Finally this chapter is finished with probably only two - four to go. It depends on how I split them and be warned I not the best at estimating length - my first ever story would I thought cover twenty chapters and ended up at around sixty four. Anyway sincere thanks to those of you who are still reading and reviews are received with gratitude.

'But I will keep her ignorant of her good'

Act 4 Scene 1 105

While Harry, seated on his wooden bench in the great outdoors, was contemplating their future relationship with a large degree of jolly optimism interlaced with minor flashes of apprehension, Ruth, currently confined within the not so great indoors, was considering their relationship with an increasing amount of doubt and a mounting insecurity. Left totally on her own, for the first time since she'd been carried unconscious into Harry's flat, all the questions that Harry had successively evaded were beginning to resurface.

Her Sunday morning intention of insisting on some answers had been knocked sideways by his generosity in presenting her with a Kindle and his consideration in loading it with a large selection of her favourite books. Any temptation to reject what she now recognized as a bribe having been further diluted by Malcolm's presence. Ripping into Harry regarding to their intimate relationship, in front of an interested audience, was best filed under the general heading of inappropriate. Consequently she who hesitated had been lost, with the result that during Sunday and Monday they had eaten, talked, made love. And therefore by any normal standard, she should now know him inside out, but instead...….

Chewing over the ongoing issue of how exactly he'd managed to silence her questions the only answer she could come up with was that she really didn't know…hypnotism was a possibility… but that only worked on a willing victim…. Which, much as Ruth baulked at the notion, was possibly a category she'd fallen into. Somehow with his melting smile, those glowing green eyes and his ability to converse on topics of interest to her, books, music, theatre, to make her feel important and, without ever actually mentioning the matter, reminding her that without his aid she'd now be caught in Giles' snares, Harry had bewitched her. The problem was that now he had temporarily removed himself, with the express intention of a reciprocal ensnaring of Giles, Ruth was belatedly realizing that Giles was not the only victim of Horatio Prince. What for goodness sake had she been thinking of? The man she'd allowed to enthusiastically shag her even travelled under the false name of Harry rather than Horry. Of course he'd given her a plausible reason doing so, but then he had a plausible reason for everything. Well informed he might be, actually no might, he was well informed, but had he vouchsafed to her any specific information about himself that she could check out? He'd admitted to working for Harry Pearce in some vague capacity and that, after two complete days living in his company, remained the sum total of her knowledge about him. He'd assured her that Peter, also implicated by Giles as a traitor, was safe, and needing to avoid detection herself she'd no alternative other than to believe him. Isolated from everything that was familiar, from her normal life, and now from the bubble of the last couple of days, she was forced into the unpalatable admission that he'd charmed her, thereby making her feel special. Brooding, while sitting on the sofa that had been the scene of his original seduction, she was now blushing to recall the further skilled intimacies that she'd allowed him to perform as a followup. That she'd never feel the same way again about the kitchen table or the shower was a certainty. He'd managed to awaken in her feelings and desires that a few short days ago she'd never have suspecting herself of possessing, while assuring her that he loved her. Now the worries were setting in. Ruth's naivety didn't extend to believing that Harry had developed his bedroom techniques without, to put it euphemistically, a great deal of hands on and other body parts practice. What was increasingly knawing at her was the thought that he may well have tried the same technique of professing love to numerous other innocents. Had she fallen for the exploitation of a modern day descendant of the dastardly Sir Roger seducing the gentle maiden? Ruth placed a high value on honesty and at best she suspected that Harry was lying by omission.

Who was he? What was he? And at this precise moment where was he and what was he doing? Ruth, minus his distracting presence, was again surveying the flat with a clinical eye. Utterly impersonal except for one item, the small sculpture that was perched by the router. The neutrality of the flat bothered her, for a man with such a natural presence it was troublingly anonymous. The only decorative artefact redolent of an individual taste being that sculpture which was irritating her. Every time she looked at it a memory chord was struck, but the context eluded her.

Struggling with the effort of recall she moved nearer to the shelf and stretched out her hand to remove it for further examination, and then just as quickly withdrew it. This was her temporary domicile, not her home, should she even be considering an active investigation of the contents beyond mere passive observation and conclusion? She might be a spy but presently she wasn't here as Ruth Evershed the spy but Ruth Evershed the…. That gave her further pause for thought, what exactly as she to Harry …. And again who the hell was he? He'd invaded her life but so far no answers, with that she recalled that he'd not been hindered by any similar concerns when breaking into her flat and rifling through her wardrobe, or…given the contents of the gifted Kindle….closely examining her book shelf. Steel entering her mind she reached out again and this time didn't hesitate to lift down the sculpture.

