Twenty-six:
Falling Apart
Sarah came home at lunchtime; Harry wasn't expecting her back till half four, so it was a bit of a surprise to hear the door slamming downstairs and the alarm being forced on. "Sarah?" he called. "Is everything all right?"
"No, it's not bloody all right!" she exclaimed up the stairs. "Nothing is bloody all right!"
He was off the ladder and in the corridor as quickly as she was coming upstairs. "Stop, Sarah – stop and talk to me…"
"I saw him," Sarah said. She was grey around the edges, ashen in the face, like she might be sick if given half a chance. "I saw him and he saw me, Harry – he saw me – god, please tell me he's not out. Please tell me that Aiden is still in prison and I just saw someone that looks like him –" She was nearly in tears, scared half out of her wits, and god knew what effect her hysterics would have on the baby.
Harry gently gripped her shoulders and held her still. "Sarah, look at me," he said very quietly. "I could tell you that Aiden is in gaol, but that would be a lie. I won't lie to you; I never have. He's been out for nearly two weeks."
"Two weeks you didn't bloody think to tell me I was in danger!" Sarah bellowed in panic like a cow attempting to get away from the butcher's.
"You haven't been," Harry said firmly. "We've been under protective watch the entire time. Sarah, look at me – look at me. Five is very committed to getting Aiden back under lock and key. You and Graham and the baby will be fine. I promise you that."
"He was right outside the shop," Sarah whispered. "He was looking at me, Harry. He knows where I work – he probably knows where I live, now. God help us all if he comes here looking for revenge." Her eyes were wide and wild and terrified. "God help us all," she whimpered, suddenly giving in to the urge to weep. "Oh god, Harry – what happens if –"
"You mustn't think like that," Harry said firmly. "You and Graham have made lives for yourselves. Good lives. You have each other to lean on when so many people have no one else. You will be fine." He kissed her forehead and sighed. "I gave my life to the Service and all it gave me was crushed dreams and broken hearts in my wake. You and my son have defied everything to get where you are now: there is no reason to believe that it will end."
"Aiden will kill me," Sarah whispered. "I know it. He's going to kill me because I – I testified against him – I ratted to Five… I… I took down the entire crime ring and he knows it. He knows, Harry."
"Yes," Harry said simply, "he does. But he doesn't know that we're not giving you up without a hell of a fight." He kissed her forehead again and held her close. "I need you to relax, Sarah, for the baby's sake. I need you to put this out of your mind as much as you can –"
"Oh god, what if he followed me?" she gasped, horrified. "Oh, Harry, what if he knows we're here and –"
"That's why you set the alarm," he pointed out gently. "I'll make a call and get another team on the house. You need to go lie down for a bit, Sarah. I'll make a sandwich and you can rest a bit."
"How can I rest when a crazed lunatic former crime czar is after me?" she asked.
"You can rest because nothing is going to happen to you on my watch," Harry promised. "Nothing. Do you understand? I won't let anything happen to you or the baby, Sarah."
"And what about Graham? What –"
"I'm going to make a call," Harry said again. "Let them know you saw him, that they need to double surveillance –"
"Why do they care so much?" she exhaled.
"Because we never found the stash," Harry said very quietly. "The anthrax he was trafficking. We didn't find it. There's no reason to believe that he won't try to shift it again."
"But I told you where it was –"
"He moved it before we moved in," Harry sighed. "Sarah, please, I need you to stop panicking."
She looked at him with dumbfounded incredulousness. "Stop panicking? Are you daft? Are you bloody mental, Harry? You know what Aiden does to people who cross him. The murder for hire wasn't anything but a bloody game for him – he is going to kill me. It's just a matter of how and where and when, and he knows where I work! Obviously, I resigned and ran like hell! What do you take me for?"
"Sarah," Harry said very softly, "you can't think like that. Not now. Not when you have you and the baby to consider…"
"I'm absolutely terrified," Sarah exhaled. "Absobloodylutely scared to death."
