New York, New York
Chapter 10
Warning Some adult content to this chapter
Washington
(Scene opens with a close up of a clock that shows the time of !.20 am. It pans out to reveal the interior of Ruth's hotel bedroom with Ruth's dinner dance outfit hanging up on the outside of her wardrobe)
Having changed out of her Cinderella outfit, removed the makeup and let her hair hang loose, Ruth was once more recognisable as her casual, quasi-hippy self. She had made her excuses and left the dance before Harry and Adam. Her feet had begun to ache in the new shoes and also the excitement and tension of the past day was beginning to catch up with her and she wanted to remove herself before she forgot the details of her legend and jeopardised the whole operation. It was second nature to Adam to immerse himself into character without a slip-up but she had to admire Harry's professionalism. He had had practically no sleep since he had received her postcard and yet he was down there still mingling and chatting in the guise of Sean Hennessy, retaining his Londonderry accent and detailed back-story without hesitation or error.
Ruth padded around her bedroom in bare feet tidying up and depositing the pathetically few items of clothing she had brought with her into the wardrobe, where they huddled at one end, obviously intimidated by the cavernous space. She didn't want to put the departmental budget under any more strain, but she would personally have to do some more shopping if she was going to remain in Washington for more than two days. Ruth brushed her teeth and hair and slipped into her favourite pyjamas: Chinese white silk, embroidered with exotic birds defined in brilliant jewel shades of blue, yellow, red and green. She had treated herself to the pyjamas whilst on a visit to San Francisco the month before. She did not normally indulge in such luxuries on her archivist pay, but they reminded her of the pair she had left lying under her pillow in Islington, together with her old life, identity, career and love. It was her own slight gesture of defiance to hang onto something from the past beyond just mental images.
Looking around, Ruth realised that there was no mini bar in her room, which was unusual. "Damn" she thought "I really need some alcohol tonight to try and relax and get some sleep." Ruth did not turn to alcohol habitually as Harry did, but during the dark days of the last year she found that a glass of wine or shot of spirit helped block out painful memories, at least sufficient to allow her to lull her body into a stage that she could sleep in her depressing and depressed little apartment. Ruth pulled on the wrap that she had bought to match the pyjamas and picking up her key-card and rooting out another from her handbag, stepped out into the corridor. She would have to raid Henry and Adam's mini bar that she recalled was definitely in their room, whilst they were still downstairs. Just as well she had kept the electronic skeleton key that she had found inside the pocket of Ros's coat during that slow, miserable journey down the Thames. She knew it might come in useful at some stage, but never imagined in quite these circumstances.
Ruth peered both ways down the corridor, everyone was evidently still carousing down at the dinner dance judging by the noise and laughter that was drifting up the staircase. She slipped down the passageway and stopped outside the suite. Even though she had a legitimate reason to enter, Ruth hesitated before intruding on Harry's private space. It was one thing to make love to someone, it was perhaps another to assume an intimacy that extended to breaking into their room and making free with their mini-bar! Ruth swiped the card down the slot – nothing. "Oh damnation" she fumed, why did nothing technical ever work for her". She swiped it again, this time more slowly. Again nothing. "Oh THING!!" she hissed to the card and threw it on the floor.
"Having problems perhaps I can help?" said a low sensuous voice in her ear in a soft Irish brogue as Harry bent down and picked up the skeleton key. Ruth jumped guiltily,
"Oh er um, hi Ha … I mean Sean …. Er no, I mean yes, well I just wanted something to drink but er it doesn't matter" Ruth blushed with horror as she realised the implications of what her presence there might suggest: she was so desperate that she was breaking into his room – to what – rifle through his private things or worse still drape herself invitingly over his bed waiting to be serviced!!?
"I er, I've got to go, sorry, I didn't mean … .."
Harry stood closer to her, his eyes burning with desire, love and affection. Warm, hazel eyes that mirrored his passion and vulnerability.
