A shortish chapter here, but a very important chapter is coming up next- so many things will be tied in. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews :)
Harry pushed past the security that was swarming on the stairs of the hotel where the Gavriks' were staying, revealing his ID badge here and there when necessary. He was slightly out of breath, and his heart was thumping madly underneath his pristine suit; partly due to his shock when Dimitri had told him of the attempt on Elena's life, and partly due to his fear that he had finally pushed Ruth too far. He realised she had only been trying to help, but he had been unable to prevent his temper when she had retorted angrily at him. She had apparently grown accustomed to questioning his decisions, and it was not only this that annoyed him, but the argument had also spanned out of the constant tension that surrounded them these days. He was left without a doubt that she would now leave and go to Towers. Maybe it was better for her anyway.
And then finding out about Elena's attempted attack had been the final straw. As he climbed the flight of stairs, his mind flitted through all that had happened in Berlin- the affair, Elena confessing the pregnancy, and his attempts to get both her and his unborn child out of the country. Praying she was alright, he rapped on the room door loudly, and to his surprise Ilya Gavrik came to the door.
For a few seconds both men stared at each other, mirroring their shocked expressions, before Harry forced himself into recovery and said smartly, "I wouldn't have thought a man of your position would be playing at being the doorman."
Gavrik smiled, perhaps a little coldly, "If you think I am having any old person be in this room, and answer the door, after what has just happened you are sincerely mistaken."
Harry smiled in return, but both men could tell there was dislike in the other's eyes.
"What are you doing here Harry Pearce?" Ilya asked coldly. "I did not make it common knowledge that my wife had been attacked."
Harry looked past Ilya's slim figure into the luxurious room behind him and saw Elena perched on the edge of the sofa, pale but otherwise unharmed. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well Ilya, my section and I are in charge of protecting you and Elena whilst you are in this country, and negotiations are taking place. If something like this happens-"
"You are not doing your job very well." Ilya finished.
Harry did not deign to reply to this.
"I need to speak to Elena about the assassination attempt."
"Why?"
"It is alright Ilya, I had someone contact MI5- let him in." Elena's silky voice drifted through the crack in the door, and Ilya stared at Harry for a moment longer before acquiescing and stepping aside to let him in. Ilya made to follow him, but Harry turned round and said:
"I need to speak with her privately."
"Why?" Ilya said quickly and immediately suspicious.
"Protocol." Harry lied shortly, but Ilya seemed to reluctantly accept this, and gathered his coat from the arm of the beige sofa, before heading over the Elena to kiss her on the lips and cheek briefly. Harry was surprised to discover this did not actually bother him one bit, and he watched patiently as Ilya whispered something in Elena's left ear, and then left the suite; muttering about a business meeting.
Harry did not say anything for a moment, but he analysed the room, checking automatically for any bugging or camera devices, and he turned round to lock the door.
"There's no CCTV or bugs if that is what you were wondering." Elena smiled. "We made sure of it for the talks."
Harry nodded once before joining her on the sofa. He gazed at her pale face, which contrasted greatly with her elegant red hair. Even after an assassination attempt she looked perfect and pristine.
"I got here as fast as I could when my officer told me."
"It is a pity you did not get here sooner; you could have avoided Ilya. I contacted your department straight afterwards. I needed to see you."
"You contacted us personally?" Harry asked worriedly. "Elena, no wonder Ilya is on the defensive. He's suspicious."
"I am sorry." Elena said quietly. "I just had to see you."
She looked at him with those stunning eyes and Harry fought with himself not to fall in to the trap. She was clearly still shaken, and he was not going to let anything disastrous happen between them, for both their sake's. They sat in another awkward silence before Harry tentatively put his hand on top of Elena's and squeezed it in a brief gesture of comfort.
"Are you alright?"
A flicker of her eyebrow told him she enjoyed the touch of the skin on his hand on hers, and he quickly removed it.
"I am alright now." She said softly. "But it was a shock. I did not know anyone was after me."
"There are two options," Harry nodded. "Either this is someone who does not like these British-Russian negotiations, and is trying to hurt you to get to Ilya, or…"
"Or it is about us?" she finished. "Someone knows about us."
Harry sighed and looked genuinely sorry at Elena, "I am sorry, I swore to protect you, and you almost got killed."
