Harry's mood was changeable, and the team learnt quickly not to take it too personally. Of course this was personal, for him at least, and to a lesser extent to them all. They worked under stressful conditions with Ruth, some of them had been doing so for years. Co-workers were often as close as they came to friends. And of course they were encouraged to date each other, though none of them had considered this option with Ruth…except perhaps Harry?
He sat at his desk, busily trying to call in as many favours as he could justify, in order to speed up the search. But nobody really knew where to begin, and with so little leads left behind at the house, it was rather futile.
The team assembled in the meeting room, it was time for an update.
Sam led the first section of the meeting:
"The Truth Athletes. Who are they? Well that depends…" She started.
Harry interrupted quickly: 'Can we stop playing guessing games before we start and maybe you could just tell us?' He snapped.
Sam looked taken aback; she hadn't been expecting such a direct hit aimed at her. But she composed herself immediately. 'Yes. Sorry Harry.'
"What we know is that they claim to be a group who dislike the media attention the Olympic Games has had. There were a few red herrings thrown in to the websites, stuff about schools and youth centres, but they were all created fairly recently and made to look older. I think the Olympic stadium may be a target, of course we can't rule out the youth centres and schools angle, but their language used is far too grand to just be small time anti-sports fanatics. I think our best bet of finding Ruth lies somewhere in the Olympics 'arena'."
Harry shot her a scathing look for trying to be light-hearted. Sam sat down.
"Malcolm, where are we at with trying to trace the email?" Adam asked, deciding to take a more active part in the questioning before Harry completely desiccated the teams morale.
'Well… it was a very sophisticated system. The signal has been bounced around the world various times. It's impossible to trace. I think Sam's right. This level of expertise comes from someone very skilled, not small time. However, one thing's niggling away at me… Why would someone who has spent years of their life becoming adept with computer systems care so much about sports in the first place?'
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Go on.' He encouraged.
"Oh. Uhm. No, that was it. That was my thought in its entirety." Stumbled Malcolm.
"OK. Let's review the facts. They gave us their name. They knew we would be able to trace it so it's probably false. This whole sports angle doesn't sit right with me at all. What's their real motivation? They haven't given us any demands yet. It's still early but in cases of such high level hostage taking it's unusual. They were careful not to leave any traces behind, but they were clumsy enough to possibly break a window. What does all this mean?!" He looked around the room; he knew he was getting too emotionally involved himself now. He sat down.
"Thank you Adam. I suggest we continue doing as much work as possible whilst we wait for further instructions, or a motivation. Zaf, get down the to the Olympic stadium, talk to security guards, see if there's been any new members of staff. You know the drill." Said Harry bleakly. And with that, he stood up and left the meeting.
Harry went back to his office and sat at his desk. He found his hand reaching into his jacket pocket. He felt the smooth velvet of the small box. His thoughts were deep and complicated, but could be summed up fairly easily in one word: 'Ruth.'
A blink of the computer screen had his full attention instantly.
"Malcolm! Colin! Trace this email!" He shouted, though he knew what little good the traces had been so far.
There on his screen read the following:
"The True Athletes' communique number two. Ruth Evershed is currently unharmed. Harry Pearce must immediately return to his home. No-one must go with him. We will be watching the house. A bomb will be detonated if Harry Pearce is not at home after an hour, and Ruth may not get off so lightly. End of message."
Harry rang for a car to meet him downstairs in five minutes, and called Adam.
He explained the message quickly.
"You're not going to just go home are you? What if it's a trap? I mean, we don't even have proof of life yet…" Scoffed Adam and immediately regretted it.
Harry looked at him, was that anger or fear in his eyes though? Adam couldn't tell.
'I've got a feeling this is the only way we're going to discover what's really going on here.' Replied Harry in a level voice. 'Wait twenty minutes, then follow me. Park at the end of the road.'
"I should go with you, in case they've rigged the place or something.' Fought back Adam.
'No. They say they're watching and at this point we have to believe them. Wait out of sight.' Harry replied, before leaving the grid with haste.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Twenty minutes after Harry got home, he received a call from a withheld number, and using a voice synthesiser:
"There is a gun pointed at Ruth Evershed. Call off your guard dog." And then it hung up.
Harry phoned Adam and told him to return to the grid. He did so, grudgingly.
'Interesting.' Thought Harry. 'No mention of the bomb.'
He called the grid to update them and to direct Colin to run a trace on his phone, just in case. And then, he sat back in his chair, and silently took a sip of a stiff drink.