"Ruth" the low, honeyed tone caressed her name and made her knees tremble with desire. She had been in this situation before at another time in another corridor. They had broken through that barrier of unfulfilled lust gloriously and completely in New York but that was then and this was now. She didn't want Harry to think that she had come begging for it like some tart and also it was hardly a practical option with Adam about to appear at any moment. He might well suspect that their relationship had reached beyond the platonic but that didn't mean that she could face the embarrassment of sleeping with Harry in the adjacent bedroom to Adam and anyway it was not officially part of their back-story that Sean Hennessy was fornicating with his secretary. Ruth registered Harry's imploring voice and open body language as he was now standing millimetres away from her, his face inclining towards hers, at any moment he was going to bring those lips that made her ache with desire, down on hers and then she would be completely lost; she responded more from instinct than from any conscious effort. She dropped her gaze down, away from his face, still a mistake as she was now staring at the inviting sight of his broad chest defined by the black and gold uniform he was wearing.
"No Harry this isn't right, I can't, we can't … no … "
Ruth's voice became quiet and agitated and she turned away from him and fled down the corridor and back into her own room. Harry was left standing with the skeleton key in his hand and an agonised and frustrated expression on his face. This time however there was not the desolation that had marked him in their earlier corridor encounter. This time he knew that Ruth loved him, wanted him and that when the time was more appropriate would once more melt into his arms and surrender to their mutual desire. He sighed deeply, that time was very unfortunately not going to be tonight however and turning slowly and regretfully he slid the skeleton key down the card slot and opened the door.
(Next scene is in Harry's bedroom. Camera takes a wide shot of the room in darkness and draws in to a close up of Harry sleeping alone in the large double bed. From what we can see of his torso, he is naked)
The interconnecting door that joined the two bedrooms of the suite opened slowly. Harry reached silently for the gun which lay under his pillow.
"For God's sake don't shoot" said a soft voice in the darkness "It's only me Harry"
"Ruth, what are you doing sneaking around in the middle of the night? "I can't sleep Harry, I can't stay in that room any longer knowing you are lying alone in this bed"
Harry turned on the bedside light that illuminated his bemused but inviting expression. He folded back the bed covers, revealing that he was naked except for a pair of silk boxer shorts and moved across to allow room for Ruth to join him. She took off her wrap revealing not the silk pyjamas but a diaphanous loose ivory silk shift beneath which even in the subdued light Harry could clearly discern the contours of her breasts and a hint of pink aureole. Ruth knelt on the bed beside him and began to stroke very gently down the side of his abdomen and then trailed her fingernails up the inside of his thighs; Harry moaned with pleasure and his response was immediate. She bent her head down, her hair tickling his stomach as she delicately placed her hands on either side of the waistband of his boxer shorts and with a smile lifted them over his engorged erection and pulled them down over his ankles. Leaning down she breathed warm, moist air onto the inside of this thighs and began to kiss and lick her way up. Harry lay back and closed his eyes in ecstasy feeling the warmth of her breath and the softness of her moist tongue as she lowered her open mouth onto him.
Suddenly he could hear knocking. He tried to block it out but it persisted. He opened his eyes confused and disorientated to find himself not in the middle of delicious intimacy with Ruth but alone in a darkened room with the noise of knocking on the door.
"Harry, are you awake?"
"I bloody well am now. This had better be on the scale of full blown nuclear attack or I'm going to hone my interrogation skills on you – come in!"
Adam's face appeared around the corner of the door with a rueful but alert expression on his face
"Sorry mate, but I've just had Cynthia here for an extended détente exercise, all in the name of more cordial Irish-American relations of course, but she had an interesting line in pillow talk."
Harry, who had hastily enveloped himself in one of the thick luxurious hotel bath robes to hopefully disguise the prominent erection that was refusing to go down despite the disappointment of not finding Ruth orally stimulating him; gestured over to the seating area.
"Alright, you've got my attention, now what did Mata Hari have to tell you that was so urgent that I wasn't allowed to catch up on the sleep I haven't had for the last 24 hours?"
