Like the series itself, all good things must come to an end.
I would ask you to enjoy this but realise there's a good chance you won't. :-/
.x.
The Grid
"What is it?" Ruth demanded at Demetri as she practically broke through the pods and back onto the grid.
"Explosion, Lewisham Street."
"What do we know?"
"Only we've a safe house in that street and is currently listed as unoccupied, that's it so far. The Met said they'll update us as soon as they know more. "
Cullum bopped up from behind his desk, "Just been confirmed: car bomb, single casualty."
Ruth paused a moment, something in her gut, something she dreaded stirred. "I'm going down there." Grabbing the keys to one of the grid's pool cars, Ruth disappeared into the depths of the underground car park.
Whilst fastening her seatbelt she drew out her phone. Still within Thames House, Ruth utilised its secure communications filter and re-opened her voicemail.
Despite knowing who's voice she'd soon hear it prevent her breath halting as he spoke, "It's me," he breathed heavily. "Look, time is short but I intend to keep my promise. There're some things I need to sort first." A car door slammed and the background noise silenced, in its place the quiet purr of an engine started up. "Meet me tonight, the usual place." He paused and in the silence she waited with baited breath for some further utterance, but for what would be eternal disappointment, nothing more was said, the line went simply fell dead. …"To re-play this message press- ."
Phone, thrown in the general direction of her bag, she took a measured breath and turned the car key. With an engine roar, Ruth set off for Lewisham, there was part of her that foresaw the scene that was to come but the echo of reassurance that Harry still had his promise to fulfil, that she would see him tonight and that this was part of his plan, placated her unsettled fears.
Lewisham Street…
London's traffic was busy, it took Ruth an hour to reach the other side of the city, parking restrictions were by far the last of Ruth's considerations and abandoning the car on yellow lines, headed briskly towards the side street.
Her emotions set to 'numb' Ruth functioned in automatic. Walking up the narrow street the putrid smell of burnt rubber made the air thick to breathe whilst black smoke wafted over the surrounding houses and hazed together with the murky grey sky.
Ahead of her a lumi-vested Police officer guarded stretched out police tape in a road cordon ahead.
'It's not him,' she recited silently to herself.
'It won't be him' she continued her mantra as she paced past the nosing neighbours.
A policeman went to block Ruth's path but she held out her ID in his direction with such practiced ease that he let her pass uninterrupted.
Beyond her, windows displayed proof of the explosion with their broken remains, along with twisted wreckage, strewn across the street. Trawling delicately over managed debris, men in white overalls engulfed the epicentre, the driveway of one of the houses, the driveway of Section D's safe house.
She wouldn't let doubt crumble her yet.
Nearing the blackened house,the burnt out wreckage of what was Harry's Landover was almost unrecognisable. Its silver frame was contorted such that it looked more like something that'd escaped The Tate modern, than something that was ever road worthy.
'Too convenient,' Ruth muttered under quivering breath, 'You're set for jail but blown up in a car bomb? They won't buy it Harry, it's too bloody convenient.'
Ruth stepped closer, her fingers pressed lightly on the corner of what she assumed was once the bonnet, its heat still enough to make her flinch.
The smouldering smoke from the remnants of the car, lodged in her throat, the taste staining her tongue, she leaned over one of the men at work. Ruth craned her head and absorbed the sight of dark blood scotched into the recesses of the car's interior, despite her denial, that was definitely blood, the acceptance of which caused Ruth's stomach to lurch.
"The body?" Holding up her ID she curtly addressed one of the masked forensics.
"Gone ma'am. Taken what's left off it for testing. We'll be lucky to get dental records. Did find this though," The man briskly held up a half melted passport. "Also got a couple grand's worth of Euro's in a holdall oh and a couple of other ID's too; looks like he was planning a permanent holiday somewhere."
A feeling of nausea rose further up in Ruth stomach, she forced it back down and asked quickly so she wouldn't brake, "Who's was it?"
The man used a latex clad finger to gently pry open the crispy photo page, turning the page to Ruth, Harry's photo was clearly identifiable, "Apparently …Mr Joshua Stone."
Harry's last resort, his new reality, and now burnt to a crisp.
As the man sealed up the evidence in a clear bag, Ruth Blankly nodded her thanks and started to walk away.
Still, Ruth held on...
