Thames House, London – Friday, November 25, 2011 – 4.37pm:
Ruth had planned her whole day around arriving at the Grid by 5pm. It's unlike her to be early for an appointment, but early she is. She takes the lift to the fifth floor, remembering that day almost nine years ago, her first day on the Grid, when she'd stumbled into her first meeting almost twenty minutes late. She'd been so young back then, young and keen, and perhaps a trifle ditsy. What must Harry have thought of her then? She's never been brave enough to ask him, and he has never broached the subject.
She has already messaged Qasim Akhtar, the new senior intelligence analyst – her replacement. She has mixed feelings towards this young man, especially after Harry had described him as being `bloody brilliant'. On the one hand she is relieved that a worthy replacement had been found so quickly, while on the other she is worried that Qasim may be just too good, perhaps even better than she had been.
On entering the Grid, apart from the low humming from lights and computer systems, all is quiet. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, the room cavernous as an empty womb. To her right, Harry's office appears empty, while apart from the usual handful of administrative staff, the grid floor is a muddle of empty desks.
"Where is everyone?" she says aloud, but to herself, since it's clear to her that no-one is there to greet her.
Hearing the low burr of male voices, Ruth turns to see Dimitri and Tariq leaving the kitchen, each carrying a mug of hot coffee, while in his left hand Dimitri carries an extra mug. "We're your welcoming committee," he says with a grin, thrusting the spare coffee into her hands.
"Only the two of you?" Ruth asks, glancing around in search of a spare chair.
"Here," Dimitri says, drawing a chair from the closest empty desk. "Calum won't be needing this for a while."
"Not dead, is he?" Ruth asks, purely in jest.
"Not quite, although he's with Erin, so anything could happen."
Ruth lifts her eyebrows in an unspoken question before taking a wary sip of her drink. It has a little more sugar added than she's used to, but it's hot, so she's not about to complain.
"They're interviewing a couple in Hounslow who called in a terror threat," Tariq says, having carefully placed his coffee on the edge of Calum's desk. "It's probably nothing, but we had to follow it up." He twists his mouth to one side. "You know how it is."
She does, of course. "And Harry?" Ruth adds carefully, hoping she appears nonchalant, even indifferent to Harry's whereabouts.
"Didn't he tell you?" Tariq says. Ruth shakes her head, resisting the urge to add that had Harry thought to communicate with her, she'd not be here right now, sharing a coffee with the two of them. "He and Qasim were called out unexpectedly. You'd never guess who they're meeting."
"No, Tariq, I can't possibly guess."
"Harry received a call from the Gavrik kid," Dimitri says quickly, effectively stealing Tariq's thunder.
"Sasha Gavrik?" Ruth says. She was told the whole Russian party had left London over a month ago. "But .. isn't that … risky?"
"You haven't yet met Qasim, have you?" Dimitri says with a slow smile. When Ruth shakes her head, he explains what he means. "Qasim is one scary looking guy. Arms like tree trunks..."
"He does karate," Tariq says quickly.
"Not karate, mate," Dimitri corrects. "The man does Taekwondo. It's Korean. Fierce fighters, the Koreans."
"So ..." Ruth begins, "why are they meeting Sasha Gavrik?" Especially when they had all believed the Russian to have returned to Moscow with his parents.
Dimitri lifts his shoulders in a careless shrug. "No idea," he says. "Harry received the call, he summoned Qasim, and we haven't heard from either of them since."
Ruth experiences a brief moment of panic – her automatic reaction to the unexpected, particularly with Harry being involved.
"You shouldn't worry, Ruth," Tariq says sagely, leaning towards her. "Harry'll be fine. He has Qasim to protect him."
"Why should I worry about Harry?" she says defiantly, hoping to deflect further questioning. "He's a grown-up, after all."
"We all know you're living together," Dimitri says quietly, his eyes focused on the surface of his coffee.
"Living together is just .. well, it's living together, sharing the flat .. and the bills," Ruth says, swirling the remainder of her coffee around in the bottom of her mug before drinking it.
"If you say so," Dimitri adds, but Ruth is not so sure this spells the end of the discussion. "We all know, Evershed," he continues, "and we're all happy about it."
They're all happy about it? Happy about what exactly? She lifts her head, working up the courage to deny everything, when the door to the Grid is opened, and Harry and Qasim enter with a flourish. Ruth has not yet met Qasim, and so she is surprised to find that Dimitri's description of him is spot on. The man – of medium height, with cropped dark hair and a beard, the build of an athlete, accompanied by a ready smile - crosses the floor with his hand outstretched towards Ruth.
"Harry's been singing your praises," he says, his voice deep and rich. "So good to meet you at last," he says, grasping her hand in a warm hand shake.
"We need to adjourn to the meeting room," Harry says, once he joins the four of them at Calum's desk.
Ruth stands. "Maybe I should head home," she says, pushing in her chair. "You don't need me listening in."
