Harry woke suddenly from a dream. Almost all of his dreams are of Ruth, and more often than not, he is searching for her everywhere, but not ever finding her. Mostly he dreams of searching for her in the cottage in Suffolk. He'll have just missed her, her recent presence apparent in a whiff of her perfume, the glowing embers of a fire, the sound of a receding footstep on hardwood floors, or the dregs of tea in a teacup, still warm. He often wakes from these dreams close to tears. This morning the dream was different. He'd searched for her, and found her in a flat in Paris. He'd climbed the narrow stairs and knocked on her door, but the door had opened under his touch. He'd stepped inside the flat, a tiny bedsit, finding her asleep on the bed. He tiptoed to the bed and sat down beside her, not wanting to wake her. He leaned over her, about to kiss her, when she turned and smiled at him. She reached out with her hand, and was about to touch his face ….. and that's when he awoke.
Not only had he awoken at the very wrong moment, but he'd awoken aroused, something which since Ruth's death had happened only very rarely. He thought briefly of doing something about it. It would only take a few strokes to bring him to satisfaction, except that it wouldn't be any kind of real satisfaction at all. At least while she'd still been alive, he could have imagined her being with him, but her being dead leaves him feeling empty of all genuine feeling other than pain. Even an orgasm can be one of pain. Harry got out of bed and headed to the shower.
.
Stephanie Symes-Dixon noted her client looked less tense, less wary, and more settled than she's ever seen him.
"The analyst problem seems to have been solved," he offered up, right at the beginning of the session. "I have a mature and experienced analyst, but only on secondment from GCHQ. I'd like her appointment to become permanent, but that will be up to her and GCHQ."
"I'm pleased for you, Harry. Does this woman's working at Section D …... how shall I say this ….. does it make the loss of Ruth any less severe?"
Harry contemplated ignoring the question. Had she asked the question a week earlier, he would have, but this week he felt differently about it. He hesitated before answering, deciding at the last moment to try an honest approach. "No, the loss of Ruth – from my own life, and from the security services – is something which leaves a gaping chasm which can never be filled. Felicity Sharma – the new analyst – is excellent at her job, but she's not and never can be Ruth. They are two entirely different personalities."
"How is that? Describe this if you can."
"Felicity is bold and confident. She demands, no - commands respect. Ruth, on the other hand, is gentle and caring. She always earns respect from others, but never demands it. That's why she and I get on so well. We're opposites, Ruth and I."
"Harry …... are you aware of using the present tense when you speak of Ruth?"
For the first time in over two weeks, Harry turned on her with flaring eyes. Stephanie could see the pain in those eyes, a pain he was trying so hard to keep in check.
"She's still with me. She's always with me," Harry said at last. "She's not in some …... hole in the ground."
"It might surprise you to know that most of those who lose a loved one have said to me almost word for word what you just said. I'm not judging you, Harry. I was drawing your awareness to your habit of describing Ruth in the present, as though she's still here."
"That's because to me she still is here." He waited a while before adding, "It's the only way I know how to cope with losing her."
"And for feeling responsible for her death?"
Harry nodded his reply.
.
By the time Harry made it back to the Grid, everyone other than the new analyst had already gone home. His sessions with the psychologist always left him drained. Her recommendation to him was that he not use alcohol after a session as a way of staunching his pain. He was about to give this a try. After all, the alcohol always made him feel worse, especially in the morning. He sat at his desk and began to wade through the pile of reports and recommendations in his in-tray.
It had been over two weeks since he and Felicity had bonded over a whiskey after work, and he thought of again offering her a drink at the end of a hard day, when he noticed her heading towards his office. She knocked – two sharp raps – before entering, closing the door behind her.
"Harry," she began, not waiting for him to offer her a seat, "something has come up."
"Won't you sit down, Felicity," he said, pointing to the chair opposite him.
"Thank you," she said. "This is …... somewhat awkward. I don't know where to begin. Perhaps …... "
"Perhaps if you start at the beginning," Harry suggested. "I've found that's best."
Felicity seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable, rubbing the end of her nose with the heel of her hand. "I've found my encryption thief ….. or, more correctly, I've managed to uncover some of the documents which have been encrypted by this thief. I'm still no closer to discovering who is responsible for these documents."
"Do you need me to know this?" Harry asked.
"Normally, no, but …... there are …... extenuating circumstances, and I think you need to be informed of …. some of what these documents reveal."
"Before you go on, does this affect anyone else on the Grid?"
"Yes, but not nearly as much as it affects you."
"Are these documents incriminating in any way?" he asked.
