Thames House, London - Mid-May 2011 – late afternoon:

He has no need to turn around, the cadence of her footfalls as familiar to him as the tone of her voice, or the tiny wrinkles which form at the corners of her eyes whenever she smiles. Equally well known to him is the firm set of her mouth whenever she is displeased, and especially when he is the focus of her displeasure.

"It must be important," he murmurs. Her only reply is a heavy sigh, leaving him wishing he'd at least have waited until she'd stated her business. "Sorry," he adds quietly.

As is often their way, Ruth ignores both his comment as well as his apology. "I was worried you'd think I was checking up on you, or worse, invading your space."

Her words have him turning from the balustrade on the roof balcony only to find her attention on the building opposite – a silent sentinel of concrete, glass and steel; some man's foolish offering to the Great God Commerce. "You could never invade my space, Ruth," he says smoothly, but she's having none of it. Very briefly she turns towards him, the small shake of her head an indication that she doesn't believe him.

"Not even when I barge into your office without knocking?"

Harry tips his head to one side, acknowledging her verbal checkmate. "Perhaps .." he begins, but leaves his thought incomplete. Instead, he watches her closely, knowing she'll soon turn to face him.

And she does.

"Tariq sent me," she says at last, her expression giving away nothing.

"So now you're running errands for Tariq?"

Ruth's lips curl ever-so-slightly in a small smile. "He would rather I be the one to wake the bear. His words, not mine."

"So now I'm a bear?"

"You're very bear-like, Harry."

"You'll have to explain that."

Again Ruth turns to stare across the street to the building opposite. "You are someone who doesn't appreciate your solitude being interrupted by trivial matters."

Harry nods. Even he has to admit that her assessment of him is scarily accurate. How well she knows him. How well they know one another. It is only when she turns back to him that he continues his thought. "So, what you're saying is that as Tariq's emissary you bring important news."

"I suppose so, although perhaps .. emissary is a trifle overblown." She briefly drops her eyes before once more lifting her head, and in that moment he acknowledges that there is still something between them, something organic and powerful, although subtle, which draws them to each other. "I'm just doing Tariq a favour. Nothing more than that. Besides, he's occupied by more important matters."

Harry sighs. The moment has quickly passed, and again he'd failed to ensnare it, perhaps taking advantage of that brief instant when they'd each dropped their guards. "So ..." he begins, barely able to hide his disappointment, "Tariq has stumbled upon something important, something ..." He waits for her to grasp his cue.

Ruth lifts her head, her brilliant blue eyes holding his. "Perhaps stumbled is the wrong word. Ever since I discovered the Russian FSB agent – Gavrik the Younger - is in London, Tariq has been trawling through the communications to and from the Russian Embassy."

Of course Harry knows about Sasha Gavrik being in London, but he remains unmoved. The less Ruth knows about Sasha the better. "And I take it he's found something."

"He's found lots of somethings. Once he stumbled upon the code name of the younger Gavrik's father, the rest just fell into his lap .. metaphorically speaking."

Harry nods. He already has an inkling that the Gavrik family may be about to visit London, and it's equally likely they are already here. He'd rather they remained in Moscow, but he's not about to share his reasons with Ruth ... not yet.

"In a nutshell," Ruth continues, still watching him, her expression wary, "you're being followed."

"Me? Why? I'm just a public servant."

Ruth drops her eyes before taking a deep breath. Clearly her news is not of the `good news' variety.

"Is this the moment," Harry continues, "when you tell me that my life is in danger?"

"Not your life, no."

His forehead creases in a frown before the penny drops. "My … reputation?" he asks carefully.

Ruth's ready smile surprises him. "You make that sound like you'd rather lose your life than your reputation," she says quickly, clearly amused.

Harry, on the other hand, is not amused. "Perhaps you'd best share with me what Tariq has told you."

Serious once more, Ruth nods. "It appears to Tariq and to me, once I examined some of the messages between Moscow and London, that you're being set up. Moscow leaned on the Tribunal to let you remain free to continue working at Thames House -"

"Moscow was behind that?" He can barely believe what he's hearing, while his mind is racing ahead. Suddenly it all makes sense. "There was a woman in a bar … around two weeks ago," he says, unable to look Ruth in the eye.

