Three days later and despite the fact that they were no further forward in discovering his would be assassin, Harry was bemoaning the fact that he hadn't hot tailed it down to Cheltenham and dragged Ruth back to the grid years ago. Not only was she a calm and relaxing presence when they were working together, but she'd broken free from her reticence and had become extremely good company. Not once had she interrupted him, but then unlike their previous boss employee relationship, their view of each other, wasn't marred by several metres and a sheet of glass. Add to that, that they were living together in all but in the biblical sense, she was doing a damn good job of ensuring that he kept away from the alcohol and feeding him far better than he did when he was on his own, and he could almost be forgiven for thinking that he'd like this situation to continue. Had it not been for the not so small fact that his life had been threatened and by association, Ruth's as well.

Malcolm, Tariq and Jo, were taking it in turns to be their daily runner. A measure that they hoped would prevent any trace of what they were doing. Malcolm's visits, always drifting off into the social, which included a chat about life in general and the latest predictable collapse of the English cricket team. Before heading back with a list for Jo who was doing their shopping. Something else that Ruth was organising. Whether this looking after him was under instruction or simply because she wanted to, he didn't know. Either way, having spent years fending for himself and more recently having had the stuffing knocked out of him, he was making the most of it.

Tariq's visits, were by contrast, as mysterious as his infrequent visits into the meeting room. Speaking in a language and with an enthusiasm that only really showed up in the young, wasn't something to be smothered, as for the first time since he'd met Tariq, Harry was really valuing the young man's ability. The latest adaptation to a programme that he'd installed, allowed Ruth to listen in to conversations as though she was still sitting behind her desk at GCHQ. God knows how he'd done it, but providing she only listened in between nine and ten in the evening, nobody would know apparently.

The time when they weren't working, a concept that had been alien in both their lives up until now, had developed into a comfortable routine. Something that when you were holed up for any length of time as they were, made it more bearable. Breakfast wasn't eaten on the move. In Harry's case bought from a cart alongside the Thames, where he met Carlo most mornings and bought an almond croissant and his coffee, or Ruth at her desk. It was sitting at the table in the kitchen together, organised jointly, or more precisely by design. Although at this early stage, neither knew if the other had rumbled that they waited until they heard the other's footfall on the stairs, before exiting their respective bedrooms. Always around seven was the giveaway had anyone been monitoring them. But as they weren't, for now they were both able to enjoy the dance that was slowly building. Four mornings in and Ruth was no longer asking Harry how he liked his coffee or if he got to the kettle first, she her tea. The other making toast and laying the table as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

All of which was masking the real reason that they were there, but was a welcome distraction. The house both outside and in had security that was second to none. It was also under constant scrutiny from the grid, which meant that for several hours each day, they were able to relax and allow themselves the privilege of breathing easily. The same applied when they went outside into the garden to stretch their legs and over dinner, which again was a prepared and shared experience. Until today, when mid-morning, Ruth decided that she'd built up enough courage to do what Malcolm had asked of her. Armed with the list of one-time agents and assets that she'd spent a lifetime spying on, she suggested to Harry that they went outside and got some air. Not wanting to plough straight in as though she was interrogating him, she asked him if Ros was as terrifying as she seemed? A question that brought the semblance of a smile to his face.

'Far worse than terrifying and because of it, one of the best section chiefs that I've ever had. Annoy Ros at your peril. Not you, I don't mean you Ruth, but nobody's safe from either her death inducing stare, or her ability to bring them to their knees,' he told her. Going on to say that Ros had had a really tough few years and had come through them admirably. Or at least she had on the surface. The opening that Ruth wanted.

'My guess is that she'd say the same thing about you. I've seen the list of the colleagues that you've lost Harry.'

'Have you now?' Produce another smile and a look of amusement that would have flawed a much younger Ruth.

'Tell be about them. Those who came onto the grid after Tom, Zoe and Danny. Malcolm's already told me what happened to Colin. We can get around to those that preceded them later.'

'It's quite a story and shouldn't we should be working?' He suggested.

'Call it research. Don't ask me why, but I've got a feeling that the person that we're looking for has been close to you at some time. If you feel able to tell me, it might help me to understand better and help us find out who it is that's threatening you.'

