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Chapter Six: A Casual Dismissal
"And what do you want to be when you grow up, Harry?" The teacher was smiling down at him, catching him off-guard with her question. He had zoned out while the girl next to him, Lizzie Perkins, had regaled the class with her intention of becoming a hairdresser. He abruptly ceased using his compass to scratch his name into the desk, looked up sharply and hastily formulated an answer.
"A bus driver," he replied, with a lot more certainty than he felt. He didn't really know, of course. But bus driver seemed as good a plan as any. Yes, they had it made. Driving their shiny red buses all over town every day; imprisoned in a schoolroom every day, it seemed the epitome of freedom. That's what he would do, too.
Damn near fifty years later, with his gaze locked into that of an obstinate Home Secretary, Harry had to conclude he had more sense as a scrawny, bare-kneed five year old than he did as an adult. He could have been out there now, sat in his bus and trundling through the streets of his little home town. He'd be on first name terms with all the regulars and beloved by old ladies everywhere. He'd even pick them up outside Lizzie Perkins' hairdressers. Alas, he was not a bus driver; he was head of counter terrorism and section chief of Section D, MI5. Such is life.
"The thing is Harry, Myers was out there with North for the whole period of time in question," said Towers. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. A gesture of weariness. "And there's this Yalta business. It's not like she has a clean record herself-"
"Who does?" Harry cut in. "Who, in this service, has never doubled bluffed or bent the rules or played devil's advocate, Home Secretary? You show me this paragon of virtue and I'll show you a fucking liar!"
The Home Secretary flinched against Harry's tone. "Then this is symptomatic of a much wider problem-"
"Oh, don't start spinning me, Towers," Harry cut him off again. "You know as well as I that this all part of the job. If we didn't do the things we do, this country would be overrun with wannabe military dictators with one finger glued to the button, Communist agitators storming the palace and terrorists rampaging through the streets. You know it, but you seem to have lost the sense to appreciate it. All the while, my agents are risking their lives so you and others like you can go about steering this country as if it were your own personal donkey cart, in peace and stability."
He was exhausted with this fight already. There was no distance left to run. But he pulled back, forcing himself to draw a deep breath. Even Towers seemed to have backed down, giving rise to some small hope in Harry that his statement had broken through.
"Harry, please," replied Towers, hands held up in a placatory manner. "Don't ever think I under-appreciate the risks you and your agents take for this country. Actually, I like to think you know me better than that. But I also like to think you understand why I had to go over your head and act against Lucas North or John Bateman, or whatever his bloody name is. The fact is, Harry, he lied to get into the service and he carried on lying for over a decade. He could well be lying about Baghdad. North and Myers share a personal relationship that goes way beyond the platonic; she's too involved."
"I am no longer willing to discuss this, Home Secretary," said Harry, with an air of finality. "Ros Myers is on my team; she leads my team and she stays on my team until a day comes when she herself decides to move on. And only when that day comes. I mean, what next? Are you going to decide that Ruth really did murder the head of security at Cotterdam Prison and therefore she's got to go as well? Nathan once failed to pay a parking ticket, so maybe he's up to something too."
Towers sighed, averting his gaze in exasperation. "I knew you'd be like this, Harry. I knew you'd dig your bloody heels in. Are you being deliberately obtuse? Can you not see I'm only making these recommendations to help you and your team?"
No, he could not. "How is removing two of my best Agents 'helping', exactly? From what I can see, you've opted to take the word of a businessman over the word of your own security services. I call that a gross conflict of interest, Home Secretary."
"I'm launching an enquiry into the practises of Section D-"
"Oh, don't be so ridiculous," Harry interjected.
"I have no other choice," Towers insisted. "All Operations are suspended, pended further enquiries …"
The rest of the spiel was lost in a haze. Harry was numb as it all passed him by. Anything spoken now would see their meeting degenerate into insults. But Harry recalled Towers' predecessor. The ghost of Nicolas Blake rose again and nudged aside that wistful, would be bus driver, of a child Harry had once been. That day, he forced himself to look as the life drained from the disgraced politician's body. But the memories remained only in his head; he would never be so vulgar as to allude to Blake aloud. And Harry Pearce was not a man to issue empty threats.
"You could at least afford me the courtesy of briefing my team on the issue in person, Home Secretary," he said, getting to his feet.
To his relief, Towers nodded ascent. "Make it quick," he added, as caveat. "Their replacements will be in place by the end of the morning."
This was Jo's first day back on the team, he remembered dourly. At least she timed it well. Before he left, Harry paused at the door at looked back at Towers. A perfectly sensible man who seemed utterly under the spell of a highly dubious businessman.
"Do be careful, Home Secretary," he advised, for more reasons than one.
Ros dialled the number again, listening as the phone rang and rang. Voicemail had been disabled and, eventually, it rang off into silence. Directing an accusing look at the blank caller display, she pressed down hard on the power button and shut it down. Glancing up at Harry's empty office, she sighed at finding it empty and darkened. A lowering mood briefly halted as Beth handed her a file before moving on.
