Harry Pearce had never looked quite so terrifying as he did in the moments following his phone call from Malcolm. As they stood huddled together around his car on the pavement, Beth saw on his face an expression of such fierce, violent rage that she was sharply reminded of all the old stories she had heard about this man. Whispers about the death of the former Home Secretary, about Harry's time in Northern Ireland, about what had become of the infamous Juliet Shaw had all made their way to Beth's ears but, blinded by his crisp suits and his bumbling affection for her flatmate, Beth had never really appreciated just how volatile, how ruthless he could be. He was not only a politically powerful man, stalking the corridors of Thames House and Whitehall with a permanent scowl, but a physically powerful one, a dangerous one. This man had killed, not once, not twice, but God only knew how many times, and he looked fit to do it again.

"What's happened, Harry?" Beth asked, because someone had to.

"Someone's taken Ruth," he snarled.

Beth had to lean up against the boot of the car for support; no, God, no, please not Ruth. No wonder Harry had gone red-faced and furious. That he would find whoever had done this and tear them limb from limb seemed a foregone conclusion, and Beth did not spare a moment to pity him; Harry would have his vengeance. Ruth, though, Ruth was in an altogether different position. How terrified must she be? Had they hurt her? The Chinese had threatened to kill her, should Harry fail to deliver Albany by morning. Would they stay true to their word, and return her safe and sound, or would they kill her as soon as they got what they wanted, turn tail and run and leave nothing but devastation in their wake? What were the chances of finding her before the worst came to pass?

Over her years in the intelligence community Beth had witnessed some horrific things. She'd seen people murdered, people tortured, people tied up and forced to watch while their loved ones were injured, while their homes burned around them. With time she'd managed to draw a veil over those moments of merciless inhumanity, had somehow been able to box up her emotions, to pretend none of it was real. Now, though, there was no escaping it. Ruth was her friend, a woman with a kind heart and so much to live for, and she was in unspeakable danger.

"What are we going to do?" Dimitri asked.

Harry rounded him, looking for all the word as if he was about to strike the young man for having the insolence to ask such a question, but Dimitri was spared the brunt of Harry's wrath as his mobile began to ring again.

"Pearce," Harry spat into the receiver. His face went even redder, if such a thing were possible, a vein throbbing in his neck as he switched the call over to speaker and held the mobile out so Beth and Dimitri could hear.

"I have Ruth, Harry," Lucas said on the other end of the line. "She's safe."

"I've had enough of your bullshit, Lucas," Harry said in a deadly quite voice. There came a shuffling sound through the speakers, and the next voice Beth heard was Ruth's.

"Harry, it's all right. I'm fine. You need to listen to Lucas, this isn't what it looks like."

Harry's shoulders sagged with relief at the sound of her voice; wherever she was, Ruth sounded well, and whole, and utterly in control of herself.

"Ruth," he sighed her name, and Beth sensed there was a world of emotion hidden behind that one simple word.

"It's going to be all right, Harry. Just please, listen to Lucas."

"If he so much as touches you-"

"Harry," Ruth sounded fairly exasperated now, but Beth could tell that Harry wasn't interested in talking to Lucas again. They only had a few hours left until dawn, and now wasn't the time for Harry to go all mushy over her; Beth fought the urge to reach out and pinch him, try to bring him back to his senses.

"I'll listen, Ruth. I'll bring you home."

For a moment there was silence between them, and Beth could almost hear the pair of them struggling to find the words. Oh just say it, she thought in mild frustration, it's not that bloody difficult. Three little words, just say it.

"Harry?" Lucas was back, and the spell was broken.

"What's going on?" Harry asked him sharply.

"The Chinese wanted Ruth, so I volunteered to take her. I ditched my car and my mobile, and I'm certain no one followed us here. She's safe for now, Harry, they can't get to her."

Is that true? Beth wondered. It would be a miracle, if after all this Lucas was still working for them, and she desperately wanted to believe him. She just wasn't sure she could, any more, not after everything else he'd lied about.

"I'm assuming you have some sort of plan?"

"I'll keep Ruth here, out of sight. This whole plot has been orchestrated by a team of CSS agents. If word gets out about what they're planning, the Chinese government will burn them, and so they want to stay as far away from you and anyone else who could incriminate them as possible. Give me Albany, Harry. They have the access codes, they'll recognize a fake. It has to be the real thing. If I can just get inside, I can neutralize them, I can get Maya back, and you can pick up Ruth."

Could it really be that simple? Harry was certain his fake file was convincing enough; would it be? Could he just give Lucas the fake file, swing by the safe house and grab Ruth, and then get back to Thames House in time for breakfast? Somehow, Beth didn't quite think so. This whole thing was so mad, racing around London, breaking into churches, Ruth's almost-kidnapping; none of it made any sense, and she had no idea what she'd do, if she were in Harry's shoes. Harry wanted the people behind this, she knew, wanted to prove who had been trying to infiltrate MI-5, and for that he'd need to see the faces of the CSS team behind it.

"Are they watching me, Lucas?" Harry asked.

"Almost certainly," Lucas answered. "I told them I was ditching the mobile to keep you lot from tracking me, but they know I'm contacting you. Meet me in Battersea Park in thirty minutes, it will look like we're doing the handover then. Don't put a tracker on the file, though, they're going to scan it as soon as I bring it to them and if they see it they'll run before we have a chance to stop them."

And kill Lucas and Maya in the process, Beth thought glumly.

"Fine," Harry said tersely, and with that they ended the call.

