an eternity but was in reality about 3 minutes, Harry closed his phone and sitting on the edge of his desk rubbed his hand slowly across the lower part of his face, pinching his full lips between his forefinger and thumb. Ruth could not stand the suspense any longer and she cautiously drew open his door and took one step inside the room.
"Er Harry, please tell me to go away if that's what you want but you appear to have had some bad news."
Harry looked up at her and smiled very slightly.
"You could say that Ruth. That was a friendly face from the JIC – apparently evidence has been submitted to the DG that proves I colluded in the execution of republican prisoners and suspects whilst I was in Northern Ireland."
Ruth looked indignant
"That's just ridiculous Harry."
"Well obviously not that ridiculous. My contact rang to warn me that I am suspended forthwith pending investigations and I will be either under de facto house arrest or possibly even detention."
Ruth stared at him too horrified to speak so that Harry in something of a role reversal felt the need to reassure her.
"Don't worry. I'm sure it will be sorted out, but in the meantime Ruth I would be grateful if you could look after a few items for me."
Here Harry reached down and unlocking a drawer, brought out three small leather-bound books which he put on the desk. He then felt in his jacket pocket and brought out a slim address book. As he did so a small passport-sized photo slipped out from between its pages and fell on the floor. Harry reached down quickly to retrieve it but Ruth was swifter. Her fingers reaching to close over the small item were covered momentarily by Harry's hand. She blushed deeply as she felt the warmth of his skin touching hers but held onto her prize. Turning over the photo Ruth confirmed her initial suspicion – it was the same photo she had submitted with her transfer application from GCHQ. Without looking at him she silently placed it on his desk where it lay, a legerdemain revelation of undeclared feelings, demanding explanations that would not be forthcoming. Now it was Harry's turn to be embarrassed and he hurriedly gathered the books together and held them out to Ruth.
"Please feel free to say no Ruth, but I would be very grateful if you could hold onto these until this matter is resolved. The goons will be going over my house and this office with a fine toothcomb and I'd rather keep these confidential."
"Of course Harry."
Ruth deliberately blocking the view of the CCTV camera, reached out and manoeuvred her cellophane dinner round in her bag to make room for the additions. She was not so preoccupied however that she was prevented from observing Harry slip her photo back into his jacket at the same time as placing four identical items on his desk to replace those that she had taken. A shadow of a smile lingered at the corners of her mouth – the photo had patently not been in his address book by accident.
"Please tell Adam I don't know the details of the case against me but it's got to be pretty watertight or they would not have taken it this far. I need him to make some discreet enquiries but I don't want him to stick his neck out for me and I certainly don't want him dragging the rest of the team into this mess. If I am going down on this I don't want the whole department compromised – do you understand?"
Here Harry gripped Ruth by the shoulders and looked sternly into her eyes. She responded by nodding wordlessly.
" Tell him I may not have the opportunity to go dog walking so direct communications may be impossible. There's a man called Jerry Hanley, he was living in Brussels the last time I heard of him; he was part of my team of agents back in '78 and he's one of the few to have survived, he'll be a useful character witness."
Harry snorted at the irony of his position
"Probably the only one I'm likely to be able to produce from that time so I hope he's still the right side of the pearly gates."
"Why Harry?
"Why did my agents drop like flies? I'm afraid it was in the nature of the work."
"No, why would someone want to go to these lengths to get rid of you?"
Harry smiled ironically
"If I knew that then I'd have a better idea of how to challenge this. I'm afraid it's in the nature of my job to make enemies Ruth. It could be anyone of several dozen individuals. My records from Northern Ireland are easily accessible for those who know where to look, it doesn't necessarily have to be someone from that time and place."
AT that moment the pod doors opened and two burly men stepped onto the Grid. Ruth's face registered panic and anxiety as she stepped nearer to Harry and placing her hand on his arm squeezed reassuringly.
"Harry, are you going to be alright?"
He stood up and moving towards the door and out of the direct view of the men advancing towards his office he drew her close to him and whispered in her ear
"I'll be fine Ruth, I've got a guardian angel watching over me haven't I?"
The men appeared at the doorway and the older of the two addressed Harry
"I'm sorry Mr Pearce, but we have orders to escort you home pending an investigation of a charge that has been levelled against you."
Harry nodded his assent and watched as the second man emptied the contents of Harry's desk into a sack, including the four books sitting on the top and then as an after-thought also emptied the waste-paper basket in as well.
Harry sighed in exasperation
"Do you want to strip search me in front of my staff or does that humiliation come later?"
"Please Mr Pearce, don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. You know as well as I do that certain procedures have to be followed."