Elena's thin mouth widened in to a small smile, "It is alright Harry. You are here now- that is all that matters."
Harry smiled back gratefully, and their eyes met briefly in understanding at all that had happened between them, and all that was likely to happen. Harry jolted suddenly as he felt his mobile buzz in his left hand pocket, and he pulled out his black leather gloves to answer it. He pressed receive and listened to the familiar sound of Dimitri's voice on the other end of the line.
"Harry, Ruth left the grid an hour or so ago. She seemed pretty upset, and we really need her here."
Harry sighed in frustration, annoyed at not being able to escape the subject of Ruth. "Yes Dimitri, I sent her home. She was upset about Tariq, and she was of no use to anybody- so I told her to go home."
Harry heard Dimitri pause on the other end of the line before he said, "Right. Okay."
"Anything else?" Harry demanded, communicating his apology to Elena, via his facial expression. She shrugged to indicate she did not mind, and continued to stare at the opposite wall. Harry had noticed all those years ago, that she had such an intriguingly beautiful stare.
"Well, it's just, after last night…well…I would have thought you would want her here, out of harms wa-"
"Dimitri, contrary to whatever you may think, Ruth is not on the top of my priority at the moment." Harry was an expert at lying, and found this sentence quite convincing. Elena's rather smug look confirmed this. "She can do what she wants, for all I care. I'll see you when I get back to the grid later on, and I'll see Ruth when she comes back to the grid tomorrow."
With that, he ended the call, embarrassed at having to talk about Ruth like that in front of Elena, who was still sitting perched on her end of the sofa, staring at the creamy white walls. He placed his mobile on the coffee table in front of him.
"You and Ruth are not getting on?" Elena asked, not meeting his eyes.
"Don't ask," Harry mumbled. "Last night, one of our officers was killed. She saw the whole thing happen, and even after everything I've told her, she still believes Jim Coaver was masterminding the whole thing."
"The man she believes to be pretending to be you?" Elena clarified.
Harry nodded grimly, "The same. I really don't know what she's got against the man."
"Have you tried looking into him?" Elena asked. "Just to humour her."
Harry sighed, "It can't be him Elena. It just…can't be. She was just overwrought so I sent her home."
Elena nodded, and sighed suddenly, pulling her hands over her face tiredly. Harry kicked himself mentally for bombarding Elena with this after her experience that day. He smiled gently at her.
"What happened?"
Elena shrugged, "I was taking a walk around the park nearby, and someone aimed at me with a gun. A sniper?" she said, obviously having no clue what one was and she looked for clarification in Harry that this was its actual name. He nodded.
"Did you not have anyone with you?"
"My bodyguard- he got me home as fast as possible. I was so scared Harry." She said softly. "Why did they want to kill me?"
Harry could not help but to reach for her hand and squeeze it reassuringly again, "I don't know. Did they not catch whoever was firing?"
Elena shook her head, and they sat there in silence again.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry asked softly. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"
Elena smiled, "That would be lovely Harry. Thank you."
Harry nodded, and pushed himself up from the sofa towards the en-suite kitchen in the next room. As the sounds of him clattering around in the kitchen with mugs and spoons, and flicking on the kettle drifted through the thin plastered walls, Elena hesitated before easing herself across the cushioned sofa to where he had been sitting and picking up Harry's phone, which had been discarded on the coffee table minutes before. Once she had finished double checking Harry was not going to come out at any moment, she quickly and expertly typed in a number on the keypad and listened to it ring for a few seconds before the person on the other end picked up.
"It's me." She said softly, so that Harry could not hear her. "Yes he's here. And he sent her home, so she'll either be there now, or be arriving shortly." She listened for a few more seconds as she was provided with further instructions. "Yes. I'll do it now."
With that she ended the call, and began to type something into the keypad before she placed it back in the position it had been in, almost precisely, a minute beforehand. She returned to her place on the sofa, and it was almost as if she had not moved as Harry retuned to the room loaded with two mugs of steaming hot tea, whilst she sat rigidly on the sofa as usual, staring at the wall.