Harry tucked his mobile in his pocket, and ran his hands over his face. "All right, here's how we're going to play this. I'm taking the file to Lucas-"

Beth opened her mouth to protest but Harry cut across her sharply.

"Don't interrupt me! We need the Chinese to believe that I'm desperate enough to go through with this, so I'm going to meet Lucas alone. You two take a cab back to the Grid, quick as you can. I'm going to put a tracker on Lucas, so I need you to work with Malcolm to keep an eye on him once it's active."

"Are you going to warn him about the bomb?" Beth asked softly. She didn't want to draw his ire unnecessarily, but she had to know. Was Harry content with tracking these people down and bringing them in, or would he send an explosive into their midst, and blow them all to hell for daring to threaten Ruth?

"I haven't decided yet," he told her.


"I have a really bad feeling about this, Lucas," Ruth told him, pacing the floor of the dingy sitting room uneasily. He'd unburdened himself to her, spoken to her softly about Maya, his greatest love, the one who got away, only recently returned to him. He had a plan, a mad, stupid, incredibly risky plan, and Ruth had chosen to see this through, despite her reservations.

"So do I, but what choice do we have? Harry's not stupid, he'll find a way to follow me once I've got the file. This whole thing will be done in an hour or two, and then you can go home and go back to bed and forget it ever happened."

Somehow, Ruth didn't think that was very likely. For the third time in the almost thirty-three weeks she'd been pregnant, Ruth found herself in danger, and for the third time she couldn't help but wonder when her luck was going to run out. No matter what Lucas said, about this place being completely under the radar, she couldn't bring herself to believe that she'd be safe here alone. Even Lucas's company would be preferable to sitting here in the dark with no phone and no idea what was happening.

"I've got to go, Ruth," he said finally, sliding to his feet and heading for the door. "There's food in the kitchen, and clean sheets on the bed."

As if she was going to just curl up and have a nap! Ruth could think of nothing she wanted less than to sleep in this horrible house.

"Please don't leave me here alone, Lucas," she begged him, feeling the hot prick of tears in the corners of her eyes.

He stood by the doorway, watching her in that unfathomable way he had, but finally he relented.

"Fine," he said. He crossed the room, and handed her the pay-as-you-go phone he'd used to ring Harry. "The Chinese don't have this number, so it's safe, for now. Harry has the number, I'll tell him to ring you the second this is done. Don't use it unless there's an emergency, Ruth."

She nodded, clutching the mobile to her chest like a lifeline. "Thank you," she said softly.

"I'll see you soon," Lucas told her, and with that, he left her to her own devices.

Well, it's just you and me now, little one, she thought grimly.


When Lucas North came stalking towards him along the path, Harry had a sudden, animal urge to reach out and throttle the man. On the one hand, he had chosen to trust Lucas, because every time he had doubted Lucas North in the past he had been proved wrong, unequivocally, and he had decided that, just this once, he was going to start from a position of faith in the man's innocence. On the other hand, knowing that Ruth and his child were out there, somewhere, in terrible danger, and that Lucas had played a part in it made Harry want to kill him with his bare hands. Nothing had ever incited Harry's primal instincts quite like a well-placed threat to the ones he loved, and he had never, ever loved anyone the way he loved Ruth Evershed. He had told her he would let the whole world burn to save her, and now he knew, in his very soul, just how true those words had been.

"Harry."

"Lucas."

They faced off for a moment, each of them deceptively calm, evaluating the other. Harry broke first; he extended the case to Lucas, and Lucas took it quickly, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other.

"I rang them from the car, told them we were meeting here. I've picked up a tail, and they told me they've been following you all day. You're compromised."

Harry knew what was coming next, and he could not bear to hear it.

"Don't you dare-"

"I can't tell you where Ruth is, Harry. I know what she means to you. You won't keep away, and they'll follow you and your people right to her. She needs to stay where she is, for now, until this is done and we can guarantee her safety. Maya's life is already at risk, don't do the same to Ruth."

Somewhere, tucked in a very small, very dark corner of his heart, Harry knew that Lucas was right. No power on earth could keep him from Ruth now, if he only knew where she was, and nothing would put her in danger quite so much as his sending people in after her.

You still have a job to do.

Harry reached out, and clasped Lucas's arm, drawing him in close.

"If anything happens to her, I'll kill you myself," he hissed. Lucas was so distracted by the venom in Harry's tone, he never noticed the little tracker dropping into his jacket-pocket.

"If anything happens to her, Harry, I'll let you," Lucas answered.

They separated, eyeing each other warily. This was make or break time; if Lucas was playing him, and Harry warned him about the bomb, the Chinese would cut and run, and there would be no going back. If Lucas wasn't lying, and Harry held back that information, he could very well have signed the death warrant of one of his finest officers.

"How can I reach you?" Harry asked.

"Call the same mobile I used to contact you. Give me at least an hour though, Harry. Give me a chance to make this work."

Harry nodded, and with that they parted ways, and not a word spoken about the bomb.

God forgive me, Harry thought.


No, no, this isn't happening, no, not now, not yet.

It had been over an hour since Lucas left her all alone, and in that time, something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

All day long, Ruth had felt the occasional, irritating clench of Braxton-Hicks contractions, leaving her ill-tempered and out of sorts. By the time she'd gone to bed at Harry's, though, the familiar sensation had changed. The pain had shifted, starting at her lower back and wrapping around. The contractions were lasting longer. And, over the last hour or so, they'd been coming more frequently. As the most recent contraction faded, a terrible prospect dawned on her. This pain was different, and she knew it.

The baby was coming, and she was coming now.

Shit.