"Oh, like habeas corpus I suppose?"
Harry's irony was lost on the Service official who gestured to him to leave the room.
Ruth opened her mouth to protest but Harry frowned her a warning to keep silent and she watched dumbly as he was led through the pods: a stocky, immaculately dressed figure, flanked by the two officials. As he disappeared from sight four other men arrived on the Grid and started to dismantle Harry's computer and rifle through the drawers and desks on the Grid. Ruth protested that they had no right to touch confidential files but they ignored her and indicated very forcibly that her presence was not required. She hurried out of the building and speed dialled
"Hello Adam, it's Ruth. You've got to come to Thames House now. Harry's been arrested on suspicion of ordering the execution of Republicans during his time in Northern Ireland and there are plods crawling all over the Grid looking at everything. Well, I don't know on what basis, but Harry got a tip off and he seemed to think the evidence could be quite damning. Ok, I'll see you in fifteen minutes. I'll wait at Luigi's, you know, the café around the corner by the bus stop, it stays open late."
Luigi'sRuth waited anxiously in the café, a cup of coffee cooling untouched in front of her. Images of Harry being virtually man-handled through the pods blended with the sensation of desire that his hand touching hers and his body standing so close to hers had aroused. When he had briefly drawn her close to him his head had rested against hers and his lips brushed her ear. Such a proximity brought to mind that time in the corridor when in the heat of the moment he had roughly grabbed her, slammed her against the wall and demanded that she accept his view that she should be triumphant at her success in manipulating Angela. Even now she could vividly recall the sensation of his hands gripping her arms, the passion in his voice, the overwhelming desire that he would forget himself just for a fraction of a second and kiss her- carpe diem – he was fond of Latin sayings, if only he had put that one into action and demonstrated his impassioned argument with a gesture of physical intimacy. Ruth closed her eyes as waves of anxiety and desire swept through her mind.
"Ruth?"
She immediately looked up to meet the cool steady gaze of concern in the eyes of the tall figure standing by her chair. She gestured to him to sit down.
"I'm fine Adam, just a little tired. Sit down, I think it's better we talk outside of Thames House."
Adam responded by drawing a chair round so that he sat adjacent to her.
"Fine by me – more coffee house than dog house then."
Ruth smiled weakly at his attempt at humour.
"That joke's so feeble it's worthy of Harry's efforts."
At the mention of his name Ruth's levity vanished and her expression was sad and troubled.
"It was awful Adam."
"Tell me what happened, exactly."
"Well we were both preparing to leave the Grid, er, it was about 10.40 as Harry offered me a lift home and I said I still had another hour to the last bus. Anyway his phone rang and he took the call in his office. I could see he was angry with someone, after which he told me he was going to be detained because of accusations of executing IRA suspects and prisoners that had been put before the DG. Then two Special Branch officers arrived and took him away – as far as I know back to his house."
"Who rang him Ruth?"
"I'm not sure, he just said a friend from the JIC."
"Did he suggest who might be behind this?"
"No, he said it could be any number of people but he said I was to tell you to find a man in Brussels called Jerry Hanley who was one of the agents he was running at the time but that you were not to put your neck out over it and not to involve the rest of the team. I'm worried Adam, really worried. It wasn't at all like Harry, he seemed resigned that he wouldn't survive this, he was taking of not compromising the team because you would need to keep going if the worst happened."
Adam smiled reassuringly at Ruth but his eyes were troubled.
"Harry's a tough old dog, don't write him off just yet. Did he give you no other indication of what the evidence against him is likely to be?"
"No, nothing."
Ruth had already decided to keep the diaries confidential, for she was convinced that's what those leather-bound volumes were: a private, potentially explosive account of Harry's experiences in MI5 over the past 30 years. She remembered all-too-vividly what had happened to Harry's close friend and mentor Clive McTaggert when his diaries had come to light and she was determined to avoid anyone knowing of the existence of Harry's version of events he had witnessed and taken part in.
"And are there still goons tramping all over the Grid?"
"I'm not sure, they were there when I left and they were going through everthing."
"Right, well that's the first thing to put a stop to. I'll go and get them off our backs and call Juliet, although I'm sure she's already been informed and no doubt will be safely ensconced in Harry's office by first thing tomorrow morning. You go and check up if Harry has been taken home or not but be discreet Ruth. We don't want to be seen to make direct contact, he will have been formally suspended and officially we are not meant to go anywhere near him."
Ruth was grateful that Adam didn't want her to go back into Thames House, as she was anxious to deposit Harry's books somewhere safe before she was searched by some over-zealous Special Branch officer.
"What are we going to do Adam?"