"I know you are," he said gently. "Which is why you need to calm down and let me do what I can. Do you understand? Go lie down and close your eyes. Please, try to rest."
"You won't let anything happen to me or the baby?" Sarah asked.
"I won't let anything happen," he promised. "Please go lie down and put your feet up. God, Sarah, I'm so sorry about all of this…"
"It's not your fault," she said, face crumpling. "It wasn't you who decided to rat their family out."
"What you did was very brave," Harry said very gently. "Sarah, look at me. You wanted a better life; you wanted better for yourself and for Graham because you love him."
"Yeah, and look where it's gotten me," she pointed out.
"At least you're not prostituting yourself anymore," Harry sighed. "Or strung out on whatever designer drug your clients were feeding you…"
She nodded and exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," he said. "Just go upstairs and rest a while, okay? Let me make a few calls and get things sorted. Believe you me, this time, I'm not going to cock it up."
She hesitated, then nodded and swallowed hard. "Okay," she whispered. "I trust you, Harry. Please… don't let anything happen."
He waited until she was upstairs, then he called Erin Watts. After a quick, terse conversation, it was agreed that a second team would be put in place at the townhouse, this time inside rather than just sitting out on the street. The jig was up, anyway; Aiden Montgomery would be able to find them, and it was just a matter of time.
He had promised Ruth all those years ago on the docks that he wouldn't get shot again: clearly, he had lied. He had taken a bullet from Aiden Montgomery in defense of Sarah and Graham before. He would gladly do it again. It took a strong man to admit that he had failed, but a stronger one to try to rectify the situation.
Taking a deep breath and disconnecting the call, Harry went back upstairs to finish priming the walls in the nursery.
Because he had to convince himself that everything would be all right.
It was the middle of the night when everything changed.
The sound of a window breaking jolted Ruth out of her sleep, then the house's perimeter alarm a split second later sent her heart reeling in her chest. Gunfire – one shot, two, three, five, a dozen…
Harry was out of bed and moving at a clip she'd never seen in her life, and she heard him fly down the stairs, then back up again, a sleepy, terrified Portia in his arms. "Lock yourselves in the bathroom," he ordered. "Whatever you do, don't come out. DO NOT COME OUT."
All Ruth could do was nod, dumbly, and flee to the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and locked it, then pulled Portia into the tub with her, covering them with as many towels as she could manage. The porcelain tub would give them the most protection from any errant bullets downstairs, and the towels would keep them warm.
It was survival instinct that made her follow his orders. She knew that he was going to be stupid and rush back down into the thick of things – stupidly brave, her Harry was. She also knew that he was trying in his stupid, bumbling way to protect them.
God, if she lost him…
The commotion finally ceased. The noise and the insanity were over and done as quickly as they'd started.
But she dutifully stayed put, holding Portia in her arms and trying to soothe her.
She hated what they had become; shadows of themselves, still pawns of the Service, spies that never really died or retired, just… watching and waiting. Waiting for the past to catch up with them.
And then a rough pounding on the door. "Lady Pearce?"
She didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't acknowledge.
"Ruth!" Harry, dear Harry… oh god, he was okay. "Ruth, open the door – please. Let me see you're all right."
"Daddy!" Portia sobbed as Ruth got out of the tub and opened the door. He looked much the worse for wear as Ruth eyed him warily. "Daddy, are you okay?"
Harry held his arm up limply. "Just another scar or two for the collection," he said dismissively. He was bleeding through his pajama top and Ruth knew he'd been shot, but she couldn't do anything more than just look at him, for fear he would disappear. "Ruth, say something, please."
"You need to go to hospital," she finally managed.
He nodded and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he breathed. "Maybe I should."
"Daddy, what happened?" Portia asked, her eyes wide with fear.