"You don't have to share the details," Ruth says flatly.

"It wasn't like that, Ruth. She made a move to draw me away from the group I was with, but I said no. I had to say no numerous times before she let it drop. Then as I was leaving there were two women on the street outside. They followed me for some time before they got the message and gave up."

"Two women? How could you resist?" Ruth's expression is playful.

"You know very well why." Harry gazes over her head as he continues his story. "Only a few days later I met Sasha Gavrik in another bar, this time in Soho. That night, while Sasha headed to the men's loos, I was approached by a young man, clearly gay. He looked no more than fifteen."

"Why would you agree to meet Sasha Gavrik?"

"Chiefly because he asked me, and I was curious."

Ruth takes a moment to formulate her question. "And so I have to ask .. why did he wish to see you?"

Harry sighs. "At the time I had no idea, but in retrospect, I suppose he was the bait which got me there .. in Soho. You see, Ruth, the Russians – Sasha and his family – and I have a history."

When she speaks, Ruth's voice is surprisingly gentle. "I already know your history with them. Tariq's search was especially thorough."

"And I suppose that was also the reason he didn't want to share his findings directly with me." Ruth nods slowly. "Which leads me to wondering how much of that story you now know," he adds quietly, and carefully.

Ruth bites her lip. He knows that gesture; it is one she employs when anxious. "All of it," she says quietly, "from Berlin to the present."

"And?"

"And what? I've read spy novels. I know what happened back then. You're just lucky that Sasha isn't your son."

That hits Harry like a well-aimed punch. He frowns, chiefly to cover his shock at the news.

"It's a long story, but you were fooled into believing he was your son, when all along his mother knew that wasn't true."

Harry takes a step back, breathing out slowly. "So, she lied to me to -"

"She was after a free passage to London, from where she'd been instructed to act as a -"

"- double agent." He smiles into Ruth's eyes. "So now it all makes sense. And there was I believing I'd managed to turn one of Moscow's finest agents."

"If only. You dodged a bullet, Harry," Ruth adds quietly, turning away from him to gaze down at the street below.

Harry is still reeling from the news, both of the truth about Elena Gavrik, and that Ruth now knows about the less honourable behaviour of his younger self. He lifts his eyes to her, attempting to gauge her response.

"The only judgement I have of you is that at the time this all happened you were a married man."

Harry nods. He can't blame her for that. "I won't insult you by pointing out that everyone was doing it."

"I know they were, but I'd always believed … hoped you were above all that."

"No man in this business is above all that, Ruth."

She nods, turning to smile into his eyes. "It appears that having failed to bring Mrs Gavrik back to London with you, the Russians now wish to humiliate you."

He nods. "The FSB has a very long memory."

"Perhaps you should stay home after dark," Ruth suggests, not altogether seriously.

"Or maybe I shouldn't," he replies, the edges of his mouth lifting in a half smile. "I have found that the best way to tackle the Russian bear is to face him head on."

"To wrestle him."

Harry nods. Dare he? Ruth is still smiling, but as he takes a breath to ask her the question he's been wanting to ask ever since the final day of the Tribunal, she turns suddenly, her smile disappearing. "As I said earlier, I have loads of work waiting," and then she is quickly through the door to the stairs, and out of sight.

What just happened? What had he said that sent her scuttling from the rooftop? Minutes pass, and he is still staring at the door, but she doesn't return. No doubt she is already sitting at her desk, headphones on, fully focused on her task.

15 minutes later:

Harry makes a beeline for his office, uncharacteristically avoiding turning his head to look for Ruth on the Grid. Only when he is seated behind his desk does he lift his gaze to find she is nowhere within his field of vision. Apart from a core group of admin staff, the grid floor is empty. Noting the familiar sight of a chaos of paperwork on Ruth's desk, Harry releases a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, although he's still not sure where Ruth could be.

