Ruth can find no excuse for not going back to Harry's house with him. To be together on the night of the operation they had planned together seems like a natural extension of the operation itself. They are debriefing; it's just that they have chosen Harry's house and Harry's bed as the venue for the debriefing.
They have showered separately, and are lying next to one another under the duvet. There will be no sex on this night, and perhaps not for the next few nights. Harry has given in, and taken two codeine tablets. He groans, the codeine not yet having taken effect, his mind focusing on the pain in his chest each time he breathes in.
"Bloody ribs," he says. "They're as annoying as toothache."
"Harry …... can I ask you something?"
"Mmm. Of course."
They are lying side by side on their backs, and before she again speaks, Ruth grasps his hand in her own.
"Why did you call Pablo's bluff? It could have ended very badly indeed."
Ruth waits while Harry breathes in and out a few times, his breath laboured. She is sure she can feel his pain in her own chest.
"He annoyed me," Harry says at last. "His stupid mind games were wasting valuable time, and I wanted him to know that I wasn't impressed by him."
"And that could have got you killed," Ruth says, rather more snappishly than she'd intended. "You can't afford to get annoyed with someone who has the numbers on you, Harry. Would it have hurt you to have pretended to be impressed by him?"
"I'm sick of pretending, Ruth. I didn't want to stand there all night, playing word games, stroking the little shit's ego, while he decided whether to give me more information."
"Your job was to gather that information …... by any means."
"You do remember that I'm your boss, Ruth."
"Not while we're in bed, you're not."
Harry smiles into the dark. Playing the Boss card clearly only impresses Ruth while they're at work. "I got the information. I just …..."
"Got more than you'd bargained for."
"Yes."
"Did you know Zaf and the others were close by?"
"Yes. I hadn't known how close Stuart was, though. If not for him …..."
They lapse into silence. After a while, Ruth notices Harry's thumb running back and forth along the ring she still wears on her left hand.
"Are you still wearing your ring?" she asks.
"Yes. I hadn't wanted to remove it. It's been like a …... a -"
"Talisman?"
"Yes."
"We'll have to take them off before we go back on the Grid tomorrow."
"I know," he agrees. "Imagine the fuss were we to still be wearing them."
They lie in silence for some minutes, Harry's thumb still gliding over the surface of Ruth's ring, when Ruth speaks.
"Harry …..."
"Yes."
"What now?"
He hesitates before answering. "You mean us, don't you?"
"I'm not talking about the operation. I'm imagining it will be tied up rather soon."
"Within the next day or so hopefully."
"Well?"
Harry attempts turning his body to face Ruth, but she sees the pain on his face, and gently pushes him back against his pillow. Harry sighs heavily.
"Do you not want an us, Ruth?"
"No! I thought you said that us becoming …..."
"Intimate?"
"Yes …... intimate. I understood you to say that this would mean something to you."
"And it does, Ruth. When we're here – like this – this is my whole world. Just you and me. That's all I want …... but …..."
"Tell me."
Harry turns his head this time, and sees the fear in Ruth's face. He lifts his hand from hers, and brings it from under the duvet, where he very gently caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"I don't have all the answers, Ruth. All I know is that we should not encroach on our working relationship …... which is where we began."
"I'm not sure that even makes sense, Harry."
"Nor am I."
"The relationship we have at work is part of our personal relationship. I'm not sure it's even possible to separate the two, much less keep them apart, one from the other."
Harry removes his fingers from her cheek, and smiles at her. He needs to reassure her, which is difficult enough when he's feeling healthy. He wants to turn on his side and put his arms around her, holding her close to settle her fears.
"I want this, Ruth. I want us. We need to keep going as we are at work, and spend our free time together. The rest I'm sure we can sort out as we go along."
"Is that all we have to do? Make it up as we go along?"
"There's more to it, of course, but …... Ruth, I'm tired, and …..." He glances over at Ruth, and notices tears rolling down her cheeks. Again he lifts his hand, and wipes away her tears with his fingers. Ruth gulps, and then turns towards Harry, and buries her face into his neck. With difficulty, he lifts his arm, and winds it around her.
After some minutes, she stops crying, and wipes her face with her fingers. "I just don't want you dying on some stupid operation while you're meant to be at Thames House, holding us all together."
"Is that what this has been about, Ruth?"
He feels her head move as she nods.
"You're too old to be taking on a group of men ten years your junior."
"So, you're saying I'm too old to be in the field."
"No, Harry. I'm saying that I love you, and I don't wish the next funeral I attend to be yours."
Harry finds her words sobering. "I can't give any guarantees," he says, "but I'll keep that request in mind."
"Please do."
Harry kisses the top of her head, and closes his eyes. He has to remember that when Ruth says, `I love you', she just may mean, `please don't die'. It is then that Harry realises the responsibility he has towards her. He is no longer a young man. He must lead from his office, which means he must begin to delegate.
