Vauxhall Cross - 1600 Saturday 14th January
Oliver Mace watched as the dark-suited man paced back and forth in front of him. His feet made little sound upon the plush carpet, but Mace could sense the way that the man was driving his heels into the ground with every step. He swallowed nervously and hoped that his colleague was in an understanding mood.
"I thought you told me that you'd handled the al-Hassan affair personally," the man growled at him. "So imagine my surprise when reports start filtering back to me that Harry Pearce and his goons at 5 are taking more than a passing interest in his disappearance." The pacing stopped and the man turned and looked out of the window, glancing down on the busy street below. "Don't tell me that you screwed this up Oliver. That wouldn't be something that I'd like to hear."
Mace forced a smile onto his face and adjusted his tie.
"The information was passed on to our regular contact...he disseminated the information as we predicted...only..."
"Are you trying to tell me that you've been out-manoeuvred by some third-rate mouthpiece?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite like that," Mace objected.
"No I'm sure you wouldn't. I'm sure in your version of the world, you're actually more James Bond than Mr Bean," He spun round to face Mace. "I want this sorting Oliver. I want Harry Peace and his little army as far away from this matter as they can conceivably be. Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly..." Mace paused. "There is just one thing...."
"I don't want to be hearing excuses Oliver."
"The problem is that one of Harry Pearce's team was taken along with al-Hassan."
"Yes, yes. I read about that. It was a little careless. What of it?"
"Loyalty to ones colleagues goes a long way in Harry Pearce's book."
The frown deepened. "Are you trying to tell me that you won't tell him to leave well alone?"
Mace chose his words carefully. "I'm telling you that I'm not the person who should be talking to him. A word from me is not going to be enough. This has to be an order from on high."
There was a heavy sigh. "This was supposed to be a simple, painless affair Oliver. Now you want me to go further up the tree and shake a few more branches. I don't think I need to tell you how that makes me feel?"
"I'm sorry."
"And somehow that doesn't make everything better. Harry Pearce will be told to leave well alone. That is something I will take responsibility for. You Oliver, I want you to make sure that al-Hassan, the missing officer and whatever Godforsaken group has them are quietly removed from everyone's radar and swept, without ceremony, under the carpet. This was supposed to be a way of cementing friendships Oliver, not of screwing things up out of all recognition."
Mace glanced in the direction of the suited man and realised that the meeting was at an end. He swore inwardly; it was hardly his fault that an officer from 5 had been sent along on the journey. The situation was an unfortunate one; there had been potential gains to be had but those seemed to have slipped away. All that was to be done now was to clear away the mess and carry on as before.
He rose silently to his feet and straightened his tie before heading out of the plush office.
Thames House – 1800 Saturday 14th January
"I want a word... in my office...now."
Adam looked up from his desk as Harry passed by, delivering his message without breaking pace.
"This can't be good," he muttered to Jo as he pushed his chair back and set off after Harry.
Adam reached the office and found Harry pacing backwards and forwards across the small space.
"The disappearance of Azhar al-Hassan and one of our officers is apparently something that we should no longer be concerning ourselves with," he spat the words out.
"What?"
"We are...and I quote directly here....no longer to waste valuable resources on looking for an individual who has very little importance on an international scale."
Adam shook his head slowly. "They're not serious?"
"On the contrary, they are deadly serious."
"These are the very same people who only a few days ago jumped up and down and demanded that al-Hassan and Zebari be given the highest protection we could muster."
Harry met Adam's gaze. "We are being told that this is no longer our concern. It doesn't take too much reading between the lines to work out that there are people out there who no longer want al-Hassan alive."
"And Ruth?"
Adam asked the question, although he knew that Harry would be finding that particular issue the hardest one to square away.
He watched as Harry's head dipped.
"We do nothing," he replied quietly. "There are, I am told, unfortunate losses that we must learn to bear."
Adam looked at Harry in disbelief.
"And you accepted that!"
"What did you expect me to say Adam?" Harry growled. "This was a meeting of senior heads of the service. As far as they are concerned, Ruth is just another analyst; an easily replaceable commodity."
"Of course." Adam stopped short of apologising fully. The growing relationship between Harry and Ruth was something that everyone on the Grid knew about, but was also one that no-one would admit to knowing about in their presence.
Adam searched out Harry's gaze.
"What are we going to do about this Harry?"
Harry sank into his chair and placed his palms flat on the table.
"I can't ask any of you to continue with your investigations. I can't ask any of you to spend any time on this whatsoever."
Adam shook his head. "You can't ask us not to."
Harry met Adam's gaze.
"I'd like you to ask around. Find out who is willing to keep this investigation alive."
Adam let out a thin smile.
"I don't need to ask anyone Harry, we are all with you."
"Even Ros?"
Adam nodded, certain that he could speak for his colleague.
"Even Ros. I think you'll be surprised by her Harry."
"Sound her out all the same; the last thing I need is for one of my own to go bleating back to 6. I want to make sure that her feet are both now firmly in this camp before I ask her to start breaking direct orders from above."
"Right."
Adam was turning to leave when something made him stop.
