Home Office, London

Ruth stares at Erin, speechless. That is the last name she expected to hear. A flush creeps up her neck as she says, "And here I was thinking that you wanted me for my professional ability."
Towers winces at the barb. "Ruth, just-"
"No!" she says vehemently, before taking a breath and continuing more calmly. "The only reason you want to use me is because of the personal connection between Harry and myself." She turns to Erin. "And in any case, why would you doubt Harry?"
The spook watches her closely, and chooses her words carefully. "Because we have had many a retired officer, unable to cope with life outside of the Service, come with fabricated offers of information in an attempt to get back into the fold."
There is an uncomfortable silence until Ruth says, "And you think Harry is one of these."
Once again Erin glances at Towers before she answers. "Personally? No. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing he would do. But then I've never met the man, and have learnt the hard way that it is dangerous to judge an officer on his reputation alone. We have to be sure, and you are best placed to make that judgement."
Ruth turns to Towers, her expression almost pleading, and his heart goes out to her. "Ms Watts informs me it will only be one meeting. You question him about Mughniyah, and give your honest opinion whether the information is real, and that's it." He takes a step towards her. "It's important. Relations with our American cousins have cooled somewhat of late, but if we can deliver this man to them, it will go a long way in patching it up."
Ruth looks down at her hands; she understands the importance of the operation, but she is a little resentful of the manner in which he and Erin ambushed her into it. He is more like Harry than he knows, she thinks savagely, before she gives a curt nod.

- 0 –

Next day
The Embankment, London

Ruth takes her time to make her way to the meeting spot, trying to sort through her own feelings. It is an impossible task. She is nervous, not only about her ability to make a sound judgement of the situation as asked, but also about the reception she is likely to get. There is so much unsaid, so much unresolved between her and Harry, and she is more confused than ever. Time and distance has not clarified anything for her; it has not dampened her feelings for Harry, and it has not tempered her conviction that it can never work.

She spots him from a long way off and her steps slow involuntarily. He is seated on a bench, looking out over the Thames pensively. She studies his profile, takes note of the darker hue of his skin. The morning sun catches his hair, cut short and neat, and it glints gold in the rays. There is a little more grey interspersed than she remembers. He is casually but fastidiously dressed in jeans, button-down blue shirt and dark jacket.
He looks good.
The realisation comes to her suddenly and gives her pause. She is somewhat ashamed; deep down, she expected him to struggle out in the real world. It formed a large part of her argument against a shared future for the two of them, but standing there, looking at his lovely face, she is forced to contemplate the possibility that she may have got it wrong. With that thought very much at the forefront of her mind, she forces her feet into motion again and covers the last few metres separating them.

Harry looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps, and she sees the shock plainly on his face at the sight of her. But it is only visible for a split-second, before he carefully wipes away any expression and stands. When she looks into his eyes, though, they are a maelstrom of intense emotion, and she has to force herself not to look away.
"Hello, Harry," she says as she comes to a stop in front of him, her voice a tad hoarse.
"Ruth, this is a surprise," he responds gruffly. His eyes sweep the street behind her once, then again, before they return to her and travel over her slowly. It is such an uncharacteristic move on his part that she immediately understands. He is not ogling her.
"I'm not wired, and there is no surveillance," she says, striving to keep her voice even.
His eyes come back to hers and a strained smile lifts the corners of his mouth. "I would be very surprised – and a little disappointed in my replacement - if that were the case," he states, but there is no resentment in the words. He knows how it works.
He looks even better up close and her next words are out before she truly realises what she is saying. "It's good to see you, Harry."
The comment catches him off-guard, and he watches her wordlessly for endless seconds. At last he says softly, "I would be rather surprised if that were true as well."
The words sting and she looks away, unable to cope with the intensity of his hazel eyes, so very beautiful in the morning light. She hears him sigh softly and then he says, "Shall we sit? Easier for the watchers to monitor our conversation than if we walk."
Ruth looks back at him, about to reiterate that there is no surveillance, but lets it go. Perhaps he is right; perhaps there is surveillance that she was not informed about. He stands, waiting until she sits at one end of the bench, before he settles himself on the other end. The gap between them feels as wide as the Atlantic.