"Well obviously we have to find out precisely what the charges are, who's provided the evidence and why and check up how much of it is verifiable; but we're going to have to run this as a parallel op to normal Grid work. If Juliet gets so much as a sniff of us investigating she will be putting all our heads on the block."
Ruth thought she already knew the answer to her next question but she felt duty-bound to make it.
"Harry said that you were not to take risks Adam and not involve the rest of the team so I presume it's going to be just you and I?"
Adam smiled broadly at her
"Since when have you known me take any notice of Harry where his welfare is concerned? Besides which if Harry is proved to be guilty as charged and removed from his post then the whole department is vulnerable to attack regardless of whether we stand on the sidelines and wring our hands or actually get off our butts and try and do something about it. Anyway regardless of Harry's instructions we need all hands on deck to get to the bottom of this, but strictly beneath the radar. I'll contact the others to meet at my flat at 1.00 am. We need to thrash out a plan of action before tomorrow morning."
He rose from the table.
"Remember Ruth, be cautious and check you're not followed. We have to presume that whoever is behind this may be operating from within the Service and have access to surveillance, they may even possibly work within 5."
Ruth nodded her acquisition but she was still determined to do anything necessary to check up on Harry or at least to reassure herself that he wasn't being beaten up in some holding cell. Seeing her normal bus pulling up she ran out and jumped on board just as it was pulling away. Flushed but triumphant she flopped into a seat – just like all the classic spy films, jumping onto a moving bus to avoid being tailed. Secure that she was being followed she made her way up to the top deck and with trembling hands brought out one of Harry's leather bound books. It seemed madness for him to have kept them in his office, but then perhaps he felt they were more secure there than in his own home, especially after the burglary he had experienced which had exposed the limitations of his supposedly advanced security system. It still seemed inexplicably rash however, to keep such a potential time-bomb sitting in the middle of the lion's den so to speak. It was indicative of Harry's chutzpah or indeed equally his bone-headed impulsiveness to have taken such a risk.
She didn't intend to abuse his trust by reading the diaries cover to cover (despite a burning curiosity to know whether he had mentioned her or not ) but she did need to establish whether any part referred to the period of time he was in Northern Ireland, for in that case she was determined to utilise any information contained there in her own private investigation that she was resolved to carry on separate from the activities of the rest of the team and of course parallel to official Grid activity – it was going to be a complex few days! The first volume she opened had dates starting at 2002 and was unfinished – this was obviously the most recent chronologically and she reluctantly closed it. What was contained inside? Their first meeting? – when she had as usual made an absolute fool of herself, stammering and gabbling and dropping files everywhere. She had been nervous and flustered to begin with, arriving late and having the whole team waiting for her; but then one glance at those warm hazel eyes and the sound of his mellifluous , sensual voice and she had been completely lost. Pole-axed. Love at first sight? A romantic nonsense to all rational beings but yet how else to describe his immediate capturing of her heart and mind. She had tried to overcome the attraction, tell herself she was behaving like a love-sick teenager, that it was hopeless, that he had given very little indication that her feelings were in any way reciprocated. She had chased other men, gone on other dates; but nothing could supplant him in her affections. If she could only be convinced that it was totally unrequited, then maybe she could have buried her feelings more successfully, but the constant exchange of looks, the sense of absolute rapport, trust, respect, loyalty – was it all just a successful working relationship? She had once chastised Danny that he didn't appreciate how precious it was to have someone there for you always without question; but of course if she had been honest she would have admitted that she also had that – they had that. Despite the inequality of their positions she and Harry protected, encouraged and supported each other.
Ruth mentally shook herself out of her reverie and placed the book back in her bag in exchange for another. This one was of potentially greater interest, since the first dated entry was from 1977 when Harry would have been 23 and just finishing his recruitment training. The question therefore remained as to what type of diaries these were – no more than glorified filofaxes noting times and dates of meetings or a more explosive revelation of clandestine operations, of personal opinions. Harry had chastised Clive McTaggert as being a fool for keeping a record of his past in the Service and indeed that record was to cost him his life but that did not mean that Harry had not been similarly tempted to recount the extraordinary events of desperate times. He had been a younger and more junior officer then ,with less leverage and experience than he had had since becoming Head of Section D but that did not mean that he had not been party to some black operations nor that he hadn't decided to keep a record of all events as an insurance policy for the future.