Then she comes into view, followed by Tariq, who carries an electronic tablet in his hand as he hurries to keep up with her. He is still watching them both when Ruth lifts her eyes towards him, before nodding to Tariq, who then follows her to his office.

Ruth might not be visiting him in his office for personal reasons, and nor is she visiting him alone, but here she is, standing in front of him, her eyes lit by the fire of discovery. In that moment before Tariq joins her, Harry enjoys a brief moment of pride in this woman, the woman to whom all those years ago he had, perhaps unwisely, given his heart. When Tariq joins Ruth, waiting for her to begin, Harry nods towards the two chairs opposite his own.
"This must be important," he says, waiting until both are seated before he once more sinks into his own chair.

"Tariq?" Ruth says at last, turning towards the young technical officer.

"I've discovered an important connection, Harry. I've been keeping tabs on the communications -"

"To and from the Russian Embassy," Harry says impatiently. "Yes. Ruth has already informed me."

Only when Tariq drops his eyes to the tablet on the edge of the desk does Harry consider that the lad could probably do with some praise from him every now and again. Harry quickly glances to Ruth to find she is frowning at him. Other than Ros Myers, Ruth is the only woman in his life of late who has that level of power over him. He'd best pay attention, and keep his scratchy mood to himself.

"Sorry, Tariq," he says calmly, "go on."

Tariq sits forward in his chair, reaching out to wake up his tablet. "I have it summarised on here," he says, "and I could send the summary to your computer if you like."

"Thank you, but perhaps you need to fill me in first. In your own words."

Tariq glances through his notes before speaking. "It's not complicated, Harry. It appears that Sasha Gavrik's parents are already in London, and that they are planning to invite you to meet with Mrs Gavrik." Tariq quickly lifts his eyes to Harry, and seeing the set of the older man's jaw, his attention returns to the tablet in front of him. "The purpose of this invitation hasn't been disclosed, although the phrase, `events from Berlin' is mentioned twice."

"Is that all?" Harry asks, his voice curt. Tariq nods, and Harry notes the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. "Thank you, Tariq," he adds. "That's useful information."

Once Tariq has left the office, Harry turns to Ruth. "I need your advice, Ruth. My instinct is to ..." What exactly is his instinct? Go in with guns blazing?

"Maybe you need to approach this situation differently," she says quietly. "Perhaps all that is required is that you act .. uncharacteristically."

Harry watches her, but she has nothing more to say. "You mean," he answers her, equally quietly, "I should do nothing."

Ruth nods. "My thoughts are," she begins carefully, aware of Harry's line of thinking, "that you need to react in a way least expected .. by her, as well as her husband."

"So, Ruth, you believe that having summoned me to her, Elena Gavrik will expect me to come running." And put like that, he knows he sounds like the Russian woman's lapdog.

"That's one way of putting it."

Harry quickly stands, his chair rolling backwards with the momentum of his sudden movement. "Drink, Ruth?" he asks, lifting the whiskey decanter, his eyebrows raised in a question.

Surprisingly, Ruth nods. He'd half expected her to scuttle away, as she had earlier from the roof balcony. Once poured, he carries both tumblers to her side of the desk. He hands her her drink, and then sits on the chair vacated by Tariq. "Cheers," he says, lifting his glass towards her.

"Are we celebrating something?" Ruth asks, nursing her glass in her lap, both hands curved around the drink.

Harry takes a sip. "I imagine we should celebrate the fact that I have no intention of again breathing the same air as any member of the Gavrik family."

"They're setting you up, Harry. Your historical .. enmeshment with them renders you vulnerable, and I don't trust their son. Not one bit."

Harry nods before taking another swallow of the liquid balm. He places his glass on the edge of his desk before once more turning towards Ruth, whose eyes have followed his every move.

"I'd almost forgotten how … toxic that family can be," he says quietly, unable to meet Ruth's gaze.

"I have no doubt that both her husband and son know full well what took place between you and her all those years ago. I suspect that they plan to ..." and here she hesitates.

"To balance the books," Harry finishes for her.