"I assume that your presence here indicates that there is doubt as to the veracity of the information I'm offering," he says, his eyes guarded.
He knows, she thinks, that she has been sent here to unsettle him. It was a stupid idea; they should never have tried it. She should have known better. He was too good a spook to be caught out by this.
"It was a mistake," she acknowledges, meeting his unwavering scrutiny head-on.
His eyes narrow slightly, and after a beat he relents. "It's what I would have done," he confides with a quirk of the mouth. "Ms Watts has potential."
His knowledge of everything that has changed since he left somehow does not surprise her, and she smiles slightly in return. "Hmm. William- the Home Secretary seems to think so."
There is a slight tensing in his shoulders at her slip, and he turns his head away, looking back out over the river. He doesn't like the fact that she is using Towers' first name, she realises, and is caught unawares by the warmth that spreads through her abdomen at the thought. When he speaks, his voice is curt and it strengthens her suspicion; his feelings for her are as strong as ever.
"Well, let's cut to the chase, shall we? No use dragging things out unnecessarily."
She has a sudden urge to take his hand, to comfort him, but she doesn't. She has made her bed, she must sleep in it. Instead she says, "For the record, I don't doubt you. You would never bring information you know is false. You're too much of a patriot for that."
He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, but doesn't respond to her comment. He simply begins to tell his story.

"A few days ago, during a visit to my daughter in Israel, I became aware that I was being followed. When an opportunity arose I… confronted the man."
He glances at her, and the knowing look on her face tells him she probably knows exactly what he means.
"It was Jamil Berbera, Imad Mughniyah's second-in-command in Hezbollah before they both disappeared without trace."
Ruth frowns. "Big risk for a Hezbollah operative to move around openly in Israel."
"Indeed. He looks quite different now," he adds in explanation, before continuing. "Back in the eighties I met with him on one occasion during negotiations for the release of a British citizen they were holding hostage."
A smile escapes as Ruth says, "Ah yes, it was during the time Margaret Thatcher used you as her personal errand boy, wasn't it?"
Harry lifts an eyebrow, and Ruth realises belatedly that she has just given away the fact that she has looked at his personnel file. His classified personnel file. He doesn't comment on it.
"Berbera said he was in Israel to seek medical help for his granddaughter. He recognised me and saw an opportunity."
He looks at her. "He offered to give up Mughniyah in exchange for medical care for the girl in the West."

Ruth waits, but Harry says nothing more. Silence settles over them and she takes her time to think through the information. Somehow, sitting in silence with him never discomfits her, and she seldom has the urge to fill the silence with inane words the same way she does when with other people.
"Do you believe him?" she asks at length.
Harry nods. "I do."
"Could be a trap. It would be quite a coup to capture a senior British Intelligence officer," she ventures, and Harry glances at her.
"Former senior British Intelligence officer," he corrects, and she drops her gaze.
"If that were his aim," he continues, "why not snatch me right then? Why give me a chance to put safety measures in place before the next meeting?"
She inclines her head, acknowledging the logic behind his argument.
"What's wrong with the girl?"
"They don't know," Harry responds. "Apparently she is in constant pain, and is losing weight rapidly. She can't eat anything without getting sick."
Ruth's heart goes out to the child as Harry continues, "His desperation was palpable when he talked about her. The offer is real."