"Ye-es, but not in the way you mean."
"Jesus, Felicity, could you be any more obscure?"
"Sorry. By incriminating, I imagine you mean do these documents show this section up in a bad light. The answer to that is no. Something, or more correctly, someone is guilty of something. That is clear." She noticed the look of frustrated bewilderment on Harry's face. "I can see I'm not making this any clearer, am I?"
Harry shook his head. "Is this about a threat of some kind?"
Felicity took a breath before she continued. "There is no easy way of saying this, so I'll just come out and …..."
"Say it, please," Harry implored.
"The series of documents which were encrypted using my new encryption – by whom I don't know – seem to be a series of case notes from a hospital, or a medical facility of some kind. The ones I have already decoded are dated from 5 months ago until 6 weeks ago. I have checked the names of the patients with our own records. All of the names are of people who have died during the past 5 months. One of these names is ….."
"Ruth's."
"Yes," Felicity replied very quietly. "All of these `dead' people seem to be alive. They are all being treated with some kind of new drug. Genesis 1197. I suspect it's still in development, which is why this research is being conducted covertly."
Harry looked like he'd been king hit. "So, she's been alive all this time?" he said, barely above a whisper.
"It appears so."
"Where is this …... facility?"
"Ah," Felicity answered, "that's where I still have some work to do, I'm afraid. I have only decoded my own encryption. I'll require some extra help with the rest of it. All names of medical staff, plus the locations – the addresses of the patients, the medical facility, research teams, etc – is encoded using a different set of criteria. I need help with this. I believe you know Malcolm Wynn-Jones."
"Yes, yes, of course. Malcolm used to work here, up until two and a half years ago. Do you want to meet him?"
"My suggestion is that you reinstate him, perhaps for a finite period, such as 6 months. He's the best there is."
"Of course," Harry replied. "I'll get on to it tonight. And, Felicity …."
"Yes, Harry -"
"Thank you for telling me. I'm still quite -"
"Shell-shocked?"
"Yes. I also know enough about these things to not be too – er – optimistic at this stage. As much as I'm over the moon Ruth's alive, I also know how careless these rogue research teams can be. It's all about the money and the glory. We have to act fast if we're to save her and the others. Speaking of others, how many are there in this …... research project?"
"I have records for 8 people from the past 5 months," Felicity said. "There are no doubt more, but I stopped my further searching when Ruth's name appeared."
"So, how long have you known about this?" Harry asked, standing and walking around his desk, more to work off the adrenalin.
"Ruth's name appeared in my search around a week ago. I only put the puzzle together this afternoon, and I've been waiting until we were the only ones left on the Grid before I told you."
"Thank you." Harry stopped his pacing, and turned to face Felicity. "Thank you for waiting until the others had left. They have no need to know about this yet. There's quite a bit needs doing before we need to bring them into it."
"Which brings me to my next request, Harry."
"Anything," he replied.
"My brother, Jeremy Coates, is a medical researcher. I'd like to bring him into this, and show him what I've decoded so far. He may have some input which could be useful. And there's also Anthony's brother, Rohan, who's an international lawyer. He may have some advice about the legal implications of this."
"Firstly, the rogue researchers are no doubt operating outside the law of several countries, so we may have to ignore the laws of the land for the time being. Have these two men sign the Official Secrets Act."
"They both have. I've had to consult them both before, so they're not novices. If I could have tomorrow off the Grid, I'd appreciate that."
"Of course. Do whatever you have to do. I'm going home now, and I suggest you do too. Keep me informed of your progress."
.
Driving home, Harry was aware of a euphoria trying to surface between the heavy layer of fear and doubts which Felicity's news had planted in his conscious mind. The next few days and weeks would be critical in uncovering the mystery surrounding Ruth's death and continued life. At home, Harry ate a toasted sandwich, and drank a cup of tea, all the time trying hard not to project himself into a future in which Ruth is still alive, and still part of his life. In his ensuite bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror and critically examined his face. If he was to see Ruth again, and if he was to tempt her back into his life, then he had to look after himself better than he had been. The bags under his eyes and the increased puffiness in his face bore testament to the excesses he had allowed to encroach into his daily routine – too much alcohol, irregular meals, poor diet, and not enough exercise. Scarlett's death, only two weeks after Ruth had died, had hurt almost as much as the loss of Ruth. Not only had be missed walking her daily, but his body had missed the exercise.
So, for the first time in fourteen weeks, Harry got into bed and slept dreamlessly, and without the aid of alcohol to dull his emotions. For the first time since he'd lost Ruth, a tiny glimmer of hope lay in front of him.