Sometimes giving the impression that he felt otherwise, Harry genuinely liked Zaf. In fact he envied him in many ways. His ability to switch off at the end of a busy day, his boyish charm and enthusiasm, and his never say die attitude were all assets. But not his unwavering optimism, that included in the endless supply of women that were angling after his body, was Harry's very own analyst. Endlessly chatting up Ruth, to wind him up he supposed, had been going on for days. But what was really annoying him, was that it was succeeding.
Zaf was grinning, he generally did. Not only that he was humming the first lines of Happy Days Are Here Again. Not that anybody was looking at him, they were all far too busy trying to control their own facial expressions. Which in Jo's case involved gazing at the ceiling lights, giving a damn good impression of Malcolm when he was looking for bugging devises. She being the only person in the meeting room, who was wishing that things would calm down and the others would just let Harry and Ruth get on with it. Whatever it happened to be? They were adults for heaven's sake, so what they did or didn't do when they were away from the grid, was nobody else's business.
Why don't they go the whole hog and invite the Russians? Zaf had said, adding fuel to the fire of Adam's earlier suggestion, that it was going to be like Sleeping with the Enemy, except on speed. A grave error in anyone's books, which was doing nothing to improve the mood that their esteemed boss was already in. Harry had been to the Home Office and returned with an expression of mixed messages, having been told that he and his team were expected to attend an Inter European team bonding, rumble in the jungle was how the overly cheerful Towers had described it, waving his almond croissant under Harry's nose. Having missed his own breakfast, then one more time and Harry would have snatched it.
The weekend designed to establish a way forward, so that the UK could continue to be part of their we're all in this together security policy, in the event of no deal Brexit was bollocks, he'd told the insistent Home Secretary. No one told anyone anything. That's why they were called secret services.
As if that wasn't enough, if you're so worried about Miss Evershed, then devise a way to handle her yourself, Towers had continued. A statement that Harry hoped had resulted from his ill-advised protest that his analyst hadn't been trained for field work, rather than an insight into the recent upturn in his personal life. Stop prevaricating man and just get on with it and he'd left. Wondering how the hell he was going to convince Ruth that they had nothing to worry about.
Ruth wasn't the only one that was trying to blank out Harry's last sentence, that had started with two nights in the Black Forest in Germany and ended with under canvas, as she fiddled with her hands and refused to look at anyone, most especially him. Everyone had gossiped about their first date which had ended with her rejection, but after much persuading on his part, she'd finally said yes to Harry's now well - established attentions. Outside of the grid of course. Not only that, they'd made a damn good job of keeping it a secret, which a two-night lying on a forest floor exercise, under a moonlit sky with a protective Harry, as nice as the prospect was, wasn't something that she wanted to share with their over–zealous and far too imaginative colleagues.
Ros whose smirk which was universally admired, although not by her, was already unbearable, and she'd milk it for all it was worth if their cover was blown. And how could it not, given that Adam was now talking about pairings, with a smile on his face and in a tone in his voice, that suggested that he was about to suggest that she and Harry should be paired together. Which made sense, if only she could get past the reality that they already were - paired that was, in every sense of the word, and had been for several weeks.
She wasn't a field agent, she wasn't trained for this, not really, and to make matters worse, 'isn't Malcolm coming with us?' from Jo, was answered when the one person that Ruth could be sure wouldn't make a meal out of their new situation if he found out, walked in with his arm in a sling, having slipped on some spilt coffee and broken two of his fingers. Dying now felt like a good option if only she had the courage. But then Harry would get upset and she couldn't let that happen.
'What's the dress code for the weekend?' Asked Jo, in an attempt to break the tension, only to be twisted into another reason for amusement by Ros, who chipped in with, 'is there any chance we'll be going commando?'
Harry wanted to say 'oh for goodness sake children' but found that he couldn't, as images of thrashing about in the undergrowth with a near naked Ruth, were turning his ears pink, and his mouth to open and close at will. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Adam, who'd read the memo and was beginning to realise that this was spiralling out of control and he needed to stop it. A fun weekend in prospect it might be, but it did have a serious side and he was buggered if he was going to let the French or the Germans get the better of his team. And why the hell had they invited the Italians and the Spanish? To make up the numbers he supposed.
'Pass these around please,' he asked Jo, who by this time was grasping for diversion tactics by complaining that she'd got a stiff neck. Another reason for amusement, as the now completely on-board Ros asked if she wanted it rubbed? At which point Ruth looked as though she was about to flee the room and caused Harry to start grinding his teeth.
Things had calmed down a little during the course of the afternoon, during which time Adam had run through the programme for the weekend, supervised the issue of their combat clothing and equipment and resumed some sort of control over his team. Unfortunately, there was no doubt that Ruth being a desk spook was going to be the weak link in the chain, so it had made sense to have paired her with Harry. If two out of the three couples, namely him with Jo, and Zaf with Ros, could make it through what looked to be an exacting two night course to the finish line, or in this instance what was described as beyond bombardment, an expression which had made Ruth visibly shrink to the point of extinction and Ros to preen. Then maybe just maybe they'd avoid coming in last, with his considerable pride still intact.
That wasn't to say that he was any less intrigued by Ruth's apparent change of mind and what was now an obvious relationship with his boss. After what had been a difficult couple of months, he was looking forward to a weekend away and getting to know his team better. According to the programme, time off to relax would amount to one evening when they could do what they liked? Casual clothing with no rank or status, they were all going to be treated as equals. Casual in terms of clothing, meant that Harry would have to forgo his stiff upper lip tendency and become one of the lads for the weekend, and Ruth was hardly going to be racing about in one of her long skirts? They might even get to see her legs.
'It might not be too bad, we might even enjoy it,' Harry was still trying to convince a nervous Ruth, when they were sitting side by side on the sofa, having done their 'time off duty' packing and were waiting for the car to arrive, staring at the picture of the military establishment where they were going to be staying. No luxury spared I see, he'd grumbled to Adam, when he'd pointed out that it would involve a lot of sharing. Him now dressed entirely in black which was matching his mood, and Ruth wearing a figure - hugging red jumper and jeans, that up until now only he had been privileged to see, he didn't want to share under any circumstances. Especially with a group of randy French and Italians.
If it wasn't for the fact that the coach that was going to drive them to Brize Norton for their onward flight to Freiburg, contained a trunk full of the previously mentioned combat clothing and a considerable arsenal from Malcolm's box of tricks, they could have easily been mistaken for the couple they now were, but going on a pleasant holiday.
Except that there was no chance of that as the doorbell rang and Harry's 'we'll be fine sweetheart,' Ruth very much doubted.