'Have you got a better idea?' Adam asked Harry, who was examining his fist for breakages, having slammed it down on his desk. His 'absolutely not' had been shouted in a voice that would have sent anyone other than the three colleagues who were sitting in front of him, running for the hills, but in this case needed to let him blow himself out before they continued. They had so little to go on, other than they knew that it couldn't have been Jason that had killed Clive. He was a lapdog not a murderer and that meant that Juliet had others working for her, god knows how many, that they still hadn't identified.
'Ruth's not only a solicitor, she's a linguist and a puzzle solver,' had seen Harry's eyes go steely to the point of almost disappearing, as Malcolm pointed to the card and bravely soldiered on. 'She's brilliant, so unless you're prepared to let us change the current policy and share this information across the sections and with Six, then protocol be damned Harry, she's our only option.'
He knew that Malcolm was right, they had to keep this confined and although every fibre of his being was telling him that involving Ruth was a recipe for disaster, he needed a moment to think before he answered.
Not at Ruth's house and not on the grid were obvious and certainly not during working hours. Ruth couldn't and wouldn't leave her office and Susie on her own, not unless by some miracle Zaf had managed to trace Belling, which seemed unlikely. The weekend was the other option, but that was still two days away and a lifetime as far as this case was concerned. Five days ago, he'd promised Ruth that the weekends would be theirs with Jacob and yet here he was four days later, about to break that promise. His bloody fist hurt as well, it was bound to look as though he'd hit somebody and an eagle -eyed Ruth who'd never seen him lose his temper would be sure to spot it and demand an explanation. When it came to getting the truth out of him, he'd vowed that he'd never lie to her and he meant to keep it that way.
'Times ticking Harry,' wasn't the wisest thing for Adam to have said, but it got a reaction.
'Stop telling me what I already know, but there's an added complication that you don't know about,' he told them, breaking the silence and telling them about the one sided non - work related conversation he'd had with Juliet, that had amounted to prying. 'We simply don't have the resources to protect Ruth and Jane ,and that scares me,' was the second time that Malcolm had heard Harry use that phrase. The usually clear - thinking Harry was all over the place. Ruth and now Jane as targets, this situation was spiralling out of control and Harry with it. He was right about one thing though, they simply didn't have the resources. The only saving grace was that it was way past six and Ruth would be at home and that's where Harry needed to be, with the one person he suspected could calm him down.
'None of us are infallible Harry, not even you,' was a real risk, but Malcolm was almost beyond caring. 'Zaf will have taken Ruth home by now, and Jason will be watching your house, so go home Harry. If anything had happened to Jane, then surely you'd have heard from Harvey? If you're worried, I'll give her a call. You know me, I can bluff my way through anything.'
Three people held their breath.
'Look Malcolm I'm sorry and you're right. Call me when you've spoken to Jane and thanks,' was feeble when it came to an apology and Harry knew that, but he was rapidly running out of fight and he did want to get home to Ruth. I'll leave you to sort out the arrangements,' he told Adam, gathering up his things, before with his coat over his arm, he bid them goodnight and exited the pods.
'Harry's really beginning to lose the plot and that worries me,' Adam told Fiona, voicing Malcolm's thoughts, as they watched their colleague heading towards the kitchen in search of something to revive him. In a perfect world they'd have been heading home to Wes, but then whenever had their world been perfect?
Ruth was at home and had been looking at the clock and wondering where Harry was. She'd told Zaf to leave, well not so much suggested as insisted, and she'd been on her own for more than an hour. She knew that Harry was still wavering in his opinion of Zaf, so she was fully prepared to defuse any misunderstanding, by explaining that it had been her decision, not his, that he leave. There was a mountain of jobs that she needed to get through, which included a pile of ironing that had sat there for so long that it almost needed washing again, but that would have to wait. Besides which she needed some space to think and she couldn't do that with Zaf twiddling his thumbs in her kitchen. All day she'd expected to hear from Malcolm and hadn't and with the weekend approaching and still no decision as to which of the candidates she could interview for a second time, the usually patient Ruth was getting twitchy.
