A life reduced to mere words, the complexity of an operation parsed down to a sentence. One day soon, he too would be nothing more than an operational footnote. Harry grimaced at the task in front of him, shuffling papers across his desk, hoping the jumble of notes would somehow coalesce into a report on Nightingale. He rubbed his fingers over the deepening crease on his forehead. There were no words to explain the fact that one of his officers had been involved with a Nightingale operative. Idiot. He should have nipped that in the bud just as he had done with Tom, but he had let it slide and now they were all paying the price for it. Perhaps he could bury it somewhere in the report, hidden amongst political double speak. Everything was sliding away; the Section, his authority, and most definitely his concentration. He had spent another sleepless night, tossing about in the heat but it wasn't visions of the departed that had haunted his dreams, it was thoughts of fragrant skin and pouting lips. Either the weather would have to break or he would. He needed to clear his head. He organised the papers into a neat pile and stashed them away in a folder, vainly wishing that the next time he opened the file they would have magically transformed into a report. He heaved himself away from the desk and headed out of his office, in search of fresh air and a coffee.

As he walked across the Grid, the sound of familiar footsteps chased behind him a tread that he would be able to discern anywhere.

"Harry!" Ruth rushed toward him, a paper clutched in one hand. "He's on the list."

"Who?"

"Antonio Romaldi. The financier connected with Hans Lindemann."

She caught up to him, her shoulder brushing up against him as she came to a halt. She was standing beguilingly close, her face animated with that particular beauty only she possessed when finding a diamond of information. At the mention of Hans Lindemann, Lucas rose from his chair and walked over to the desk where Harry had stopped. As he neared the place where they stood, Ruth moved away from Harry, creating a space for Lucas to step into the conversation. Separated from one whose closeness he longed for, Harry pursed his lips, barely hiding his irritation. He pointedly reached across Lucas and extracted the paper from Ruth's hand.

"Why would he be at Lawrence's funeral?" He glanced at the names on the list.

"It doesn't make any sense." Lucas settled back against the desk. "He must know that we've made the connection between him, Lindemann and Nightingale."

"Except that we have nothing linking these men directly to Nightingale," Ruth pointed out.

"Did we miss something between him and Lawrence?" Harry asked.

Footsteps approached and they all turned round to see Tariq, trotting over to them.

"I've just discovered that before he was elected, Lawrence was involved with a charity called Light the World. It provides generators to undeveloped countries. With money generously donate by-"

"Let me guess," Harry interrupted. "Hans Lindemann"

"Passing through a number of shell corporations set up by Romaldi," Tariq added.

"That still doesn't give us anything connecting them to Nightingale," said Lucas.

"Except that we know Romaldi sets up the companies and disperses the wealth, we just have to find the companies that lead to Nightingale," said Ruth.

"Why Lawrence's charity?" asked Lucas.

Ruth spoke to Harry. "Perhaps that's why he was at Lindemann's Tuscan villa. They also knew Lawrence was friends with the Prime Minister of Pakistan."

"What's Lindemann's agenda?"

"Destroy and rebuild," she continued. "Convince elements of the Service that the only way to obliterate the Taliban is through nuclear war and then be on the first on the ground to get the contracts. It's all about money."

"Let's work on connecting the dots." He handed her the paper, meeting her eyes as he did. Instead of letting go of the document, he held on to it, overcome by the urge to take her by the hand and walk off the Grid, to find a place in the sun, as they had done the day before. "I'm going for a coffee." His voice fell to that special register reserved only for her. "Do you want one?"

She blinked at him, her eyes quickly darting to Lucas then Tariq and back again.

"No thank you. I've got my tea."

Lucas looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet, a sly smile on his face. Harry straightened up. The agent knew full well what he was up to. Deny and deflect. He turned to Lucas as if it were an everyday occurrence for him to ask his staff if they wanted a coffee.

"Anything for you, Lucas?"

"I'll have a coffee. Black. Thanks for asking."

Harry gave Lucas a tight smile. Having made one offer, he had to continue along the path of deflection. "Tariq? Anything?"

"I wouldn't mind a lemonade," the young man added.

Peeved that he had trapped himself into getting drinks for Lucas and Tariq, he once again turned back to Ruth. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

She looked at him, her bottom lip twitching as she suppressed a smile. She knew he had manoeuvred himself into a corner and she was not about to let him out of it.

"No thank you. I'm still good with my tea."

He sucked in his cheek, biting back one last plea for her to accompany him. "If you're sure. I don't give second chances."

"But you already asked her twice," Tariq pointed out.

