Driven by little else, other than her enormous ego, which would see her amongst the services never to be forgotten, Juliet was relaxing at home and pondering her next move. She was ahead of the game, winning hands down, the inevitable victory would be hers and she was supremely confident in its eventual outcome. Time was on her side, it was almost open ended, although not a person that was blessed with patience, she was keen to push things along. Maybe she'd make another surprise visit onto the grid in the morning and see what they were up to, maybe she'd overhear a whispered indiscretion around the water cooler or in the lift. Either way, her being there would shake them up a bit and Malcolm was her best bet, he wasn't as tough as Adam or his recently installed wife. Another intelligent stumbling block that she might have to discreetly edge out.
Never mind, on the plus side, she was amazed how easy it had been for Jason to worm his way in. The interview had been irrelevant, but the knowledge that there were only two of them, both women, had given her a massive boost. Although which one of them, if there was a one, she still didn't know? According to Jason, the solicitor and boss Ruth Evershed, was short, had long dark hair and had been a pushover. Whereas her very chatty clerk, Susie something or other, was taller and in his opinion feisty and more fanciable. Did Harry do chatty? Well not in her day, they'd had better things to do. She herself was tall wasn't she, inches taller than Harry and that had never mattered to him during their time in Paris, and if it was feisty that he was still into, then she was still more than a match for anyone. It was just a pity that Jason hadn't been able to find out why Harry had been making so many visits there, and if her assumption that his visits weren't professional but personal, and that he was seeing one or other of these women outside of work was correct. If he was, then she needed to know just how close their relationship was and where this woman lived.
Pouring herself another glass of wine, she stood up and stretched her aching back, as memories of those few sweet weeks, when Harry had been hers, brought a moment of nostalgia and regret. Ruth or Susie, neither name rolled off the tongue after Harry did it? Maybe she should just toss a coin? Genius Juliet, she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before, it was just so bloody obvious. Jane Townsend, the estranged Mrs. Pearce, was her best way in. If her sources were correct, then Jane was still around, at least on the periphery of Harry's life, bound together by their kids. And kids at whatever age tended to talk didn't they, passed on snippets of information about one parent to the other when they'd split, so there was every chance that she'd know what he was up to? She quite fancied a little run in after all these years, just to see how she and Jane compared. It would be a simple enough task to track her down, maybe follow her into a coffee shop and instigate a chat without giving away who she was. She didn't imagine that Jane was bright enough to find that suspicious and she didn't suppose that her obsession with her appearance and buying clothes had changed, even after all this time. A compliment always produced a response and if it provided her with the so far elusive information, it would be well worth it and might even be fun. If she was going to be able to persuade Harry, then forcing his hand by threatening either his lover or his estranged wife, would be the perfect way to do it. If there was one thing about Harry that she knew for certain, was that it would be impossible to turn him, but a threat to someone that he'd once loved or in this case was currently sleeping with would be the next best thing, and would certainly allow them to achieve their objective sooner. Threatening his kids had never been an option, although persuading him that they might be had been well worth the effort and as tedious as that had been, it had certainly brought the old Harry back to the surface.
This was a job that she couldn't leave to Jason, his methods were too crude for someone as classy as Jane. Besides which, he was far too busy keeping an eye on what Harry was up to.
They didn't do together in public, except that in this case they did, if Malcolm counted as public, as Ruth walked through her kitchen door and found him enjoying a cup of tea with Harry. Bugger, she'd forgotten about choir practice and she certainly didn't have the strength to go tonight, not after the already never-ending exhausting day.
There was a bond, a togetherness and Malcolm saw it the moment she and Harry looked at each other. A display of affection, made all the more special, because neither of them appeared to want to, or be able to hide it. He inwardly smiled to himself, not wanting to embarrass either of them or himself for that matter, by admitting that he'd recognised it. Ruth's body language didn't require a question from Harry, he just put the kettle on and made a fresh pot of tea and then poured Ruth a cup. In such a brief space of time they were used to each other. What in confidence Adam had told him was true, their relationship had gone way beyond knowing how each of them liked their tea. The lop-sided smile that he was trying to suppress, broke free from its moorings, although neither of them saw it, as they turned towards the door when it opened again.
