If Harry needed an incentive, one that would get the blood coursing through his veins, it was to receive a text from Malcolm. Short and to the point it read – Ruth in trouble we need you back on the grid.

Not stopping to explain to the JIC why he was leaving, part way through what was an important discussion as to whether or not it was reasonable to ask the treasury for further funding, he ignored the under the breath comments about his manners or indeed value and was through the door and out into Whitehall without a backward glance. Hailing the approaching taxi and telling the driver that he'd pay him double if he could get him there in under fifteen minutes, he was back on the grid in ten and just as the clock was striking three. His body language to those on the periphery, suggesting that a panic-stricken Harry Pearce, was even more menacing than the one who had been prowling about for the past couple of weeks, with his face somewhere in his boots.

He of course saw none of this as he headed into his office where Malcolm was sitting behind his desk. Malcolm who had answered his phone and promised the caller that as soon as Harry arrived back, he'd ring him. Lucas and Jo already on their way, to both his house and Ros's flat, with strict instructions to be quick. All of which had been managed within minutes by Ros, who had bypassed everyone in authority to speed things up, which meant the travel arrangements were also in place. Arrangements which meant that a helicopter was standing by to fly Harry and Ros to Brize Norton, where an RAF flight was due to leave for Cyprus in just under two hours. Bumpy or otherwise it would be far quicker than a conventional flight and when it had been Ros Myers on the end of the phone, the Wing Commander and the only person authorised to make decisions regarding civilian passengers, had listened to her well - reasoned argument, one which in a nutshell told him that a vulnerable British citizen and her child had disappeared without trace, he'd agreed.

.

Harry didn't even get a chance to say how the hell did you get this number? As George immediately launched into, 'you have to understand that I wouldn't normally have searched through Ruth's things, but I was desperate. I came home from work to an empty house and after an hour of looking for Ruth myself, I called the police. They told me it was too early to presume that she and Nico were missing. That I should call back if they haven't turned up by bedtime. Which is ridiculous, because Ruth is a creature of habit and she would never have taken Nico anywhere different without letting me know. It's why I felt justified in doing what I did. I found this number on the back of a photograph and I have no idea who you are or if you even remember who Ruth is, I just hope that you're someone who can convince the police that I'm not panicking unnecessarily,' he pleaded at the other end of the line.

'My name is Harry and Ruth used to work with me,' was totally inadequate when it came to explaining what Ruth had been and still meant to him. It was like Leonardo De Vinci telling his admirers that he wasn't happy with the Mona Lisa. But it was all he could manage such was the rush of emotion at hearing Ruth's name being spoken by this unknown man. The one that Ruth had been sharing the intervening years with and god knows what else. The mention of the photograph, not described but he hoped was of him, raising some sort of belief that she hadn't forgotten him, even if she no longer loved him. All intermingled with the terrible fear that whoever had taken Ruth was going to harm her. Because whatever else George might have said or felt for Ruth, he was right. She was a person with integrity and of routines and she would never have disappeared with the young boy without telling his father where she was taking him.

'I'll pass you over to a colleague, someone who Ruth knows well. Give him your details and I'll be with you in about six hours,' he told him, looking at the travel arrangements that Malcolm had spread out in front of him. Delays and the time difference permitting. Not wanting to listen to what else George might say about Ruth. Or the life that they'd shared together in the interim. All of which he'd once imagined would be his to enjoy.

Thoughts that now they'd been planted, would last way beyond the next twenty minutes while he waited for Jo and Lucas to arrive back with their luggage. While Ros in addition to relocating the ongoing workload for Malcolm to re distribute, which would leave Lucas running the grid with Jo, avoided telling him that everything would be alright, when they had no idea who had taken Ruth or why. Other than it had to be related to the time that she'd worked here and not something that had happened during the time she'd been in Cyprus. The door to the meeting room where Harry had gone to get away from prying eyes sliding open and saw Harry, just for a second, imagine this was some awful dream. Only to see it was Jo with a change of clothing for him. Changing on auto pilot and downing what was left of his coffee before heading back out onto the grid, where Ros was ready to go. Ros who always dressed as though she was ready for a fight, as opposed to him who most of them had never seen in anything other than a suit and tie, now dressed as though he was going on holiday.