They hadn't reached the stage where coming home after a long day at work was routine, other than Harry was always pleased to see the back of Zaf and this evening was no exception. He was tired, his bloody fist had started to stiffen up and turn blue, and Malcolm had hit the nail on the head when he'd told him that he wasn't infallible and needed to get home to Ruth. He did.
Ruth had done as she always did and had changed into what she called comfortable and he thought of as accessible and terribly tempting and to hell with dinner. When he walked into the sitting room, she was curled up on the sofa looking through her notes and hadn't heard him come in, so he could have been anyone. The ability to change the look on his face that he was usually able to school and adapt to any situation, was impossible in this instance, as he marched across the room and stood in front of her.
He should have kept his council, in fact if he hadn't been so angry when he found her on her own, he'd have sat down next to her and kissed her. But he didn't.
His wordless where the fuck is Zaf? Although not said was evident, as he watched on helpless, in the face of what was to come, as Ruth's expression changed to one that matched his own.
The best part of having an argument or a row, depending on what you chose to call it, was in the making up, or so Harry prayed. Unable to get a word in edgewise, a fired - up and wide - eyed Ruth, told him in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't at work now, so to stop looking at her as though she was one of his staff, before asking him what the hell he'd done to his hand, and then in a final burst, telling him that she loved him, despite him acting like a prat, before she finally ran out of steam, but thankfully not the room.
Unconventional, in Malcolm's terms of calming him down, it had done the trick, other than it had induced an overwhelming need in him to drag her up the stairs and into bed, or if she refused, to take a cold shower. Had he been ten years younger, then the sofa would have sufficed, but it wasn't his sofa, not yet anyway. That was only a pipe dream which seemingly Ruth shared, when she finally looked up from her trembling hands, with eyes that begged the same question.
Having gone wordlessly up the stairs and into the bedroom, it was seconds before they were both undressed. Whatever else the next few minutes achieved, because that was as long as either of them could hold out, before they broke all the boundaries in terms of their previous sexual encounters together, was for the future, as they clung to each other in their release, their bodies bathed in sweat and both of them completely spent, both physically as well as mentally. If Harry hadn't been in such a hurry to get Ruth into bed, he'd have put his phone on the bedside cabinet, but he hadn't and he'd asked Malcolm to ring him, which unfortunately, five minutes later, he did.
Ruth had rolled onto her side, temporarily sated and the smile back in her eyes, as she watched a naked Harry searching for his phone amongst the tangle of their clothes that were strewn across the floor. She'd told him that she loved him, in frustration maybe, but none the less it was true. He was so bloody complex, a wolf in sheep's clothing or the opposite, she wasn't quite sure to be honest, but in that moment she didn't care. He brought out the best in her, a new and up until now an undiscovered self, and if what Malcolm had told her was true, then she was equally good for Harry. He cared, more than anyone she had ever met and that was a virtue that was both powerful and gentle, both of which she found attractive. Finding a healthy balance was what he needed to do and that might take him a lifetime, but she could live with that.
'I'll have a word with Ruth to see what she thinks and let you know, but I'm sure she'll agree,' was said with the need to get Malcolm off the phone and him back into bed. If he didn't, then he had no hope of covering what he assumed was Ruth's embarrassment, as his rejuvenated libido drove on relentlessly, displaying his obvious desire for her, with another steadily building erection. Ruth had no such qualms other than her need for Harry, which had been building from the moment that he'd left the bed naked.
Having climbed back into bed and as Malcolm continued to chatter, Harry, with this new found burst of energy and the duvet pulled up to keep out the chill, was making good use of the time. With the occasional um, which Malcolm took to be a response to his questions, he was trailing kisses from Ruth's shoulder across her left breast and then down across her stomach, in pursuit of more. By this time Ruth had closed her eyes and was thinking whatever you're asking will be fine, as Harry sought out what he wanted and finally got Malcolm to put the phone down.
'It sounds as though Ruth's managed to calm him down,' he told Adam and Fiona.'
