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Ruth bravely re-entered the room. Glancing quickly towards Harry's booth she saw that he and Mace had been joined by Malcolm and Colin. Harry tried to catch her eye again but failed as Ruth taciturnly snubbed him, lowering her gaze to the floor and instead making a beeline to the bar. There she stood, back to the men, trying to appear upright and aloof.
A hand brushed her lower back. She turned.
"Ruth. I thought we'd lost you," said Oliver Mace.
"Not at all," Ruth smiled cheerfully.
"Good, good. Can I get you a drink?"
"Yes. Please," Ruth said decisively.
Mace signalled to the barman and leant one hand on the bar as he waited, in a carefully crafted attempt to affect Ruth with the largeness of his frame.
Ruth fidgeted, hand in hand. Things had gotten past the place she had planned in her head- saying yes to Oliver's offer- and then realised she had nothing to say, nothing to impress him with, as was usual.
"You look rather pretty, you know, with your hair like that."
"Oh, well. You haven't seen my hair any other way, have you?" Ruth bumbled.
"Oh, drivel. And that dress…" Mace exhaled as he swept his gaze up and down her body.
"It's old," Ruth shrugged vigorously.
Mace's face crinkled up in confusion. He realised he would have to change tactics with this woman.
"Are you ambitious, Ruth?"
"Ambitious?"
"Yes. Where do you see your career going?"
"Well," bubbled Ruth eagerly, "I mean, it's always been my ambition to cross over to Five. But Harry's just made my secondment permanent, as he said, so I'm not really thinking about much beyond settling in to this role. I'm Senior Analyst here now, in the Counter-Terrorism Division, and well, there's really not much room to move up from that, is there? I mean, you don't often see a desk spook sitting in Harry's position, do you?"
"On the contrary. I started my career as a desk spook actually, before sitting in the Section Head seat for 6's Eastern Europe division."
"Did you indeed?"
"Listen. Why don't we grab a bottle of champagne, take a seat over there, and discuss your future, hmm?"
"Alright," Ruth replied appreciatively.
She watched as Oliver ordered a ridiculously expensive vintage with ease. Impressed, Ruth allowed herself to be lead with one hand across her back to a dark booth in the corner of the room.
Harry had scowled as he watched Mace stagger up to Ruth at the bar. When he saw Mace lead her across the room with his hand on the small of her back he had slammed his whisky down on the table in fury.
Though they were in a dark corner booth, Harry could see perfectly as Mace popped open what appeared to be a very expensive bottle of wine with great fanfare. His theatrical flare had clearly amused Ruth too, who was giggling girlishly at her suitor.
This surveillance was only interrupted by the arrival of Danny and Zoe. Harry merely grunted hello.
"Not enjoying the party, Harry?" Danny mused.
"Mind your own business, Mr. Hunter."
Danny's eyes widened. Back apparently was the man who shouted his way around the office, bellowing at Danny for every little thing. Like walking into room's unannounced. Or bank fraud.
Harry suddenly realised how transparent he had been. He only hoped Malcolm and Colin wouldn't read anything into it. Fine behaviour for an experienced spy. He would just have to stop watching her lest his entire staff realise he had been lusting after a junior colleague.
Good and well. But he would need another drink.
"Another round on me, then?"
Across the room Ruth was chastising herself. How could she have been so wrong about Oliver? When he was being so perfectly kind, enquiring about her career, and offering her advice with the considerable benefit of his vast experience?
"Truly, Ruth. I believe the only logical step further up the old ladder for someone of your abilities would actually be a hop over to the Home Office."
"But I do like the work I do in Section D. You know, being able to directly help people, being able to… see the impact of my work."
"Working for the Home Office would be considerably superior pay and prestige, and your analysis would be directly affecting government policy. Impacting the whole country, even the whole world perhaps, depending on whom you were working under. "
"Right," Ruth replied, a little overwhelmed.
Mace refilled her glass before grasping her small hand between his.
"Now Ruth. If you ever need an in at the Home Office, you need only give me the word. I'm on first name basis with all the great power players of this government, and I'd be only too happy to help a friend."
"God, that'd be… Are you sure, Oliver?" Ruth breathed, eyes large.
"Of course, my dear. You mustn't be afraid to ask," he replied with a squeeze.
Ruth looked down shyly, then back up at Oliver, and smiled wide and genuine.
"Now," commanded Mace, "Why don't you help me finish this champagne?"
"Oh," Ruth said, rubbing her neck, "I really shouldn't have any more to drink. I'm already a little tipsy…"
"Now you are being rude. First you coerce me into buying this disgracefully expensive vintage and now you tell me you won't even drink it? And I suppose you are running off to meet some handsome young paramour of yours for a little late night rendezvous?"
"No! Oliver…"
"You, Ruth, are going to damn well sit there and drink it if I have to force it down your throat myself," Mace said, smiling to let her know he was teasing.
"Well, you won't have to do that," Ruth recovered, flirting back, "I only meant that I shouldn't."
"Not that you won't?"
"Not that I won't," Ruth echoed coyly as she lifted her glass to her lips. In a daring move, she met his gaze as she seductively downed the glass. Well, in for a penny…
Mace watched with hooded eyes before bursting into deep-bellied laughter.
