Seven:
Protocols and Perversions

"Do you mind I'm putting you in charge of shopfloor-level on this op, Erin?" Ruth inquired. They were in the ladies' loo, putting on the finishing touches of their hair and makeup for the diplomatic reception. Beth had already finished and moved out to the Grid to ensure that Tariq and Calum had everything ready for the audio monitoring and video bugs.

"No, I don't mind at all," Erin replied cheerfully, blotting her lipstick. "By the way, whoever chose that dress for you deserves a raise. Sir Harry's eyes are going to bug out of his head when he sees you."

"Harry's eyes bug out if I'm wearing flannelette pajamas," Ruth sighed, "so that's not exactly a good judgment on anything, tell the truth."

Erin smiled and said, "It's nice to be wanted for the sake of it, though, isn't it?" She took a deep breath and said, "Ruth, Jim Coaver is going to be at the reception as part of the American delegation."

"You cannot just whisk him off for a chat," Ruth said firmly. "The truth about the communiqués is simple: it would not be Harry sending them, and the only other two candidates were Coaver and Elena Gavrik. Harry admitted that he'd slipped up in giving Elena the codes at one point, so she could communicate information freely. Coaver was the other point of contact, so of course he knew Harry's codes. But that's where it stops. So it's either Coaver pretending to be Harry – which I don't think is likely – or Elena Gavrik pretending to call Harry to her aid in order to set him up… which I find to be the more likely scenario." She finished lining her eyes in dark charcoal, then lined her inner rims with stark, matte black. Her eyes looked positively insanely blue, and she was very pleased with the result. If she could control anything about the reception, her own appearance was it.

"We need to figure out which scenario is the true one, before it's too late," Erin said in a mild tone, but there was a hint of sharpness in the actual words she'd chosen to speak. "We also don't know if they might be colluding with one another, do we? And how solid was your intelligence?"

"I trust the asset," Ruth said very quietly as she contemplated between three lip glosses. "He has everything to lose; and that's why I trust what he has to say in the face of everything."

Erin nodded and said, "All right. We've got double the team in there tonight, and we've rotated out to the backup security officers for our people – you, Harry, Towers, the morons from Six – so in case of any issues, your normal officers won't be compromised."

"Thank you," Ruth said softly, "for taking over the planning of this. I know it is a lot to cope with in a short amount of time, but –"

Erin smiled brightly. "Hey, it's okay – I'm just glad Malcolm was willing to watch Rosie for me tonight. My mum had other plans, so it's a blessing."

Ruth nodded and said, "Malcolm is marrying my mother next week. Harry and I have been invited, for obvious reasons, but I don't know if we should go." She paused, then frowned. "Worse than that, my mum – who I don't get along with – is going to be moving into my house. I'm not sure how I'm meant to feel about all of this; I said it was all right, but I don't know that it is."

"I wouldn't be worried about it tonight," Erin warned. "You might miss something important."

"I'll not be missing anything in this dress," Ruth sighed. "I have a horrible feeling that Harry's going to have to stand guard, lest I be molested by some politician or another."

Erin laughed. "You look lovely, Ruth – who did pick up that dress, anyway?"

"Hermione," Ruth replied automatically. "The DG's assistant."

"Ohhh," Erin said, nodding. "The rather crispy woman who dropped it off, then."

Ruth laughed a little. "Yes, that's the one – I think she felt rather insulted to be my personal shopper at the last minute, which is why I'm stuck with this neckline."

"It's rather flattering, actually," Erin ventured.

Ruth studied herself in the mirror. The dress was burgundy silk, sleeveless, with a low cut vee-shaped neckline. The bodice clung to every curve Ruth had, and the cut of the dress was simple and asymmetric in the drapery. The skirt was long, but there was a slit in it that came up to mid-thigh. Fortunately, the back was solid, so Ruth would only have to worry about popping out of the front side, but… it was flattering, but she was also nervous about going too far outside her comfort zone. After seeing the dress, she'd had Rose bring round a pair of gold satin pumps that had been languishing in the closet and some of the simple gold jewelry Harry had given her when they were first married, and been done with it. There was something to be said for bold simplicity.

"I guess it is," Ruth said, "but I feel like I'm on display."

