Office of the British Home Secretary, London – Thursday May 19, 2011:
Harry can't believe what he's just been asked to do. "Sorry, but could you repeat that, please?" he says carefully, hoping that his polite, deferential tone will miraculously change the other man's mind.
"You heard me quite well, Harry," Towers says, staring across his polished oak desk to where Harry sits, inwardly squirming.
"You're asking me to ..."
"Not asking, Harry, telling. While I'm in no position to order you to do this, a lot rides on this woman being treated to a good night out."
"At a reception?" Harry can't help himself. The whole idea sounds preposterous. "But I've already asked .. someone else to be my plus one," he adds lamely. That is not the whole truth, but it is the only ready firearm he carries in his arsenal.
"Then un-ask them," Towers says briskly. "Explain your situation to this woman – I'm assuming it's a woman ..." Towers lifts one eyebrow, and Harry is sure he seems the man's lips lift in a smirk.
"Of course it's a woman. She'll be … disappointed," Harry replies, hoping he can guilt trip the other man into backing down.
"I have already assured the Ukrainian Ambassador that one of my most senior intelligence officers will accompany Mrs Shevchenko to the reception. If you back down, Harry, it will put British hospitality in a poor light."
And it won't enhance your reputation, either, Harry thinks. He sighs, dropping his eyes for a moment. "Very well," he says. "I'll instruct my driver to pick her up at the embassy at eight."
William Towers leans forward, resting his forearms on the edge of his desk. "It would be more … friendly were you to be the one to pick her up."
On this small detail Harry is firm. "I'll meet her at Halidon Hall," he says, holding Towers' gaze. "I don't want to be giving her the wrong message,"
Again Towers leans back in his heavily upholstered chair. "Message? Whatever do you mean?"
"This woman .." Harry begins.
"Her name is Yana, Harry. Yana Shevchenko, widow of the previous Ukrainian Ambassador to Britain. His death while in office was -"
"Tragic. Yes, I know," Harry says curtly. "Surely you remember the circumstances of his death, Home Secretary."
"He died suddenly of a heart attack. At just fifty-five he was still in his prime," Towers rattles off.
"He was with his mistress at the time," Harry says quietly.
Towers seems surprised. "Just don't remind his widow of the mistress," Towers says smoothly.
Harry nods. "I hope you don't expect me to sleep with her," Harry says at last. This small detail has been gnawing away at him from the time Towers had raised the subject.
Again Towers leans forward in his chair. "Only if she insists, Harry, otherwise a hands off approach might be best."
He has no desire to get close to the Shevchenko woman. Even were she the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world he'd still not be tempted. "I need to return to Thames House," Harry says, standing. "I have to ..."
"… let Ruth know about the change in plans."
For an instant in time Harry is fazed, but he quickly recovers, before turning away from Towers. The Home Office is a hotbed of gossip, perhaps even moreso than Thames House. Nothing anyone does goes unnoticed, so it's hardly surprising that Towers has caught wind of Harry's interest in his senior analyst. "Among other things," he says before he leaves the office.
The Grid – same day:
As she enters his office, Ruth appears wary, hovering just inside the doorway, her eyes darting between him and the window overlooking the Grid floor.
"Best you close the door behind you, Ruth," he says gently, leaving his chair to move closer to her.
"Has something happened?" she asks quietly. "Has tonight been cancelled?"
Harry stops before he reaches her. "Not cancelled, no," he says, "but my … role has changed. I need you to know, Ruth, that none of this has been my idea."
"You've changed your mind," she says sharply, lifting her eyes to his as he edges towards her, now almost within touching distance.
"No, Ruth, I haven't changed my mind. I've been looking forward to this evening, but those plans have been changed ... by those in more elevated positions than my own."
"You're talking about Towers .. aren't you?"
Harry nods. "He has … strongly suggested that I accompany the widow of the former Ukrainian ambassador to the reception, so ..." Harry can't say any more. In his head he'd just sounded like a tool of the state – someone who doffs his cap and agrees to every unreasonable request from his employers.