Malcolm stepping up to shake his hand, not needing to say anything. Because he of all people knew how it was. How it had always been. Now hoping for a resolution that would see his closest friends reunited and with a happy ending, still not an impossibility. Because if all the names of the officers who had worked for Harry over the years had been put into a hat. One that would determine who was best equipped to go with him, then Ros Myers was the one he would have chosen. Chiding himself for thinking that kick arse was a suitable attribute to give to a woman.

'I'll look after him Malcolm,' being her last words as she left the grid. A grid that was now respectfully quiet Malcolm thought, even with an inquisitive Lucas in charge. He himself, heading back to check the links to Cyprus that he'd already set up with the assets that they had there and with the knowledge that whatever Lucas asked her, Jo wouldn't say more than Ruth had been a colleague.

.

Bypassing the system and using the RAF, meant that within five hours of the conversation with George, Harry and Ros were walking across the sun-baked tarmac at Limassol. No red tape at passport control or crowds to deal with and with a car waiting, they were on the way within fifteen minutes of landing. Polis an hour away and with Ros driving and still calling the shots, Harry in the passenger seat and as he'd done throughout the flight, saying very little. The security services had always had a good relationship with the military and they were already checking the CCTV in and around the market where Ruth usually shopped. Anything else that they needed, they only had to ask, Harry had thanked them for. Other than that, he was more than happy to defer to Ros. Cool as a cucumber despite the heat at such a late hour, she was far better equipped to cope than he was. Heightened when they pulled up in front of the house where Ruth lived with George and he took in not only the surroundings, but the man who was walking towards them. The thought that one look at him, would expel any concerns that George might have had that Ruth would have looked at him twice, justified when George shook both their hands and invited them inside. Inside what was clearly a family home in every sense of the word. The toys of the boy who George was describing as quiet and well behaved as he handed them a photograph of his son, scattered around. A brightly coloured scarf that was obviously Ruth's, Harry failing to drag his eyes away from.

'Definitely not yours then,' Ros told him handing back the photo of Nico, in an attempt to get Harry to re-engage, before adding, 'not Ruth's either,' when Harry didn't respond.

George having disappeared with the offer of a cold drink and would be back any moment. Harry now imagining how happy Ruth must be living here in these perfect surroundings and with what he could only imagine was a kind man who loved her. That if she had been dragged back into her previous life because of him, it was best that he accepted now that he was going to fly home without her. Thoughts that saw him getting up from where they were sitting and heading back outside. Bypassing the flower covered veranda and the sweet smell of whatever was growing in the numerous pots. Unable to avoid looking at the pool or to dismiss the thought of Ruth swimming in it, until he was standing on the self- same terrace where Ruth stood every day and looked out over the sea. A sea, that even at this time of night had a magic and a sense of belonging about it. As though it was shouting at him to let her go, that she was happy. That Ros was more than capable of dealing with George and until they got the results from the CCTV cameras, that there was very little they could do, just adding to his misery. Until a voice that was unaccountably kind and so different from the Ros that he was used to hearing, forced him to turn and face her.

'It's beautiful here isn't it, but sometimes beauty isn't enough,' she told him.

'What do you mean?'

'It was a photograph of you that George found. He's not a fool Harry, you haven't lost her yet.'

.

Less than twenty kilometres away as the crow flies, Ruth and Nico were sitting side by side on a bed of sorts. Since they'd arrived, at what Ruth had taken to be a disused military training area and marched into the building, they'd been faced by a wall of silence. A silence that had continued long after they'd been fed and had only been broken when they'd been told by Mani that he'd he back in the morning. The sound of the car doors closing and then the car driving away, giving her some sort of respite, if not comfort. Nico speaking for the first time, asking her when his dad was arriving and she dared to tell him soon.

That she wanted to look out of the small barred window to determine which direction the house was facing and to get some idea as to where they were, proved what she suspected. That the back of the building was very close to the sea. Close enough and because she was standing on the only chair in the room and because it was a moonlit night, she could the sheer drop. None of which gave her a clue as to where they were unfortunately. Other than she knew that it was isolated, as well as being derelict. The dampness of the walls adding to the humidity, but that the temperature would drop overnight, making her reach for the only blanket. Curling up alongside Nico and wrapping her arms around him. For however long it was until Mani and whoever he'd got with him came back. Because it would be then that the questions would start. Something that terrified her, but with the determination that whatever they did to her and no matter how frightened she was, her first and only duty was to protect Nico. That neither he, or George who would be going out of his mind with worry, deserved to be put through this. That it was entirely her fault. Thoughts that saw her lying awake and for the first time since she'd arrived in Cyprus, dreading the sunrise.