Her gaze follows a lone man walking his dog along the opposite bank whilst she mulls things over. Intelligence is seldom a certain business, and she knows it will be impossible to know for sure. What they will have to decide, is whether the possible reward outweighs the obvious risks.
"How will it work?" she asks eventually, and feels him relax slightly. "Will he give us the location only after the girl has been treated?"
Harry shakes his head. "He is willing to deliver Mughniyah first, and in return we will treat the girl."
He sees her surprise. "Like I said, he is desperate."
"So he is going to rely on us keeping our word, just like that?" she asks incredulously, and he smiles thinly.
"Not quite. He wants to take me to meet his mysterious boss, and I can wear a tracker." He pauses. "I'm his security policy," he adds quietly.
Ruth stares at him, shocked and alarmed. The danger he will be in doesn't bear thinking about. "Harry-" she begins, but he cuts her off.
"I'm willing to do it. I believe Berbera," he reiterates, "and I think I will be safe as long as everyone sticks to the agreement. So talk to Towers and Ms Watts, and let me know what they decide. I assume they'll want to allocate a babysitter, and that's fine. But tell them," he says, leaning towards her and pinning her in his gaze, "that the offer is only good for the next week. After that it will probably be too late for the child."
He stands, and looks down at her. "It was good to see you, Ruth. I hope Towers is worthy of your talents."
With that, he turns and begins to walk away, and something inside her dies a little.
"Harry!"
He stops and turns back, eyes wary and weary.
"I meant what I said, about trusting you," she says quickly, and a shadow crosses his face.
He weighs his words carefully before he responds. "I wonder if you realise," he says slowly, "that your professional trust in me is based on years of working closely with me. You know the man who sat in that office inside and out. But you've never allowed yourself to get to know the man that I am outside the office. I do wonder, some days, what would happen if you ever allowed yourself to do so?" He gazes at her, eyes infinitely gentle, before he nods slightly and walks away. And she is left alone on the bench, with only the echo of his words as company.

- 0 –

Half an hour later
The Grid

When Ruth is led into the conference room, she is met by the sight of Erin, Dimitri and the Home Secretary gathered around the table. And on the screen at the end of the room, an image of Harry and herself seated on the bench. So Harry was right about the surveillance. She takes her time to make her way to a chair and once seated, says somewhat snippily, "I see you don't need a report from me. You've already heard every word."
Erin smoothly ignores her attitude. "Yes, we heard. But we still need your impression."
Ruth's gaze lifts to Dimitri, who smiles regretfully. She wonders what he thinks about the personal bits of the conversation between Harry and herself. He had a ringside seat, after all, to the events surrounding John Bateman and the Albany file; had seen what Harry was willing to do to save her. She swallows.
"You heard my impression," she says wearily. "I trust his professional judgement."
"That hasn't always been the case," Erin remarks, watching Ruth closely.
Ruth glares at her mutinously, but says nothing, and Erin moves on after a beat.
"So you think the offer is real."
"…I think Harry believes the offer is real. It's impossible for me to say any more than that based on the available information," she responds, ever the analyst but feeling like a traitor all the same.

Towers now weighs into the conversation. "This could be the currency we need to strengthen the weakening relations with the Americans. They've been looking for this man for almost thirty years."
Erin nods, and Ruth smiles cynically. She knows that Towers is right; the level of trust between the two countries have weakened of late, what with the Prime Minister's attempts to stake Britain's independence on the international playing field. But still, she feels that Erin is capitulating a tad too quickly to the politician's wishes.
"So we go ahead," the Section Head says, looking at Dimitri. "I'll liaise with the Cousins, set up the operational details."
"Do you think it's wise to include the Americans from the start?" Ruth asks, concerned. She's not sure she wants to entrust Harry's safety to the gung-ho approach normally adopted by the CIA when it comes to terrorism. "Would it not be better to handle the operation ourselves, and simply deliver Mughniyah to them once we have him?"
Erin looks to Towers, who states firmly, "I think we should leave the operational details to the spooks, Ruth. Let's you and I return to the Home Office and let them do their dark work undisturbed."
She stares at him, rendered speechless by his patronising tone. Anger flares bright behind her eyes and she snaps, "You're going to gamble with Harry's life, so I would like to know that everything is being done to safeguard him."
It is Dimitri who answers. "I promise you that every effort will be made to keep him safe, Ruth." He turns to Erin. "Who's going to babysit?"
And all of a sudden Ruth sees her chance. "I will."

tbc