"Beth, bring Tariq over will you? I need a word."
While she waited on Tariq, she opened the file. On the first page inside, she found aerial shots of Lucas' father's house. All that could be seen was the roof, complete with missing slates, and the endless fields stretching out all around it. Nothing untoward, nothing out of place. But enough to begin a paper trail, at least. They had it on file and, to the best of her knowledge, Lucas was still heading there. She flipped over the page, going over the information inside with a fine toothed comb. Beginning in the mid-nineties, she read through the early years of Lucas North. Even after all this time she had no idea of what exactly he was doing in Russia at the time of his capture. But the file was sparse. An activity log that suddenly fell silent on the night of February 4th in the year 1999; a record that didn't start again until eight years later. The sudden plunge into an abyss made her blood run cold.
"Ros."
Tariq's voice jolted her out of her reverie. Hastily, she shoved the file aside and made room for the techie.
"I need a false paper trail," she said, fixing him with a hard look. "Last time I spoke to Lucas, he said he was holing up at his father's old house in Cumbria." She paused, noting the techies look of deep disapproval. "I know. But listen, I need to get an urgent message to him to warn him off. Then I want to lead the investigation team straight there so they can check the place out, put it under surveillance and then send you out there to undo all the damage – making it safe enough for Lucas to return."
He looked like a dog that had been thrown a juicy bone. "Seriously?"
"I've never been into stand-up, Tariq," she informed him, drily. "Of course I'm being serious."
"Well, Lucas is still checking his service provided dummy email account, but his phone's been dead all day," said Tariq. "So that's one channel of communication you can use to reach him."
That was all she really needed to know, for now. Motioning for Tariq to stay where he was, she turned back to the business at hand. While she waited for her email to load, her gaze drifted over to the opposite side of the Grid, where Ruth was captivated by something on her computer screen. She failed to look up as Ros silently willed her to make eye-contact.
"I'm contacting Lucas now," she explained, returning her attention to Tariq. "So here's what I'm telling him: don't go to the house; clear off elsewhere and don't tell anyone. I'm leading the investigation deliberately to the house just so we can trap them and disable their snares. Then I'll contact him through this email again to let him know when it's safe. Does that make sense to you?"
She turned towards him again, where he was reading over what she had typed. After a moment, he nodded his head, but leaned forwards and pointed to a screen.
"Ask him to contact you with a blank message from a clean phone as soon as he gets this message, just to make sure we're not wasting our time," he suggested. "Then delete this message from both outbox and drafts folders. Clear your web history and cookies, so no one within the department can track your online activities."
The geeks shall inherit the earth, she thought to herself as she followed his instructions. Once that was done, she let him return to cracking open the storage devices that Nathan had sourced from Sharaf Suleiman's home. A computer hard drive and several pen drives, amongst other things. Out of habit, she glanced round the Grid to see if he was still around now, but there was no sign of the Welshman anywhere. She was about to ask where he was, before the whoosh of the pods caught her attention, followed swiftly by Harry divesting himself of his coat.
Any relief she felt at his return was cut short by the thunderous look on his face. Steeling herself for the worst, she shut down her pc and got up to meet him.
"Come with me." His tone was terse as he placed one hand on her elbow, steering her away from his office as she reached for the door. "Not there." He turned to his wife. "Ruth, you too. Drop whatever you're doing."
Ros briefly turned to the Analyst, no longer sure of what to think. She merely paused, waiting for the other woman to catch them up before trailing after Harry, up the back stairs and up onto the roof space. Emerging under the clear blue skies after the subdued gloom of the Grid made her scrunch her eyes. Harry, meanwhile, paced to the barrier and glared out over the distant rooftops.
"We're all suspended," he snapped, expression contorted with a rage that had obviously been bottled up since he left Whitehall. "Suspended over operational procedures, pending further enquiries."
The news came like a kick in the gut. For a long moment, she could only return Harry's glare with her jaw slackened, attempting to make sense of it all. Only once the first shockwave washed over her did her thoughts fly to whoever could be passing all this information on? It had to be someone and she was certain it was no one within Section D.
"Someone out to get you, personally, Harry is no surprise," she said, acerbically. "But who has it in for you enough to come after your entire team."
"This isn't about Harry though, is it?" It was Ruth who cut in. Rather than merely defending her husband, Ros could see she was thinking it through and formulating a theory already. "Don't you see? Carlton's doing this. Carlton's pushing the Home Secretary. He's getting rid of us because he knows we're on to his bloody shady business dealings."
"So, Suleiman was right. Carlton sold Isis that bomb. But how the bloody hell do we prove it now? We need access to the Grid, we need the support of the Home Secretary."
Ros was attempting to unravel it all in her head, only vaguely aware of time ticking inexorably downwards. Something Harry reminded her of sharply.
"You need to go now," he said to her. "Towers is still banging on about Yalta, so be safe and meet up with us later."
"What about the others?" she asked.
"I'll tell them now," answered Harry. "Just go and try to find Nathan. Meet up with us at the George in two hours."