"Well we got talking about the Iraq war and what was going to happen in the Middle East, with the departure of Bush and Blair. I said I was frustrated that nothing was being done about the big issue of Iran and she said that there were many people in the US and in the Washington circles in particular, who feel the same."
"And" said Harry impatiently "is this leading anywhere? I'm a bit old for Jackanory"
"Yes she then said that if I felt like talking to someone who shared by views she would introduce me to a group who were going to do more than just whinge and were determined to bring about changes in policy both in the US and Europe."
"Yes, well, she might be talking about the Peace Corps on that basis"
"No Harry, it's the Sword of St Michael, she actually named them. She said it was founded originally by a Canadian of Irish Catholic origins by the name of Seamus Coyle and that they have powerful friends in the highest echelons of Washington."
"So when do we get to meet and greet the angels of death?"
"She said she would arrange a meeting for tomorrow as we are only here for a few days. She gave me the impression that she is not just trying to be sociable. This felt more like a serious recruitment drive."
Yes, well, military contacts, even as small fry as the Irish Navy are always useful to fringe crackpots seeking respectability. Right we need to find out all we can about Coyle before tomorrow. Wake Ruth up and we're going to need coffee, lots of it!"
Harry willed his frustration to dampen down whilst he pulled on a pair of chinos and a polo shirt; he wasn't sure how much control he would have over his body if Ruth came through the door in the wrap she had been wearing in his erotic dream and he didn't intend to embarrass himself or her if he could help it.
Ruth was somewhat disappointed to find that it was Adam's tall, lean figure that entered her bedroom and whispered
"Ruth, sorry to wake you up but we need your expertise."
She hastily grabbed her wrap and padded after Adam down the corridor where she had ached after Harry only a few hours before. Harry almost groaned out loud when she entered the room. She stood there, warm and dishevelled, her eyes heavy with sleep, clutching the soft folds of her wrap around her as she groped to tie the belt at the front. He so wanted to reach out and pull her into him and kiss those warm, soft, palpable lips, it was a physical ache. He frowned and with a supreme effort, assumed his usual infallible mask of guarded, focused expression and inscrutable manner; what all on the Grid fondly referred to as 'Harry's poker face'.
Adam filled Ruth in on the salient details of the information he had gleaned from Cynthia. Ruth listened attentively but her mind grumbled "as usual Adam gets a gratuitous shag whilst Harry and I are left separated. Why is it always Adam's patriotic duty to get laid and ours to avoid it?" In her heart Ruth know that it was they who were the fortunate ones, they had each other to love and be loved by:
"True love is a durable fire
In the mind ever burning
Never sick, never old, never dead
From itself never turning"
But still, even the comfort of the certain knowledge of Harry's feelings for her, which had previously always seemed elusive didn't dispel the nagging carnal desire that accompanied her emotions. She didn't know whether it was better to now know of the intensity of bodily gratification that Harry could bring to her or to be trapped in the existence of hope and fantasy which she had inhabited twelve months earlier.
"Give me ten minutes and I'll check with our, sorry MI5's, records back at Thames House." Ruth realised the anomaly of her situation. Officially dead and therefore obviously no longer an officer or even an ex-officer of the Security Forces, what exactly was her position and what authority did she have?
"Um Harry, I know it might seem like a stupid question, but what exactly is my position, I mean I'm working covertly obviously, but I'm no longer part of MI5, so do you want me to sign the Official Secrets Act – you don't want to be caught giving away classified information to a member of the public and also what clearance have I got to access files, although thinking about it, I'm already a traitor and a spy so I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.?"
Harry smiled briefly at her "If we get caught Ruth, we will all be persona non gratia, so I wouldn't worry about it, let's just focus on the task in hand. Malcolm has given your password the highest clearance so you should be able to access all areas without a problem."
