Harry drove them to the church in silence, his thoughts on Ruth all the while. He had placed agents in the house and on the street out front, and now he knew there was no more he could do for her until he'd seen this farce through to its conclusion. That galled him, the knowledge that his position required him to stay and work, when his heart was screaming at him to turn the car around and return to her side with all due haste. In his mind he believed that no agent, regardless of how well-trained they might be, could possibly protect her better than he could, but he had a job to do, and his presence was required elsewhere.
This was what Jane had hated about his job, thirty years and a lifetime ago. She'd hated the power the service held over him, hated the fact that when she needed him most he'd leave in an instant, because his country needed him more. When he was young and life seemed to open before him in an endless array of possibility, it hadn't seemed like such a sacrifice, that abandoning of his family in favor of doing his duty. Now, though, it seemed to him much too high a price to pay. He'd meant what he said, about considering retirement; he wasn't a young man, anymore, and he had no idea how much time he had left to spend with his children. He didn't want to waste a single moment of it.
But before he could resign, he had to finish this operation. He had to know where Lucas had gone and whether the man really had turned rogue, he had to hunt down the Chinese, and he had to ensure that the secret of Albany remained under lock and key. To reveal the truth, even to his own agents, was nothing short of treason, and he could not risk the Chinese getting their hands on the real thing.
To that end he had long ago buried his insurance policy in a little-used church, hiding it beneath a grate behind the ornate altar. It was a holdover from his Cold War days, this using a church as a hiding place; during that time he had often met assets in cool, dimly lit sanctuaries, their voices hushed in the preternatural quiet beneath the high-arching ceilings. What they were going to fetch now was not the real Albany, but a convincing facsimile, containing none of the original research, and no indication of the subsequent failures. A little laptop in a heavy metal case, accessed by the same codes as the real Albany file, but utterly, completely useless. As added protection, the laptop was also hard-wired to explode within fifteen minutes of the codes being entered, though Harry had no idea if the explosives would still work, after all this time in the dark and damp beneath the floor of the church.
As he drove Harry glanced briefly at the two agents sitting in the car with him. Beth and Dimitri were both so young, but they were learning quickly, and he was glad to have them with him as he went. They would do whatever he asked of them, he knew, and they would do it well. He was glad, too, that Malcolm was back on the Grid, following his every move via the tracker currently fastened to his belt buckle. Tariq was a maverick technical officer, really he was, but he couldn't hold a candle to Malcolm for sheer intuition; no one could. Harry was confident that between the pair of them, they could ferret out any piece of information he desired. Yes, his team was good, despite their relative inexperience, and Malcolm was there to help them when they stumbled.
Thoughts of his team inevitably led him back to Lucas, and the mystery surrounding his refusal to call in. If Lucas was still running an op he was doing a piss-poor job of it; how could he help them catch their would-be thieves, if he didn't share his information? Yes, he'd handed over Vaughn Edwards, but that hadn't exactly been his decision; Beth had just caught him in the right moment, and it could be that Lucas had only been trying to cover his tracks by turning the man over to her. Then again, Lucas had been handed so many opportunities to turn traitor over the years, so many moments when he could have elected to save his own skin, and he had chosen to serve his country every time. Why betray Harry now?
There's a woman, there's always a bloody woman, Harry reminded himself darkly. It was the simplest - and most effective - technique in the book; find the one thing a man cherishes above all others, and hold a knife to its throat until he capitulates to your demands. Harry had been on the receiving end of that particular maneuver twice now, and he had to admit it was brutally effective. The first time, he had confessed to a murder he'd never committed, in the hopes of saving Ruth, and it was only her own selflessness that had prevented his valiant attempt to fall on his sword for her. The second time; Christ, he still had nightmares about the second time. He had known, when Ruth was brought into that warehouse, how the game would play out. Mani would make him watch as those men murdered her husband, as they killed the boy, and then Mani had planned to turn his attentions to Ruth directly. Mani might well have succeeded, if he'd ever made it that far; Harry honestly didn't know what he would have done if it had come down to a choice between saving Ruth and saving the uranium. It was unbearable enough, watching her scream, watching her heart breaking right in front of him; seeing a gun held to her head might have pushed him over the edge. As it was he was thankful that he'd never had to make that choice. They had been rescued, if only barely; if Lucas had come through that door thirty seconds later Ruth would have been dead and bleeding on the floor at his feet, and he would likely have gone stark raving made with grief.
So yes, he understood how a man might throw it all away for love. Was that what was happening here? He had no way of knowing, not yet; he had to wait for a chance to speak to Lucas, to hear the truth from the man himself.
