Harry closed the door to the meeting room behind them, Ruth still tucked up under his arm. He guided her to a chair and she collapsed into it, furiously rubbing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand
He still couldn't believe it was her, still couldn't believe any of this was really happening. Ruth looked much the same to his eyes, a bit older, perhaps, a bit sadder, but then he imagined she saw the same changes writ large across his own face. She was struggling to get herself back under control; he could almost feels the wheels turning in her mind, could almost see personal Ruth shrinking back behind her professional façade.
"Ruth-"
"We only have five minutes, Harry," she said, her voice steadier than it had been a few moments before, but still wracked with grief. "Your team, do you trust them?"
Harry sank into the chair next to her, wishing he'd kept her in his arms. Wishing he'd never let her go, not today, and not that day five years ago when he'd watched her sailing out of his life. He thought then that was the end, that he would never see her again, and now that she was back, there were so many things he longed to say to her. But how could he? She hadn't returned because she loved him, hadn't returned because he'd made things right; she'd returned because she needed help. She needed Sir Harry, she needed the Head of Section-D. She didn't need the Harry who loved her.
To business, then.
"To a point," he answered truthfully. "They're a bit rough around the edges and we haven't had much time to get…acquainted with one another, but they're good people. I trust them with this."
Ruth nodded. She looked for a moment as though she were going to say something else, but the door opened and their solitude was broken.
Dimitri, Beth, and Tariq shuffled in, Tariq carrying the tea on a tray. He sat it down on the table as the others took their seats, and Harry set about pouring a cup for Ruth. She accepted it wordlessly, staring unseeing into the cup in her hands, and the sight of her so lost, so vulnerable, tugged at Harry's heartstrings.
"Lucas?" he asked, looking around and noting the man's absence for the first time.
"He's watching over an asset," Beth answered.
Harry nodded. "Right then. To business. Dimitri Levendis, Beth Bailey, Tariq Masood," he gestured to each of them in turn, "This is Ruth Evershed."
Ruth gave them a wan little smile before returning her attention to the rapidly chilling cup of tea in her hands.
"Tariq, can you put this up on the monitor?" he asked, handing over the photograph. Tariq took it and crossed the room to the pile of electronics in the corner.
Harry leaned back in his chair, wondering where to begin.
"Ruth was an intelligence analyst with us several years ago. She was instrumental in unraveling a conspiracy to transport terror suspects abroad for torture. In the course of that investigation, it became necessary for her to go into hiding, and so officially, Ruth Evershed is dead."
Even knowing that she wasn't, knowing that she was sitting beside him, it hurt to say those words aloud, to even contemplate that possibility.
"How did you manage that, by the way?" Ruth asked suddenly, and Harry fought the urge to smile. She always had to untangle everything, always had to wriggle her way to the heart of any plot. She couldn't help herself, he knew. He loved that about her.
"We took an unclaimed body from the morgue, tossed it into the Thames, fished it back out again, and identified it as you."
"That easy," she remarked. He caught the hint of reproach in her tone, but that was a conversation for another time, when Beth and Dimitri weren't sitting across the table from them, hanging on their every word.
"It's up," Tariq said from the corner of the room, and sure enough, he'd managed to get the photograph blown up on the screen. It showed a little girl, four or five at most, with dark blonde hair and her mother's huge grey eyes, giggling as she played in the snow.
Ruth took a deep breath, sensing it was her turn to speak. Harry turned slightly in his chair to listen, wishing it wouldn't seem inappropriate for him to wrap his arm around her again.
"This is my daughter, Emilia. That photograph was taken just a few weeks ago." She stopped, as though unsure of how to continue, unable to keep her gaze on the image of her little girl. Harry found he could not take his eyes from it. Who is she? He wondered. Where did she come from?
"Walk us through what happened, Ruth," Harry said, as gently as he could.
Ruth took a deep breath. "Right. I dropped her off at daycare this morning, and went into work as usual. Before you ask-" Beth had opened her mouth to speak- "No, I haven't seen anyone unusual hanging about. No unusual cars, no strangers in sunglasses. It was just a normal day." She put her teacup down, clasped her hands in her lap, and looked once at Harry for reassurance before continuing. "I went to work. I was there maybe two, three hours when I got the call from the daycare. They said Emilia wasn't feeling well, but not to worry, her father picked her up."
Harry's heart sank in his chest. He had a sudden image of Ruth, in a little house by the seaside, holding hands with some faceless stranger as they watched their child at play. He saw her smile, could almost feel how happy she had been. How happy she had been without him.
"Which is impossible," Ruth said firmly, and Harry felt a wild hope surge through him.
"You're sure?" Dimitri asked, leaning forward slightly, never taking his eyes from her face. Watching for signs of a lie, Harry knew.
Ruth nodded. "I'm positive. There's absolutely no way her father was anywhere near that school today."
