"There it is," Lucas exclaimed, "look!"
Tariq and Ros stood behind him as he pointed to men shaking hands with the bank manager, Mr. Bridgeport, taking seats at his desk, and one talking, while the other was quite clearly casing the situation. Tariq gently moved Lucas away from the keyboard.
"Here, let me start a facial recognition search."
His fingers flew over the keys, and the terminal at Lucas' station began its search through all known security service and Interpol files.
Tariq looked at his colleagues, "Now we wait."
"Now we turn our resources to finding Ruth."
Ros glanced at Harry's despondent figure pouring through files compiled on Oliver Mace and his associates, desperately looking for that one clue that might tell him where Ruth was.
She turned back to Lucas. "Not a moment too soon."
Lucas' eyes flicked up toward Harry's office window and he grimaced internally at the pained expression on Harry's face.
"Let's get it done," Lucas responded.
Oliver paced the length of his office, waiting for a call. When the phone finally rang, it gave him a slight start. He reached for the receiver.
"Oliver Mace."
The voice on the other end of the phone was low, soft, "They can't possibly trace any of this back to you."
"How can you be so certain of that? Harry Pearce is not to be trifled with nor underestimated. I warned you of this a long time ago."
"We're not amateurs, Mr. Mace, that's why you came to us in the first place."
"I'm beginning to regret that decision," Mace snarled, "Make sure you keep Pearce away from me and my office. Is that understood?"
"We've made sure and took out an extra insurance policy, you have nothing to be concerned with from Section D."
Mace frowned. "What do you mean, 'took out an extra insurance policy?'"
"It's better that you don't know details of how we make things happen, Mace, only that we do make things happen."
Mace gripped the phone tighter. "I don't like the way this sounds at all."
"You don't pay us to like the sound of it; you pay for results, and we've given you the results you asked for."
Mace slammed his eyes shut against what he was hearing, and gripped the phone in his hand tighter still. How had he denigrated into this? Into someone who maneuvered behind the scenes, the end justifying the means? There were lines. There were lines, and while they blurred, he was not willing to cross some of them; he served in MI5 and remembered well the lessons of his service. Who have you become, Oliver?
"I don't want anyone hurt." Mace swallowed hard, "I wanted some old, worn-out men to resign from the JIC, yes, so that I could make needed reforms to—"
"—Don't flatter yourself, Mace. You wanted to be rid of the JIC members who stood in your way, and you didn't really care how it was accomplished short of assassination, and we did that. You also wanted us to protect you from ever being linked to any of it. We have ensured that no one will ever link you to it."
"Oh my God. You took her, didn't you? You have Harry Pearce's analyst, Ruth Evershed. Have you lost your mind?"
The voice on the other end of the phone laughed. "You sound so frightened, Oliver. Does Harry Pearce really scare you that much? He's a worn-out, old spook whose bark is far worse than his bite these days."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Mace growled. "If you've taken Ruth Evershed, he won't stop until he finds her. Which means he finds you."
"And if he finds us, we will lead him to you, Oliver, so I suggest you get him off our ass."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It's quite simple really, if you want this to stay off your doorstep, find a way to silence him."
The dial tone sounded loudly in Mace's ear; slowly, he hung up the receiver. There was no way he would harm Harry Pearce physically. He would have to dig up something to discredit him that would get him out of MI5 for good. Without the resources of MI5 at his disposal, Pearce would have to stop looking for Evershed, yet he would continue to try, which would keep him busy and out of Mace's business.
Oliver let out a long, slow sigh of air: this was not at all what he had intended. It was such a simple job: get rid of the old, unreasonable members of the JIC governance who were standing in the way of progressive policies. Mace had been successful on that front, but now he had to fend off Harry Pearce because the idiots he had employed kidnapped Harry's toy.
This was going to be a royal pain in his ass.
Lucas, Ros, and a despondent Harry sat around the conference table while Tariq brought two pictures up on the screen.
"The man on the right is Klaus Dickau. He's a German banker who makes investments in foreign financial opportunities."
"Like other banks?" Ros asked.
"Yeah. But, he also has ties with the Baader-Meinhof-Gruppe, and the Integralists. The man on the left is Clive Simmons, an International financier, and believed to be the current leader of the Integralists here in London."
"And the two of them walked into the UMTB and met with the London branch manager just like that?"
"He's a dull as a twig," Ros chimed in, "and as bright as a squirrel on Ritalin."
Lucas stared at her for a brief moment, then said, "Even still," he turned to Tariq, "what premise did they use?"
"Does it matter?" Harry snapped, "They probably posed as interested investors. The point is they got in on a premise and had plenty of time to observe bank protocols, business practices, and God knows what else, nor what questions they may have asked under the guise of checking security on a potential investment." He looked at Tariq then. "Do we know where these men are now?"
"I have addresses for both, yes. Simmons has a London address, I'll forward that to Lucas and Ros; Dickau has a German address, no London one. I'm running a facial recognition program through CCTV to see if I can find a pattern and narrow down where he might be staying."
"Chatter has been increasing that the Integralists have a dirty bomb, so we are on the clock," Ros added.
They started to head out of the room, and Harry said, "Lucas, a moment please." Lucas hung back, and Harry continued, "Where are you on Ruth?"
"I'm sorry, Harry, we haven't found any leads—"
"—Have you even tried?" Harry bellowed.
"Of course we have been working on this, Harry. I know you're emotionally compromised where Ruth is con—"
"—Emotionally compromised? The hell you say."
They stared each other down for a long moment. When Lucas spoke again, his voice was soft, gentle.
"I'm sorry, Harry. We haven't stopped looking for Ruth, but we have a credible terrorist threat, you know that has to take precedence."
Pearce looked down and away. "Yes. I know."
Lucas pat the older man's shoulder. "We'll stop the Integralists, Harry, and then we'll find her. We'll find Ruth."
"Yeah," Harry managed.
Lucas walked out of the room, and after a moment, Harry followed him.