"Actually, Ruth, we'd rather benefit from your input," Harry says, moving to stand beside her. His close proximity in the presence of these three men confuses Ruth, but only for a moment. They know about us, she tells herself, and they're fine with that. She lifts her eyes to Harry and nods. "Very well," she says.
The Grid Meeting Room – Friday, November 25, 2011 – 5.07pm:
"Have you heard from Erin or Calum?" Harry asks, once everyone is seated, fresh cups of coffee in front of them, other than Qasim, who had grabbed an energy drink from the fridge in the kitchen. Ruth suspects Qasim has the energy to power the Grid for the remainder of the day, energy drink notwithstanding.
"Not yet," Tariq answers.
"Let's crack on, then, shall we?" Harry says, turning to smile at Ruth who, by force of habit, sits at his right hand. Ruth's mind wanders to The Last Supper, to John who had sat to Jesus' right, while it was Judas who had sat to the left. She shakes her head to bring herself back into the room. Harry may be a lot of things, but he's no Jesus "Alright?" Harry says, having turned to face her.
She glances up at him to smile and nod. "Never better," she says, and she means it.
"As you already know, Qasim and I had a meeting with Sasha Gavrik, FSB agent, and only child of Ilya and Elena Gavrik." Harry lifts his eyes to each of them in turn. "He had a reason for meeting us. He wants to defect .. with the aim of joining MI5."
"Bullshit!" Dimitri says, sitting up straight. "And you said what to that?"
Harry's smile is slow, and not a joyful one. "I said he should check in to a psychiatric facility on his return to Moscow, which needs to be immediate."
"But he could be useful, couldn't he?" Tariq suggests.
"He's his mother's son, so his plan would likely involve a large degree of deception," Harry replies bluntly, "meaning that his first loyalty is unlikely to be to British Intelligence."
"Basically, the dude can't be trusted," Qasim adds. "I'd already done a deep search on him. He'd already tried the same stunt with the CIA, who turned him down flat, and sent him packing."
"So, when is he returning to Russia?" Ruth asks, turning towards Harry.
"Hopefully as soon as he can book a flight." Harry takes a deep breath. "Then there's Leonid Ivanko, also known as Bob Hogan. I asked Sasha if he had any intel to give me, knowing that I'd not consider him crossing to our side without something substantial."
"Bob Hogan slipped off the radar around three or four years ago," Qasim continues. "He was declared dead, and during the interim he prepared for his role as a double agent, serving the CIA at the same time as he worked with the FSB."
"Jesus," Dimitri says. "Has he a death wish, or what?"
"So far, so good, but if he makes just one false move, he's ..." Harry breathes, and Ruth can tell that he is worried about the American.
"Then there's Hogan's relationship with Erin," Qasim continues. Ruth can feel Harry relax beside her. He seems relieved to leave the job of painting a verbal picture to his new senior analyst. "Tariq, maybe you can provide the rest of this story."
"My team has conducted some deep searches," Tariq begins quietly. "Erin has a long term friendship with Hogan, also known as Leo Ivanko. It appears to me … us that Erin's role all along may be to liaise between MI5 and FSB, as well as MI5 and the CIA."
"You're sure about this?" Harry asks, wondering why he hadn't come up with this conclusion on his own.
As he prepares to speak, Qasim leans a little forward. "Harry and I had already worked out that Erin has contacts in the CIA, and that she may have … liaised with them over time. That's not such a surprise. Her relationship with Hogan, who is now Ivanko, however, puts a whole new light on things."
"So, who is it she's really working for?" Ruth asks quietly, and the four men all turn to look at her. "Who are her masters? Can you trust her in her role here as Section Chief?"
"She's not put a foot wrong," Harry says quietly, "other than rearranging my office while I was on furlough. That miffed me no end."
"So what I hear you saying," Ruth begins, aware that her chosen wording is likely to annoy Harry. "It appears that her first loyalty is to Section D, but with some side loyalties to the CIA -"
"Which is normal procedure, as things currently stand with the US," Harry quickly adds.
"And some kind of unspecified connection with Russian Intelligence," Ruth continues.
The sentence spoken by Ruth brings a silence to the meeting room, while all five of them contemplate what all this could mean … for Counter-terrorism, as well as for the UK. All five of them sit for a long time while they each mentally play with the many possibilities.
"Surely she has to go," Harry states. "We can't have someone in her position who has contact with the FSB, even if such contact is ultimately for the benefit of the UK."
"Why not?" asks Dimitri, who is taking his time catching up.
"Because without cooperation and guidance from British Intelligence, she is vulnerable at the hands of the Russians."
"But maybe that was what this Hogan guy was doing all along," Dimitri suggests.
"But her contact with him was without the sanction of British Intelligence," Harry replies, his voice low.
Ruth reaches out to lay her hand on Harry's forearm. She is no longer worried what the others think about her act of familiarity towards Harry. They already know about them, and maybe there is a lot at stake here.