Her initial examination was less than enlightening, abstract swirls of well polished stone, small and beautifully carved. Carefully turning it upside down to view the base, it was heavier than its actual size implied, it held no clue at all, but as she put it back something in its slight displacement reminded her. Of course! The items she'd viewed on the shelf in Giles' office, noted by her when trying to avoid looking at Giles, and all that told her was that Harry must have seen some of the ornaments in the Head of Counter Terrorism's office and admired them. She already knew her Harry was a man of discernment, so beyond the mystery as to when Harry Pearce had invited him onto the Grid she was no further forward.

Shaking herself she concluded that some alternative activity was dictated in order to break away from the mentally decreasing circles running around her brain. So after undertaking some mild housework of dusting and tidying variety she headed into the kitchen. Whatever or whoever Harry was, and whatever his intentions, they both needed to eat and for now her role seemed to have been reduced to that of 'the little woman' at home. She could only hope that Harry's latest mission, which he had described to her as 'something that might finally catch out Giles', had been successful.

Harry when he returned a in the early evening, having first dumped the briefcase in a secure sealed deposit ready for the planned revelations of the morrow, sniffed appreciatively at the aroma floating out from the kitchen. His attempts to express gratitude, "That smells marvellous Ruth I never realised you were such a good cook." being greeted by a stony face which made his confidence falter a little, experience to date having suggested that women were suckers for compliments.

"The unemployed and hunted have to occupy themselves somehow."

Alarmed at her reaction he tried reassurance. "Ruth you are not unemployed, and once Giles is exposed…" With a wince he remembered that that was exactly what Giles had done, as the precursor to attempting to do several other things to Ruth. Any attempt to retrieve his error felled by the bitterness in Ruth's voice, as she continued, "So I'm now reduced to living in the, 'Honey I'm home' scenario."

Since Ruth was the putative housewife in question that was not a prospect that Harry was going to complain about, but viewed objectively from the standpoint of an intelligent, even brilliant, woman he could see that in occupational terms superintending a casserole dish might be considered something of a comedown.

"Ruth I'd be happy for you to remain here permantly but worry not….you will be returning to the Grid tomorrow."

Ruth being Ruth, while ignoring the first part of his declaration, fastened on the final part with a question that was terse but to the point, "How?"

"Because the task I was undertaking today will sink him."

Ruth who had excellent recall, one of her necessary professional skills, reminded him, "But surely that was to report back to his prospective father in law so how does that get him removed from the Grid?"

Harry unusually caught up in his own lie had to retrieve himself as he informed her, "That was my original brief but….let's just say that in the interests of the nation and exploited womankind I diverted into an interesting sideway move." No need to mention to Ruth that the sideways move in his mission had been diverted towards the exploited women strand, not the safety of the nation. Overall it wasn't a total lie. While his own record with women to date would never have won him any prizes in the 'This is what a feminist looks like' stakes, which was just as well given that Harry was allergic to slogan bearing T shirts, in his favour was the fact that he'd never had to bribe a woman into bed or make her remain there by chaining her to it. Also on the credit side he possessed serious ethical objections to sexual harassment.

Before Ruth could raise any further objections he suggested, "As I said, that smells good so let's not waste a decent meal or", as he moved towards a cupboard in the kitchen, "a decent wine."

Ruth wasn't giving up. "And you'll explain…."

If Harry hadn't been in the act of uncorking the bottle he'd have crossed his fingers as he assured her, "I'll give you the tale. And tell you what you have to do tomorrow."

This utterance had the effect of making Ruth relax slightly, as indicated by the squared shoulders sagging a little. Harry by contrast, while seeming unconcerned, had a mind that was whirring like a demented windmill as he tried to construct a truth that would pick through the composition of lies. The simplest solution would have been to confide his deception but, despite Ruth's intelligence and pragmatism, he didn't dare risk her storming out and just possibly blowing the whole delicate edifice of the mission sky high. Better to stick to his original plan and rely on Ruth's natural discretion not to explode in anger in front the entire Grid staff at the unmasking of Horatio Prince. Admittedly a tricky situation seemed dictated but once closeted within the privacy of his office he was confident he could calm her down by reminding her of all that they had shared, including the meal she was now placing on the table.

Since they were both hungry they were several mouthfuls in before Ruth, sitting up with a face that was signalling the message of 'don't even try to fob me off', voiced the single accusatory word 'Well.' And it wasn't a question.

Harry, having taken advantage of the pause, was prepared for his launch into an utterly mendacious explanation,

"I received a tip off that Giles was going to be in particular place during his ordinary working hours. I'd assumed that a woman was involved and so went to observe covertly."