"I say, Miss Evershed, that's more the spirit!"
"Oh!" Ruth exclaimed flirtatiously, "Ooh, Oliver! Santa hats! Wait here."
Across the room, Harry hadn't quite made good on his promise to stop watching Ruth and that slimy bastard. While he couldn't make out the conversation, he was quite aware what flirting looked like. Silly woman, he swore to himself. And he had introduced them and all. Stupid man.
"Harry?" asked Danny.
"Yes?"
"Is that Ruth putting a party hat on the Chairman of the JIC?"
"Yes. She seems rather taken with him," Harry answered neutrally.
"She seems rather drunk," countered Malcolm.
"Brave, at any rate. Wouldn't catch me joking around with that guy. He'd take one thing the wrong way and send you off to Siberia," mused Danny.
"Yes, but you're not exactly his type, now are you, Danny?" teased Zoe.
Several glasses later, Ruth looked up dazedly to find Oliver's lips on hers. She tried to react but found her senses slowed by the alcohol. Just as Ruth tried awkwardly to kiss him back, Mace slide his tongue into her mouth and began thrusting it in and out in a crude mimicry of what he wanted. Lips smothering hers, hands running all over her waist and back, he overwhelmed her. When Mace slide his hand down to squeeze her bottom, Ruth was ready to push him off her, but before she could take control of her arms his hand had returned to her back, and he had eased off the kiss.
Ruth felt uncomfortable but didn't want to tell him to stop in case he thought she wasn't interested. And she was interested. She just wished men would go a little slower, sometimes. But she told herself it was silly to wish about something that just couldn't be.
"You look beautiful when you've been thoroughly kissed," Oliver murmured before leaning in to kiss her again. This time he went further again, sliding one hand under her dress to squeeze her thigh.
Harry glowered at them. When he saw Mace slide his hand up Ruth's leg, Harry fisted his right hand against his thigh, enraged.
"'Lo all! Sorry I'm so late," Sam sang out as she arrived. "Gosh, whose that Ruth's with? Isn't he a bit old for her?"
Harry flushed pink at the mention of Mace's age. Mace was Harry's age. And here he was, hankering uselessly after the same young woman.
"That's Oliver Mace, Chairman of the JIC," Zoe raised her eyebrows conspiratorially.
"That's one way to get a promotion," gossiped Sam.
"Harry, a word," commanded Malcolm angrily.
Harry looked surprised at the unusual vehemence in Malcolm's voice.
"Not now, Malcolm."
He was far to busy, he thought to himself.
"Oliver… Oliver, stop," Ruth implored.
"No," Mace murmured against her neck, his voice hoarse with lust and muffled by his kisses.
"Oliver, really. It's late, I should go."
Oliver sighed and sat back.
"Well, allow me to give you a lift at least."
"Oh, that's very kind but I'm perfectly fine on the bus," Ruth refused politely.
"Nonsense. You're being silly again. It's not safe for a woman at this time of night," Mace wheedled.
"I catch the bus at this time of night all the time."
"Ruth. Please allow me to escort you home. It is merely a lift, you know? Nothing more," Oliver raised his eyebrows.
Ruth flushed that Oliver had guessed her thoughts.
"Well, alright, as long as it's just a lift, then thankyou, Oliver, I will."
Harry watched as Mace propped up a stumbling Ruth by the waist, leading her across the room in full view of the department towards the exit of the pub. Behind Ruth's back, Mace waved a quick goodbye to Harry, raising his eyebrows slightly and smugly smirking. 'I'm going to bed her,' his eyes said.
Harry turned around and found his whole team watching the scene as well. They goggled at the sight of quiet Ruth going home with a man she had just met, and her superior officer no less. All except Malcolm.
"She can barely stand, Harry," Malcolm ground out.
"Excuse me," Harry said standing quietly, not wanting to draw attention to his actions.
He moved to follow Ruth and Mace, with a mind to separate the two. He was well aware he was possibly overstepping the bounds of the employer-employee relationship, but, well, watching Ruth stagger out drunkenly had just confirmed she was way too intoxicated to be going home with anyone, let alone Oliver Mace. Harry only hoped Ruth would see things the same way, and not be angry the next morning that he had interfered with a potential relationship that she was interested in. But no, if there was one thing Harry knew, it was people. He made his career out of exploiting peoples weaknesses. He would wager sweet, gentle Ruth would not be the type of woman to sleep her way to the top.
Harry walked out onto the street at the front of the pub but could not see them. He turned right, trying the taxi ranks- hopefully Mace wouldn't try driving home on that much whisky. But they were not there either. Surely they couldn't have gotten away so quickly?
No. Harry turned back towards the pub then started running back in the other direction, towards the Thames House parking lot. But Mace and Ruth could not be seen heading that way either.
Harry ran his hands through his short hair in frustration. Where could she be? Mace couldn't be allowed alone with her.
Then he realised there was a back entrance to The George, which certain spooks were known to use when they didn't want to be caught by the CCTV cameras out on the main road. Harry took off back into the pub, through the back door, and down the concrete steps into the dirty alleyway.
What he heard made his blood run cold.
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