"Right, I'll just get the laptop then"
"Ruth! Oh damn she's already gone. I need something to eat with the coffee or my blood sugar levels are not going to make it through tonight." Harry put down the folder of background information on the Irish Navy that Adam had handed him on their arrival at the hotel but which he hadn't had had a chance to absorb and standing up, slipped out of the door after Ruth.
"Why" Adam idly asked himself, as he had done on many previous occasions "did a confirmed bachelor like Harry have to wait for his female staff to provide him with food. He used to order Sam around like a kitchen skivvy and he wasn't adverse to issuing similar requests to Jo, Zoe and of course Ruth, although Adam couldn't imagine him getting away with it with Ros Meyers. Was it a sign of chauvinism or was it a means of relating to his female staff under terms of reference that a man who was insecure with women felt happy with? The Security Service certainly wasn't short of male chauvinists – he couldn't imagine the ilk of Jools Siviter or Oliver Mace having an interest in issues of equality in the workplace; but Harry was not like them, so Adam was more inclined to favour the second explanation; but he found it equally puzzling. Harry was obviously popular with women – Ruth, Zoe, Jo, they all loved and respected him and were quite happy to mother him, so why then was he insecure? Maybe however it was in fact Harry's trump card. His insecurities brought out the mothering instinct: the 'little boy lost' act coupled with his cherubic features had obviously provided a successful modus operandi for him, although Adam couldn't see Juliet Shaw having been interested in holding Harry's hand and stroking his forehead or seeing if he had had warm food to eat, so maybe he had been less passive in his younger days.!"
Whilst Adam was idling away his time assessing the basis of Harry's appeal to the opposite sex, the object of his speculation had crossed the corridor and silently slipped into Ruth's room.
"Do you walk on water as well as through walls?" she hissed at him as he almost gave her heart-failure when his arms suddenly wrapped wound her waist as she was extracting the laptop from her bag. Harry's reply was to press his warm caressing lips to hers and squeeze her body against his, running the palms of his hands up and down her back and cradling her head.
"I've come to ask you to arrange for food with the coffee"
"Really, oh I'm glad you've got an urgent reason to come barging in here."
She returned his passion and hunger with interest, letting her tongue slide into his mouth, but then she pushed him away.
"Harry we haven't got time for this remember?"
"For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room
For a searching look"
"No Harry, we haven't got time for intimacy and we certainly haven't got time for poetry"
"Where's your sense of Romance?" Harry breathed with soft fire in his eyes
"Where's your sense of priority?" she returned acerbically. "Agents are like sportsmen remember, they've got to remain celibate to be 100 percent focused."
"That's all very well in theory, but I can't think straight never mind focus. All this self-denial is destroying my ability to concentrate."
"Well" said Ruth with a playful gleam in her eye "it's just a case of mind over matter"
As she said this she stroked her hand lightly over his stiffened groin, kissed him sensuously on the lips and as he groaned and closed his eyes, ducked out from his grasp and disappeared through the door, clutching the laptop. Her parting shot hung in the air:
"Remember what you told me Harry self control, self denial, just sublimate your desires, it's what Spooks do best!"
Harry banged his fist against the door in frustration, but then smiled to himself. She was right, he was always quick to tell other people where their duty lay and how to prioritise work over their love lives. He recalled again the clashes with Tom over Christine Dale; now it was his turn to exercise control and experience a dose of his own medicine. Still feeling the touch of her hand as she had teased him he was filled with delight that this reserved and private individual so trusted him that she was opening up her inner most desires and personality to him, not afraid to reveal to him feelings of lust as well as affection.
Harry reappeared in his suite with the usual forceful, slightly irritated expression on his face, that he often assumed when he was going to have to drive through his agenda in a crucial meeting. If he had been stealing any moments of intimacy with Ruth it wasn't apparent in him calm, enigmatic features. Adam did not have Zaf's infantile, sometimes puerile, fascination with other people's sex lives, but he had to admit to himself that the whole 'will they won't they, are they, aren't they' mystery surrounding Harry and Ruth was also arousing his curiosity. The mutual attraction was obviously still there, revealed in unguarded glances and body language, but whether they had got beyond first base was not clear. As with Zaf, this desire to find the evidence and discover the truth was becoming a temptation he could not ignore. Everyone anyway secretly wishes for fairy-tale happy endings, even blokes and here to Adam was one that he was going to engineer if at all humanly possible.