"Thank you very much, Mr Massod." Harry straightened up. "Your facility with numbers is unparalleled."

Harry turned away, escaping before he could dig himself in a deeper hole and headed to the pods. He stepped through glass doors, the motors hissing with the air of his deflated expectations.

...

Having effectively reduced himself from Section Head to errand boy, Harry returned balancing a takeaway tray of beverages. How the mighty have fallen. There had been a time when all he had to do was call for Sam and she would bring him a coffee. The memory of the young woman stopped him, he had not thought of her in years. She had been young and rather pleasing to the eye, but in the end not hard enough to inhabit this world. She belonged to a different strata of spooks, an epoch when his resilience was indefatigable. He had lost so many of that team all in the space of a year. The elasticity of his reserve had weakened, each loss stretching it beyond the limit of stress . One day it would not spring back. He walked on, leaving the memory behind.

He crossed over to Lucas' desk but the man was nowhere to be seen. He plopped the coffee down, muttering a silent curse that it would be cold before Lucas had a chance to drink it. The tech suite was also empty but for humming computers, forcing him to leave Tariq's lemonade on a table. On his way to his own office, he stopped at Ruth's desk. She was also missing and for a brief moment, he wondered if he should be alarmed by the absence of his staff. He shrugged. An empty Grid worked to his advantage. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a green bottle, sliding it gently onto the desk.

"If I had known they had sparkling water I would have asked for one too."

Harry jumped. Tariq stood at his shoulder, smiling expectantly.

"Don't sneak up on people like that." Harry freed his own coffee from the tray and tossed the holder in a bin.

"But were spies," countered Tariq.

Harry levelled chilling gaze at the young man. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"Yes. It looks like Romaldi works through a clearing house here in the city."

"And?" Harry prompted.

"If we can find a way in, we might be able to crack into his accounts."

"What are you waiting for?"

"I just wanted the go-ahead."

"Do it."

Harry waved him off, sorely missing Malcolm and his penchant for hacking first and asking permission later. Everyone was getting a little too cheeky of late; he would have to bring down the gavel. At one time, the mere timbre of his voice had been enough to make those below him quake. He straightened the bottle on Ruth's desk one last time and quickly stepped away hoping to leave without discovery, although the point was now mute as Tariq had blown his cover. He entered his office and sank gratefully into his chair. A line of perspiration ran down his back, the fabric of his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He could blame it on the heat but he knew it was from Tariq discovering him in the act of leaving a drink for Ruth. He was being ridiculous, acting like a love-struck schoolboy or worse, an old man desperately clinging to a few kind words from a younger woman, reading whatever meaning he chose from a glint in her eye. It was all a fantasy that she should still be attracted to him. She had given him nothing, no indication that she wished to pursue anything beyond a friendship. She hadn't even consented to walk out with him to get a coffee. A wise man would give up, but he could not completely let go of the idea of her, of them, it kept his heart from petrifying, slowed the march of time, and most importantly of all, it relegated the shadow of his guilt to the corner.

He pried the lid off of his coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the tepid taste. He had been hoisted by his own petard.

He looked up to see Ruth, back in her chair, intently talking to Lucas as he sat on the corner of her desk. There was the distinct air of collusion about their conversation. What were they up to? Lucas walked back to his desk and she turned to her monitor, fingers flicking over the keys, the green bottle left standing unnoticed. Harry rested his chin on his hand, a tinge of disappointment running through him. Perhaps she had seen it and chosen to ignore it, not wanting to encourage him on any level. He watched as she typed, her head moving up and down, leaning forward in concentration. Her arm absently unfolded, stretching slowly over to reach her phone and abruptly stopped. She hesitated for a moment in thought. She quickly turned around in her chair, holding the green bottle in her hand. Her eyes caught Harry's and he straightened up, busying himself, opening up the folder on his desk. He flipped through the pages, not reading their contents but waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass before he looked up. He glanced up to see that Ruth had turned back to her computer. It was a friendly gesture, that was all. It meant nothing more. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, adjusting the cuffs. He took a deep breath, focusing on the documents before him. He would find another Admin officer like Sam, a lovely distraction to get him coffee. His beverage fetching days were over.

...

True to her nature, Ruth walked straight into Harry's office without invitation, leaving it to Lucas to give a cursory tap on the door as he passed. Harry bridled at the intrusion and kept his focus on the report he was reading. Undaunted by his lack of attention, Ruth found a seat and arranged a pile of file folders on her lap. Lucas sat down beside her and they scuttled their chairs closer to Harry's desk.

Resigned to their invasion, he slapped the cover closed on the file he was reading and raised his hands in surrender. "No, I wasn't doing anything important, thank you for asking."

