A few minutes earlier
Ruth's house, London

"You need to get me into Thames House, Harry," Ruth urged, but Harry immediately shook his head. "I can figure this out, I know I can-"
"You'll be arrested, Ruth! Or worse!" Harry took a step away, rubbing his forehead.
Jo watched, fascinated by a side of her boss she had never seen before. Adam, though, was in full operational mode. "She's right, Harry."
Harry's head snapped up and he glared at the younger man, who didn't flinch.
"Only Ruth can figure out what it is that she knows that scares them so much," he persisted.
Harry said nothing, but lifted his chin defiantly.
"Would you give us a moment?" Ruth intervened, before the situation could evolve into a testosterone-fuelled stand-off.
"Of course," Jo said immediately, before Adam could argue, and practically dragged him out of the kitchen.

Once alone, neither of them said anything for a while. Harry didn't meet her eye and she waited him out, allowing him the time he needed to get hold of his emotions. Finally he lifted his head, to find her watching him.
"You can put any measure you like in place, but you have to get me onto the Grid," she said again.
He took a step back towards her. "I am not confident that I have control over security at Thames House at the moment. Mace has spies all over the building and once you are arrested, you will be out of my reach. Out of my protection. They tried to kill you, for God's sake." He searched her face. "I have to protect you."
Ruth was immediately reminded of the last time she heard him use these words. That time it was his daughter who was in trouble, someone he loved deeply, and warmth spread through her body.
"Now who's naïve?" she asked with a gentle smile. "With all the resources at their disposal, they'll find me eventually, no matter where I try to hide." She laid a hand against his cheek, and her eyes roamed over his face. Memorising every line, every feature, every pore. "The only chance we have is to beat them at their own game."
His hands flexed on her hips, and he pulled her against him. He held her tightly, and over his shoulder she could see Jo watching them from the corridor. She didn't care anymore. She felt his breath wash over her forehead before it was replaced by his lips pressing a tender kiss into her skin.
"All right," he murmured, and she could tell just how much the decision had cost him in the rigidity of the muscles in his back. She burrowed into him, unwilling to let go yet, to leave the safety of his embrace, and resolved never to push him away again, if they managed to get out of this mess. Eventually they pulled apart and smiled at each other shyly, suddenly aware how much of their feelings they had revealed to each other during these last few hours. Her gaze shifted to Jo and she nodded, and the two blond spooks re-entered the kitchen.

"We're smuggling Ruth onto the Grid," Harry announced without preamble, and Adam smiled. "But we have to find something on Oliver Mace. The quickest way out of this shambles is to neutralise that odious bastard."
Adam nodded. "My new friend may be able to help with that," he said, hooking a thumb towards the sitting room. "He says he put some insurance away, to ensure that he would not be the only one holding the can if things went pear-shaped."
"What sort of insurance?" Harry asked.
"He wouldn't say, only that it was video footage of a secret meeting Mace had with someone. He was adamant that Mace would not want anyone to see this footage."
"Get it," his boss ordered. "Let us hope that for once a Special Branch officer is not misguided about the evidence before him."
Jo smiled, but Adam shook his head. "It's in a safe deposit box in a bank. We can only get it in-" he glanced at his watch, "seven hours when the bank opens."
Harry pursed his lips, then made a decision. "Okay. Adam, you stay with Barrett and collect the tape as soon as you can, then bring it to the Grid."
Adam nodded but Harry was not finished. "Be vigilant. If they are willing to kill Ruth to protect their plans, they will have no qualms about silencing one of their lackeys." He turned to Jo and Ruth. "We must devise a way to get Ruth into Thames House unseen."
"I've been thinking about that," Jo piped up. "The CIA is scheduled to deliver a new crate of files on suspected terrorists they want hauled in and tortured."
Harry and Ruth looked at each other. "Are they now," Harry said thoughtfully, and Ruth began to smile.
"Bob Hogan owes you a favour after you helped him cover up that unfortunate incident of the American diplomat who was found shackled to a bed in a transvestite prostitution house with his pants round his ankles."
Harry's mouth twitched. "He does indeed."

