Eleven:
First Blood
Running, running, always running. As soon as she'd hidden George and Nico away with a friend for their protection, she had taken her last passport and run again. They were safe, they had to be. She couldn't take them with her, not with the unpredictability of what she had to do. How they had found her after all of this time, she didn't know, but she'd had to vanish again.
She strode the streets of London, not shaking the feeling that she was being followed for a very long time. As soon as she knew she was alone, she ducked into a phone booth and called in. "Echo. Foxtrot. Lima. Lady Lazarus," she said in a voice devoid of any emotion at all.
She still had the keys to a safe house – the same set of keys she'd carried with her passports the entire time she'd been traveling, and she went there to wait. She was still wired from the adrenaline and the caffeine and the travel itself, and the anxiety of not knowing if her employer and his son were safe. The anxiety of knowing that Harry would be on his way soon…
She looked up when the door rattled, and smiled just a little. "Hello, Malcolm," she said softly.
He stared at her like he was seeing a ghost. Maybe she was just that: a ghost of Ruth future tense, where happiness might be attainable again. "I never thought I'd see you again," he said.
She nodded a little, smiled. "No, she agreed.
He made them a cup of tea, then they went out onto the patio. The inside of the safe house was bugged, but they'd never bothered with the patio. She remembered having helped Malcolm and Colin ages ago on this one, adjusting the angles of the speakers and the cameras to compensate for the odd wind patterns when the doors were open. It was quiet until she said, "I was happy, Malcolm. Life was…"
"Calm?" Malcolm supplied placidly.
"It's like one of those scary dreams when you're taken back to a time and a place you thought you'd left completely behind," she admitted, still overwhelmed with the idea of being flushed out of hiding like a fox.
"I'm so glad to see you again," he said warmly, fondly. They'd not been best of friends, but they had been as close as they could have been. She twisted her wedding band around her finger, sighing.
She wanted to talk about the fish she'd left out on the sideboard when she'd spirited George and Nico away, wanted to tell him about the life she'd made for herself, but all of her words fell flat and never left her lips. She was tired, numb, exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
"There's a car waiting – we'll take you straight back to the Grid," Malcolm said.
She smiled a little, the weariness dissipating a little at the thought of going home – and the Grid was home, in a way. "How is he, Malcolm?" Ruth asked. He didn't say anything, just took a breath. That was Malcolm speak for 'everything is shit'. "What's happened?"
"Harry's in great danger, Ruth."
By the time they reached Thames House, he'd filled her in on Harry's abduction. And some of the other things she'd missed – like deaths, new people, and the fact that her little Eva cat had died at some point. She remained passive, listening to the litany of details, but only really hearing that Harry was in the hands of a crazy person intent on killing him.
Everything on the Grid was how she had left it, and it was more than slightly disconcerting, knowing that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Harry's office, home to their most intimate hopes, wishes, and feelings, was empty – like her heart felt. She felt like everything had been drained away, leaving her exhausted and numb. It was a nightmare she couldn't shake.
"Ruth," a handsome man said, "I'm Lucas North. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances." As if there ever could have been other circumstances – as if.
"Why was I attacked?" she demanded of him, as if he would be smart enough, cunning enough, to have the answer that was so elusive to her.
He ushered her into the meeting room with Jo and Ros, closing them off from the rest of the Grid. This was the part where he told Ruth that he had no idea what was going on, wasn't it? Without Harry, the team was falling apart at the seams.
"Hypothesis," Lucas said, "whoever has Harry went after Ruth as well. The south Asian appearance of her attackers would certainly suggest that."
Score one for the pretty boy, she felt like cheering sarcastically. She'd already deduced that as soon as Malcolm had filled her in. "Why?" she asked.
"They're holding him because they want some information," Jo said, looking as tired as Ruth had ever seen her. "The red herring was just to buy them time."
"Information that you and Harry share," Ros interrupted, speaking over Ruth.
So many, many things, Ruth thought. Many more than Ros would ever conceive of. Harry had vented his frustrations on her, had given her things to do that no one else had ever known about, had shared secrets with her that would chill the blood of anyone human. Too many things, jumbled together in a slew of tired, tangled memories. "I don't know what that could be," Ruth admitted. There were just too many things to remember, filed away in the back of her brain, disused.
"What did Harry ever share with you that was for your ears only?" Ros asked gently. Gentle wasn't a word Ruth had ever thought to use to describe Ros, but she'd softened the blow. "That no one else could ever know that would be worth all this effort."
That narrowed it down slightly; her mind whirled at a million miles an hour as she turned over scenario after scenario, report after report in her mind, dismissing them one by one, looking back and forth between Lucas, Jo, and Ros in turn, but not seeing them. And the only one left after her flicking dismissals was Baghdad.
Lucas was looking at her with concern. "Ruth?"
"Baghdad," she said uncertainly. "I think this might be about Baghdad."
"What happened in Baghdad?" Ros asked.