"Hasn't Ruth come back with the coffee yet?" said Harry in an irritated tone.
"Even in an American hotel, coffee and sandwiches takes a while to organise at 3 am, whatever Ruth's acquisitional skills."
At that moment the door opened and Ruth appeared carrying a tray almost as big as herself, loaded with coffee, rolls, bagels, cake and fresh fruit. Harry had the grace to look sheepish at his impatience as Adam sprang forward to take the load off her.
"Thanks Adam, they wanted to bring it up but I thought it was better not to have our nocturnal activities observed"
If Harry was aware of the potential double meaning implicit in her phrasing he didn't acknowledge it but Adam raised his eyebrows at her and gave a sardonic suggestive smile which was rewarded by an embarrassed Ruth blushing furiously and dropping her gaze.
"Humm" thought Adam "she's certainly acting as though she had a guilty secret but then Ruth always looks that way in the most innocent of situations."
They sat down around the coffee table that held the outsized tray of provisions, not so much a midnight feast as an early morning banquet, unless they concluded their discussions quickly and managed a couple of hours sleep before dawn.
"Right" said Harry, automatically taking charge. "Before we go into our plans for Cynthia's invitation, I want to fill you in with what the Georgia delegation were telling me. Once we had got past our mutual loathing for blacks, dagoes, spivs, chinks, Aarabs and all non-WASPs in general (Micks were not on the list but I'm sure were normally included) then they took me into their confidence and said that the buzz word amongst the right-wing and fringe Christian delegations is 'direct-action' As they so succinctly put it: 'it's time those arse-hole Muslim bastards got shafted and go back to burning camel dung and weaving carpets'. I said that much as that was the obvious solution what was anyone going to do to change the political climate both sides of the Atlantic? That's when it got more interesting. A particularly attractive specimen with fetid breath like fermented rat droppings, took me aside and said that there was one group of sympathisers who had already started the campaign in Michigan and were going to take it to the next level in England."
"Michigan?" said Adam puzzled until Ruth interjected enthusiastically
"They've got to be referring to the bomb blast that exploded in the Finance District there about four months ago. It probably didn't get much publicity in the UK and may not even have registered on the radar of MI6. It was suggested in the press that it was the responsibility of a lunatic acting alone, but it struck me at the time as odd because the bomb demolished the HQ of a commercial Bank, one that has dealings with oil companies especially those that trade with the off-shore interests in Iran. It was too specific in its political message and too well organised to be a maverick, but no one claimed responsibility which would normally rule out a political group in the States, they always want a voice and why perform the act with no publicity?"
"To instil fear into those in the know with vested interests in the Middle East?" suggested Adam
"Yes" said Harry meditatively "but also perhaps to put together a portfolio."
"Pardon!" retorted Ruth with an indignant expression, shocked by Harry's apparently cavalier attitude and also that the images of dead bodies scattered over the pavements of Michigan that were still fresh in her mind were just part of some obscene PR exercise by extremists with a point to make.
"I mean it may have had a specific purpose which is not yet apparent. It could be part of an agenda to strike randomly at a broad spectrum of targets across Western Europe with a variety of means; in other words, designed to create maximum panic and anxiety in the general public and force through political change."
Adam interrupted him "In other words to adopt the same tactics as Al Qaeda?"
"Precisely and it looks as though a) they have support amongst the official security bodies, which is going to make our task of trying to root them out and then subsequently knowing who to inform, a complete nightmare and b) confirms that the conversation Ruth overheard on the ferry is timetabled to happen soon."
"What if" speculated Adam " we just take Roscoe in and have a little tete-a-tete with him? Explain the error of his ways, get the information out of him and then return him to his masters."