"We're here," he said softly, pulling the car to a stop outside the church.
"Lucas," Ruth breathed, her heart pounding in her chest. "No, please, Lucas-"
"Please don't scream," he told her. She'd always thought Lucas had the most terrifying voice; it was low and gravelly and soft and utterly, completely without emotion. "There's no one to hear you, even if you do."
Oh God, no, Ruth was horrified, thinking of the two young agents she'd cooked dinner for only a few hours earlier. Surely he hasn't-
"They're not dead, just incapacitated," Lucas explained as if reading her thoughts. That was something, at least, but Ruth was too frightened to be relieved, just now.
"You need to come with me, Ruth," Lucas said, reaching out and catching her by the elbow. She flinched out of his grasp reflexively, feeling repulsed by the touch of his hand. How dare you, she thought in a fury, but she kept a tight rein on her tongue. It wouldn't do to goad him, not until she knew what he was planning.
Lucas sighed. "I don't want to hurt you, Ruth. You could try to run, but you and I both know, given the circumstances, that won't end well for you."
No, she couldn't imagine that it would. Her belly was huge and her muscles ached and it took every ounce of energy she had to keep her on her feet; there was no way she'd be able to avoid him, if she tried to escape, and she'd likely only end up injuring herself or the peanut in the process.
"Lucas-"
"We have to go, now," he told her, and when he caught her arm this time, his grip was too firm for her to shake him off.
"Could I at least change my clothes?" she asked in a tired voice. If this was to be her last day on earth, she would appreciate it if he would at least allow her the dignity of dying while fully dressed. At the moment she wore only a pair of shorts and one of Harry's old t-shirts, beneath his heavy blue dressing gown. Ruth hated that Lucas was seeing her like this; her current attire spoke so eloquently of her connection to Harry, and she had always wanted their relationship to be a private thing, wanted the peace and happiness they shared to be untainted by their lives outside the safety of his home. But Lucas could see it now; she might as well have been wearing a sign that said "Property of Harry Pearce", and she knew seeing her like this would only reassure Lucas that he had made the right call, in assuming that she was the best way to get to Harry.
"No time for that, I'm afraid," Lucas said in a tone devoid of warmth. "Let's go."
And with that he dragged from her the room and down the stairs. As they crossed the kitchen she caught sight of her guards, both of them lying prone in a pile on the floor. Scarlet came limping towards her, clearly confused, and the sight of that dear, sweet old dog was nearly enough to bring tears to Ruth's eyes. Poor thing, she thought sadly, she has no idea what's happening. Lucas didn't stop to bother with the dog, he just bundled Ruth out the back door and into the garden.
There was a long, tall wooden fence surrounding Harry's little garden, but Lucas had apparently been quite busy this evening, given that he'd managed to tear out quite a few boards in the back corner and make a hole big enough for even Ruth to squeeze through. Once they passed through the fence, they crossed another garden, and Lucas led her to a dark SUV parked on a quiet lane. He saw her safely into the passenger's seat, and then tucked himself behind the wheel.
"Where are we going, Lucas?" she asked him. She needed to know; needed to know what he was planning, what kind of horror waited in store for her.
"You'll see," he answered shortly.
"That's that, then," Harry said as he deposited the case in the back of the car.
"What now?" Beth asked him, tucking her hands in her pockets.
It was late and Harry had to squint to see her through the darkness. He found himself wondering about this girl who had so suddenly burst into their lives; she and Ruth were fast friends, as unlikely as that seemed, and he couldn't help but wonder what role she had played in the general improvement of Ruth's disposition, over the last few months. Perhaps this was what Ruth had been missing, for all that time, a friend she could unburden herself to, another woman who understood what she was going through. He and Ruth had chosen Dimitri, to join their team, but Beth had been a surprise. In the end, he thought, it had all worked out rather well.
"We wait. They told me they're going to make contact, so I plan to sit right here until I hear from the Chinese or Malcolm, whichever call comes in first."
"Should we check in with Ruth, make sure she's all right?" Beth asked him anxiously.
God yes, he thought; he wanted nothing in that moment than to hear Ruth's reassuring voice in his ear.
"No," he said aloud. "She needs her rest, and besides, if anything had happened, we'd have heard about it. Ruth is safe, Beth, no need to worry."
The look on her face told him plainly that she was going to worry, regardless of whether it was needed or not. He knew just how she felt. Ruth was uniquely vulnerable, just now, and all sorts of nasty possibilities kept floating across his mind.
Stay focused, he chided himself. You won't do her any good if you can't keep a level head.