Ruth drops her eyes. "Will you have security?" She lifts her gaze.
He carefully moves closer to her, lifting one hand towards her, but stopping just short of touching her. "We can do something else, Ruth, something more private, more personal. Perhaps on Saturday … if you'd like."
But Ruth ignores his invitation. "Will you have security … tonight?"
Harry breaks eye contact, aware that she is worried about him, about his safety, and he doesn't know why. "Dimitri and Calum will be there, and I think they have also managed to convince a couple of women from Vauxhall Cross to accompany them. They will be mingling with the crowd, but ..."
"Keep Dimitri on speed dial," Ruth says quickly.
Harry takes a half step away from her. "Do you know something?" After all, he'd only invited Ruth to join him because it was deemed to be a low-risk event.
During the past few months the two of them have drawn closer, not only in the workplace, but away from it. After avoiding him for much of the two years since she'd returned from exile, Ruth has taken tentative steps towards him, inviting him for a drink after work, after which he had responded with his own invitation to after-work drinks. He had been away during the week of her birthday, so when it had been suggested that he attend the reception for the newly appointed Ukrainian ambassador, he had asked Ruth to be his plus one. They are not yet a couple – that will require time and patience – but they are at ease in one another's presence when away from the familiarity of the Grid. They fit together, and he is happy with that. If he can be considered an adequate judge of their relationship, the probability of a romance developing is still some way off.
"There are rumours about Yana Shevchenko," Ruth says, watching him closely. "She's former intelligence, has been since the inception of Ukrainian Intelligence six years ago. Some say that since her husband's sudden death she has been a sleeper agent. Maybe Towers has given you the task of accompanying her for you to keep an eye on her."
Harry had already considered that possibility, but had immediately dismissed it. "It's not so long ago that she worked as a model," he says quickly, hoping Ruth can follow his train of thought.
"How better to disguise an agent than to have them travelling the world, parading up and down catwalks. It's the perfect cover."
She's right, of course. "Then I'll be careful, Ruth. Maybe I'll mention the SZR in passing, and see how she reacts."
"Maybe you won't," she replies sharply, before relaxing. "That would be .. unwise."
He smiles weakly. "That was a joke, Ruth."
Ruth's eyes slide past his to the window, where most of the staff appear to be leaving for the day. "You'll have to leave soon … to get spruced up."
He nods. He wants to remind her that since she's not his secretary, she has no need to be keeping tabs on him. But that would be unfair. She is so much more valuable to him than a secretary could possibly be.
"I thought I might stay here and work," she continues, "just in case something .. untoward occurs, and my skills are needed."
Harry nods once more. He knows her well. She would receive as an insult any suggestion that she go home and put her feet up, leaving him to deal with any crisis which arises.
"Whatever suits you, Ruth."
Halidon House – Thursday - 8.41pm:
Harry waits outside the venue until his driver arrives. He steps towards the car to assist Yana Shevchenko from the back seat of the limousine. She is a striking woman – tall, elegant, moving through space with the ease of an athlete. Whilst she is taller than him, her ridiculously high heels have her peering down at him when he introduces himself, his hand outstretched to take hers. It is not until they are inside that he notices her high cheek bones, and her striking blue eyes, a few shades lighter than Ruth's.
Harry introduces Yana to the Home Sectretary, the Foreign Secretary and his wife, and lastly to Dimitri Levendis, before flicking his head to one side while glaring at Dimitri. While it's important that Dimitri know who this woman is, he's not at the reception to socialise.
"Would you like a drink?" Harry asks, and Yana nods. "Champagne?" She nods again.
It only takes a few sips of champagne for his companion to relax. Her smile is engaging, her ready laughter infectious, as she chats freely to Harry and a couple of men from the Ukrainian security detail. It is clear to Harry that the woman enjoys the attention of men, but it is equally as clear that she is putting on an act. In his estimation Yana Shevchenko is careful, cunning, and most of all, detached. Not only is she assessing the room, but she appears to be assessing everyone in the room. Her eyes scan the space around them, and yet she manages to converse comfortably with everyone in their group. If she's not still working in intelligence, then she should be.