"You're Lady Pearce – you are on display," Erin pointed out. "You have been since New Year's. It's all right. Take a deep breath and make certain that there's no reason for your husband to have a wandering eye tonight. Harry taking a shine to Elena Gavrik again could be disastrous."

"He won't," Ruth said automatically, but in the back of her mind, she had doubts. Elena was glamorous and flash where Ruth was plain and preferred simplicity. Elena was unencumbered; Ruth had children running her ragged outside of work. Elena had known the same pleasures of intimacy with Harry that Ruth had shared, so was it even a level playing field to begin with? No matter how many times Ruth told herself that Harry loved her and would never leave her, there was always that niggling little voice in her head that called it out like a lie.

Erin nodded. "Thank you for taking me into confidence on the nature of their relationship," she said. "It will make protection angles easier to determine."

"So you've already said," Ruth murmured in a hollow tone, finally settling on a simple nude & gold shimmer lip gloss. Once she'd finished her makeup, she turned away from the mirror and said, "We'd best go. Harry will be waiting for me."

"And I best get to the venue for final checks," Erin replied.

Ruth nodded and left the restroom. She got her clutch (big enough to hold her lipgloss, cellphone, the portable transmitter for her surveillance bugs, and her work-issued pistol) and the matching black silk wrap to go with her dress, and headed for the seventh floor. She was vaguely aware of Tariq and Calum watching her as she walked by, but she didn't care.

She stepped out of the elevator and strode serenely down the corridor to Harry's office, bypassing many glass-walled offices. She could feel judgmental gazes upon her, but the only person whose judgment mattered was Harry's.

Harry and Hermione were just coming out of his inner office with several files, talking, when she arrived at Hermione's desk. "And can you see that my wife is at least getting ready?" Harry sighed, frowning a bit.

"Your wife is ready and waiting to straighten your bow tie," Ruth replied cheerfully.

Harry looked up and he gaped at her for a moment before he closed his mouth and blinked. "Ruth, you look –"

"Oh, I knew that gown would look lovely on you!" Hermione exclaimed. "Lady Pearce, you will be the best-dressed woman at the reception."

Ruth pursed her lips together. "Probably not," she said, "but I certainly appreciate the sentiment." She glanced at Harry, and said, "Mr. Director General, you might want to breathe before you pass out."

Harry barked out a laugh, then murmured, "Ruth, you look amazing."

"And you look very smart, aside from that crooked bow tie," she sighed. "Get over here." He presented himself for inspection and she gently adjusted his tie. "There. Much better." Ruth rose up on her toes to whisper into his ear, "I can't resist you in white tie, Harry."

He made a small noise that she recognized well; repressed longing, desire, want… "We shall stay at the party long enough to fulfill our duty, then we'll make our excuses and go home," Harry promised gruffly, his voice strangely taut with emotion that was at odds with the need in his eyes.

"No," Ruth said gently, "we'll be there for the duration, for my duties lay longer than yours. But when we go home, I know you have every intention of whisking me upstairs and doing deliciously naughty things to me." She winked at him, enjoying the surprise on his face. "Come on – the car is waiting for us, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said simply, retrieving their invitations from the hand of the smirking Hermione. "Let's away, my dear."


They were far from the first – or the last – to arrive. Ruth was glad that they were somewhere in the middle of the pack; it gave her a chance to eye the surveillance team and make sure they were doing their job. It also gave her an opportunity to observe many of the economic summit's delegates as they schmoozed their way around the ballroom.

She remained on Harry's arm, listening half-heartedly to her team as they bantered about the way one of the Italian Trade Ministers was chasing after the daughter of the Austrian Foreign Minister – who happened to be his plus one for the event. Ruth had to hide a smile; only Dimitri would be able to sound so scathing about the girl leading the Trade Minister on while he was busy admiring the cleavage the neckline of her gown showed off.

Harry stopped before Julian and his wife and said, "In-Su, it is a pleasure to see you again so soon."

Julian looked him up and down, then nodded. "Sir Harry," he greeted, "Lady Ruth."

Harry shook Julian's hand; Ruth saw the small piece of paper switch hands, and she smiled brightly. Harry was taking her advice and attempting to mend the tattered, almost non-existent relationship between him and his brother – the piece of paper held their home address and phone number, and an invitation to tea on Sunday. She hadn't told him of Julian's plans to defect, because it wasn't her place. But she was insistent that he at least make an effort.

