The grid was deserted; the lights were dim; the evening was slipping away.
Ruth sat alone at her desk. On her monitor a mosaic of cctv images mapping Zofira's hotel: lobby, bar, restaurant, corridors. A familiar figure stepped into the revolving glass doors and strode across the lobby.
Unblinking Ruth stared at the image and took a deep breath.
The monitor switched to black.
Shrugging on her coat, Ruth walked away.
Feet tucked up on the sofa, a glass of wine cradled in her hand, she looked once more at the swimming sea of words which resolutely refused to form a comprehensible sentence. She had been on the same page for fifteen minutes and still it made no sense.
She put the book down and went to scrub the kitchen.
Forty five minutes later and although she had the cleanest of cookers, her mind itself was certainly no clearer.
Attempting to not think about Harry wasn't working.
And so she went to bed.
Failed to go to sleep.
Looked at the ceiling and thought about him.
And what he was doing.
And who he was doing it with.
The atmosphere the next morning at Thames House was somewhat more tense than usual.
Today was the day Kazal was rumoured to possibly arrive in the country: exactly when they didn't know; where, they didn't know; and why, they could only guess at. Whatever the reasoning, he posed one of the biggest security risks in recent years.
Every channel they knew, every resource, every contact, every agent all were on high alert and yet they had nothing.
"Where the hell's Harry?" Ros muttered as he stalked past Ruth.
"Briefing room, now," ordered Adam.
Fifteen minutes later they wondered why they were there: there was no briefing to be done; there was no information to be shared.
But then the door opened and Harry, pressed and sharp in his usual Savile Row suit strode in, sitting at the head of the table.
All eyes turned to him.
"Jamal Kazal's target is the missile base at Faslane."
"What?!" exclaimed Adam.
"He hasn't a hope in hell of getting anywhere near it." proclaimed Zaf.
"We need to find a Ray, or Raz, I don't have a surname. He was in Munich four months ago and stayed at the Laimer Hof. His links are to Faslane or at least to service personnel who operate there. There'll be more than one connection."
"But –" began Adam.
"However unlikely it seems, Adam, Kazal's confidence on his success is not to be dismissed. He's too dangerous and too cautious to try anything he doesn't believe will work."
"Where did you get all this?" asked Ros.
Harry looked at her sharply.
"Where do you think?"
More than one pair of eyes made contact over the conference table. Neither belonged to Harry, nor to Ruth.
"And you trust her information?" questioned Ros.
"Yes."
He was not going to elaborate further. Not here and not now and certainly not with Ruth sitting two seats away from him.
"It's not certain but Kazal could be coming in via Harwich," he turned to Adam as he got up, "I suggest we make a start."
And with that he left the room.
"Bloody hell," announced Zaf, "he didn't waste any time."
"Good job it was Harry," Ros baited him, "If it was you, you'd still be at first base."
Zaf looked momentarily insulted before noticing Adam's outstretched hand.
"Haven't you forgotten something?" Adam grinned.
"Fine," Zaf muttered, pulling out a twenty pound note from his wallet and handing it over.
Adam folded it carefully and winked, "You heard the man, let's get on with it."
None of them had noticed that Ruth had left the room.
"May I?" she said, as she stood in the doorway.
He looked up briefly, "You don't usually ask."
"You looked tense."
His brow twitched but he said nothing.
She quietly slid the door closed behind her.
"So… James Fellows …? " she asked tentatively.
"Gone to Paris. Meeting unexpectedly moved forward."
She nodded, wondering just how to ask the next question.
"Is there anything more to know?" she said.
"To know?" he didn't follow.
Ruth hesitated, "Zofira? Does she have more information?"
"Ah," he realised, "No, Ruth, I believe she told me all she knew."
She nodded her head once more and then sat down opposite him. After a long moment she said quietly.
"Was it easy?"
He studied her as he considered his answer.
"Was it easy to make love to a beautiful young woman?" he pondered truth versus lie. "It wasn't difficult, no."
She held his gaze.
"But it wasn't what I wanted, Ruth."
"Part of the job?" she said unemotionally.
"Part of the job," he repeated.
"I asked Adam how he coped when it was Fiona."
"And?"
"He said he knew she was always coming back to him."
"They loved each other," he said softly, "that makes it easier."
"Easier?"
"Less complicated. It's less complicated if … you're in love with someone else."
He looked at her with piercing eyes as the moment hung between them until it became too much and she had to glance away.
"Still … doesn't stop me feeling like a …" he searched for the right word.
"Cad?" she suggested.
And he laughed, an open, warm laugh.
"Yes, a cad."
"A bounder?" she added.
He nodded.
"A blackguard?… a scoundrel?…a knave?"
"Yes, yes. All of those, Ruth. Certainly all of those. However archaic."
His smile had a sadness, a sense of regret that for all she wanted to hate him she could not.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
"She was a nice girl," he glanced up at her, "I know you don't need to hear this, and it's not fair to say it but … she was nice."
Ruth nodded. She understood what he was saying.
"But it's what we do," she said softly.
His fingers massaged his forehead again.
"Ruth…?" he said suddenly without uncovering his eyes.
She waited.
His hand slid down to his mouth, his eyes pouring over her.
"Yes?" her voice was quiet but encouraging.
He shook his head, imperceptibly. A refusal to say more. A recognition that maybe this was not the time.
But it was the time, as inappropriate as it may have seemed.
"Harry?" she prompted.
"We best find our man, " he said, standing suddenly, "otherwise this will have all been in vain."
"I think we'll find him," she said, her eyes fixed on his, "I know we will."