Eventually she turns towards Harry, leaning closer to him. "Harry … perhaps you can introduce me to some more diplomats. I have a … weakness for them."
Harry considers that given her husband had died less than nine months earlier, she appears keen to replace him.
"Are you married?" she asks, once they have moved on from yet another group.
Harry turns to see her staring at him. She's clearly not interested in him as a man, so he is surprised by her question.
"No," he says. "Not any more."
"Partnered?"
He hesitates. He is not about to confide in this clever woman, but a half truth can't go astray. "Not quite," he says wryly.
"Does she know?"
"Oh, she knows very well."
"Playing hard to get?"
Harry shakes his head. "No. She's just .. wary."
When Yana smiles her face lights up. "Then I wish you happiness with this woman, Harry."
"Thank you. Some luck might be needed, also."
But Yana Shevchenko's attention is already elsewhere. "Excuse me," she says, placing a hand on his arm, "but I need to speak with someone." Her eyes are trained on a group of men across the room. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to do this alone."
The Grid – Thursday 10.12pm:
"Things are pretty quiet at the reception," Tariq says, not even looking up as Ruth enters the technology suite. "I'm sure I just heard Dimitri yawn."
"Surely that's good news," she says, settling herself in the chair beside his work station. "Did Harry ask you to follow on comms?"
"Not exactly," he says, quickly glancing up at her. "It's just that .. I like to feel needed."
"Everyone likes to feel needed," Ruth replies.
"Not Harry," Tariq says, turning to look at Ruth. "Harry's a rock."
"Not always," she replies, reluctant to discuss Harry with Tariq.
"I guess you know him better than I do."
"I imagine I do," she says quietly.
"Are you sleeping here tonight?" Tariq asks, his eyes back on his monitor.
"No. I suppose I should head home soon."
"Won't Harry return here after the reception? He can drive you home."
Ruth is without words. How can she possibly reply to that? And how is it he knows so much, especially when he spends all day and half the night cloistered in the technology suite?
"Wait," Tariq says, listening carefully to what only he can hear through his headphones, "something's changed."
"At the reception?"
Tariq nods. Their conversation is over.
Yana has disappeared from sight, swallowed by the crowd gathered at the bar, and all Harry feels is relief. It is clear to him that she had some kind of rendezvous with someone, a man, no doubt. A woman like Yana Shevchenko will not remain alone for long. Besides, Towers had not said anything about sticking to her side for the whole evening. Harry weaves his way through the crowd, his eyes searching for her, ignoring the nods and smiles of the people he passes.
When he reaches the group of Ukrainian minor diplomats gathered near the bar he asks after her. "Have you seen Mrs Shevchenko?" he asks.
One of the men leans towards him. "She went through that door," he says, pointing to the double doors which lead to a wide patio, and the garden beyond. "She was with Misha."
Harry nods his thanks before he hurries through the open doorway. While the night air is cool, it is not yet cold, and people are gathered in groups on the patio. Harry pushes through them until he reaches the balustrade. The garden of Halidon House is vast, much of it in darkness, although lights illuminate the pathways which wind through avenues of shrubs and trees. He knows his chances of finding Yana in this garden are slim. He also remembers being at this venue several years ago, while Ruth was in exile. He'd wandered upstairs in search of a woman who had earlier approached him. He hadn't found the woman, but he'd stumbled upon a small lounge room with a balcony with a panoramic view of the garden. He turns and hurries back inside.
Harry stands at the balustrade of the first-floor balcony, and quickly scans the garden. He is about to give up, and return downstairs when in the distance he sees two figures standing close together beneath a large tree – a stocky, dark-haired man with a tall woman. Although standing beneath the leaf canopy of the tree, a lamp at the fork in the pathway provides just enough light for him to see them.