"The bomb squad spent several hours in Whitehall overnight," Adam announces at the meeting at the Grid at midday next day. "They trawled through the basement, and then the corridors, the rest rooms..."
"Nothing," Malcolm says, looking around the meeting table at Harry, Ruth, Zaf, Adam and Jo.
"What about Pablo?" Harry asks.
"Cocky sod," Adam replies. "We didn't get a lot out of him. Knocking him around made no difference at all. He seemed to enjoy it."
"And the only electronic timing devices were found at a lockup owned by Derek Slade. We have three of them, now locked in one of our safes."
"Derek Slade must be Dex," Harry muses. "He was the one who frisked me. What about the furniture imported from The Netherlands?"
"One of them – Slade again – is building a new home for himself and his new wife," Adam says. "Several of them imported pieces of furniture on his behalf, but from a different suppliers ….. something about being a surprise for Slade's wife."
"Colin has the task of keeping tabs on all the men you met last night, Harry," Malcolm continues. "He will be examining all the usual avenues – their bank transactions and details, plus the bank transactions of their wives and partners, any activity which is out of character, any travelling in or out of the country..."
"They'll be allowed to leave the country?" Jo asks, incredulous.
"We have to give them just enough rope for them to hang themselves," replies Malcolm.
"Shouldn't this Pablo guy do time for assaulting Harry?" Jo asks, her eyes wide.
"If we locked up every person who assaulted one of us -"
"There'd be no-one left on the streets." Adam finishes Harry's sentence for him. "There's a chance he'll be put away for the threat on Whitehall, but he'll probably end up in a mental health unit. In the meantime, he's more value to us as a free man."
All eyes are on Harry as he prepares to speak. "We have to consider the possibility that what happened last night was a diversion. The absence of anything untoward in the basement of Whitehall gives me reason to think that Pablo's intention was to send us scuttling in the wrong direction."
"Did he seriously think you were about to write about his plot on your blog?"
"I believe he did, Jo. Remember that he believed me to be a journalist. While everyone who read my blog would be checking out Whitehall – the offices of MP's, as well as all the nooks and crannies in the building – he'd be setting up his real point of attack. Any ideas on that, Malcolm?"
Malcolm looks surprised at being singled out. "None, but I have thought that this chap could just be looking for his fifteen minutes of fame. He certainly doesn't appear to have a workable plan – at least, none that I can see …. yet. But there is something I think I should mention. He's had email contact with Michael Collingwood..." Malcolm coughs into his hand, his non-verbal indication that he has more to say.
"From Six?" Zaf asks.
"The very same. It's all very innocent so far …... Collingwood asking after his health …... his son, whether he has enough money. I'll keep an eye on it …... and I've given the emails to Colin, just in case they're coded. So far …... nothing, I'm afraid."
"Thank you, Malcolm," Harry says.
"In the meantime," Adam adds, "there is something more immediate on the horizon. You've all no doubt seen the signs saying Djakarta Is Coming."
Keeping one ear on Adam, Harry glances quickly at Ruth, who is sitting to his right, across the corner of the table. Throughout the meeting she has barely spoken. He hopes she is not experiencing discomfort in the workplace, now that their personal relationship has changed.
Fifteen minutes later, the others leave the meeting room, while Harry places his hand on Ruth's forearm, keeping her in her seat.
"Are we …...?" Harry asks, after the door has swung shut for the last time.
Ruth looks up at him for the first time, her eyes large. "Of course. Why do you ask?"
"It's just that you were …... quieter than usual, and …."
"I was thinking, that's all …... about Pablo …... and what a terrible waste of resources it was, sending us both undercover to find …... what?"
Harry sighs heavily. "Was it a waste of time, Ruth? We don't know yet what is really going on."
"Pablo is a fantasist, and we got drawn into his fantasy."
Harry waits, knowing he must respond in a way which will not diminish her concerns. "Perhaps we did, Ruth, but we also found each other."
Ruth's eyes flash as she looks up at him, and then her face softens. She nods, looking down at her hands. "That's hardly an issue of national importance, Harry."
"Perhaps not, but it's important to me."
"And to me," Ruth says quietly.
"Good," he says, standing and adjusting his jacket. He puts his hand at Ruth's back as she gets to her feet.
"We're fine, Harry. I thought you knew that," Ruth whispers, stepping closer to Harry, and placing a quick kiss on his lips, before stepping past him, and heading towards the door, where, with one hand on the door handle, she turns to him. "How are your ribs this morning? I forgot to ask earlier."
"They hurt a bit, but I'll survive."
"That's good," she says, watching him.
"Should you ever want out," he says quietly, "from us, then -"
"I don't, Harry. I'm happy …... with us. I'm very happy …... with you." She offers him a quick smile, and then opens the door and leaves.
As the door closes behind her, Harry smiles, placing the tips of his fingers on his lips, which still tingle from where she'd kissed him. He is not used to feeling this cared about. It will take some getting used to.