Into the home straight now. Huge thanks to everyone who took the time to review. As it was my first attempt at a longer story, I really appreciated everyone's input. There's one more scene to add, and I'll put that up tomorrow...hopefully.
Thanks again folks; it's been great fun.
Thames House - 1830 Monday 16th January
Zaf picked up the remote from the table and changed the image on the screen.
"From the information that we've been able to gather, this is who we think is missing from our original little gang of thugs. Alan Nash - the proud owner of a long and not particularly pleasant record of robbery and violence. Arrested several times in the past few years, but always managing to slip through the net. Ably supported by a regular network of like-minded friends...three of whom are now lying in the local morgue, wearing nothing but a very fetching set of toe tags."
Malcolm pulled a face. "And any information of where our desperado is likely to be heading?"
"Unfortunately, information is pretty thin on the ground. Adam had the last sighting of him pulling away in the Mercedes. We've put the word out for him and the car but until we hear back there's not much we can do. He's not registered as a Passport holder, but as we well know, that's never stopped anyone from getting out of the country if they're determined enough."
"What do we know about him and his cohorts?" Adam asked impatiently.
"None of the intel we have on the gang indicates that they were particularly well educated. Their background was limited to botched bank jobs and the odd case of extortion," Zaf summarised. "They met up with Henderson, seemingly by chance, in a pub just off the Parkstone estate."
He clicked on the remote and the image on the screen changed again.
"From what we can gather, Henderson had been tasked by 6 with the removal of al-Hassan. As far as 6 were concerned he was a disposable clean skin. They'd used him in the past and now it was time to sever all ties. One more job and then they'd hang him out to dry."
Ros picked up the story. "From what I saw of Henderson, his mind wasn't on the job, he was only looking for a way to up his profit. 6 had paid him up front for the hit, dropping the payment into a safety deposit box in the usual way. Flush with money and struggling with the thought of taking al-Hassan out of the game, Henderson goes to the pub and bumps into old business associate Alan Nash. Several pints later and Henderson has sold Nash on the way to make his fortune. The story has become distorted. Henderson has assured Nash that al-Hassan is sitting on a goldmine...only a goldmine of money not information."
"All Nash has to do is get to al-Hassan and persuade him to part with the details of where the money is." Zaf explained. "Henderson gets payment from Nash for the tip and walks away thinking that the job will be complete without him having to lift a finger."
Jo shook her head. "So when questioned, al-Hassan wouldn't have a chance of being able to answer."
Ros nodded. "Exactly. Henderson figured that the gang would grow impatient and finally kill al-Hassan when they realised that they couldn't get anything out of him."
"But al-Hassan spoke no English...what are the chances that any of them could speak Arabic..." Jo voiced the thought.
"On a scale of one to improbable; I'd say incredibly unlikely."
"So they were never going to be able to question him?" Jo remarked pointedly.
"Exactly, that was part of Henderson's plan," was Ros' simple reply. "But there was something he hadn't taken into account. We never send an escort car out without a translator."
"Oh my God," Jo was horrified as the realisation dawned. "Ruth must have been acting as a translator..." She looked down at the photographs of the injuries that had been inflicted upon al-Hassan. "She had to have been present at every session they had with him."
"More than that..." Ros continued; her tone emotionless."She had to be the one asking the questions."
"You knew this all along, didn't you?" Jo was disgusted at the thought. "And you didn't say anything!"
"What good would it have done?" Ros asked pointedly. "There was enough worry in this office without adding to it." She clicked the remote again and changed the image. "What 6 didn't bargain for was the fact that al-Hassan already had meetings set up in this country."
Adam nodded. "And when al-Hassan failed to show, his people went looking for information. And who better to talk to than a man you've worked with in the past?"
Ros frowned. "By the time I got back to Henderson's place it had been stripped clean. His office showed all the tell-tale signs of a quick but thorough fingertip search."
"Our friends at 6 making sure that nothing tied him in with them," Adam agreed.
"Henderson was greedy," Ros summarised. "And it was that greed and an inability to keep his mouth shut that got him killed."
"So we need to find Nash, or at least find out what, if anything he knows."
Ros nodded in response to Adam's comment. "But with Ruth the only one who can tell us anything, I somehow doubt that Harry's going to be applying that much pressure."