'In that case I need another coffee.' He told her, heading back into the house to make it. Wondering how this woman could tell him what to do and get away with it. When and why had she'd decided that it was someone who he'd been close to him at some time? A fact, which if she was right, eliminated one hell of a lot of people. The only people that he'd ever been close too, had been his former colleagues and of course his family. Both of which he'd lost for differing reasons and, if you eliminated those who were dead, didn't amount to very many. How much he'd have to tell her, rather depended on how far back she wanted him to go and what if anything he was prepared to tell her. Some of the things that he'd done in the name of the greater good, or to satisfy a primal urge when he'd been younger, had already come back to bite him. Hopefully, he'd be able to skirt around the latter. Although if he was going to keep Ruth on side, in all senses of a relationship, then he needed to answer her questions truthfully. She was already implicated by association and whatever her reaction, it was something that he'd have to live with. Fortunately, he knew she wasn't the sort of person who made morale judgements that would cloud her vision and she certainly had the ability to sift through and eliminate what was no longer important. It was why she was so bloody good at what she did.

Schooling his thoughts and his expression, in an attempt to put to one side for a moment, the fact that she had an effect on him in a way that he'd assumed had passed him by, he went back out into the sunshine and sat down on the bench beside her.

'How recently?' he asked her, hearing his voice catching in his throat. Barely able to believe what was happening, as she put to one side the list that she was holding and laid a hand on his arm. An action that was sending a wave of barely controlled emotion soaring through him. No one in as long as he could remember had touched him, other than to deliver a blow to his body, and yet here was Ruth, all but holding his hand. An action that if she didn't stop, he knew would cause him to lose his train of thought. More than that, her eyes were filled with compassion, as opposed to the psychologist that he was supposed to visit annually and had conveniently managed to avoid for several years. He might not have been lying down, but in that moment, he had an insane urge to do so. He knew that his chest was heaving and that he was biting his bottom lip, but as she looked at him, he also knew that he was prepared to tell her anything that she asked of him.

'Putting my feelings about Connie to one side for a moment and my current team that I trust implicitly, it's the death of Adam Carter that still haunts me,' he told her. His eyes meeting hers for the first time. 'Not that there's anyone out there that would want to get back at me for what happened to Adam. His wife who also worked for us briefly until she was killed, was called Fiona. They left a young son. Wes who I keep an eye on and knows that I'm here if he needs me, is sheltered from what we do and always will be. Prior to that happening, there was a huge plot to overthrow the government in which Ros's father played a major part. He's still in prison, but before you ask, I can assure you that Ros and I have sorted out our differences.'

'And before that?'

'There was the Cotterdam scandal, which of course you'll have read about. Oliver Mace, despite my initial efforts to get him sacked, is still a pain in the arse and stalks the corridors of power. Although it's in both our interests that we stay where we are. Keep your enemies close, definitely applies to our relationship. Then we're pretty much back to the moment when you left and Tom was decommissioned.'

'Am I right in assuming that it can't be Tom whose threatening you? The records tell me that he shot you.'

'Yes he did and I still have the scar to prove it. But I can assure you that it's not Tom. We parted amicably when it came down to it.'

'And prior to that?'

'The Russians, the Irish and virtually every Home Secretary, but none of those would have waited all this time to get their revenge Ruth.'

'Which just leaves any close personal relationships. Someone that might have been affected by what you did at some time or other, either at home or at work. Apart from your ex-wife, you must have had close relationships Harry?'

'Can we have some lunch before we get into that?' he asked her, as not only was she still holding onto him, but she was steering him into muddy waters that he'd rather not discuss.

.

By the time that they decided to call it a day, the only person of possible interest that was still lurking around in Ruth's head, like a migraine that was refusing to budge, was Juliet Shaw. Not in the sense that she thought Juliet was behind whatever this threat was. It was Harry's description of her that was bugging her.

'A serpentine bitch who had come back to haunt him,' was how he'd described her. That and the fact that she'd tried to blackmail him. Both of which reminded Ruth of the conversation that she'd overheard.

The surprise element of the meeting. It hadn't been arranged. The main player had wanted something of the other. Something that only Harry knew about. What was it and just as important, was what was it that gave him such a hold over the other?