"Has Towers mentioned anything to you about providing security for them?"

He nods. "Only this morning I took a call from him. I told him I'd get back to him, and I will, but first I have to ask Dimitri to put together a security detail. I thought the experience might be good for him."

Ruth nods, but this time she is smiling just a little. She even takes a small sip of her drink. "Nice," she says, lifting her eyes to his. "The drink, not Dimitri."

"Oh, I'm sure Dimitri has his nice moments."

And with that, the atmosphere in the office lifts. They have made it to the other side. Perhaps now would be the right time to ask Ruth -

But she stands suddenly, placing her glass on the desk. "I really should get back to that translating," she says quickly, turning from him.

Harry also stands. "Ruth .."

"I shouldn't have accepted that drink, as lovely as it is."

"Ruth."

The sharpness in his voice has her turning to face him. "What is it?"

"I thought that maybe ..." and that is when he hesitates, while another part of him pushes him forward, and to hell with the consequences. "Ruth," he says, this time with much more conviction, "would you like to join me for a bite to eat?"

"Do you mean dinner? Now?" While her voice conveys surprise, in her eyes he reads interest.

"What I have in mind is something a little less .. formal than dinner, and we could leave soon .. once you've sorted your desk." Harry immediately regrets alluding to the messy state of Ruth's desk, but only until Ruth's face relaxes in a smile.

"Is it really that bad?" she asks, and when he tips his head in the direction of her desk, she turns to look through the plate glass window. "God, it is, isn't it?" she says. "I had no idea."

Harry is still waiting for her answer. He couldn't bear to have to ask her again. That would feel like begging. Ruth reaches the doorway and then turns, as if remembering she'd not yet answered his question. "And I'd like that .. the dinner which isn't quite a dinner."

Harry feels his shoulders relax. "It's just a meal, Ruth. No pressure. A relaxed evening for two friends."

Which is when Ruth's expression becomes serious. "I think we might be much more than that," she says quietly. Harry can't argue with that. "Where are we going?" she adds.

Unlike their first dinner together, Harry hasn't booked ahead. He hasn't even planned ahead. His invitation to her just happened, a spontaneous expression of his hopes for them.

"It will have to be somewhere within walking distance," he says.

He waits while Ruth's mind files through the many possibilities. "I've heard good things about Zehra's. It's a licensed coffee shop and eatery."

"I'd heard a similar thing," he says quietly, having crossed his office to join her at the door. "So long as a certain Russian family haven't hit upon the same idea."

Ruth reaches towards him, and he hesitates for just a moment too long before she quickly withdraws her hand. To compensate, Harry takes a step closer to her. "I need you to know," he begins quietly, "that accompanying me this evening will no doubt have you appearing on a watch-list at the Russian Embassy."

He is surprised when she smiles. "I'd be disappointed were that not the case. I've always rather fancied myself as a ..."

"Person of interest?"

"A threat to Russian national security," she quips, and even he has to smile at that.

"If only, Ruth."

They stand in the office doorway, each watching the other. Harry would really like to kiss her, but the Grid is hardly the place for nurturing a romance as fragile as this one.

"The longer we stand here like this," Ruth says at last, "the longer it will be before we -"

"- leave for our date?" he adds, helping her by defining the evening's intent and purpose … at least, for him.

"So," Ruth says, momentarily breaking eye contact, "this is a date?"

"It is for me."

Ruth nods, smiling. "Then it is for me, also."

Harry has only just decided to lift his hand to her face when Ruth turns from him, hurrying across the Grid floor to tidy her desk. "Fifteen minutes, Ruth," he calls out to her. "With or without you, I'm leaving in fifteen."

"I'll be ready in ten," she replies.

And she is. Even better, when she again joins him at the door to his office only seven minutes have passed. Harry sees that as a good sign, perhaps a sign that Russians or no Russians, they have turned a corner.

This time he doesn't hesitate. He reaches out to her, and when he takes her hand her fingers curl around his. Almost five years after their first date they are about to share their second meal together. For him it has certainly been worth the wait.