"A very bad man came to hurt Sarah and Graham," Harry said very quietly. "But I wouldn't let that happen."
"Is he –" Ruth began.
"Yes," Harry said simply. "He is. But not before he made it onto the second floor." He glanced at his arm and smiled lop-sidedly, belying how much pain he was in. "It's a bloody good thing I still go to the shooting range once in a while," he joked weakly.
"Sarah and Graham are all right?" Ruth asked.
He nodded. "Yes. They're fine. I wasn't going to let him get to them without a fight."
"Daddy, you need to go to the hospital," Portia said, her voice very small and grave.
He nodded again and gently ruffled her hair. "I love you," Harry said, his voice suddenly filled with tears he refused to shed. "You and your mum. I don't know how I would keep living without you."
"Well, you'd better get to hospital before I kill you myself," Ruth said, finally finding her voice.
"Okay," he said quietly. He gave her a kiss, but she didn't, couldn't, respond to it. She was still in shock at what had happened. "Ruth, I –"
"Later," she promised.
"They'll need to debrief you –"
"Go," she murmured. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine."
"Ruth –"
"Harry, go," she insisted. "Get stitched up and – and – "
He nodded and kissed her again, very gently, and then he was gone.
Only when he was gone did she let herself collapse in hysterical tears. She'd almost forgotten the adrenaline rush that came from an operation, the way everything came at you fast and furiously, split second reaction times… but clearly, he had not. Harry had protected them when she could barely get out of bed and awake, and he had paid dearly for it.
She tucked Portia up in the bed she shared with Harry and sang her to sleep again. The little girl had school in the morning, and though Ruth wouldn't sleep again, it wasn't fair to keep Portia from it.
A handsome young man she recognized vaguely from David's party sat down in front of Ruth at the breakfast table and passed her a pen and a piece of paper. "Official Secrets Act," he said. "I need you to sign it before I can debrief you, Lady Pearce."
"I've signed it," she said automatically, pushing it back toward him. "It's on file under 'Evershed, Ruth', under deceased agents." It was far more than she should ever have said, but redundant paperwork was one of her biggest pet peeves. "So ask your questions."
The young man blinked at her, then smiled. "Ruth Evershed is a legend," he said.
"Ruth Evershed is dead," she replied. "But I take your meaning." She looked at him curiously, then said, "What's your name? Your real name, not the one you're peddling to the civilians today."
"Dimitri Levendis," he replied without hesitation. "It's good to meet you, Lady Pearce, but now we need to get down to business. Can you tell me what happened tonight?"
She sighed and said, "I heard a window breaking downstairs, then gunfire. Harry went to the second floor and grabbed our daughter and came back upstairs. We hid in the bathroom. I don't know anything other than that, honestly."
Dimitri nodded. "All right. The man that broke into your home was Aiden Montgomery. He was released from prison on a technicality not long ago. He was originally arrested on charges of drugs trafficking, running a prostitution ring, and arranging murders for well-paying clients. His sister, Sarah, blew the lid off the operation to Sir Harry Pearce several years ago when she discovered him making arrangements for the sale of anthrax and other biological weapons. Graham Pearce was a low-level drug addict, drug mule, and Sarah's lover. Sarah was one of her brother's trusted prostitutes, and one of his highest paydays. Harry used that to ensure that Aiden hung himself with his actions. Sarah and Graham were exonerated and have been through rehabilitation and currently live with you and your husband."
Ruth's mouth was agape. "My god," she said quietly.
"Your husband was contacted by my boss as soon as Aiden was released from gaol," Dimitri continued. "You've been under MI-5 protection for several weeks."
"Yes, I know, but Harry wouldn't tell me why –"
"Sarah and Graham have been removed from the premises and taken to a safehouse for the time being, just in case Aiden was in contact with any of his old cronies," Dimitri added. "We have no evidence of that, but there's no point in being stupid."