"We have a short list of candidates," Ruth held up the folders.

"So soon?"

"You wanted them yesterday morning," Lucas reminded him.

"Come on then, let's take a look." He held out his hand, beckoning with his fingers for Ruth to give him the folders.

"We've narrowed it down to ten." Lucas motioned to the pile.

"Ten? That's not narrowing down, that's still a pack." Harry took the file from the top and flipped through it.

"We're willing to weed some out."

Harry rubbed his chin and read out the first name. "Dimitri Levandis. That's Greek isn't it?" His eyes slid to Ruth.

She met his look, giving no indication at all that the information had any effect on her. "He speaks four languages."

"He's former SBS. Surveillance training. Highly recommended," Lucas volunteered.

"There are also four female candidates in contention." Ruth pointed to the files. "We could hire two women."

"Yes, we could." Harry agreed cautiously, sensing a trap.

"I think Ruth's point is that there will be operations where a female agent is better suited for the role," Lucas explained.

"I was looking at some of the operational notes from when I was away," Ruth continued. "There was a Section Chief, a Senior Officer, and two Junior Officers."

"We lost Ben too," said Lucas.

The name caught Harry off guard. God, the list was endless. He had known so little of Ben. It was said that during the War, (the one where the lines of good and evil were clear, the enemy over there, not found in one's own fold) seasoned soldiers in an effort to minimise emotional involvement, had refrained from learning the names of new recruits, knowing that the untested did not have long to live. Is that what he had become? So battle weary that he no longer cared to know anything of his team, resigned to the fact that each one would inevitably be lost to the machine. He let out a long sigh.

"It's not my decision it all has to do with the budget." He closed the file, folding his hands on top of the cover, bracketing off the topic.

"Yes, well, what is the price tag for the saving the nation these days?" Ruth asked tartly.

"Don't you think that comment would be better saved for the next Home Secretary?" Harry responded testily. Lucas sat with his arms folded, a bemused expression on his face. Ruth handed Harry another pile of folders. "What's this?"

"My selections for two Junior Intelligence Officers."

A muscle twitched in his neck. "I don't recall that being discussed."

"We're discussing it now. We've been operating at reduced levels for far too long. Something is bound to happen."

He clenched his teeth and gave her a stony look. He knew that the section was running at dangerously low level but he didn't need her to wave it in front of his face.

"We don't have the funds."

Lucas's head swivelled back to Ruth, watching the tennis match.

"We can find them." Ruth pulled out a folder. "I've been looking at the budget breakdown-"

Harry blinked. How many folders did the bloody woman have? "When do you have time to do these things?"

"Haven't you looked at the budget?" she asked incredulously as if he were a neglectful parent.

Lucas looked back at Harry, waiting for the next volley. He had nothing, leaving room for another shot from Ruth.

"I also think it wise to point out we're down an Admin officer."

Harry looked at her, his jaw slackening in disbelief at her prescient observation.

"Just give it all to me," he commanded sharply. If he was going to lose this battle, he needed to salvage what was left of his authority. "I'll take it all under consideration." He snapped the folders from Ruth's hand and tapped them on the desk with a flourish of dismissal. "If that's everything..."

Lucas looked a Ruth and she gave him a little nod.

"Yes," said Lucas. "I believe it is."

"Fine then. Get on with what we are supposed to be doing and find the rope to hang Hans Lindemann."

He dropped his head into his hands, the steps of the invaders retreating on the carpet, the door rattling on its track as it closed behind them. He scrunched his eyes in pain. Where was the reward for all this sacrifice?

"Harry?" A soft voice called to him.

Ruth was still in the room. Apparently, her list of demands was endless. Keeping his head down, he let out a deep sigh.

"What is there left to take?"

"I'd love to go to the Opera. With you."

Harry sat up in his chair, his head tilted in shock, wondering if he had heard her correctly.

"That is if you're still going," she quantified.

"Yes, I'm ... Yes." It was impossible for him to string together any more words.

She gave him a tiny smile and stood, waiting for him continue. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he realised she might need more information.

"It's ah...Friday."

"Yes, I know."

Of course, she did. She knew everything.

Before he could say anything else, she ducked her head and slipped through the door, vanishing into the Grid. He shook his head and sat back in his chair. For the second time in as many days, he found himself trying to fathom the workings of that woman's mind. He flexed his shoulders, feeling strangely free, the dark thoughts that surrounded him, disappearing under the sun of her of her acceptance. He decided not to question what had happened. If all it had taken was a bottle of sparkling water to get her to go out with him, he would have done it years ago.