"Tempting, but I think we will have to leave such entertainment until a later point. Firstly, whatever his shady political sympathies, Roscoe is a US citizen and a senior CIA official. Kidnapping him and introducing him to the hospitality of Thames House basement will not do much for the entente cordiale we still pretend to have with our American comrades-in-arms and secondly he had had anti-interrogation training and immoral, duplicitous rat as he is he might be difficult to crack"
"Especially with his taste for S&M" interjected Adam with a smile that reached his mouth but not his eyes, to which Harry raised his eyebrows and grimaced and then concluded:
"and thirdly if the Sword of St Michael's operations are based on Al Qaeda then they are going to be organised as autonomous cells that cannot be traced and whose trigger is probably not even known to Roscoe. No our best chance is to penetrate the organisation here and try and cut off the head of the Hydra directly before their UK campaign is given the green light. Ruth, you liase with your FBI contact first thing, I want to know everything you can dig up on Sword of St Michael and this Seamus Coyle and also any details of the Michigan bombing. I don't like the idea of us going into this undercover blind – we've absolutely no idea of who we are dealing with. I want names, contacts, known agendas. Contact Malcolm to get him to find out about the Michigan bombing at the UK end, I don't care what he does or how, we have to have this information. I don't want to have the words 'correct channels, due procedures or protocol pass his lips, do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly" said Ruth. She felt elated inside. Even though they were facing uncertainty and danger with the odds stacked against their being able to prevent a tragedy, yet endorphins were coursing around her brain. It was just like it had always been: Harry at the helm, galvanising his agents into a coordinated and cohesive force. God how she had missed the job as well as him. The feeling that you were really making a difference, the adrenalin surging round your body, making you hyper-reactive and aware.
"Right, Adam, Cynthia, how useful do you think she is and should we be taking her suggestion that she can introduce us to the upper echelons of the group seriously, or was it just pillow talk?"
"Well it was pillow talk, but I think she has some pretty powerful friends. It wasn't bragging, more offering a favour. I think it's certainly worth a couple of hours of our time tomorrow, sorry, this morning. Even if it's not the inner sanctum it may give us a way in and if not I can still try and blag my way into the Foreign Office happenings. Cynthia said she would pick us up from the hotel at 10."
"Right, then I suggest that we all try and get some shut-eye. Its going to be a long and difficult day tomorrow."
Harry stood up, picking up the last of the sandwiches in a gesture that obviously indicated to Ruth that she was dismissed. She rose to her feet and bidding them both 'Goodnight' moved towards the door. Adam walked into the bathroom and Harry immediately crossed the bedroom with rapid agility. He caught Ruth as she was opening the door. He kissed her gently on the back of the neck and then turned her round as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. He took her face between his broad yet delicate hands and very tenderly brought his lips down onto hers.
"I love you Ruth, more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. Promise me that whatever happens you will not put yourself in danger."
She responded by smiling at him and stroking the back of his head. Using one hand to pull him back down to kiss her whilst caressing the side of his face with the other
"Sweet dreams Harry, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest; well not your final rest" she said mortified as she realised the implication of the quotation she had just used (when Horatio commands Hamlet's body to be borne away) "Sorry, it must be late, I'm not usually so imprecise". Harry unperturbed responded:
"Look love what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East;
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone …
I have more care to stay than will to go""Ah my Romeo, what an old romantic you are under that bluff exterior"; with that she kissed him again on the cheek and moved quietly through the doorway.
Adam smiled to himself in the bathroom mirror as he finished brushing his teeth. Looking up after spitting in the bowl he saw his own perfect features reflected back together with the view of Harry's soft emotional expression as he closed the bedroom door behind Ruth.
"Ah yes" he thought "all we need is the pumpkin and the fairy godmother. It might be way past midnight but this fairytale is definitely in with a chance. With or without the glass slipper, Cinders has her Prince Charming eating out of her hand. Good on you Harry, you sly old dog. I'm so pleased I could kiss you myself!!"