"I think you should not do anything," Ruth says, glancing around the table. "But Tariq, you need to give your most trusted and skilled technical officer -"
"That'd be Toby Dean," Tariq says, rhythmically tapping his chin with a pencil. "Tracing multiple communications is one of his specialties."
"I agree with Ruth," Qasim says quietly, and Ruth can see the fire in the man's eyes. "To send her elsewhere within the service is to court danger. At least while she's working here we – all of us in this room – can keep an eye on her. If she makes one false move, then we'll have something on her."
"And if she suspects we're on to her, and she applies for a transfer?" Harry asks.
"We deal with that if and when it happens," Qasim replies. "Hopefully, if and when that does happen, we'll have a clearer picture of the nature of her activities."
Harry sits up, glancing at each of them in turn. "I don't have to remind any of you that this stays with us," he says. "It must go no further."
All four others at the table nod wordlessly.
Harry's office – Friday November 25, 2011 – 5.47pm:
While Ruth sits primly in on the sofa beneath the window, Harry paces the length of his office and back.
"Maybe you should pour yourself a drink, Harry," she says, more to distract him than to push him closer to alcoholism.
But her words have the required effect, as Harry stops dead, turning towards her. "Are things that bad?" he asks.
"Not really. It's just that you were working yourself into a state with your pacing."
Harry has already crossed to the cabinet, pouring whisky from a decanter - three fingers for himself, and one and a half for Ruth. "It's unlike you to encourage my drinking, Ruth," he says, handing her tumbler to her before sitting beside her.
"Sometimes having a drink is one's only clear option," she says.
"I can't believe that I missed the signs with Erin."
"Go easy on yourself, Harry. You were away from the Grid for most of the Russian visit. You can't be expected to know what's going on at work when you had no contact."
Harry sighs. "Thank you, Ruth."
"For what?"
"For being the voice of reason. For being here … with me."
Ruth reaches out to place her free hand on his thigh. "I've come to accept that being here .. with you .. is where I belong."
"I'm glad," he says, his voice low.
"I can be slow to … accept some things which may always have been inevitable."
Harry agrees, but he's not about to voice that thought. "I don't know how I've managed all this time without you .. in my life."
"Sorry," Tariq says from the open doorway. "I didn't mean to interrupt … but -"
"You're not interrupting, Tariq. This is a place of work, after all. Come in." Ruth has already removed her hand from his thigh, so Harry stands, moving towards Tariq. "This must be important."
Despite his interrupting a tender moment between them, Tariq appears unembarrassed. He stands just inside the doorway. "I just remembered something," he says, glancing from Harry, to Ruth, then back to Harry. "A week or so after the Russian party arrived in London, Erin asked me to do something which, in retrospect, may have meaning."
"Go on," Harry says. Ruth has also risen to her feet, and moves to stand close to Harry. If the members of Harry's team know about them, then why behave coyly?
Tariq turns away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, or considering the wisdom of continuing to share his suspicions. When he turns back, his eyes are on Harry. "It was a Tuesday morning," he begins, "only a few days after you took enforced leave. Erin came into the technical suite. In all the time I've worked here, she'd not once done that, so that's why it stood out. She asked me for contact details of this person at the Russian Embassy."
"Why ask you?" Ruth says quietly.
"At the time I wondered the same thing. She seemed to make a point of speaking to me. I remember the name of the contact. It was Andrei Glazkov."
Harry shakes his head. "Never heard of him," he says. Ruth also doesn't know the name, but keeps that to herself.
"The information wasn't hard to find, but after she'd left, I did a more thorough search on this man. Within the hierarchy at the embassy, he's small fry, but that can be deceptive." Here Tariq pauses, taking a deep breath.
"Go on, Tariq" Harry says, already having some idea where this is leading.
So Tariq continues, his voice a low monotone. "Andrei Glazkov is former FSB, but left the service to run for political office, like Vladimir Putin, but without Putin's backing. Glazkov has a specific role in Russia. Translated into English his title is something like Deputy In Charge of Recruiting Foreign Agents." Here Tariq stops, his eyes on Harry.
"Say that again, Tariq."
"Andrei Glazkov is involved in identifying disgruntled agents from foreign intelligence services, with the intention of turning them. My research indicates that this man specifically targets the intelligence services of western democracies."
"So Erin may be thinking of defecting," Ruth says, her voice quiet.
"Or she's contemplating one of the most dangerous roles a spy could have," Harry says, glancing at Ruth.
Ruth nods. "All signs point to Erin playing our two nations off against one another."
Harry is gazing at Ruth's face, so both turn when Tariq at last speaks. "She spent around eight weeks in your office, Harry. I hope you used the encryption codes I gave you."
He had, so he nods wordlessly.
"But there's still the likelihood she was able to find someone who could crack those codes, and if successful, then ..." Tariq hesitates before finishing his sentence "… the shit could soon hit the fan."
A/N: I hadn't planned for this fic to be quite so plotty, so an epilogue will be needed, just to untangle things. This will be posted in the next day or two.