St Angela's –1840 Monday 16th January
The wind gusting around the outside of the building whipped against her skin, and she could feel the goose bumps forming, as the thin material of the hospital dressing gown did little to protect her from the elements.
Her head felt as though it was full of cotton wool and so she took another deep breath trying to clear it. From her vantage point she could make out the pinpricks of light from the buildings below and hear the faint sound of sirens as the ambulances made their way in and out of the hospital grounds.
For the last four hours, she felt as though she had been pinched and prodded and pushed to within an inch of her life. She wanted nothing more than some peace and some space to call her own. Finally, the doctor had decided that she should be left to rest and the seemingly never-ending procession of nurses had left the room. She had taken the opportunity to slip away. The tight bandaging around her knee had made progress slow, but the nurses had been too busy dealing with another new arrival to notice her hobbling along the corridor.
She shifted slightly, trying to take the pressure off of her leg and winced as it seemed as though every muscle in her body complained about the movement. Despite the haze of medication, she could feel her body protest as she refused to let it relax and get the rest it needed. She told herself that there would be plenty of time to rest; what she needed to do first was to prove to herself that she was still alive.
Somewhere behind her a door opened and, above the sound of the wind, she could just make out the movement of soft shoes upon the polished floor; the tell tale sign of a member of the nursing staff approaching. She had known that her absence from her room would be noticed, she had just hoped for a little more time before she was rounded up and forced back to bed.
"Come back inside," the female voice called out to her. Ruth didn't recognise the voice, but she could detect the sense of annoyance in the tone. She ignored it and kept her eyes focused on the horizon.
There was a pause followed by a heavy sigh and then a shout back to someone else within the building, most likely reporting that the errant patient had been located.
"You've got to come back inside," the nurse told her again, making little effort to hide the frustration she obviously felt.
"Oh, do I?" Ruth countered, not liking the tone in the woman's voice; her right hand gripping the rail of the small balcony tighter, determined not to be moved.
"You are supposed to be in bed. The doctor told you that you weren't supposed to be up. I'll have you know that half the nurses on the floor have been looking for you."
Ruth closed her eyes and tried to tune the chastising voice out of her head. She could feel the wind whipping through her clothes and took a breath full of the cold night air.
"Look, if you won't come back in, I'm going to have to fetch Sister."
"Oh, do what you want," Ruth snapped back at the nurse. "I am sick to death of people telling me what to do. If I want to stand out here all night, then I will." She was aware of how petulant she sounded, but for some reason, she didn't care.
There was a slight shuffling sound from behind and Ruth could visualise the nurse shifting from one foot to the other, trying to decide if it was safe to leave her standing where she was. Finally, the nurse retreated from the room and Ruth turned her attention back to the view in front of her.
St Angela's – 1845 Monday 16th January
Harry pushed open the door to the room and immediately saw Ruth standing out on the narrow balcony, her arms resting on the metal railings, staring out into the night sky. The Sister on duty had bustled towards him and told him in no uncertain terms that he had to persuade her to come back inside. Despite considerable reluctance to tell him exactly what was wrong, she had made it perfectly clear that Ruth was in no fit state to be out of bed, let alone standing out on the balcony in her bare feet. Harry had the distinct impression that Ruth had somehow put the nurse's nose out of joint, and wondered exactly what it was she had said.
He pushed on into the room and closed the door silently behind him.
"You should come inside," he told her softly so as not to startle her, as he made his way towards the sliding doors that led out onto the balcony. "You must be freezing out there." He thought about mentioning the fact that she wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but decided that it perhaps wasn't the right thing to say.
She shrugged in response to his comment; a barely imperceptible movement of her shoulders, and continued looking out upon the lights of the city.
Harry placed one hand on the open glass door.
"If you're going to stay out there, do you mind if I join you?"
She shrugged again. "Would it matter if I said no?"
Harry thought it prudent not to try and answer the question. He slid the door open wider and then stepped out into the bitingly cold night air.
Turning up the collar of his coat, he took up a place on the balcony next to her, mindful to avoid invading the area she'd already claimed as her own. Resting his arms on the railings he leant forward and looked out over the city.