No sooner has Harry focused on the couple, than their postures quickly change. They appear to have been engaging in a heated discussion when the woman pulls away, grasping something from within her clutch bag, and in one fluid movement she lunges towards the man in a stabbing motion. He hears a cry from the man, who then stumbles, and falls to the ground, but Yana has already stepped aside before she turns and hurries back along the pathway. Harry notices her slip the knife into her bag. His companion for the evening is not only in intelligence, she is an assassin, and an accomplished one at that.
Before leaving the balcony Harry takes out his phone and calls Dimitri. "You and Calum need to get outside," he says rapidly. "Intercept the Shevchenko woman," he rattles. "She just knifed a member of the Ukrainian diplomatic party."
No sooner is the order given than Dimitri acts. "I have her in my sights," he says, "and Cal is ahead of me, along with Linda from Six."
"Be careful," Harry adds, before he ends the call. He takes a deep breath before turning away from the scene below him. He is no longer in a hurry.
The Grid – Thursday – 11.52pm:
On returning to the Grid Harry had been surprised to find Ruth hurrying towards the kitchen. No sooner has he turned on the lights in his office than she appears in his doorway, a mug of hot coffee in each hand.
"I thought you could do with something warm," she says, bustling to his desk, where she places both mugs on the desktop. "You've had an adventurous night," she adds.
Harry picks up his mug of coffee and then perches his bottom on the corner of his desk, gazing down at Ruth, who has chosen to sit in a chair. "I wasn't planning on it being adventurous, Ruth, That part was .. extra."
"So … what was she like … this widow assassin?"
For a long moment Harry stares at her. Rather than being miffed at missing out on the reception, she appears to be enjoying herself. Every day he learns something new about this woman.
"Stunning to look at, but otherwise cold .. and calculating."
Ruth draws her eyebrows together in a frown. "Is that all? She didn't even …?"
"What, Ruth? Leap on me? I don't think I'm her type."
"Are you disappointed?"
Harry watches the surface of his coffee before taking a slow sip. Only then does he look at Ruth. "Of course I'm not disappointed. I'm not interested in her or … any other woman ..." and there he leaves it. Ruth is capable of filling in the blanks herself.
He notices Ruth drop her eyes to her lap, as though needing to examine the weave, the texture of her skirt. Circumventing the truth leaves him feeling exhausted. They have spent many months speaking indirectly to one another, indulging in euphemisms and half-finished sentences. It is high time they faced what sits between them. Harry is about to launch into the subject of Them/Us for further examination, but Ruth has other ideas.
"Did you discover the identity of the victim .. the man who was stabbed?"
Deep inside himself, where he faces truths he'd otherwise avoid, Harry is disappointed that the conversation focus has returned to the evening's events, while the man who leans against his desk, his body close to Ruth's, is relieved. It is far too late in the evening for them to be having a personal heart to heart.
"His name is Misha Azarov. He works at the Ukrainian Embassy as a cultural attache. Yana Shevchanko has a history with him." Harry hesitates, hoping to gain Ruth's full attention. She lifts her eyes. "The official story around Viktor Shevchenko's death is that he was visiting his mistress. That … misinformation was deliberate. Shevchenko was having an affair, not with the woman, but with her husband - Misha Azarov. Once she discovered the truth, Mrs Shevchenko flew to London with the intention of confronting Azarov. The knifing was a spur of the moment thing. Azarov was lucky to have survived the attack."
"I heard he's still in intensive care."
"He is, but he's not yet out of the woods."
"I suppose you'll have to provide a witness statement," Ruth says, still watching him closely.
"Probably, although I'm hoping the other witnesses were better positioned. There were around four people who heard the argument, and ran closer to offer help."
Ruth stands. "It's past midnight. I should call a taxi."
Harry moves away from his desk, placing his coffee mug on his desktop before taking Ruth's mug from her hands, placing it beside his own empty mug. "There's no need for a taxi, Ruth. I can drive you."
"You don't have to do that," she counters, avoiding his eyes.
"I know. I am offering to drive you home, not because it's the right thing to do, but because I want to."
Ruth's shoulders slump in a demonstration of reluctant surrender. "Very well," she says quietly.