- 0 –

One hour later, Thames House

Zaf steered Asif into the foyer ahead of him, continuously scanning the street for suspicious activity. When the door closed behind them and they were safely inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. The night-duty security officers watched them approach the scanners with interest; they seldom saw activity between two and four in the morning. Zaf tensed again, mindful of Adam's warning that the security officers were not to be trusted. A balding, slightly overweight one stepped forward. Zaf vaguely recalled his name – Brian something.
"Morning, sir," he said cordially before directing Asif to place his sports bag on the scanner's belt.
Just as Zaf opened his mouth to respond, a commotion behind him interrupted. The door banged open and two men carried in a sealed crate. 'Property of the USA – Diplomatic Bag, DO NOT OPEN' was emblazoned across its lid. Behind the crate the CIA's Head of Station strode in, looking grumpy and tired. But then, that seemed to be Bob Hogan's default demeanour.
"Good morning, Bob," Zaf said immediately, unable to suppress a grin. "Did you forget to adjust your watch to UK time after your last home visit?"
Hogan glowered at him. "Very funny, Mr Younis. We're less likely to run into press outside the door if we come at this hour, and what with the stink Harry Pearce kicks up every time we want a suspected terrorist brought in for questioning, I'm beginning to wonder whether he isn't the one tipping them off about the time we're to deliver the next load of files on suspects."
Zaf eyed the heavy-looking crate. "Problem is that you guys think being a Muslim is reason enough to make someone a suspected terrorist."
"A suspicious mind never hurt anybody," Hogan shot back. "Matter of fact, a bit more suspicion on your side won't go amiss. Who knows, you might be surprised at what you'll find."
Whilst this exchange was going on, only Asif paid any attention to the security officer as his bag went through the scanner. The man's face remained expressionless as he handed it back. "All clear," he pronounced, and Asif was very aware of the beads of sweat pearling on the man's upper lip. The crate was waved through without being scanned, and the whole procession made their way up to the Grid.

- 0 –

When they got to the Grid, Harry stood waiting. He looked slightly rumpled in shirtsleeves and sans tie. They were all tired, but they could not afford to waste any time. Harry's eyes flicked briefly over Asif before returning to Zaf. "Take him to the Interview Room," he instructed.
Zaf nodded and took Asif's bag from him, plonking it down on his desk.
Asif swallowed. "Can I get a handkerchief from it?" he asked, and Zaf nodded impatiently. It felt as though every eye in the room was on him as he rummaged in the bag, before lifting the handkerchief out and wiping his nose with it.
"Come on," Zaf said, and led him away.

- 0 –

Once Hogan had dismissed his minions Harry stepped forward. "Get her out of there," he said, a hint of anxiety in his voice.
Hogan smirked. "Relax, Harry. I gave her an oxygen tank." He folded his arms and studied the Section Head. Though he looked as commanding as ever, there was a sliver of desperation he was unable to suppress. It intrigued Bob. "I think I deserve some information, don't you? It seems a big deal to smuggle someone into Thames House-"
"Open the bloody crate, Bob." Harry didn't raise his voice, but his eyes flashed dangerously and the CIA officer was reminded of Harry Pearce's reputation for ruthlessness when crossed.
He fished out the keys and opened the padlocks, then stepped out of the way. Harry lifted the lid to find Ruth peering up at him, blinking owlishly in the sudden light.

"Oh good," she said, "my leg was beginning to cramp."
Harry smiled and held out a hand to help her up, only just refraining from offering to massage her leg for her.
"All right?" he asked softly once she was stood next to him. Close to him.
"Mm," she murmured, holding his gaze for a moment before handing the small oxygen tank to Bob Hogan. She glanced around the deserted Grid, a sudden rush of fond familiarity almost overwhelming her. She did not want to contemplate the possibility of never setting foot here again, and just as importantly of never seeing Harry again. He must have read some of it in her face, for when she looked up his eyes were on her, his expression impossibly tender.
"I better go find Malcolm, get started," she announced, and Harry nodded. He watched her go until she was out of sight, before turning to Hogan. Ignoring the other man's knowing smirk, he said, "A drink?" and led the way to his office without waiting for an answer.