He had to admit that the sight always took his breath away. As far as the eye could see there were small pinpricks of light. In the distance, St Pauls was bathed in the glow from strategically placed spotlights and stood out from the buildings around it. It had stood as a beacon of hope during World War II and Harry found that he couldn't imagine the city without the reassuring presence of St Paul's domed roof. He had the feeling though that Ruth wasn't appreciative of the view. He stood silently next to her, prepared to wait for as long as it took, until she was ready to speak.
"I couldn't do anything to save him." Ruth's words were spoken so softly that he almost missed them. He forced himself to keep staring straight ahead, looking out over the lights of the city, not wanting to give Ruth any reason to stop.
"I couldn't do anything."
He heard her take a shuddering breath and, out of the corner of his eye watched the way that her right hand gripped the railing tighter.
"They tortured him Harry and there wasn't anything I could do."
He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be alright, but knew just how trite and empty those words would sound at the moment. He knew that the best thing to do was just be there – just to be a presence at her side, waiting until she'd worked everything through in her head.
"I just sat there…sat there and did what they told me….translated everything they wanted, repeated everything they said…and didn't do a damn thing to stop them." She took in another uneven breath. "I mean…what could I do anyway? ... I was just a convenience…Nash went to great pains to explain that…I wasn't important...my life didn't matter to them...and yet… I'm the only one who's walked away from it...That doesn't seem right…..that doesn't seem fair somehow."
Harry wanted to tell her that it was right as far as he was concerned; it was in fact the best possible outcome. He forced himself to remain silent however, and wait for Ruth to continue.
"I've had enough of this job Harry. I've had enough of what it does to people."
He heard the soft rustling of clothes as she turned to face him.
"Nothing to say?"
"I wish I could wave a magic wand and make everything better," he told her honestly, turning to face her for the first time and trying not to react at the sight of the bruises that marked her face.
She forced a thin smile onto her face. "I wish you could as well," she told him honestly.
Harry noted the way that her whole body was now trembling as the chilling wind showed little sign of letting up.
"Come back inside."
She turned her head and looked back into the brightly lit sterility of the hospital.
"So that I can be locked back in another room and told what to do?" She shook her head decisively. "I just want to go home. I just want to get as far away from here as possible. I've had enough of people telling me what to do."
"The doctors want you to stay here for a couple of days…for observation," he informed her gently.
"I want to go home."
"Humour me Ruth, please. Just one night here and then I'll arrange for you to go home."
She shook her head. "I don't want to be driven."
Harry heard the fear in her voice.
"Then we'll take the bus!"
He watched and saw the slight smile that ghosted across her face. It was there only momentarily but it gave him a reason to hope.
"I'll meet you here and we'll go home together," he told her matter of factly. "Just promise me that you'll stay here tonight."
He watched as Ruth looked down at her hands, her right hand picking at the edges of the crepe bandage that now covered her left arm.
"I want to go home," she repeated, a tear starting to prick at the corner of her eye, her sense of frustration growing.
"Then I'll take you," Harry told her, prepared to tell her anything she wanted to hear at that point.
He watched as Ruth slowly raised her eyes, but when her troubled gaze met his, he found that he was unable to say anything at all.
"You've got to come back inside now," a man's voice broke the silence and Ruth immediately turned back to look out over the balcony, the moment lost.
Harry spun to face the young doctor who had spoken, his temper flaring.
"She'll come back inside when she's ready."
"She needs to come back in now... sir. She isn't well enough to be out there," the tone of the doctor faltered slightly as he took in the expression on Harry's face.
Harry glanced at Ruth, trying to make his mind up and then took a pace away from her, confronting the doctor, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back through the glass doors.
"Listen, he hissed. "When you've been through what she's been through in the past few days, then, just maybe then, you'll have earned the right to speak to her like that. Until that time you are to treat her with a little more respect. Do you understand?"
The doctor held up his hands. "With all due respect sir, she really does need to come back inside...Please. It is for her own good. The IV she was attached to wasn't just there for show. There's no chance that we'll be letting her out until the morning at the earliest." The doctor drew a breath, preparing to back up his case with more facts but Harry motioned for him to be quiet.
"Just give me a couple of minutes."
The doctor reluctantly backed away and Harry resumed his place on the small balcony.
"What did he say?" Ruth enquired. "I get the impression that they all think I'm likely to hurl myself over the railings."