The journey to Ruth's flat is a quiet one. Harry would love to know what Ruth is thinking. Then again, perhaps the ability to read her mind is one he'd best not wish for. There have been times when he is thankful that she can't read his innermost musings.
"Do you think Azarov's wife was complicit in the affair that Viktor Shevchenko was having with her husband?"
Harry sighs. He'd rather they put the evening behind them. "I don't know, but my best guess would be yes."
"And that Yana Shevchenko knew about it all along?"
They are stopped at traffic lights, so Harry turns to her to find her eyes on him. "It's possible, I suppose, but why attempt to kill him? And if she knew about it, why wait almost nine months to do it?"
"Tariq found some chatter which suggests that Misha Azarov was about to divulge some information which Viktor Shevchenko had shared with him … information about Yana."
Harry takes his time before answering her. He had been wondering the same thing, but hadn't especially wanted to share his thoughts. "I imagine that's quite likely, Ruth," he says at last.
"But you don't wish to talk about it," she says, having read him perfectly.
"No," he replies quietly, "I don't."
So with that they wordlessly agree to speak about it no more … at least, on this night.
By the time they reach Ruth's flat Harry has managed to successfully push the evening's events into a deep corner of his mind. Ruth opens the passenger side door, and he quickly joins her on the pavement.
"It's alright, Harry. I know my way from here."
"That's hardly the point," he says gruffly, lightly grasping her arm as he accompanies her to the small enclosed porch which hides her front door from the road. "It's late. You never know who might be around."
The small porch affords protection from the night air, which has turned cold. Ruth turns to unlock her front door while he watches on.
"Thank you for the lift," she says, turning to him.
The porch is small, so they are forced to stand close to one another. While he doesn't wish to initiate anything, but if they are to make any progress this side of 2020 he may have to.
"Ruth," he says, reaching out to place one hand on her arm.
He is relieved when she takes a small step towards him, lifting her face to his. He leans down, keeping his eyes open, watching her for any sign that she's not wanting what he is offering. It is only a small victory, but a significant one, as he lightly places his lips on hers, waiting for her to respond.
Then from inside his jacket pocket Harry's phone rings. "Bloody phone," he says, pulling away from her to grab the phone, pressing the green button before he's even checked the name of his caller. "Yes," he says crossly. While listening to his caller he notices Ruth's lips lift in a half-smile, so it's unlikely she'd objected to the kiss, brief as it was. "Yes, I already surmised that," he says, once his caller has stopped speaking. "And I'll tell her when I see her." Harry ends the call. Not once had his eyes moved from Ruth. "That was Dimitri," he says. "Yana has confessed to attempted murder, and there were already three witnesses other than me. Six are handling it from here, so ..."
"You're free to get on with your life as planned," Ruth finishes for him, her tone light and playful.
"Which means .." he begins hopefully.
"We can continue … where we left off."
Harry nods, willing Ruth to be brave enough to make the first move. When she steps closer to him, and lifts her hands to his shoulders, he knows they are at last in sync. He meets her half way. Placing his hands at her waist he reaches down to meet her kiss. As much as he might rather it were otherwise, it is too early for passion in this, their not-quite-romance. The kiss is sweet, gentle and heartfelt, and as he feels her fingers on the skin of his neck he opens his mouth just enough to glance the tip of his tongue across her teeth. When he feels her pressing her body against his he gently pulls away from her. He knows what he is doing; he is leaving her wanting more.
"I should go now," he says, stepping back. Ruth nods, and he is pleased that she appears disappointed. "It's late," he adds, "and we have work in the morning." Ruth turns to enter her flat, but he touches her arm. "We should have dinner," he says hopefully, "maybe Saturday night. What do you say, Ruth?"
Although almost inside her flat, Ruth has turned to him. "I thought you'd never ask," she says, smiling, before she disappears through the doorway, closing the door behind her.
Once back in his car, Harry sits for a moment in quiet contemplation. His lips are still buzzing from the kiss, and his head is spinning with the possibilities for them. It is then that he remembers she hadn't said yes to dinner. She'd only implied a yes. But that kiss – the kiss was a definite yes. And he is happy with that.
