Ruth hadn't expected Harry to be home by 7, but it was unlike him to not have rung to tell her. She'd tried his phone, but her call had gone to voicemail. It was a little after 8 o'clock, so she had no need to be worrying about him …... although that was exactly what she was doing. She had made them a simple fried rice for dinner, and keeping in mind that he may be held up, their dinner could be warmed up later, or even put in the freezer for another time.

The sound of the doorbell sent a shiver through Ruth's body, and her heart rate increased. The only person she was expecting was Harry, and he had his own key. It was his house, so of course he had a key. She hid in the kitchen, hoping that whoever was at the door would give up and leave. When her mobile phone rang, she jumped, and then answered it carefully.

"Ruth, it's Dimitri. You have to let me in. Harry warned me you might not want to open the door."

"Okay. I'll be there in a few seconds."

Dimitri looked back to the road and down the street before he closed the door behind him, and Ruth led him down the hallway to the kitchen.

"I know this isn't a social call, but would you like a tea or coffee?"

Dimitri stood inside the kitchen door, discomfort displayed in every muscle of his body. "Perhaps you need to sit down, Ruth."

No sooner had he spoken, than Dimitri realised how badly he had worded his last sentence. If he could have taken it back he would. Ruth's face said it all …... shock and fear for the safety of the man she loves. She sat down slowly, never taking her eyes from Dimitri's.

"Ruth, Harry's fine. Nothing has happened to him." He sat in the chair opposite her own. "He's had to go into hiding for a day or so. Until we sort out this Russian thing."

Relief showed on Ruth's face, and she rubbed her fingers across her brow, a slight smile on her lips. "You know how to shake a girl up, Dimitri. I think my heart rate doubled in the few moments after you told me to sit down. Never do that to me again."

To take her mind off what Dimitri had told her, Ruth made them each a cup of tea. Dimitri sat in silence over his cup, while Ruth decided what questions she most needed answering.

"Ask me anything, Ruth," Dimitri said at last.

"Alright. So, is Harry in any danger?"

"Not now he's in a safe house, and it's one we've never used before. It's a new one. Most of our safe houses date back to the cold war, so there's …..."

"... danger the Russians know about them."

"Only a very slight danger, mind you."

"What happened to make Harry decide to hide? Harry's not normally afraid. He doesn't hide."

"No, Harry doesn't hide, and he didn't want to go to the safe house, but Erin made an executive decision. She believes the circumstances are severe enough that Harry needs to lay low, at least in the short term." Dimitri breathed in heavily before he continued. "Elena Gavrik has been murdered. They found her body in a room on the third floor of the Marriott Hotel. She'd been strangled with a tie from the curtains."

Ruth quickly drew in a breath, and then let it out. Then she was overcome by a wave of relief. She would no longer need to worry about what Elena had up her sleeve. On the other hand, nor would she ever discover why Elena had come to Harry's door earlier that day.

"Whose room was it?" she asked at last.

"It was booked in the name of Harry Pearce -"

Ruth took in a breath, and put her hand over her mouth.

"But seeing that Harry was in his office at Thames House at the time she was murdered – and there are more than twenty people who can attest to that - he's definitely off the hook."

"The room? Who would book it in Harry's name?"

"That's what we're now working on. Lucy – who's filling your shoes for the time being – and Tariq seem to have a grasp on that. When I last heard from Tariq, he was banging on about credit card and bank account searches and phone traces, and the CCTV footage both outside as well as inside the hotel. The indoor footage has been tampered with, as have a couple of the cameras outside the main door to the hotel. Tariq has found one camera – in the alleyway which runs beside the hotel – which has not been tampered with. When I left the Grid over an hour ago, he was about to search the footage from that camera. Alec and Lucy are visiting the hotel as we speak, interviewing the staff."

Ruth had a burning desire to help. The man she loved was in hiding, and she needed to help sort out this mess. "Dimitri," she began, keeping her eyes on the cup of tea in front of her, "can I help? What if I go into Thames House …... I'd take a taxi …..."

"Absolutely not!" Dimitri said firmly. "If I allow that, Harry will have me deported. He's still a bit cold towards me because I allowed you to enter Keith Deery's flat first."

"Why? That was my idea."

"Technically it was my call -"

"But I have seniority, Dimitri."

"Only on the Grid. Not in the field. If I allow you to leave this house unescorted, Harry will have a coronary. He loves you, Ruth."

Ruth looked up at Dimitri, staring at him.

"I've just said too much, haven't I?" he said, an embarrassed smile on his lips.

"No," Ruth replied. "It's just that I didn't think you knew …... that."

"Everyone knows it." He smiled across the table at her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's a bit hard to miss. Like …... you're quite discreet about it, but Harry watches you like a hawk. In my opinion he's a bit over-possessive."

"He's not possessive, Dimitri, just protective. It's what he does best."

"Speaking of Harry …..." Dimitri scrabbled around in his jacket, searching in all the pockets, until from his inside breast pocket he withdrew a piece of paper, folded several times. "This is for you," he said, handing the paper over to her. "Harry wanted me to give to to you. And I haven't read it, in case you're wondering."

Ruth took the note, and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. She'd read it later. "I take it Harry is dark – not in communication."