Julian, for his part, didn't even react. He was a good spy, and had been a spy longer even than Harry had been. There wasn't even a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Mi-Cha smiled and embraced Ruth as one would greet a beloved sister. "Your dress is nearly as beautiful as you are," Mi-Cha praised. "I am glad to see you; please walk around the room with me, Lady Ruth." Once they had stepped away from the men, she leaned in and murmured, "I thought we best leave them to sort themselves out."

Ruth smiled a little and nodded. "I was thinking much the same thing; will In-Su's pride allow him to allow an agreement to Harry's invitation?"

"Maybe," Mi-Cha said with a small smile. "But my pride will not allow such an invitation to be turned down." The smile widened and she added, "Besides, we will be adjourning to Scotland at the conclusion of the summit to see my mother and brother."

Ruth reacted with surprise. "You're British?"

Mi-Cha laughed. "My father was a businessman; he met my mother in Glasgow. We have been quite happy traveling back and forth to see one another for a long time, now." Her smile grew and she added, "You are shocked that In-Su and I would meet and fall in love with our similar backgrounds?"

"Just a little –"

"We met at university," Mi-Cha explained. "We had more in common than anyone else, and we fell in love very quickly and deeply. We've had no reason to question that love, even when times were hard between us."

Ruth nodded and said very quietly, "That's how it is between Harry and myself, as well."

Mi-Cha nodded. "He loves you very deeply, Ruth. I am glad you are happy, and that you are my sister-in-law. Carole can be a bit of a twat, but you seem lovely."

Ruth smiled and accepted a glass of champagne from Dimitri, who was posing as a waiter. She took a second one for Mi-Cha, and said, "Thank you, Mi-Cha. I shall endeavor forever to be less of a twat than my husband's sister." The two women clinked glasses and laughed as they sipped the champagne.

Elena Gavrik came up to them. "Mrs. Cho, Lady Pearce, we've not made our acquaintance yet," Elena said in a soft, melodic but cold tone.

"Mrs. Gavrik," Ruth acknowledged, relegating Elena to merely the ornament hanging on her husband's arm. "Mrs. Cho, this is the wife of the Russian Economic Minister, Elena Gavrik."

"You two know one another?" Mi-Cha inquired, seemingly ready to spring into action of needs be.

"By reputation only," Elena said with a smirk. "The wife of the great Harry Pearce must be accorded respect for managing his temper."

"I manage nothing," Ruth replied, smiling wanly. "Harry is his own man, and I my own woman. We always have been." She looked the Russian woman up and down, hating the way Elena's dress was so much more glamorous and tighter than hers was; her flaming red hair was clearly out of a bottle, but Ruth felt so plain next to her.

Her unease must have been apparent because Elena commented, "I think you should fire your tailor; that hem is dragging upon the floor."

Ruth flushed bright red and snapped, "Mrs. Gavrik, insulting me is not the best way to go about securing my assistance in the matter your son brought to my attention."

Elena's composure slipped and Ruth saw sudden worry and regret in the woman's eyes. "You are seeing to it?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Ruth said, her tone becoming frosty. There was something about the woman that she could not shake; something dire, bad… it fed into Ruth's suspicions relating to the communiqués. Elena Gavrik was smooth and silken like a snake moving through the sand. "Harry has left it up to me to proceed as I see fit."

Relief lit up Elena's face. "Oh, thank god," she exclaimed. "I was afraid he would do something stupid."

Ruth felt sick for a moment; the woman clearly had already condoned her son's actions as far as breaking into their home and holding their daughter hostage. Had she sanctioned murder to make a point? "Mrs. Cho, shall we rejoin our husbands?" Ruth asked, purposefully not inviting Elena. "I'm certain they will forgive our absence."

Anything to put distance between Ruth and Elena was a good thing. The woman was making her skin crawl, and Ruth's instincts were rarely wrong.

She knew Elena would feel slighted by the sudden retreat; she knew there would be backlash, or at the very least, more unpleasantries hurtled at her later in the evening. But Ruth didn't care, so long as she got away from the Russian woman.

Ruth rejoined Harry and all but huddled up against him. Public displays of affection weren't their strong suit, so he knew something was wrong immediately, and his arm came around her, holding her close to him. "Are you all right?" Harry asked very quietly.