Struggling with reality, her withering steps lead her away from the drive way,
Denial remained her refuge.
Reaching the pavement Ruth's eye caught a small round flint of smashed glass. The scrap was obviously another victim of the explosion but its circular appearance stood apart from that of the other shards of scattered glass. Picking it up she was conscious of her hands trembling. Forcing her fingers steady, she grasped it and lifted it.
For a beat Ruth's heart failed to function, failed to beat at all, then it seemed to blast with a thousand pulses.
The straps obliterated, she held the face of a watch and beneath both the shattered and heat-warped glass, the hands of the timepiece stood stilled at 12.14
Wish a squint, Ruth recognised the distinctive appearance of its features.
Her mind cast back to the aged memory of Harry's wearing a similar out-dated watch, unchanged over so many years. 'An antique?' Ruth had once wondered. One time she'd caught him in his office winding it up and had suggested he upgrade. She recalled:
-..-
"Thank you Ruth but as tempting as Malcolm's watches are, gadget, gismo's n' all, I'm perfectly happy with this one."
"I thought you might want something more reliable?"
"I'll have you know this watch was made with workmanship that doesn't include a production line of robots and will last longer than you or I."
"So long as you keep winding it up?" Lips curled, Ruth battled to repress the tone of tease in her voice.
"Well, yes." Harry sighed at Ruth's ability to outsmart him…constantly. He rewarded her with an confession of something nearer the truth," I suppose this watch also holds a certain amount of sentimental value."
"Ah, sentiment, the true value of a gift," Ruth had replied wistfully.
"Sadly, it wasn't a gift. It belonged to my younger brother Ben." Adding lighter, "You could argue I pinched it."
"You've a brother?" Ruth had piped, genuinely intrigued.
"Had." Harry had quickly pushed on, "Besides, don't sound too interested, Ben would have been too young for you and too…innocent." He smiled looking anything but.
In her surprise Ruth had thrown an expression of mock outrage, "That so?"
"Yes." He confirmed defiantly as a dark mischief swam between them.
-..—
It was one of the earlier occasions that conversation had swayed into flirtation. One she'd not forget.
-..-
Ruth's shaky hand turned over the face, as she did the glass edges slit her fingers. A small stream of bright blood trickled like water down towards her wrist, she felt no pain, like in the minutes before a tsunami; she could feel and hear nothing.
The wave would hit hard and fast as turning over the watch and using her blood wetted thumb to rinse clean the blackened charred metal she revealed, scratched and scorched but clearly readable, the inscription:
B..
Benjamin. James. Pearce.
Harry Brother, Harry's watch. Something of such value that he wouldn't discard, not for this, not when it was only she who knew its value. There could only be one man's wrist who'd it have been strapped to.
The tears finally formed and washed like acid, burning rivers down her face. Ruth had thought the concept too convenient but now her mind flashed back to Harry's words of weeks before, "If they find out what I'm planning, I'm as good as dead."
Blinded, her hands trembled and failed to wash away the blur before her eyes.
-x-x-
Ruth wished she could see him, see some part she recognised but having been at the heart of the explosion, it was left to lab reports to confirm Harry's identity.
Harry had made one last promise and in vein Ruth held on to it. He wouldn't let her down, not her Harry.
Delirium had fully set in and that evening Ruth found herself alone, seated on a park bench, their park bench.
The blustering icy chill in the air did not concern her and the misty specs of rain wafting softly against her check went unnoticed. Ruth simply waited. Cold and sodden, she waited for their promised meet. Time drifted and the early hours drew in, rocking herself gently, a silent tear slipped down her cheek. She told herself he'd eventually appear, that today was just an incredibly elaborate smoke screen and that, jogging or otherwise, he'd emerge from the darkness just as before and wiping her cheeks, would jokingly mock her for being so generous in her tears.
Shards of grey light brightened the night sky and as new day dawned the distant skyline, Ruth still waited. Fastened in her vigil all night, it was evident that for one final time Harry was going to disappoint her and his promise was to remain unfulfilled.
In her grief an anger rose, it was then she recalled her own vow of blind forgiveness. He'd made her promise to forgive him… knowing the odds stacked against him, it must have been the breaking of his own promise to which he begged his pardon.
Either way the end had come.
Harry was dead and inside, Ruth was too.
Tbc..