"He has an untraceable phone for emergencies only. I doubt he'll have cause to use it. He only needs to be in the safe house until we know who it is killed Elena, and why, and it's possible we'll know that before morning. There may be a chance that the same people who want Elena killed also want Harry."

"Dimitri …... do you think that perhaps Elena was killed by someone close to her? Her husband or son? Someone in the FSB?"

"Why do you say that?"

"I only saw her briefly, mind you, but I suspect that she's a woman who arouses high passions in others – love or hatred. This may be an act of passion, and it may have little to do with the world of espionage."

"I'll consider that, but we can't do very much until the police have dusted for prints and looked for traces of DNA …... chiefly in the tie which strangled her …... and the CCTV footage is examined, and the identity of the person who booked that room is found. We should know more in a couple of hours."

"Just one thing, Dimitri. Did Harry get to meet with Ilya Gavrik at 3?"

"No, he didn't. He was about to leave the Grid when the news came through about Elena."

"How did he take the news?" Ruth was unsure about the wisdom of asking that question.

"He seemed shocked, but mostly I'd say he was …... relieved. Yeah, he seemed relieved. One less Russian, eh?"

Dimitri smiled at Ruth, and she returned his smile. She also felt relief that Elena was dead.

Once Dimitri had left, Ruth took out the note from Harry, and sat on the sofa in the sitting room while she read it. Scarlet trotted into the room, and looking around and noticing Harry wasn't there, she again left the room. The letter was written on a page torn from an A4 notepad, and the paper was old and faded, as though it had been lying around in the safe house for years.

Dearest Ruth, he wrote. By the time you read this Dimitri will have informed you of Elena's death. I can't lie to you, Ruth. I am relieved – even quite happy – that Elena is gone. As you and I have grown closer over the past months, I have felt Elena's presence between us, and I don't know why this is. It's not as though I truly loved her, or saw myself having a life with her. I feel that she has had a power over me, over us, which has been unnatural and unhealthy for us both.

I am sorry that I can't contact you directly. As you know, this is normal procedure for those in safe houses. I hope the people behind Elena's death can soon be found, and that I can then leave this uninspiring place. It smells of damp and death. I left a message with Dimitri to tell you that you shouldn't go into the Grid to help out, even if you really want to. I threatened Dimitri with a horrible punishment should he allow you to go into work. I need you at home getting better, getting stronger. Selfishly, I need you at home when I get out of here. I shouldn't need to be here for long.

I can't wait to hold you again. When my mind is not occupied with thoughts of who it is may wish Elena dead (and that list is becoming quite long) it is crowded with images of you.

I love you.

H

Ruth read the note three times before she folded it and took it upstairs to her room. She tucked it between the layers of her underwear in a drawer. As she closed the drawer, she looked around the room with a critical eye. It was a very pleasant room, neat and tastefully furnished, but it wasn't terribly `Harry'. Ruth suspected that he had either had a decorator in, or else he'd asked a female – his daughter, perhaps? - for advice on how it should best be furnished. As much as she was comfortable in this room, she didn't belong there. Which was when she had an idea.

Ruth knew Harry wouldn't mind her going into his bedroom and taking a look around. She opened the door and stepped through into the room. Now this was more the Harry she knew. The bed was made, the smoky blue duvet pulled up and neatly arranged, while the navy blue pillowcases on the pillows set off the bed as belonging to a man ….. a tidy and well-organised man. It was a large bed, perhaps king size. Ruth had little idea why one man would need a king size bed, but perhaps Harry had harboured hopes. The dresser and closet were of polished walnut, and all the drawers and doors were closed. Ruth had known he was a neat freak, but closed drawers and closet doors? That bordered on OCD.

There was little sign of the man who slept here, other than a photograph on top of the dresser. Ruth moved closer, to see an enlarged photograph of Harry and his two children playing at the beach. The children were quite small – perhaps five and two – and Harry was a slimmer, more hirsute version of his current self. His hair was curly, showed signs of receding early, and he wore a wedding ring. So this had been taken while he was still married to Jane. He'd been an attractive and well-built man. Ruth's eyes wandered over his image, taking in the legs, the chest, the strong shoulders and arms, and even – against her conscious will – the bulge in his bathing costume. Yes, Harry did appear to be well built in all areas.

Leading off Harry's bedroom was the en suite bathroom. In there she would likely find some more personal items of his, but she drew the line at wandering in there. She sat on the bed and bounced her body up and down on it. She then moved around to the side farthest from the door (assuming Harry slept on the side closest the door) and, slipping off her shoes, she slid under the duvet, and lay on her back, her head resting on the pillow next to Harry's pillow. She lay there for a while, feeling for all the world like Goldilocks, checking out the beds in the house for the one that felt `just right'. It was a comfortable bed, with a luxurious and comforting feel to it. She turned her head, imagining Harry lying on the other side. She then lifted her head and buried her face in the fabric of his pillow. As expected, it smelled delightfully of Harry's smell, and Ruth felt tears spring to her eyes. She wished so much that he were with her, that he were coming home to her tonight.

Without thinking too much about it, Ruth slid out of bed to take off her jeans and her jumper, and stepping back under the duvet wearing only her knickers and a camisole, she grasped Harry's pillow, and hugged it close to her. Turning on her side, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.