Gods knows they would need a drink, she presumed. She removed herself from the roof space, returning to the Grid to collect her coat. Not for one moment did she think it would be for the last time. As she left, her spare phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. A blank message from an unknown number. Lucas. She smiled, signalling to Tariq that their Op was still on.
"Remember what I said about the false paper trail?" she asked. "Do it now. There's not much time. I've got to go, but Harry will explain everything when he gets back."
Without waiting to see if he understood, she turned and strode towards the pods. At least now she would be freed up to track whoever was doing this to her team.
Nathan turned the business card over in his hands, memorising once more the biro scrawl of a telephone number on the reverse side. It alone revealed nothing, except the address of Securitech's headquarters. When he looked through the front window of the car, he could see the building itself. Imposing, glass-fronted and several stories high, there was no one on the front doors besides a lone uniformed guard. To be safe, he reached into the glove compartment and pinned an identity badge to his lapel. Nigel Fitzgerald. The alias made him cringe all over again.
However, as he went to get out of the car, someone else got in. A blonde woman of slim build, with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She beamed brightly at him as she got settled in the passenger seat. The identity badge on her own lapel gave the name "Jemma Price."
"Hi, you must be Nathan. I'm Jo Portman," she said, extending a hand.
Wide-eyed with surprise, it took a moment for the penny to drop.
"Oh! Yeah, sorry, I remember now," he replied, relieved. "I was meant to be covering your holiday but something came up."
"You could say that. I came back from the States with a husband and baby!" she explained as they shook hands. "Anyway, don't worry, Harry's made you permanent now."
"That was quite some holiday," he had to concede. His understanding was that it was a working holiday, but he decided not to press her on that at first acquaintance. Meanwhile, people came and went from the building he was meant to be watching.
"I bring bad news, I'm afraid," she said. "The op's off. We've got to meet the others down the George, then relocate to a safe house where we can be briefed in private."
Nathan frowned. "Away from the Grid?"
Jo nodded. "Which means it's serious. We better get going."
He was just about to get somewhere. He could even see John Carlton's car pulling up outside. But instead of tailing him, he started the engine again, pulling out into the northbound traffic. Rain had started to fall, smattering the windscreen and adding to his dour mood. His own phone had been switched off in anticipation of gaining access to Securitech's HQ and now he knew it would be full of missed calls from the bosses. Glancing into the rear view mirror, he watched at the HQ slipped away in the distance.
That night, Harry and Ruth lay side by side in bed. Restless and sleepless, they held on to each other closely. The lights were off and only the lamplight from outside permeated the chink in the curtains. There seemed to Harry to be little to say, other than to offer empty reassurances to her. Even her replies were robotic, going through the motions.
Eventually, he drifted off into a restless slumber. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking through a large windshield of a double decker bus. He could see his reflection in a large wing mirror, wearing a smart cap and dark blue uniform of London Transport. His heartbeat raced as he realised the bus was in motion while he was still reacting to his new surroundings. He regained control of the steering wheel, straightening the vehicle as they passed through built up streets of a town he had never seen before. But no sooner was he back in control of the bus, raised voices from the upper decks caught him at unawares. Thumps and banging as a fight broke out among the passengers sounded from the same place. Another man, a tramp with a bottle of wine in a brown paper bag started singing loudly. He was on his feet, clinging to the overhead rail and swaying dangerously from side to side.
The tramp ceased singing sharply. "This is a one-way street, Harry," he called out.
He was beyond caring. He turned to tell the tramp to sit back down, but had to double take as he recognised the man.
"Jesus, Home Secretary, what happened to you?"
Towers was almost unregocnisable. So too were the entire Government Cabinet who were occupying the seats behind him. The brawlers on the top deck were now fighting their way downstairs, causing the bus to sway. He didn't know how he knew, but he was certain two of the fighting men were Nathan and John Carlton. Ros might have been in there, too. Careering down the one way street, he sped past Lizzie Perkins' derelict hair dresser's salon. Then road petered out into a cliff-edge that seemed to come from nowhere. One minute on land, the next charging towards a plunge into the sea.
"Do be careful, Harry," the Home Secretary mocked, raising his bottle of wine in a salute. "Do be very careful."
They were the last words he had said to Towers. "Fuck you, Towers!" he called out, pressing down on the accelerator. No one else on the bus seemed to notice how close the cliff edge was now. Even the fighters carried on fighting. Just keep driving, he thought.
Until Ruth woke him up.
It was still dark and Ruth was sat up in bed next to him, watching as he regained his breath. She was watching him through wide eyes made dark by the poor light, her arms holding him gently. Concern was etched in the lines of her face.
"Harry," she said, kissing his temple. "It's all right."
"I dreamed I was a bus driver," he said, shaking his head.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, noting the pale smile on her face. "There are worse jobs," she pointed out.
"Not when they're packed with angry politicians and brawling spies," he replied, laying back down again. "If this does all go horrible wrong I could be a bus driver. And you can be my conductor."
"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan, dear." She lay back down beside him, curling up at his side. Despite the chaos surrounding them, he smiled as she drifted back off to sleep.
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