Ruth glanced at the first dated entries in the diary written in Harry's careful, precise, neat script. Her heart somersaulted as she visualised a broad rather beautiful hand pausing with a Mont Blanc fountain pen between his fingers, ready to commit his thoughts to paper. Impulsively she raised the book to her lips and softly pressed them against the page. She needed to scan the contents of this volume of the diary as quickly as possible, but it would have to wait until later in the evening, as her bus was reaching the stop that was only yards from her house. Ruth pushed the small black book back into her bag and alighting from the bus hurried up to her front door. She was relieved to see that she had not yet received an uninvited visitor, as her slip of paper was still in place; but she fully expected that once the enquiries were in full swing she would not escape investigation. Given that it was almost midnight she had no option but to hide the diaries in her house for the night, but first thing tomorrow they would have to be moved to a safer location. Ruth shut the curtains and then reaching into the back of one of her over-stocked bookcases brought out two volumes of the collected works of John Ruskin that were old and faded but substantial. She opened them up to reveal hollow interiors which easily accommodated Harry's diaries and address book. She replaced the volumes back to their original location and stacked more paperbacks in front of them. Such a hiding place would not hold out against a full-scale search, but would hopefully be a safe location for one night.
Pausing only to gulp down the by now withered salad and tepid yoghurt that she had brought out of her bag, Ruth snatched her car keys and checking the street to make sure she was not under surveillance she drove off in the direction of Holland Park. It took her only fifteen minutes to get to the discreet expensive line of houses. She drove past Harry's house at a normal speed with a fast beating heart. There were lights on behind closed curtains on the lower floor, but that did not mean that he was necessarily in there. An obvious surveillance car was however parked outside and what looked like several plain clothes officers were loitering in the gated gardens opposite and as Ruth discovered as she made a circuit, there was also one positioned round the back of the house. Surely he must be inside? They wouldn't be paying five officers overtime to watch an empty house? – but she had to be absolutely sure. The adjacent house to Harry's was in darkness and Ruth hit on what she was sure Zaf would refer to as 'a cunning plan'.
She parked her car in an adjacent street and checking for dogs, slipped through a gap in the hedge of the house three doors down that was out of the observational field of the patrolling officer. Slowly and painfully she made her way over walls and through bushes, cursing that she was wearing a long encumbering skirt and that she had not kept up her gym membership. Several minutes later, scratched and dishevelled, she arrived at the top of Harry's garden. Careful to remain in shadow she peaked over the window sill that she judged would be the living room. Fortunately the blind had been drawn down carelessly and one corner had caught on a vase, allowing her a two inch gap through which to look into the room. Harry was in there, sitting back on a couch with his eyes closed, his tie discarded besides him and a half full tumbler of whiskey on the table. A wave of love and concern washed over Ruth and she longed to cradle him in her arms and tell him that she would not let anything happen to him, absurd though that might sound.
Suddenly Harry's eyes opened with an alert expression and his hand reached up and turned off the light. Ruth was disappointed. She would have quite happily crouched there gazing at him for the next hour. She sighed and falling back into the shadow of the shrubbery was about to make her way back over her assault course when without warning a hand grabbed her round the mouth and a strong arm pulled her down.
"What the hell are you doing here" hissed a low soft familiar voice in her ear.
Ruth's heart was pounding so hard from fright she thought she was going to faint.
"Oh God Harry, you've given me heart failure. How did you know I was out here?"
Harry cut through the invitation for an extended explanation.
"Not now. You shouldn't be here, you're no use to me locked up in a police cell."
Ruth was indignant at his lowly opinion of her skills of counter-surveillance and hissed back
"Adam told me to check if you were here. I couldn't be sure unless I actually saw you."
Harry's face softened as he smiled at her in the darkness and whispered back.
"Well you've seen me. I'm fine. I imagine I will be taken in for questioning at some stage but in the mean time I'm under house arrest."
"Oh Harry." Ruth's voice was tearful.
A hand felt for the top of her head and gently stroked down her tangled hair and carefully extracted several dead leaves and bits of thorn bush. Briefly, almost imperceptibly, full warm lips brushed her forehead and he was gone.
Ruth stood momentarily stunned – had she imagined it or had Harry just kissed her – or at least glanced across her skin with his lips? Tentatively she reached up and touched where she still felt the imprint of contact. Perhaps it had been an accident, but she didn't think so and she certainly had not imagined the tender gesture of his stroking her hair. So no great romantic declaration or passionate embrace but something. Ambiguous, deniable, shrouded in darkness; a slight touch in the night that both would remember but probably neither would refer to. Perhaps though another attempt to span the void between feeling and action, thought and declaration, desire and fulfilment.
Ruth glancing over to check the whereabouts of the guard, crawled carefully back through the back gardens and made her way safely to her waiting car. She rang Adam
"The bird is in its cage."
"Good. Well come over to my place as soon as possible, the others are already here."