- 0 –

Malcolm was ecstatic to see her. He launched into a long-winded update of the searches he'd done on Asif, before concluding glumly, "I can't find anything suspicious about his background. If he is a plant, he has one of the most thoroughly back-stopped legends I have ever seen."
Ruth frowned in concentration, her mind turning over every piece of information they had, trying to find the connection, the key that would unlock the riddle. "Mich atim," she said suddenly, looking up at Malcolm, who stared at her uncomprehendingly. Ruth's face brightened in excitement as she began to pick up the scent.
"That's what the Imam said about Abdullah, with his dying breath. 'He is innocent'."
"What does that have to do with the walk-in and the attempts on you?" Malcolm queried, and Ruth shifted from one foot to the other impatiently.
"Asif is a member of Abdullah's mosque, right? So we automatically assumed that he was pointing the finger at Abdullah when he claimed there was an imminent attack. What if the whole thing is a set-up? What if it starts way back with the snippets of information we've been fed about Abdullah?"
The techie looked doubtful. "That would be a rather elaborate undertaking, and to what end?"
"I don't know. But that was Harry's instinct as well, and I think he's right."
Malcolm smiled slightly, and Ruth coloured, but she held his look defiantly, daring him to say something.
"I'm glad," he ventured carefully. "Like I said before, I think you make a smashing couple. And that is the last word I'll say on the subject."
Ruth seemed to relax somewhat, and nodded in acknowledgement.
Malcolm continued, "So we trace back the origin of the intercepts?"
"We don't need to," Ruth said with a small smile. "I already know exactly where in GCHQ it originated from."

- 0 –

Harry and Bob Hogan each cradled a whisky as they measured each other across the expanse of Harry's desk. He was wary of the American; Bob was old-school and he wanted to like the man, but there was something about him that gave Harry pause. What he hadn't yet figured out was whether it was because of his ingrained dislike of all things American, or whether it was something else. Until he knew, he would be careful about what he shared with the man.
"Thanks for the help, Bob," he said, for once not having to fake his sincerity.
Bob eyed him speculatively. "I'm not in a position to ask for details, as I owed you this favour, but I would like to know what is going on. As a professional courtesy."
"Of course," Harry said easily, but he weighed his next words carefully. "We picked up intercepts that indicated an imminent terror attack. When we sent Ruth and Zaf round to question our only source in the Muslim community, someone took pot-shots at them and killed our source. For some reason they seem to be targeting Ruth now, so we thought it would be safest if she were here, on the Grid, without anyone knowing."
Bob's gaze slid to his glass as he processed the explanation, and Harry wasn't sure whether he bought it or not. When he lifted his eyes back to Harry's there was a veiled look in them which Harry filed away for future analysis.
"Glad I could help," Bob said before he tossed back his drink and stood. "I'll ask my people to share any information they have about a possible attack with you."
Harry rose as well and held out his hand. "Thank you, Bob." He watched the CIA man until the doors closed behind him, before his mouth set in a grim line and he walked off to find Ruth.

- 0 –

"Found it!" Malcolm yelled triumphantly and Ruth spun round, knocking a heap of files to the floor. "Your contact in GCHQ made a call to a private number about five minutes after giving you those three additional intercepts. Though I don't know who the mobile belonged to, I do know that it was in the office of the JIC Chairman when it was answered."
Ruth heaved a sigh of relief and dropped her head, trying to release the tension in her neck. Her eye caught a photograph that had spilt onto the floor from one of the disturbed files, and she tilted her head to see the face more clearly. "Who's that?"
"Eh?" Malcolm, momentarily thrown by the change in topic, glanced over his shoulder. "That's Asif," he said before turning back to his screen. When Ruth didn't say anything he looked back at her curiously, to find her pale face still focussed on the photo.
"No. No, it's not, Malcolm." Her voice shook and when she looked up at him, she was so pale that he was worried she would pass out.
"Ruth? What-"
She jumped up and mumbled, "I have to speak to Harry," before practically running out of the room. As she flew around the corner, she nearly bowled the man himself over. He threw his arms around her in an effort to keep them both upright, and she heard a soft oof escape his lips as she knocked the wind out of him.
"God, sorry!" she gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders.
He kept hold of her as he gathered himself. "Why the haste?" he enquired, soft eyes sliding over her face.
Her hands tightened on his shirt, and the fear in her eyes alarmed him immeasurably, even before she spoke her next words.
"I know why they're trying to kill me."

tbc