Fiona had saved the day, by suggesting that with her parents away on holiday, that they should spend the weekend at their house. The Old Rectory as it was now called near Thame in Oxfordshire, had long since been replaced by a much more modern building, so the large rambling house that bordered a small tributary of the Thames and where Wes had first learnt to fish, was empty. The spacious rooms and an excess of bedrooms that went back to the day when the clergy had multiples of children were rarely used, other than when she and Adam had a chance to visit, which was a bone of contention with her parents. At the end of a long drive, secured by gates that only they had the code to, it was the private and perfect location for a clandestine get together. Wes's endless pleas that he hadn't seen his Uncle Harry for aaaages, meant that they'd be killing two birds with one stone and it was this that Malcolm had been telling Harry, in addition to confirming that he'd had a word with Jane and that she was fine.
But it wasn't until they were bowling along the A40 in Harry's Range Rover and skirting Oxford, that Ruth brought up the subject of Zaf.
'Far be it from me to tell you how to treat your staff and I don't want you to go into meltdown again, but Zaf's terrified of making a mistake,' she told Harry, who had dismissed Zaf with 'find Belling' as he'd strapped Jacob into his car seat while Zaf transferred their luggage from one car to the other, at a prearranged destination. The intention was that this was going to be a working weekend, but Ruth who hadn't been out of London for years and other than to work, her house for weeks, felt liberated and confident enough to say so. She hadn't seen Adam and Fiona other than briefly in the park, so had no idea what they thought or if they'd liked her, but the idea that she and Harry were going to spend the weekend in a house with grounds that were bordered by a stream, with another couple who Harry obviously knew well, made it feel as though they were going on holiday. Providing that Wes wasn't too boisterous, the thought that Jacob would be able to mix with another child and a boy at that, was almost too good to be true.
Harry's 'if you say so,' to her 'Zaf's harmless, he's not interested in me,' finally settled Harry down, as they swung off the main road and into another world entirely, where birds sang their hearts out and the locals tended their gardens.
The house certainly didn't disappoint, nor did the reception that Adam and Fiona had prepared for Ruth. Harry might be their boss and used to being the main player, but as soon as the car stopped, Adam was striding across the drive with Wes on his shirt tails. For one evening at least, he and Fiona had decided that work should be put to one side, and most importantly that Ruth should to be made to feel welcome. Do that and Harry might actually relax, rather than have the heart attack that they'd seen building.
'Through the front door and straight on, just follow the clatter of plates. Fiona's in the kitchen getting tea,' he told her with a big grin on his face. 'Harry and I will sort out the boys and the luggage won't we,' he told his boss.
Harry wasn't the only one under instructions, Wes had also been given a verbal list of rules that he knew better than to disobey. Jacob was only three, whereas he was nearly seven, which meant that he could play with him but he had to be careful not to hurt him. The river was fenced off and was out of bounds and no Wes wasn't to take Jacob near it, not even for a peep, not unless he or Harry was with them. Lastly and what had really sunk in was that Uncle Harry was tired and shouldn't be pestered, but they were sure that if he behaved himself, Wes that was, that Uncle Harry would have a game of cricket with him. Telling him that they'd moved another bed into his room so that Jacob wouldn't be on his own in a house that he didn't know, had seen Wes planning adventures that neither of his parents had considered. That Jacob at three years old and would be asleep by seven or even earlier didn't matter, as Wes was introduced to his new friend.
Fiona away from the pressure cooker of work and in surroundings that were as familiar to her as her face in the mirror each morning, was in her element. Her away from work persona and her dressed down appearance, were as different as night was from day and it was this Fiona that Adam had fallen in love with. Beautiful, caring and the mother of his child. Every day that he woke up beside her, he was grateful.
'Don't worry, it'll be fine,' she told Ruth, when she said that she ought to go and see what was happening, as they carried the last of the tea things out onto the patio, with the sound of squeals and footsteps on the stairs.
Ruth, whose analytical brain had started to click in wasn't sure so sure. Was Fiona's apparent confidence in her misplaced? She was a spy as were Adam and Harry and could act. In fact, her whole existence was made up of her being two people, in the same way that Harry and Malcolm could flip at the drop of a hat. They were all relying on her to solve something that they hadn't, would she be able to do it? Without Harry next to her, Ruth suddenly felt very vulnerable and out of her depth.