Ruth trudged home miserably; she had left her umbrella at Thames House, in her haste to leave after the confrontation with Harry, and so her hair was sopping wet, and dangling in front of her face. She clutched her drenched black woollen coat around herself, and heaved her enormous bag back over her shoulder. The bus ride home had not done anything to cheer her up either, as of course she had chosen the time at which High School teenagers were sidling home. So the bus had been cramped and damp from the rain outside, and she had had to stand up for the whole of the 45 minute journey-although it took an hour and a half in the rush hour- squashed between two much taller, burly sixth-formers.
She was utterly exhausted and could barely find the willing to walk up her garden path to unlock the door, but the thought of the warmth and the dry inside was inviting so she forced herself on. Ruth fumbled with the lock, pushed open her door and stepped inside. Then closing the door abruptly behind her, she dropped her bag heavily on to the hallway floor, and shuffled in the general vicinity of the kitchen; vague ideas of a cup of tea floating through her mind.
Ruth peeled off her drenched coat, placed it on the back of a wooden chair in the kitchen, and moved to fill the kettle with tap water, before flicking it on to boil. Subconsciously, as she waited for it to boil, she noticed how the water dripping from her sopping wet coat onto her tiled floor matched the pattern of the rain drops spattering on the windows and roof. Desperate to stop the aching of her feet, and body in general, Ruth pulled out another wooden chair, and collapsed into it gratefully. After a few seconds, she found the strength to reach down and unzip and remove her boots, which joined the drenched coat on the chair. Closing her eyes appreciatively for a couple of seconds, she listened to kettle as it came to boil, and gripped the edge of the table to lift herself to her feet. Yet she suddenly heard the buzzing of a nearby phone, and realised it was the one in the breast pocket of her coat. Sighing, she prayed it was not any members of the grid demanding she travelled back to the grid this minute for a national emergency; she reached into her pocket and pulled the device out. Ruth's eyes and mouth widened slightly, as she stared at the cold device in her hands. Yet at that moment, it seemed to feel warm and soothing. She closed her mouth, and felt a slight wave of comfort, and even happiness wash over her. Her eyes flitted over the text message several times, to ensure she had read it correctly.
Sorry about today. We were both angry. I'm coming over to talk after I've finished business on the grid- Harry
Ruth, although completely shattered, if not still a little angry at Harry for his attitude towards her earlier, found her mouth twisting into a small smile all the same. It occurred to her briefly that she did not think she had ever received a text message from Harry, or even seen him send one, but then she considered, Harry was a very unpredictable man. It was not as if they had called each other in recent days either- you never know, she thought, he may have learnt how to text. Feeling a little more cheery, she placed her mobile on to the kitchen table, and hoisted herself up to pour the boiled water from the kettle into the mug. As she turned back round a few seconds later, her mug filled to the brim with soothing, steaming tea, she realised with an unhappy jolt that the last time she had entered this house, Tariq had still been alive. She had not been home in 48 hours, having spent the majority of the previous night, and the early hours of the morning in the hospital, demanding information on Tariq's condition. She had then spent the remainder of the time calling relevant people, and sitting with glazed eyes staring at her terminal on the grid, wishing she could convince herself it had all been some horrible nightmare.
Not wanting to refill her head with thoughts and realisations of her loss, Ruth padded back through to the hall, and pulled out a various assortment of files- mostly on Jim Coaver. Deciding to occupy herself with work, she found her way to the living room and seated herself comfortably on the squashy sofa, and began to read. She had made very little progress with the first page, of the first file when a knocking on the door echoed through the walls and doors of the house. Ruth froze and listened for the sharp rap on the wooden door again, knowing all too well who that would be. As anticipated, Harry knocked again, but there was no impatience in the knock, and no anger- it was calm and controlled. Fervently glad of this, Ruth placed her mug on the nearby coffee table, after shifting aside some the well-used books that lay there, and began to move towards the door. She travelled through the hallway, hastily tidying things away and moving her enormous bag under the large mirror that hung on the left wall by the door. Ruth dragged her fingers through her wet, tangled hair before shaking her head and realising she looked a mess anyway. Slowly, she unbolted the door, and twisted the handle to open it. She opened the door fully, and looked up, expecting to see Harry's face, but before her mind registered it was not him, an enormous, resilient hand grabbed her forcefully by the throat , and flung her back inside.
What is Ruth's fate? Who has just appeared at her door? Will Harry come to her rescue? What was Elena doing, and what is she up to? Please review :)