"He says that you need to come back inside, and as much as I hate to admit it Ruth, he's right. You should come back in. Let someone look after you."
"I can't."
"I'm sorry?"
Ruth glared down at right leg, frustrated with her body for not complying with the demands she was making upon it.
"I'm afraid that if I move... I'll fall."
"Then let me help you."
"No." The word escaped her lips before she could stop it. She bowed her head. "I...I want to do this myself...I...I need to do this for myself."
Harry shook his head, wanting to berate her for her stubbornness but not having the heart to.
"That doctor is going to want my head on a plate if I don't get you back inside," he told her as he watched her slowly turn around, fighting against the urge to help her.
When she stumbled, he found himself automatically reaching out and placing a steadying arm around her shoulders. She leant into him, obviously needing the support he was offering.
Harry stood there uncertainly; not sure of the next move.
"I thought you'd abandoned me," she whispered quietly into his shoulder. "Why did you come?"
Harry searched around for an answer, not entirely sure what to say.
"Adam, Jo…the armed response team…everything….it's all against protocol." Ruth winced as she gathered up her remaining strength and tried to take a pace forward; the effects of the painkillers beginning to wear off.
"Come on…let's get you inside," Harry was reluctant to be drawn on the matter.
"No attempt at retrieval," Ruth hissed as she edged slowly forward. "That's what the book says."
"I must have an older version."
Harry was waiting for some retort from Ruth but there was nothing. He glanced down and caught the look of complete concentration on her face. The effort of walking was obviously greater than she was letting on. Reluctantly he stood back as the nursing staff pressed forward and took over. He found himself manoeuvred professionally to one side and told in no uncertain terms that Ruth needed to rest. There were still questions that needed to be answered but they would have to wait.
Thames House –2030 Monday 16th January
Harry caught sight of Oliver Mace seated in his office as he made his way across the grid. Adam had called him at the hospital to warn him of Mace's arrival and, reluctantly he'd been forced to leave Ruth to deal with the attentions of the hospital staff and return.
"You're late," Mace remarked as Harry took his seat opposite.
"And you're heading towards a coronary if you don't learn to relax. I apologise for detaining you Oliver, but I had some business to attend to."
Mace sniffed. "Making sure that you and your team have your stories straight before the investigation begins into your recent activities?"
Harry smiled, although there was no warmth in the expression.
"There won't be an investigation Oliver; there is nothing to investigate."
Mace raised an eyebrow. "And there was I under the impression that you and your team had been ordered to drop the al-Hassan case. I'm looking forward to hearing how you are going to explain your way out of this one."
"The incident at Littleton Farm was as a result of information we had received regarding an armed presence there. We were as surprised as you undoubtedly were, to discover that al-Hassan was being held within those walls."
Mace shook his head. "No-one will believe that this was anything other than wilful insubordination on your part Harry. You were told to drop the al-Hassan matter and yet you carried on regardless. The clumsy fingerprints of your team can be found everywhere."
"Look at the bigger picture Oliver; I would have thought that you of all people would have been pleased with the outcome. al-Hassan no longer gets the opportunity to wheel and deal behind Zebari's back. A group of Neanderthal thugs have been taken off the streets and undoubtedly improved the county's clear up rate; and perhaps most of important of all, as far as you are concerned Oliver; a group of well-known political mercenaries have been silenced, so there are no awkward questions to be asked about why they were so interested in al-Hassan... plus there's the added bonus that you don't have to pay any money to Peter Henderson again."
Mace's face reddened with anger. "Be very careful what you are suggesting Harry…"
"Don't try and bluster your way with me," Harry cut across Mace's reply. "We can't prove that it's your signature on the cheque, but rest assured we do know that someone in your office was complicit in this affair. I'm sure if we dug a little deeper, we'd find our fair share of skeletons."
The tension in the air was shattered by the ringing of Harry's phone. He drew the slim object from his jacket pocket, and without giving Mace a glance, answered it.
"Yes?" he growled into the handset.
Mace watched impatiently as Harry transferred the phone to his other ear and turned away from the table. Any hopes he'd harboured of eavesdropping on the conversation were thwarted as Harry's tone dropped and immediately became much softer. Whoever it was on the end of the line, they were important. That much Mace could work out.
