Head down, hand clasping her bag close to her for protection, Ruth walked briskly and purposefully across the Grid to the sliding doors. She walked past Harry's office without so much as a quick glance inside. She had almost made it out of her workplace when a familiar soft voice spoke from close behind her shoulder.
"Ruth? A minute in my office, please."
Her quick glance up with her eyes told him that what he'd suspected was, in fact, true. Someone had told her, and after he'd talked to her, he would hunt down that someone and send them to the far reaches of the globe for a very long time.
"I can't now, Harry," she said, turning from him.
As much as he hadn't wanted her to be hurt, she appeared to be as hurt as he's ever seen her. "Now, Ruth," he said quietly, resisting the urge to grasp her arm so that she wouldn't run from him. "This won't take long."
Ruth stopped, turned, sighed heavily, and with her head still down, eyes on the floor, she followed him into his office. Harry pulled the door closed behind them, and then closed the blinds. Turning back to her, he noticed her eyes widen. "Just a precaution," he said, almost to himself. "I don't want that lot prying."
Harry moved to his desk, and sat on the edge of it, his hands resting either side of him, his fingers curved around the edge of the desktop. Ruth stood just inside the doorway, holding her bag across the front of her body.
"I take it the rumours are true, then," she said, looking up at him darkly through her eyelashes.
"It depends on which rumours you're talking about, Ruth. The rumour mill in this place is cranked up to overdrive at the best of times."
"Everyone's talking about it."
"Talking about what, Ruth?"
"You know."
"I think I do, which is why I've brought you in here to discuss it. I don't want you going off half-cocked about something which is based on nothing more than Grid-based gossip."
"It's made it to water cooler talk. Dimitri finds it funny. I don't like that, Harry, and that's why I'm going home early. I can't stand the way they're all laughing, and -"
"And what?"
She could not look at him. The subject matter at hand was far too embarrassing. "They're saying that a man of your ….. years …... will not be able to ….. er ... perform …... and on top of that, they're feeling sorry for me," she added quietly.
"Ah. For that, I'm very, very sorry."
"It's not your fault, Harry."
"Whose fault do you think it is?"
"If Dimitri's information is correct, then the person responsible for this is the Home Secretary."
Harry watched her carefully, and nodded slowly.
"I imagine nothing I could say would make this better for you, then."
Ruth drew a deep breath, and for the first time since they'd entered his office, she looked Harry right in the eye. "What would make this better would be for you to tell me it's not true."
Harry watched her, perhaps waiting for her to say more. "I can't tell you that."
"So …... what Dimitri says is true. You met this woman at …... where was it ….. the Israeli Embassy …... she asked you out …... and next thing we know you're going to be …..."
"Ruth, my connection with this woman is work-related only. I have absolutely no personal relationship with her. She asked me out for a drink, and I immediately declined."
"What excuse did you give her?"
"When I said no to her?"
"Yes. Most people, when they turn someone down, say something like, `I'm busy', or `I have choir practice', or `I'm washing my hair'... just to let them down gradually, but to give the impression they're not interested without saying outright, `I'm not interested in you, and nor will I be if you ask me a thousand times.' What was your excuse for saying no, Harry?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"I know it's none of my business, but …..."
Ruth could see the embarrassment on Harry's face, and wished she could retract her question, but ….. she was curious.
"I told her I was with someone," he said, so quietly she'd almost missed it.
"Why did you say that?"
"Because I am, Ruth. I'm with you. It's just that you're not with me."
"I'm not so sure about that," she replied, equally as quietly.
The air in Harry's office fairly zinged with electricity. Neither moved. He sat on the edge of his desk, and she still stood just inside the door, her bag clasped against her stomach. Their chests heaved with unspoken emotion, while their eyes never left the other.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and the door slid back, and Tariq stepped through, holding a folder, his face excited. "Sorry," he said, noticing the tension in the air.
"Not now, Tariq!" Harry almost shouted.
"But, Harry, you asked me to tell you -"
"Not now!" Harry moved rather quickly towards Tariq, brushing Ruth's shoulder as he passed her. "Out!" he said, closing the door behind Tariq's retreating back, and turning the key with a definitive twist of his wrist. When he turned towards Ruth, he was standing only a breath away from her, behind her right shoulder. He thought of reaching out and resting his hand on her back. He thought of leaning forward and kissing her neck. He thought of putting both arms around her waist and pulling her against him. He thought of slipping her hand in his, and taking her home with him. He did none of those things.
After a time, Ruth turned a little so that she was facing him. Finding herself so close to him, she took a step back. "What I meant is," she began to explain, "I may have made some poor choices in -"
"Don't," Harry said, looking at her with what could only be described as longing. "Don't say anything yet. There will be time for this conversation later. This other thing needs to be dealt with first. I need to do it. I've said I would, so I will."
"So, you don't want to do it?"
"God, no."
"Why did you say you would?"
"The way Towers described it made it sound easy. In reality, it probably won't be."
"Will you have to sleep with her?"
"I hope not, but …... I may have to have sex with her."
Ruth suddenly looked away, focusing her eyes on one of the odd looking sculptures on the shelf against the red wall of Harry's office. She felt tears at the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard to keep them down.
He reached out a hand towards her, but didn't touch her, for which she was relieved. Had he touched her, she would have fallen into him and cried. "Ruth, I can't guarantee that I won't be having sex with her, and if I do, it won't be because I want to. I'm sorry, I'm very sorry."
"I have no claim on you, Harry, and I certainly have no claim at all on who you have sex with. It's none of my business." She made to move past him and head towards the door when he stood in front of her, his hands lightly grasping her upper arms.
"You are the only one whose opinion matters to me, Ruth. As much as I regret it, I agreed to do this two weeks ago, when Cynthia Worthington asked me for a drink, and Towers overheard it. He says I should be able to get the information from her in one night, and I'm hoping that means I won't have to …... you know."
Ruth could feel her eyes filling with tears, and she looked up into Harry's sad face. "Surely there are easier ways to extract the information."
"Like torture, you mean?"
"Of course not. I mean, why not plant a microphone on her?"
"The French did that, and she found the device within the first hour. I think she's as guilty as hell, but we need the names of her contacts in Britain."
Ruth sighed, and as her body sagged, Harry very slowly drew her towards him, and held her against his chest. "I'll drive you home if you like," he said into her hair.
Suddenly, Ruth pulled out of his embrace, and adjusted her coat. "No, I'm fine. Besides, I need to think about this."
"Well, don't think too much. It's not that important."
"It's important to me, Harry. You are acting as a honey trap to this woman, and that worries me, both personally and professionally."
"I don't think I'm in any danger, Ruth."
"This woman deals in arms, so of course you're in danger, and I won't sleep properly until this stupid operation is over."