"We'll find her Harry," he said firmly, wanting to find some way of offering reassurance.
Adam waited for some sort of response but Harry's attention had apparently returned to the files in front of him. After a few moments Harry raised his head.
"I trust you have things to be getting on with?"
"Harry..."
"Don't let me keep you."
"Har..." Adam tailed off as he realised that Harry was no longer listening to him and reluctantly exited the office.
Littleton Farm - 2000 Saturday 14th January
The door opened and Ruth was pushed into the room, she grabbed at the table for support as her right knee buckled beneath her weight. She bit back the cry that rose in the back of her throat and closed her eyes, willing the pain to subside.
"Don't get too comfortable," the voice she had grown to hate told her firmly. "You and I need to have a little chat."
"What?..." Forcing her eyes open, Ruth looked around the room, noticing for the first time that Azhar wasn't there. She swallowed nervously and turned to face the man standing behind her. "What do you want?"
She watched as his face broke into a smile; a smile that only served to unnerve her even more.
He took a pace towards her and she struggled not to flinch. His smile widened and he stepped forward again, passing closely by her before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.
"Do I make you nervous?" he enquired in a light tone.
Ruth moistened her lips as she considered her reply.
"I've met more than my fair share of bullies," she told him flatly.
He let out a low laugh and clapped his hands together.
"So you think me a bully?"
"Well I'm not sure what else I should call someone who breaks the bones of another... weaker... human being."
"I prefer to think of myself as a business man."
"I'm sure you do."
Ruth watched as the man sat back in his chair and folded his arms. He was staring at her and she couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. Her leg throbbed with pain and she glanced around, looking for another chair...there wasn't one.
"It's a shame I'm a bully," the man's voice broke the silence. "Otherwise I might have offered you a seat."
"Is...Is that why you brought me in here?" Ruth questioned. "...To... play games?"
"It's an interesting theory...You think I'm playing games?"
"Well I'm thinking you didn't bring me here to pass the time of day."
"And I'm thinking that you're a little too sharp to be just a translator," the man told her as he pushed the chair back and rose to his feet. "I want to know who you really work for..." he closed the distance between them and looked down at Ruth. "Who are you?"
He was standing so close that Ruth could feel his breath upon her. She wanted to step away but her feet seemed rooted to the spot.
"The man who told us about Azhar, never told us about you. Why would that be?"
He moved slowly round to stand behind her.
Ruth shrugged, forcing herself to stare straight ahead and not flinch at the close proximity of the man. "Maybe he didn't know that Azhar needed a translator."
"Maybe he doesn't need one...Maybe you are lying?"
"That would be a pretty stupid thing to do."
"Wouldn't it just," the man told her, leaning down to whisper the words near her ear. "I'd hate to think that you were being that stupid. I might have to do something about it if I thought that you were lying."
Ruth fought to steady her breathing. She could still feel his breath on the back of her neck and wanted nothing more than to move away from the spot she was standing on.
"If he dies because you've been lying to him..." the voice tailed off.
"If he dies it'll be because you killed him," Ruth snapped back without thinking.
"No no, if he dies it'll be because you were lying."
"I've not lied."
"I wish I could believe you," the breath left the back of her neck as the man began circling again. "Do you want his death on your conscience?"
"Putting pressure on me, threatening me, doesn't make me the murderer. At the end of the day that will still be you...You're the ones making the decisions, you decide if you kill him, not me, and you are not going to make me feel guilty about it."
Ruth's head snapped to one side as the man lashed out at her.
She tasted the metallic taste of blood on the back of her throat and fought against the wave of nausea that washed over her.
"You can go too far you know," he snarled. "Remember that."
Thames House – 2100 Saturday 14th January
"What have you got for me Jo?" Harry looked up from his work to see Jo hanging back in the corridor just outside his office.
She raised the file that she had in her hand. "There's this....but you seem..." she hunted round for the correct word. "...Busy."
He waved her into the office. "It's fine. What have you got for me?"
Jo took a tentative few steps into the office, uncertain as to whether she was doing the right thing. "It's ...well I've been looking into al-Hassan... I think you need to see this."
Harry took a deep breath and indicated the stack of files that were threatening to swamp his desk. "I'm a little busy here Jo; perhaps you would care to be a little less cryptic."
Glancing around, making sure that they were not being overheard, Jo finally began to reveal the information that she had.
"None of it adds up," she explained. "I've put al-Hassan's photo through every system that I can think of and he doesn't appear to exist."
Harry placed the file he had been reading back on the desk and gave Jo his full attention.
"I looked into all the background that the files from GCHQ provided and none of it adds up...none of it. He doesn't appear on the records of events that the files say that he attended; no-one with his name appears on the rolls of the schools that he was supposed to have graduated from. His whole background; it's all a lie."
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Be very sure what you're saying Jo," he advised her.
"I've checked and double-checked Harry; nothing about Azhar al-Hassan makes sense."
"So who is he?"
Jo shrugged her shoulders. "That's something I can't tell you. I've called in a few favours but nothing has come of it….aside from having to agree to go to dinner with a singularly objectionable man from the US Embassy."
Harry leant back in his chair and brought his hands together.