After a quick glance to see if Ruth was buying this, her expression seemed neutral so at least she was assessing his words, so far so good. "When I got there I realised that it was something entirely different. I can't go into details as this might comprise my sources, but it would seem that in accusing you and Peter of selling state secrets it was the old case of the pan, kettle and black."

Ruth of course pounced on the redacted section of his explanation, "Why can't you tell me?"

Harry fell back on the engrained MI5 protocols as he reminded her, "Because, as you are well aware, assets are promised confidentiality."

"But surely…"

Harry choked her off with what would have been true, had the alleged sources actually existed in a sphere beyond his imagination. "The assets in question belong to Harry Pearce and are therefore not supposed to deal with a non MI5 individual."

Trust Ruth to find the hole in his argument as she queried. "So why contact you?"

Repressing the thought that in some respects living with Ruth might resemble living with a rottweiler rather than a cuddly spaniel Harry patiently replied. "Because with Giles having so many contacts in the service they needed to talk so someone outside and knew that Harry Pearce trusts me and Malcolm."

"So Malcolm is involved?"

"Checking today's evidence for any Intel I've missed." Having made this smooth response Harry was silently salving his conscience with the thought that the last four statements were accurate, while hoping that the apprehension he felt in his gut wasn't reflected in his face. Watching Ruth he took a gulp of his wine, wishing it was his usual malt, abjured for the duration of the operation as being too near Harry Pearce's favourite tipple to run the risk of consuming, especially when deceiving a women of Ruth's acumen.

When her reply came it was on a totally different tack, "So how is it that you have an ornament that more or less reflects Harry Pearce's taste?"

Harry took yet another deep breath. The sculpture ahhhh. Having bought the flat under an alias he'd furnished it with that one small item as a reminder of who he really was, a backfiring decision that now threatened to expose the very fact that he was trying to keep under wraps for another few hours.

Smiling he replied, "I did a job that was totally off the books so Harry paid me in kind with the sculpture that could be sold on only …"

"Ruth chipped in. "You liked it and kept it."

"Exactly."

It was brief diversion down an alleyway before Ruth returned to the main attack, "So how do I return to the Grid? Why and .."

Leaping in as she faltered Harry revealed the end of this particular beginning, the operation that would see Giles kicked out of the office and a miracoulsly revived Harry Pearce back in post.

"In view of our discoveries today Malcolm contacted the DG who has no option other than to act. Malcolm will also have arranged for you to enter via the back carpark, not the front entrance. You go straight to the Grid."

"And get arrested." Up until this moment Ruth had thought that she could face the future with bravery but now the prospect of of imminent imprisonment and, God help her, being removed from Harry's protective cocoon was a frightening thought.

As if he'd read her mind Harry was able to soothe her. "No, Malcolm will ensure that you get the chance to speak, he's already laid down the groundwork."

Ruth seemed slightly mollified as she then asked anxiously, "But if you are off the books will I see you again?"

At last a question that Harry could answer truthfully, unequivocally and thankfully,

"Yes and without us having to skulk around."

Swallowing the final dregs of his wine he stood up as he suggested, "Let's clear up here and since tomorrow is likely to be a long day I'd suggest bed."

"Ruth glancing at her watch protested, "It's only half past eight surely it's a little early…..."

Harry, remembering his banishment to the sofa a couple of nights ago was careful not to smirk as he replied seriously, "I didn't mention sleep did I?" A calculated risk, but as he anticipated spending the next few days sorting out the ramifications of the entire black op, a situation that would inevitably mean tomorrow's midnight hours would spent in his office with only malt whisky for company, he thought he might as well try to get in one more night of pleasure.

Ruth, cheered by the thought of the cloud being removed from over her name, while still certain that that she hadn't acquired chapter and verse on the man, decided that waiting one more day before she could interrogate him wouldn't matter much. Reinstated on the Grid she could re double her efforts to expose more than the body that he had so freely revealed to her. Even if that failed she could return home, which would make her less dependent on his hospitality, and therefore less vulnerable, placing her in a much stronger position to ask questions and insist on answers. Therefore she didn't demure as she asked a question which was the very essence of domestic banality,

Will you wash or dry?"

Harry, his point won, grinned, "Neither." As he grabbed her, pulled her into the sitting room, and after depositing her on the sofa suggested, "A reprise of our first time?"

Ruth's response was to begin unbuckling his belt as she reminded him. "Not quite. This time I know what to expect."

Harry, mentally rifling through his own personal Kuma Sutra of positions and sensual tricks murmured into her ear, "Don't be so certain", as he set to work to prove his assertion. Which, with Ruth's willing assent, meant that within a very few minutes both parties had ceased to worry about the possible events of the next day.

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