Before anyone could ask any more uncomfortable questions about Emilia's parentage, Harry stepped back into the interview.
"What happened next?" he asked.
"I left work immediately. Went straight down to my car. I was going to go to the daycare, see if they had any more information for me. And that's when I found the photograph. In the driver's seat. There's a message, on the back."
"On it," Tariq said, jumping up from his chair. A moment later the image on the screen flashed, changed to show the stark white back of the photograph and the words "London tomorrow 9:00 a.m."
"That's when I knew," Ruth continued, her voice close to breaking. "This isn't some random kidnapping, they know who I am and they want something from me."
"You haven't had any other contact with them?" Harry asked.
She shook her head. "I went to the daycare anyway, but all they could tell me was that the man who'd taken Emilia was British, tall, with dark hair. They didn't even look to see what kind of car he was in. After that, I came straight here."
"From where?" Beth asked. They all turned to face her, slightly confused. "You said she was in hiding. She still hasn't told us where she's been living." Beth sounded slightly defensive about the whole thing.
"Paris," Ruth whispered, so quietly Harry wasn't sure anyone else had heard her.
"Where's your spirit of Atlanticism?" She'd asked him, her tone playful, light. "Where's your spirit of romance?" He'd responded. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and then back to her hands, twisting the napkin between her fingers. He'd pushed too far too fast, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Something about her made him feel reckless, hopeful, for the first time in a very long while.
"Paris?" Beth repeated, clearly surprised.
"I know, it was stupid, being so close to home," Ostensibly Ruth was talking to Beth, but all her attention was focused on Harry. "I think a part of me hoped someone would look for me there."
I did, Harry thought, but he knew now was neither the time nor the place to tell her that.
"So the question is, what do you have that someone would be willing to risk kidnapping a child to get their hands on it?" Dimitri asked.
Ruth shrugged, her eyes rolling slightly upward as she ran through the list of possibilities in her head.
"You were just an analyst, right? I mean, there can't have been that many secrets that only you were privy to." It was Beth who spoke this time, her voice gentle but her eyes hard as she stared at Ruth.
"While she was here Ruth had my complete confidence. There was not a secret I had she did not share," Harry spoke with some heat. He'd probably overstepped his bounds, revealed too much, but really? Just an analyst? Ruth wasn't just an anything.
He didn't miss the flicker of suspicion on Beth's face. He knew Ruth would hate that, would hate anyone thinking that their relationship had been…improper, but there was no help for it now.
"I have been thinking about it, since I got the call this morning," Ruth continued in that same quiet voice. "Harry, I think it's Baghdad."
Dear Ruth, he thought. It was a reasonable assumption, a secret big enough, dangerous enough to warrant risking a child's life and the wrath of MI-5, but he knew it wasn't the right one. Before he could answer, Dimitri was back at it, digging around in their history.
"What about Baghdad?" he asked.
"There was a clandestine operation-"
Harry cut her off before she could say more. "It's not Baghdad," he said firmly. "That came to a head a few years ago."
She turned to him sharply, mouth open to ask the question, but he was answering it before she had a chance to speak.
"The uranium is safe. The only people still alive who know anything about it are sitting in this room, I assure you."
He hoped she understood what he meant. That in the bloodbath surrounding Mani's attempts to get his hands on the uranium, Harry had managed to keep the truth about the whole thing well-hidden. Lucas was the only member of the team who'd rescued him still living, and Lucas had never known about the uranium. Mani, Hillier, even that bloody American Libby were all dead and gone, and no one the wiser. Harry was confident that the secret stash of uranium had nothing to do with what had happened to Emilia.
"Uranium?" Beth repeated shrilly, bringing Harry back to the present.
"The less you know about it, the better," he said in what he hoped was an authoritative, finite sort of tone.
"If it's not Baghdad, then what?" Ruth asked, her eyes searching his face. How many times had they sat like this, he wondered, around a crowded table, working together as though no one else in the world existed, fighting through the mess to reach the heart of some unsolvable problem? She usually got there first, in the end, usually connected the dots faster than anyone, rushing into his office with that triumphant look on her face. This time, though, she looked as lost as he felt.
He spread his hands helplessly before him.
"You told us Ruth had your complete confidence while she was here," Beth said slowly, as though afraid of how her words might be received, "And it's obvious you are…fond of each other." She had the decency to blush, at least. "Is it possible that this isn't about Ruth at all, that someone's using her to get to you?"
Harry had been thinking just the same thing only moments before, but he wished that Beth hadn't given voice to his deepest worry. It would be possible, more than possible. It had happened before. Christ, he thought, have I done it again? Put her in danger, just by loving her?
"Yes," he answered shortly. "It would be possible." He took a breath. "You know how long I've been here. You know what I've done. Do you really think it would be even remotely feasible to isolate one single incident that would account for all this before 9 o'clock tomorrow morning?"