The conversation ended after only a few moments and Harry slipped the phone back into his pocket before turning to regard Mace.
"I don't have time to drag this out Oliver. Be happy that this business had an outcome that was satisfactory for all of us."
"You were acting way beyond your jurisdiction," Mace snarled. "You were ordered to drop the al-Hassan case and you directly contravened those orders."
"I was alerted to an armed terrorist threat and I dealt with it quickly and quietly." Harry explained patiently. "In this day and age I would have thought that that would have earned me extra Brownie points, not a slapped wrist."
"This is more than simply a slapped wrist Harry. You ignored direct orders from the top; you and your little band of renegades are not going to get away without some form of censure. The days of going around acting like some kind of vigilante are well and truly in the past. You will be lucky to keep your job."
"I was acting solely in the interests of national security," Harry replied calmly.
"What?" Mace's tone was incredulous.
"I heard that there was a potential threat to the security of this Fair Isle, so my team and I were duty bound to do something about it?"
"What on Earth are you talking about?"
"What would you have me do," Harry countered calmly. "I get word that a small group of armed men are holed up in a farm not twenty miles away from the central ordnance depot of the Royal Logistic Corps. You expect me to just ignore that threat?"
"That's bullshit Harry and you know it." Mace spat. "Those men never posed any threat to the depot, I doubt they even realised it was there."
Harry rose to his feet and brushed an invisible speck of dirt from his jacket. He made his way around the table and leaned over, his head close to Mace's ear.
"Prove it," he whispered before straightening up and walking away without a backward glance.
Outside in the office, Adam sat and watched the scene play out, with more than a little amusement. The evening had been filled with tension; no-one had known exactly which way the hammer was going to fall. They had been involved in a case they had been specifically told to keep away from. They were all aware that the fallout from it could potentially cost them their jobs.
Adam grinned at Harry as he crossed the office.
"I take it Mr Mace didn't see the facts in quite the same way?"
Harry smiled. "You could say that. I don't think we have anything to worry about on that score. He's full of more hot air than a balloon fiesta but, to be on the safe side, I want a convincing plan drafted detailing how we believed that there was a clear and present threat to the Army's Ordnance Depot in Bicester."
"Consider it done." Adam glanced back towards Harry's office. "Are you just going to leave him there?"
Harry looked back over his shoulder. "I feel sure that he knows his way out of the building by now. I have more pressing business to attend to. Once he's learned to look at the situation my way, Mace is going to be so busy taking the glory for getting rid of al-Hassan and bagging himself a terrorist group into the bargain, that he won't have time to rattle sabres around here."
"Night Harry."
Adam followed Harry's departure with his eyes before turning back to search out the other member of the team who was still working.
"Ros!"
Ros froze midway through clearing her desk before turning to regard Adam with a withering gaze.
"This had better be important Adam, I'm tired, I'm hungry and I'm long overdue for an evening away from this place."
"Don't worry," Adam was quick to reassure her. "I'm not about to ask you to write that document Harry is after…I just wanted...well I wanted to say thanks really."
Ros arched an eyebrow. "Thanks for what exactly?"
Adam gestured around the office. "For this…for helping out during the past few days." He tried to order his thoughts as he caught the expression on Ros's face. "This business with Ruth and al-Hassan...the extra hours...everything really."
Ros pulled a face. "You're not going to get all cloyingly sentimental and start talking about how we're all really one big happy family, are you? Because if you are, you can stop right there. I happened not to agree that al-Hassan should be thrown to the dogs. I've seen it done before and I don't agree with it. That's why I helped, that's all there is to it. I'm not buying into this Three Musketeers 'All for one' crap that you and Harry seem to put so much store by." She returned her attention to her desk and began stacking files.
Adam watched her swift movements and struggled to suppress a smile. There was definitely much more to Ros than the brusque front she showed to the world. He'd let her get away with the lie for now. Maybe one day he'd get the chance to call her on it and remind her of the first time she went out of her way to help the team. She might be in denial about it now, but he knew that they had the right officer for the job. As much as she may claim otherwise, Ros Myers was most definitely a team player.
*Very geekily, the geography of the story does add up. Although St Angela's is a fictional hospital from a 1970's BBC series.