Ruth whose life had been quiet to the point of being lonely, had another of Harry's core staff in her kitchen, with the arrival of Zaf, who had checked the street in both directions, before locking the front door behind him. He was the spare wheel, other than as a means to get Ruth home safely, and he still felt it, but Ruth insisting that he should have a coffee before he headed home, saw him sitting down. Despite how tired she felt and how much she'd been longing to just strip her clothes off and immerse herself in a hot bath and close her eyes, that were blurring with the myriad of faces that she'd been interviewing all blending into one, she nodded at Harry to do the honours. Space, just time on her own with Harry, that's what she craved, but if there was one thing that Ruth excelled in, it was to be grateful for small mercies. These three men that were in her kitchen, were in different ways important to her and for that she was grateful. Hanging on in there for as long as she could was a vain hope, and within minutes of Zaf sitting down, exhaustion overtook her and she yawned.
'I'm sorry, I need to,' was said with a wave of her hand that followed a huge sigh,' and Zaf said 'he'd be going, but he'd be back at seven thirty in the morning,' at which point Malcolm said 'he'd better be going as well.'
As much as Ruth yearned to say goodbye to both of them, she knew that Malcolm could pick anything to pieces and make some sense out of it, much as she could, and surely two heads would be better than one, especially if the other one belonged to Harry. She bit the bullet.
'I'm off to have a bath, so be a darling Malcolm and cast your eyes over that lot with Harry would you, and stay to dinner if you'd like too, I'm sure there's enough?' She suggested, looking towards Harry for confirmation that he didn't mind and that the ingredients, to what she had no idea, that were spread out on one of her worktops, would be sufficient to feed three, whilst she fished out the file that contained the details of candidates that she'd interviewed. 'If I'm not back in half and hour, it'll be because I've either fallen asleep or drowned, just check would you?'
Malcolm tried to ignore Harry's smile. Ruth's reason for asking him to stay, had been purely to get a second opinion, but he needed the conversation to move on from bathrooms and Harry's obvious recall of a now naked Ruth, covered in nothing but bubbles. Clearing his throat, he began to meticulously work his way through the various CV's and references. Each and every one of these people had sat in front of Ruth during the course of what appeared to be a comprehensive interview and would have got a real insight, not only into the firm but into Ruth herself. Handed on a plate in Jason's case, was what both he and Harry concluded, although the name Michael Jarvis meant nothing at this stage. Needing to take these files onto the grid and do some research into each and every one of the candidates ,was simply the best option, but doing it without scaring the life out of Ruth by suggesting that perhaps one of them had been a plant and jeopardising her now burgeoning relationship with Harry, despite her weekend's assertions that she wanted it to continue as much as he did, was another question entirely. Malcolm's suggestion that he feign tiredness and ask her if he could take the files home was logical, but brought a no debate and unexpected response from Harry.
'I spend my entire life lying to people, but I'm drawing the line when it comes to Ruth. If our relationship is going to work, then I don't intend it involving anything other than the truth. She's too important Malcolm and besides which she also bloody bright, she's already beginning to read my mind. These are her files, so sorry Malcolm, but it's the truth or nothing, whatever the outcome,' was proven twenty minutes later, when Ruth walked back into the kitchen, smelling like the field full of Spring flowers that Harry had been dreaming about, and said 'well, what do you think?' In a voice that Harry just managed to stop himself from answering as beautiful, such was the impact of a freshly showered Ruth.
'We, well I really,' said Malcolm hesitantly, trying to ignore the obvious upgrade in the atmosphere and instead do as his boss had ordered and go down the truth route, 'think that we should take these files into work and vet the candidates. As I'm sure you realise, we're far better equipped to do it than you are, and in the current circumstances and in the interest of us continuing to keep you safe, we think it would be a wise precaution.'
'I'm so tired at the moment, you can put them all in thumbscrews for all I care,' said Ruth as a joke, then seeing the grin on Harry's face, wondered if in fact it was an option that he'd considered. He really was very sweet and such an open book when it came to her, but nothing like the man he became at work she suspected.