In the still of the night the ringing of his mobile was shockingly loud; he fished it out of his pocket, and was relieved when he saw the call was coming in from the Grid.
"Yes?" he barked.
"Harry, it's Malcolm." There was something off about Malcolm's tone, something that chilled Harry to his very core.
"What is it?" he asked, fighting back a rising tide of dread.
"Harry, we've just had contact from the surveillance team watching your house. There's no easy way to say this…Ruth's gone."
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep him from hurtling the mobile to the ground and roaring out his rage and his fear.
Lucas drove her to a rather derelict looking house on a quiet street. He led her up the path, its paving stones cracked and broken, and through the boarded-up front door.
"What is this place?" she asked once they were inside. It was dusty, but otherwise in rather decent shape; at least, there were no dead animals or squatters lying about, and she supposed she should be thankful for small mercies.
"A bolt-hole," Lucas said with a shrug as he locked the door behind him. "A place completely unconnected to me, where no one will ever come to look for you. Please, take a seat, you look exhausted."
Ruth was exhausted, so she did as he asked, gingerly perching on the edge of a worn-down couch.
"Why am I here, Lucas?" she asked him quietly, watching as he stalked cat-like through the sitting room.
"The Chinese want Albany. They got tired of dealing with Vaughn, and they decided to go straight to the source. Harry is one of only a very few people who know where Albany is, and he's got one big, easily identifiable weakness. I was ordered to take you, so…here we are."
"Why, Lucas? What hold do these people have over you?"
Lucas dropped into an armchair by the door, scrubbing his hands over his face. He looked exhausted, too, looked tired and drained and utterly hopeless.
"I was young, when Six sent me to Dakar. It was my first undercover assignment, and I wanted so badly to do well. I knew Vaughn was involved, so I got close to him, let him believe we were friends. He's the one who planted the bomb in the embassy. I knew that, Ruth, and I let him go."
Lucas's eyes were shining at her across the dimly lit room; he looked earnest, and sad, and it was the most emotion she'd seen from him in the nearly two years she'd known him.
"I knew it wasn't his plan, he wasn't the one behind it all, and I'm not sure even he knew who his employers were. I hadn't yet learned how to keep my legend from overtaking me completely, and I believed we were friends. I let him go. He turned up a few months ago, threatening to tell Harry about what I'd done, threatening Maya. She has nothing to do with this, Ruth," he added softly. "She's innocent, in all this."
"Maybe she is," Ruth agreed, "but you certainly aren't, Lucas."
"I did go to Harry. I told him the truth, that Vaughn was threatening her, that he was trying to use me to do his dirty work. I didn't mention him by name, he's too well-connected, but I told Harry as much as I dared. He told me to go along with it, and to keep him informed, so I did."
"Where did it go wrong?" she prodded him gently when his silence dragged on too long.
"They took Maya yesterday. I have no idea where she is, and unless I help them, they're going to kill her."
Ah, so that's how it is, then, Ruth thought sadly. Lucas had to choose, between protecting Ruth and protecting Maya, and he'd chosen to save his lover. Wouldn't we all, in the end? It was just so bloody unfair, that her little peanut was caught in the midst of all this, completely without blame and completely without agency.
"So that's that, then?" she asked softly. "You want to save Maya, Harry wants to save me, and the Chinese are hoping that you'll both give into their demands."
"Something like that."
She nodded. "Right, then."
Lucas was looking at her strangely, and for a moment she was suddenly terrified that he'd decided to go ahead and kill her now, and save himself the trouble. Her hands once again dropped to her stomach, feeling the reassuring weight of the peanut against her palms. I'll protect you, little one, she promised silently.
"Do you trust me, Ruth?" Lucas asked her softly, and she couldn't help but laugh aloud at the very thought.
"Look around you, Lucas! You've been lying to me, for months, you've kidnapped me, you're threatening to kill me-"
He shook his head. "I never said I was going to kill you, Ruth. I do have a plan, a plan to save you, to save Maya, and to keep Albany away from the Chinese, but I need you to do one thing for me. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
Could she do that? Could she trust this man, this man who had been cold and hard from the moment she'd first met him, this man who had lied and obfuscated and stolen her away from her home, showing no remorse for what he'd done and no concern for her child?
He didn't kill the agents, though, she reasoned as she watched him. He could have, but he didn't. And he's brought me here, to a house with no Chinese operatives in sight. He had been through so much, she knew, had been willing to risk his life to act as a double-agent, pretending to work for the Russians and delivering information to Harry all the while. He'd spent eight bloody years in a prison cell for his country. He had been her Section Chief, and she had followed his orders. Could she do that, one more time?
"What do you want me to do?"