"No," Ruth replied in an equally soft tone.

He glanced down at her and frowned. "Ruth?"

"Ignore me," she advised. "I'm just being silly."

"You are no such thing," he said. "In-Su, Mi-Cha, please excuse us a moment." He led Ruth off by one of the windows and whispered, "What happened?"

"Your ex is a piece of work," Ruth replied. "She has no remorse for Sasha's behavior and she makes me feel physically ill at ease. There's something not right with her, Harry."

"Why do you think I burned her?" he asked anxiously. His hand came up to gently caress her face lightly where the bruise was still marring her jaw beneath her makeup. "I won't allow you to be harmed again."

"Harry, there are things that will happen, regardless of your intentions," Ruth said, bringing him down for a gentle kiss. "But I need you to listen to my warning: Elena Gavrik is not what she seems to be. I don't trust her or her son."

"Neither do I," he admitted, reassuring her with another gentle, tender kiss. "She's watching us, by the way – she probably assumes that you're weak and needy, coming to me for reassurance that I love you more than her… when nothing could be further from the truth. You don't need reassurance of my devotion, Ruth. I would not have committed to there being an 'us' if I did not love you completely, with all of my heart. Elena was a mistake of my youth; I shan't be repeating that mistake."

Ruth nodded. "I know," she whispered.

"And you are the most beautiful woman in this room," he said ever so softly.

"I love you," she said quietly.

"I adore you," he replied.

"Adoration and love don't always walk hand in hand –"

"Saying 'I love you' becomes words that are spoken, not necessarily with intent," Harry argued gently. "I adore you, I worship at your altar, I would die happily in your arms after making love till my heart gives out, Ruth – that is so much more than a mere 'I love you'."

She blushed and smiled. "Yes, that's true enough," she agreed.

"And, yes, I do love you."

"Having a little assignation in the corner, Harry?" Towers boomed as he sidled up, a glass of wine in hand. "Oh, hello, Lady Pearce…"

Ruth blushed again; was she really so unrecognizable? "Home Secretary," she greeted softly.

"Now, when will you allow me the liberty of scooping you up and depositing you in an office at Whitehall?" Towers asked a little overeagerly. "Harry's been keeping you under lock and key for far too long –"

"I've done no such thing, and you should lower your voice before you create a diplomatic incident," Harry hissed.

"I'm quite happy in my current function," Ruth murmured to Towers. "I will let you know if that changes, Home Secretary."

Tower's gaze darkened a bit. "Ah, well… pity. I could use a good mind on my side –"

"You've got many capable advisors," Harry growled.

At that moment, Ruth realized that Towers was all but staring down her cleavage. "Home Secretary, I'm afraid that you and I will never see eye to eye on policy," she said, and his gaze returned to her face. "But thank you for the kind job offer."

"If you ever feel undervalued and unappreciated –"

"Oh, Home Secretary," Ruth sighed, "that's what I have children and grandchildren for."

Towers all but stumbled over himself, attempting to get away before Harry planted a fist in his face. Ruth took Harry's hand and gently rubbed circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, calming him. "I love you," she assured him. "Only you. Always you, Harry."

He exhaled angrily. "What the hell was that – couldn't he even attempt to hide that he was ogling you?"

"He was trying to assert his dominance over you," she said. "It's that simple. And I won't allow him to play you like that; you have no reason to be upset or jealous."

Over her earpiece, Ruth heard Erin say, "Ruth, Gavrik is speaking to Jim Coaver. You and Harry need to break up their little party or there might be blood spilt."

Ruth blinked three times, getting Harry's attention. She turned her head, inclining it slightly in the direction of Ilya Gavrik and Jim Coaver. Then she looked back at Harry with rapt fascination, murmuring, "Duty calls, my love. We need to break up their little party before it becomes a full scale war."

He sighed deeply and said, "Needs must, Ruth."

She was about to pull away from him when he tugged her back and kissed her with more passion than was strictly necessary. "What… what was that for?" Ruth breathed against his lips.

"Elena is watching," he murmured back, kissing her ever so gently. "She needs to know she will not come between us."

"Oh," she breathed, slightly disappointed in his ulterior motives.

"But also," he added, "because I want you to know how sexy you are, and how much you captivate me."

"Ruth, now!" Erin added insistently in Ruth's ear. "Stop making out with Harry and make a move."

