Ruth was as good as her word. As soon as she arrived at work she picked up some clothes from her desk and quickly vanished to the bathroom. When she came back out, not a hair looked out of place, Harry thought, watching her through the blinds. Although he did have repetitive flashes of her head thrown back against his office wall, completely lost in the throes of passion, ecstasy written clearly all over her pale and beautiful face. He smiled as he switched his computer on and started to read Christopher Millers report on section D. The report Tariq had hacked from him last night. Pleased that he'd got one over on Chris he continued to read the report. Harry was shocked by how accurate it was. There wasn't a negative spin on it like he had expected. Phrases such as "section D is a well functioning, although close knit team," seemed to ring true. When it moved into "because it is so close knit, the efficiency of this section is much higher than others I have observed," Harry wondered if he'd judged Chris too harshly. Then he remembered his and Ruth's fight the night before and judged it to be supremely worth it, even if he had got the wrong end of a very large stick.
Ruth had a quick look in the one make up mirror she carried. Even after the night she'd had, she was pleased to see that her 24 hour long lasting mascara actually had lived up to its name. "I never had you down as one of those women," Chris said as she snapped the mirror shut.
"You don't have me down as anything," Ruth said with a sly and suggestive smile.
"I made a resolution not to flirt with you anymore," Chris said. "Help me achieve this."
"Fine," she agreed happily, beginning to type.
"I meant what I said, I am sorry about… everything."
"You don't have to apologise," Ruth said quietly. "It wasn't… as sure as Harry made it sound."
"Wasn't?" Chris questioned, picking up on the correct word which gave it away.
"Does twenty four hours really matter in the grand scheme of things?"
"Apparently not to you," Chris said. He made sure that no one was listening before adding something. "You're a bad liar for a spook. You've got a… satisfied look all over your face."
Ruth blushed furiously but whatever she was about to say was driven from her mind as some pictures popped up on her screen. "Oh my God," she said, her jaw hanging open. Chris looked over at her screen and saw several shots of several different dead bodies, all young women, all very bloody, very graphic and completely horrific.
"Where did those photo's come from?" Chris asked. Ruth clicked to minimise the images and ran through the list of terror suspects she had been checking.
"Ashmal Taylor Farhadi, a half Iranian half British twenty five year old living in a hole in east London. It was just a routine check and these photo's come up."
"How much encryption did you break to have a look at what information he was hiding?" Chris asked accurately.
"Okay, yes, I've gotten into his computer history illegally, but now, do you think he might be a criminal?"
"Well it doesn't look good, either way," Chris said. "Oh. And I won't report you for illegal surveillance."
"Right now, I don't care if you do," Ruth said shaking her head in half horror half bewilderment. "These need to be given to the London murder squad," she said surely. "Which means I have to have a conversation with Harry." Ruth hit print, making sure that no one else saw the horrible photos she was producing. She slipped them in a file and hurried to Harry's office.
Meanwhile Harry felt his heart sink to the basement. In a matter of minutes he had watched Ruth's face go from happy joy to pale and worried, and then finally horrified. All from a conversation with Chris. Was she regretting it between them already? The way she hurried to his office made it clear that she had something to discuss with him. He decided that sitting down would probably be best for this conversation.
Ruth slid the door shut and he braced himself for the unpleasantness that was about to come his way. He did catch the way she looked at the wall and then her eyes slipped to the floor blushing. "Before you say anything," Harry said. "I can see how unhappy you are. I am sorry if you're rethinking everything. Believe me it isn't what I want." He stopped simply because Ruth's fingers covered his lips firmly.
"Contrary to popular belief, not everything I do or think about involves you. I actually have a job to do here."
"You look so pale and horrified," he said sadly, moving her fingers but keeping her hand entwined with his.
"You want to know why?" she asked. "My face isn't about you." She silently put the file on his desk facing him and opened it.
"Jesus Christ," Harry hissed seeing all the pictures of the murdered girls. Judging by the way their clothes had been ripped she would guess they'd been raped as well. Harry briefly flipped through them all and shut the file quickly. "Where did you get them?"
"Hacked into an Iranians computer," Ruth said. "The problem is, I got them illegally, so it would be nice if you could call in a favour or two, so this man could be arrested without me being sacked."
"Of course I will," Harry said, already reaching for the phone. He paused when Ruth reached over and kissed his lips softly, and rather disappointingly, chastely.
"Harry? No regrets, and I never will," she reassured him. With a final squeeze of his hand she left his office, pushing the door shut with a quiet whoosh. Harry looked at the horrific images she'd left once more before getting on the phone and calling in a few favours.