"Thank you," he spoke finally; his voice betraying no emotion.
Jo stood, uneasily shifting her weight from one foot to the other, waiting to see if Harry had anything more to say.
"If there's nothing else…" she tailed off and indicated the open door behind her. Still receiving no response from Harry she decided that it was prudent to leave him alone. Turning silently on her heel she exited the office, pulling the door across behind her.
Back out in the office she headed across to Adam's desk.
"I'm worried about Harry," she confided.
Adam looked up from his terminal and caught sight of Harry sitting motionless in his chair.
"He's under a lot of pressure."
"I know… I'm just worried that he's going to do something … inadvisable." Jo glanced around before placing the file that she was still carrying down on the desk in front of Adam.
"The information we received from GCHQ regarding Azhar al-Hassan was nothing more than an elaborately put together tissue of lies." She flipped open the file and pulled out the sheet relating to his employment. "None of the companies on the list have ever employed anyone by that name; none of the records I could find mention him anywhere and he doesn't even feature in any online photos of a truly forgettable staff party."
Adam shook his head. "So just who is this guy?"
"I've not been able to find out, but it could go some way towards explaining why he was targeted in the first place."
Adam pushed his chair back from the desk. "Someone must know who he is."
"I've put his picture through all the photo-recognition software that we have but nothing comes up."
"To go to all this trouble, he must be someone of importance." Adam rose to his feet. "Leave it with me."
"What about Harry?"
Adam took another glance towards the office. "He'll be alright Jo. He's too much of the professional to let something like this get to him."
Jo watched Adam leave and then let her own gaze turn towards the office. She wasn't so certain that Adam was right.
Fulham Palace Road – 2300 Saturday 14th January
Ros glanced once again in the rear view mirror... she wasn't imagining it. The black BMW had been behind her since she had turned onto the Fulham Palace Road after crossing Putney Bridge. Whoever it was at the wheel was doing a lousy job of tailing her. She sighed heavily; she really didn't have the patience to wait until the driver decided that the road was quiet enough for him to make his move. Checking the road ahead, she braked sharply and forced the car behind her to do likewise. Wrenching open the driver's door, she climbed from the car and stalked back to confront the driver; her right hand reaching for the handgun that was holstered at the small of her back.
She drew level with the car and pulled open the driver's door, glaring in at the man behind the wheel.
"I take it that you've got a damn good reason for following me around like a bad smell?"
The driver of the black BMW looked up at her; an expression of mild amusement on his face.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to spot me."
"You weren't being very subtle," she sneered.
The man tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "I wasn't trying to be," he told her flatly. "You're with 5 now; need to make things that little bit more obvious." He raised his head and gestured towards the passenger seat. "You can either stand there hurling insults, or you can let me tell you why I followed you."
Ros pursed her lips and regarded the man for a moment.
"I of course have no way of knowing if you are who you say you are."
"Very true," he smiled at her. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end for once?" He took in her expression. "You and I need to talk about the little visit that you made to Peter Henderson this morning."
"What do you know about that?"
The smile on the man's face widened. "I can give you a transcript of the tape if you want."
He gestured towards the passenger seat again. "Please; we do need to talk and it would be far easier to do it here."
Ros acknowledged him with the merest nod of the head and headed around the vehicle.
"What do you know about al-Hassan?" Ros demanded as soon as she had taken her seat.
The black-suited man shook his head. "This isn't the part where you get to ask questions," he informed her. "I'm here to tell you that you need to back off and leave Henderson alone."
"And if I don't?"
"You might...want to consider your options before you do something as foolish as cross us."
Ros let out a short bark of a laugh. "Don't bother trying to intimidate me... it really is a waste of time."
The man took a deep breath. "All you need to know is that Henderson is ours and that you need to keep away from him."
"And yet you're not telling me why."
"There's no reason why I should, he's 6's asset and 5 have got no rights to talk to him."
Ros thought things over for a moment.
"As you would have gathered from listening in to my meeting with him this morning, I'm only interested in finding out who he passed on information about Azhar al-Hassan to. Whatever else you're doing with him, I really couldn't care less."
Ros waited for a reply. As the silence stretched out, realisation dawned. "Why are you so interested in this?"
"I can't tell you that. I'm only authorised to tell you that you'd be well advised to leave Henderson alone and to forget about al-Hassan." The man paused. "I heard that you lost an officer; I'm sorry about that, but you really don't want to go sticking your nose into this one."
Ros shrugged. "Collateral damage is par for the course in this business, we both know that. I want to know what the deal with al-Hassan is."
The man shook his head. "I can't tell you that...but for your own good...leave things alone."
Ros waited for a few moments before realising that the meeting was at an end. She climbed from the car and slammed the door behind her; hearing the engine roaring into life almost immediately and stepping away as the car slipped into gear and moved off down the street.
When the car had disappeared from view, she pulled her phone from her pocket and hit one of the speed dial options.
"Jo...It's Ros. Pull up everything you can find on Peter Henderson. He's ex-military, now does some chicken-feed work for 6. I've just had an encounter with one of our friends from 6 and he seems rather keen that we leave him alone. I want to know why."