Ruth grabbed Harry by the hand and practically dragged him away from the corner. "Jim," she called in a sweetly saccharine voice, "Harry is being such a boer – how good it is to see you again."

Coaver blinked, then blinked again. "Ruth… Lady Pearce," he said, "good to see you, too. Minister Gavrik and I were just –"

"Having a difference of opinion when it relates to the majesties of the Ukraine," Ilya Gavrik said.

"Of course," Harry said, eyeing Gavrik. "The Ukraine is lovely, but I prefer Sebastapol and Yalta, if I have to be in Russian territories."

Ruth cringed; of course, he'd been to Russia more than once, and she knew it had the potential to backfire. "Love, you haven't introduced me to…" She gestured carelessly at Gavrik.

"Ilya Alexandovich Gavrik," Gavrik supplied with an amused smile. "Harry and I used to lose sleep over one another's exploits." Ruth felt a wave of disgust when Gavrik looked her up and down, his gaze settling on the swell of her hips, the curve of her belly, for just a moment too long.

"Ilya, you've not met my wife," Harry grunted in a rather ungentlemanly fashion. Truth told, neither had Jim Coaver, but Ruth was infamous in spy circles, so Coaver at least knew of her. "Ruth, this is the Russian Economic Minister, Ilya Gavrik. Ilya, Lady Ruth Pearce."

She tittered about, trying to look like she was far more interested in Ilya's diplomatic clout than she was; fortunately, Harry knew what she was doing. And when Elena joined them, Coaver excused himself. "Elena, you remember Harry Pearce from Berlin…" Ilya began.

"Of course," Elena said. "One remembers incredibly virile men when one is young –"

Ilya flinched and drew away from her. "Don't play your games," he muttered in a low, angry tone. "I am not in the mood."

"So you know about the affair," Harry said very quietly.

"I always did," Ilya said curtly. "I have forgiven, but not forgotten."

Elena looked at Ruth with a bitter smile. "See what Harry does?" she asked. "He comes through and leaves chaos in his wake."

Ruth glared at her. "He does no such thing," she said firmly.

There was a long moment, drawn into darkness, before an impasse was agreed to by all parties. Ruth and Harry retreated first, not a sign of weakness, but rather a sign of knowing when to walk away. Ruth's stomach was in knots, and she was shaking with adrenaline and something that might have been fear if she'd looked at it much closer than she had. Harry's touch didn't calm her.

Something was not right.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong…

They were refreshing their glasses of wine when the unthinkable happened.

The noise came first, then a percussive wave. Suddenly, the floor rose up, the walls closed in, and pieces of debris came down in huge chunks, along with support beams.

Harry threw himself across Ruth, pulling her under the refreshments table, and she prayed that it was strong enough to hold up if the building came apart completely. Something heavy hit the table above them; she hoped to god it wasn't a person.

It was only after sudden silence reigned that she realized that she was still alive, and so was Harry. They were both covered in dust and debris, and she heard Erin's choking voice spluttering, "Ruth… Ruth…" in her earpiece.

"I'm here," Ruth choked out as Harry's hands came up to cup her cheeks and ascertain if she was all right. He had a nasty looking gash on his head and his tie was hopelessly askew like a windmill in disarray. "The Director General is with me."

Erin said, "Elena Gavrik. She's… she's dead. Blown to bits. The bomb was in her bag."

Harry was kissing Ruth's neck, nuzzling her, whispering tearful, frightened things. "Harry, it was Elena," Ruth whispered. "The bomb was in her purse."

He pulled away and flinched. "Oh god –"

"Where are you?" Erin asked anxiously. "We need to get you out of here immediately. The medics are on the way and the Met –"

"I'm under the table," Ruth exhaled. "The wine table."

Everything seemed slower than it was; even with training preparing her for the possibility of things like this, she still cried horrified tears at the smear of blood and bits everywhere that had been Elena and Ilya Gavrik. In-Su and Mi-Cha were in the far corner, relatively unharmed, and other diplomatic couples seemed to be unharmed, as well.

It was in that moment, when everyone left on her team looked at Ruth for guidance and she had none to give, that she knew. She knew without a shadow of doubt.

Ruth looked at Harry, and said, "Director General, with all due respect… I resign."

END PART SEVEN