Ruth wasn't looking at him any more. She had slumped forward in her chair, closing in on herself. He could feel her walls going up, could feel her shutting herself away from him. He hated it, hated losing the closeness he had just begun to feel with her again. Hated himself for being the cause of it.
"We can pull up Ruth's old files," Tariq suggested. "Cross-reference them with the chatter we've had lately about possible attacks. We may not find anything, but it would give us something to do, while we wait."
Harry felt a swell of appreciation for this young man. Giving him an out, not letting go of the chance that maybe this hadn't anything to do with Harry at all. He checked his watch. Half-past eight. Twelve and a half hours to go until they made contact.
"Do it," he said tersely. Tariq did as he was bid, and quietly left the room.
"I can arrange a safe house for the night, get Ruth something to eat," Beth offered, already halfway out of her chair.
"No, thank you," Harry said firmly, glaring at the looks of surprise on their faces. "Officially, Ruth is still dead. I don't want anything in the system about her. Some of the people involved in the plot that cost her her freedom hold positions of power, and some of them still hold grudges."
"You did shank Oliver Mace with a wine glass," Ruth muttered wryly from her chair, and Harry was pleased to see that though Beth and Dimitri looked startled by this revelation, they seemed a little impressed, too. They didn't care much for Mace, either, it would appear. As far as Harry was concerned, his only regret about that little incident was that he hadn't killed Mace outright.
"He had it coming," Harry answered darkly.
"She can't stay here tonight Harry," Beth protested, as though Ruth weren't sitting right in front of her. "Look at the state of her. When was the last time you've had something to eat, Ruth?"
Ruth gave a tired little smile. "I am beginning to regret skipping breakfast this morning," she answered, "But while I appreciate your concern, my daughter is missing. I'm not interested in food right now."
"Nonsense," Harry told her, rising from his chair. "Tariq, Beth, and Dimitri can start combing through the files. You're coming with me."
He didn't care about the look Beth and Dimitri exchanged, didn't care what they might think. He didn't know who had taken Emilia, didn't have any idea how he was going to get her back, but he was determined to take care of Ruth while they waited for more information.
"Harry-" Ruth started to protest. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, wanted to say just let me help you, but he didn't. Instead he said, "Wait for me outside, Ruth. I'll only be a moment."
She glared daggers at him, but old habits die hard, and in the end she did as he requested.
Harry turned to Beth and Dimitri. "I'll take charge of her tonight. Get her something to eat. She can sleep at mine. In the spare bedroom," he added, when he saw Beth's eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. "My house is a safe as anywhere, and we can put her there without anyone the wiser."
"And in the meantime, what? You want us to be up all night trying to find a needle in a haystack?" It was the first time Beth had really been impertinent with him. He was wondering when this moment would come, when her independence and instinct for self-preservation would buck against the necessity for taking orders. Harry supposed he had it coming, in a way. He didn't trust them, didn't praise them, and yet he still expected them to do precisely what he asked without question.
"Honestly, no. I know Tariq means well, and I would never say this in front of Ruth, but I think the chances of us finding out who these people are before 9:00 tomorrow morning are slim to none. They won't kill the girl before then, she's too valuable. They'll keep her alive for leverage. We'll find out who they are when they contact us, and go from there. I would appreciate it if you took the time to at least attempt to comb through some of the files, but I agree it's probably wasted effort."
Beth nodded, appeased, utterly unaware of how difficult it had been for him to say those words, of the rage welling inside him at his own helplessness. The entirety of the British intelligence network at his disposal, and he felt there was nothing he could do. "We'll run her picture through the face-recognition software, see if she's been caught on CCTV," She told him. Probably as hopeless as Tariq's data search, but Harry appreciated the effort all the same.
"And check the latest arrivals from Paris, see if anyone suspicious has come into the country in the last few hours," Dimitri suggested.
"That's a good idea," Harry said, figuring now was as good a time as any to start rewarding them for their work. "And get Lucas in here," he added.
He left them with that, the pair of them standing side-by-side and watching him like he was a suspect they badly needed to crack.
On the other side of the door Ruth was fuming.
"If you think I'm going to just run out for curry while my child is being held God only knows where by God only knows who-"
"They're looking for connections to old files and scanning CCTV for her face. They're tracking down everyone suspicious who's entered the country today. You haven't eaten since yesterday, and we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Please, Ruth, you need to rest. I need you here with me tomorrow, and I can't have you passing out from starvation in the middle of a rescue operation."
It came out a bit harsher than he would have liked, considering that she'd only just re-entered his life about a half hour ago, but he needed her to understand that he was only trying to help.
"You need me," she repeated, grey eyes searching his face. He'd almost forgotten what that was like, how she could see straight through to his heart with just a glance.
"Always, Ruth."