'Thumbscrews it is,' said Malcolm, confirming it.
The only torture that came into play for the next hour and a half, didn't involve thumbscrews, but were the matchsticks that were preventing Ruth from falling asleep, although she made a really good fist of pretending that she wasn't tired. Dinner came and went, Harry and Malcolm chattered in the background, enjoying a bottle of wine between them, which with a wave of her hand she'd refused, until Malcolm said that he really had to go home and that he'd see Harry in the morning.
'Bed,' from Harry, meant just that, with no connotation other than that he knew that Ruth needed to sleep. She was clearly exhausted and he had no intention pushing her into anything that was beyond her, they had plenty of time ahead when sex would be their motive for an early night. The washing up could wait until the morning, she'd had her shower and if he was quick with his, then maybe he'd just get there before she fell asleep.
'Make it quick old girl,' he said affectionately to Scarlet, watching his ageing terrier head out into the garden for the final time, before crawling into her bed next to Fidget. It had been years since he'd needed to worry about anyone other than himself and as he closed the door and locked it before he headed for the stairs, he marvelled at the strange turn of events, all because he'd agreed to Jane's request for a divorce. When he crawled into bed beside Ruth, her even and deep breathing told him that she was already sound asleep, but it didn't take much of an effort on his part to feel her adjusting herself against him and burying her head in his shoulder, her hand moving unbidden and as if by magic, tantalisingly close to his groin. No he told himself again as he felt himself responding, not tonight, it wouldn't be fair. Think about something else Harry, he could do that couldn't he? Had he really only known her for the best part of five weeks, it already felt like a lifetime? That he was in love with her, he had no doubt. When he'd tell her, would be at time when they were free to enjoy some time together away from the confines of her house. The romantic in him that had been buried for years was back and he was glorying in its regeneration. Better still, he had Ruth's assurance that his feelings were reciprocated.
It was pointless torturing himself that Adam and the rest of his staff would be anything less that successful in their pursuit of their goal. It was being an optimist that had got him through more complex situations than the one he faced now, although the goal ahead, had never felt so important. They would help him find out what it was that Clive had wanted him to know, and whoever had killed him would be made to pay. Juliet of all people, someone who at one time he'd trusted with his life, a possible traitor, was still a difficult pill to swallow, but looking back didn't solve anything. Ruth, if she didn't tire of him, was all his tomorrows, and the last coherent thought that he had as sleep claimed him.
Apart from the fun that he'd had at the interview and Juliet's obvious delight that he'd successfully pulled it of, Jason's patience at the tedium of his new roll was beginning to wear thin. He was tired and getting well and truly fed up with spending his evenings sitting outside Harry's house. It wasn't as if he'd been paid anything yet and he was suffering from dreadful indigestion, having missed so many meals or existing on less than warm takeaways. The searching of the house had been easy, not that it had produced anything, well not of interest. He'd sat patiently until a couple of hours later, Adam and Malcolm had arrived, presumably to help Harry clear up. Why on earth Juliet felt it necessary that he to continue watch the house until Harry went to bed each evening was a mystery. He felt sure that Juliet was mistaken. Harry was a creature of habit, a loner, and it wasn't as though Harry ever went out again, once he got home? He almost felt sorry for him.
Watching the watcher was a piece of cake for Zaf, who having left Ruth's house, had headed across town and was currently enjoying a beer in front of the TV, before spending another comfortable night, tucked up in Harry's spare room. It hadn't been difficult to fool Jason, although at this stage they were monitoring him, rather than pulling him in. One of their less noteworthy agents, looking remarkably like Harry and certainly sufficient to fool Jason, arrived at Harry's house after dark, only to exit by the back door a few moments later, having waited until Zaf had triggered the switch, sufficient to fool Jason into believing, that Harry would be there until the morning. Thanks to Malcolm's intervention and with a minimum of rejigging of Harry's electrical system, which he'd assured him he'd be able to reinstate when this was over, as the lights downstairs went off, the lights on the stairs and then the bedroom went on. The fact that it stayed on, sometimes for as much as an hour, meant that it was rarely before midnight before an exhausted Jason got home, never mind got any sleep.