It seemed so wrong to be telling them, but if it would find Harry, if it would make things better – she would do anything. It wasn't a state secret, just the backroom wheeling and dealing she hated so very much. "Harry came across a clandestine operation there," she said reluctantly. The more people that knew what was going on, the greater the danger to the operation.
"What was it?" Ros prompted.
"To smuggle weapons grade uranium into the country and then discover it." The words were hollow, devoid of any kind of feeling. She'd long ago buried her feelings about this. "To vindicate the war."
"Harry was involved in that?" Lucas asked with disbelief.
Doubting the greatness of the man was a strike against Lucas – who clearly had no idea that she and Harry were married. Who had dismissed her as just another analyst. And now, she was going to prove him a fool. "Harry stopped it," she said.
"So, who else was involved?" he asked.
"Elements of the CIA, some cowboys from Six, and a free-lance chap from the Indian Intelligence Bureau. It was completely below the radar. When Harry discovered it, he went straight to the top and it was quickly stopped." Not without knocking a few heads together, but that was not a story to tell the children.
"But why now?" Jo asked. "What do they want from Harry now?"
It was devolving in her head faster than she could speak the words. Harry was in far more danger than they could ever know. "The uranium, I'd expect."
"The uranium actually got there?" Ros asked. "It was in Iraq already?"
Ruth shook her head slightly, remembering the tense phone calls and the total silence of Harry's fury. "The whole thing was a very close call. There were voices in States who wanted to green light it. But Harry won the argument and we got it out again." Adam Carter had been the operative to bring it home with him. Dear Adam, sweet Adam, long gone now. He had been such a help to her, such a good friend and a good man. "We brought it here."
Ros looked like she was connecting the dots, so Ruth let her. "And Harry knows where it is and he told you as backup."
Ruth didn't like the implication that he would just hand over something so important to a mere analyst, so she played hardball. "Harry was the only person other than the Americans who knew where it was, so, yes, he told me." Her voice was low, cold, calculating. She still didn't trust Ros, never really had done – not like Harry had.
"You carry on," Ros ordered. "I'm going to go see the Home Secretary."
Ruth was left at the table with Jo and Lucas, wondering if she was even safe with them, here on the Grid. What if they were being monitored? What if her movements in the country had been watched carefully by someone involved?
God, she just wanted to go home – but home didn't exist anymore.
Harry looked up as she was led into the room, restrained as he was, looking nervous and skittish as she had a right to be. But somewhat resigned, as if she'd guessed what was coming. She was forced into the chair facing him, so close and yet so far away, as if no more than a mirage or a dream.
"Friends, reunited," Mani said in a tone that betrayed slight amusement at the infliction of pain. "Were you two just friends back then? There was an obvious connection and everyone else out there was at it like rabbits. Adrenaline, I suppose." Ruth's cheek twitched slightly, but other than that, she didn't react – Harry commended her restraint. "You two, though: you know, it wouldn't surprise me if it was all quite chaste in a frightfully outdated Brief Encounter kind of way."
He held her gaze, trying to soothe her – but he was far more rattled than she was. Mani had brought her here with the intent to kill her; that much he'd already ascertained. And what happened between now and then was just a game. He would play them both, but he would not give in. "I wouldn't speculate about it too much – it's probably a bit beyond your vulgar little mind," Harry said in the tone that he saved for people who were so far gone, they needed a bit of patronizing.
"One – or both of you – knows where the uranium is," Mani said in that insufferably calm manner. "I will be back shortly to see which one of you breaks first." His smile was practically maniacal, but completely sedate, as if this was an everyday encounter to take glee in.
Harry just felt tired and sad that he'd dragged her back into this mess of his. She was so good at sorting things out, but this… was untenable. He'd long since been resigned to not finding her, but for Mani and his team of thugs to find her when he couldn't… god, it made him angry. It made him furious that he couldn't have brought her home and protected her from all of this.
They sat in silence, dead silence, no words being necessary between them.
She felt the knife slice against her ribcage, heard two shots, took a deep breath in case it was her last. The last few hours had been harrowing, surviving one small torture after another, refusing to give in to Mani's demands, meeting Harry's eyes for encouragement when she felt herself wavering, faltering.
The only thing she knew with certainty was that she'd hidden George and Nico away well. They'd thought to use them as leverage, and would have, had she not thought quickly.
She was dizzy as she watched Mani fall to the ground, dead. Then the tears came, slowly, then faster, harder, and the pain with them. Ros cut her restraints loose and checked her over, proclaiming the bloody wound to be nothing more than a rather large scratch. Her voice was soothing, gentle, but Ruth could barely hear her over her tears.
As soon as he was free from his bindings, Harry wrapped her up in his embrace. He whispered, "You were very brave, my love – so brave." He kissed her forehead, then her temple, then very gently brushed her tears away and kissed her on the lips. "You're home now, Ruth. You're home. And I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not ever."
"Is that a promise?" she whispered, sniffling. How he could love her, even when she was a snotty, sniffling, tearful mess, she'd never understand.
"A vow," Harry murmured, his voice low and sweet as honey. "A vow to my lovely wife who has been away from me for far too long."
END PART ELEVEN