Ruth nodded and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "God, I thought… I thought we'd given all of this up," she whispered. "The secrets and the death and destruction and mayhem…"
"Once a spook, always a spook," Dimitri said in a wry tone. "Harry is the best example of that: clearly, his training hasn't failed him in his old age."
"He's not that old," she contradicted. "Or infirm, despite the heart condition. He just can't handle the stress of the job anymore."
"What about you?" he inquired gently. "Your job is pretty high-profile…"
"My job is bullshit," Ruth snapped. "It's making sure everyone else smells of roses and the cogs keep turning. My contract is for two years."
"In two years, I'll be on your doorstep, begging you to come back to Five," he said. "It would be a coup, wouldn't it? Ruth Evershed, living and breathing –"
"I can never be Ruth Evershed again," she said sharply. "And I won't go back to Five after what they did to me. I refuse. And if you show up on my doorstep, I'll bloody shoot you."
"You might think differently in two years," he pointed out.
"Ah, yes, and you might be dead in two years," she shot back. "My answer will still stand as 'no'."
Dimitri smiled a little and said, "Well, Erin can't say that I didn't try at least."
"But this… today… it's over? Everything is over?"
"We'll keep surveillance on the house just in case, but yes… I think it's over," Dimitri said. "And Harry's sent a message from hospital. He's had the bullet removed and has been stitched up and will be home soon."
"Good," Ruth said, "because he's sleeping on the sofa." With that, she got up and went back upstairs to check on Portia.
When Harry came home from the hospital, the house was quiet. It was nearly lunchtime, so Portia was at school and clearly Ruth had gone to work. Which meant that all was, again, as it should be. He went into the sitting room and slumped onto the sofa, closing his eyes and sighing.
He heard rustling and opened his eyes, not very surprised to see Erin Watts standing in the doorway. "Erin," Harry muttered in greeting.
"Harry," she replied. After a moment of silence, she added, "I'm glad your wound wasn't life-threatening. I think your wife would have had my head on a pike…"
"Mine, too," he pointed out. "She's stronger than she looks."
There was another silence, then Erin said, "She slipped up and told Dimitri her true identity, Harry. He told me as a matter of course. I can't judge you for keeping silent about it, but there is every chance that we could restore Ruth Evershed's identity and –"
"No," Harry said firmly. "There are too many strings attached to anything like that. We just want to stay as far away from the Service as possible, now. Please. We have a child to think about –"
"Is the little girl yours, then?" Erin asked.
He nodded and sighed. "Ruth and I were… close. Very close. Neither of us knew when she was forced into exile that she was pregnant. I've missed so much of my daughter's life, Erin. I can't bear to think that I'll miss more of it now. She's eleven, now. I'm getting much older… I want what time I can have with them, and nothing more than that. Do you understand?"
"I do," Erin said quietly. "I wish I could just up and run somewhere quiet with Rosie and pretend that the world isn't constantly at the brink of disaster, but I can't, Harry." She smiled a little. "But you can. You've earned it; you and Ruth have both earned a quiet life. You've sacrificed so much for this country –"
"Bugger the bloody ungrateful country," Harry scoffed. "I serve at the pleasure of Her Majesty. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Then consider this: Dolby is retiring in a year. Your name is at the top of the short list, but no one has come to you because they're terrified of setting off another bloody heart attack."
"I'm not going back to work," Harry said firmly. "Enough, Erin. Would you please leave? I've bloody well been shot in the wee hours and I'd like to have a nap before I have to struggle to drive the Rover to pick Portia up at school."
"Just think about it, Harry," Erin said softly. "There's time yet."
When Harry looked up again, she was gone. He was glad of it; his conversations with Erin were always a portent of doom and future despair. She had been the one that took him to hospital with his first heart attack like event; she had been the one to sit beside him and relay all the pertinent details to Catherine and Graham. Ever since then, she had treated him with kid gloves.
The gloves were off now.
END PART TWENTY-SIX