Thanks for the encouraging reviews. This chapter may go some way to answering various queries. As I'll be away for a week shortly the next chapter might be delayed but as some of you know I might update slowly but do eventually finish the story.

Harry might have been slightly less mystified regarding Ruth's resurrection had he been able to observe the events that had taken place approximately five minutes after he'd arrived home. Not that the sight of a man and woman walking along the pavement would have struck him, or any other person hurrying through the evening dark, as unusual. Possibly the sudden halt of the couple at the foot of the steps leading up to Harry's front door would have occasioned some comment, but only anyone within earshot would have clocked the pair as suspicious.

Bernard, holding onto Ruth's arm with a near death grip firm, was not so much walking as guiding her along the frost speckled pavement towards what he had privately nicknamed 'Harry's Staircase of Doom'. Once there he released his hold as he reminded her, "What Harry did to you." The words being a command rather than a question. Ruth duly responding, "He thought he'd killed me and left me for dead."

"Correct."

So far Bernard was satisfied but he'd be the first to admit that the next few minutes would be crucial as he ordered her, "Walk up those steps and count them for me." Ruth duly moved forward and upwards, rather like a clockwork toy soldier, as she proceeded to obey, "One, two, three, four, five, six…" When she reached the plateau that fronted the door Bernard spoke into his phone, "Ivan did you get that?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good. Now tell her to wait for my next instruction."

With that he hurried away, trying to ensure that his speed was consistent with that of an individual attempting to hasten out of the cold, rather than one whose mission could be exploded at any moment should Harry Pearce suddenly decide to open his front door.

Throwing himself into the car parked around the unlit corner, headlights off for extra cover, he grabbed the radio set, earning himself a dour look from the overcoated and dark hatted Ivan. Bernard was too occupied in fitting the headphones over his ears and arranging the microphone to take any notice of his driver. Ivan however was watching Bernard with loathing. In his opinion this man, having proved to be a traitor to his own country, should never have been trusted with such an important task. If they were caught would this scumbag hesitate for a second before spilling out the secrets he'd acquired from Russia in an attempt to save his own miserable skin? Ivan had in fact protested this to his own superior officer who, while conceding the sentiment, had been forced to confide that for the higher echelons the removal of Harry Pearce outweighed these concerns. The best he could do for Ivan was to issue a separate set of orders should the mission fail, leaving Ivan torn between wanting to the kudos of working on a successful operation and the hope that it would fail thereby allowing him to activate the additional instructions. Bernard, oblivious, now satisfied that his equipment was functioning, with a deep breath prepared to set the final part of his revenge in motion.

"Ruth ring the doorbell."

No sound ensued but Bernard was aware that the doorbell was probably only heard inside Harry's domicile. He couldn't risk asking Ruth if she had performed the task in case Harry opened the door mid conversation. After a few more seconds, during which he held his breath, the rattle of a lock turning was transmitted. Once again the thought of Harry Pearce's face made Bernard regret that practice runs had proved that equipping Ruth's clothing with a video camera was impractical. Not only was he denied Harry's reaction to his lost love returning from the dead, the lack of speech didn't indicate how far the door had opened. In the absence of a verbal reaction or the echo of a slam Bernard could only assume that Harry had been very satisfactorily struck dumb. Even so it was with some relief that he heard Harry's greeting of, "Good evening Ruth."

Reluctantly Bernard had to admit that Harry Pearce coped magnificently with the unexpected, although no less could be expected from a man who had withstood torture from the artist known as Charles Grady, private tagline 'Niceness is for wimps'. Now to proceed further, as he instructed Ruth, say "Please It's cold." The words were repeated followed by a polite invitation to enter. Allowing for the moment of hesitation Bernard instructed his puppet, "Take five paces forward."

The slightest of clothing rustle, in tandem with the more distinctive sound of carpet muffled footsteps, implied that Ruth had gained entrée into the house. After a further pause, Harry was heard to advise Ruth that the kitchen was just ahead, in response to which Bernard commanded, "Ruth walk into the kitchen." While the previous indications of movement were repeated an even more satisfactory sound was that of the front door snapping shut, although some slight clicks that he was unable to identify were puzzling. Probably just some extra locks.

Through the headphones Bernard was greeted a few seconds later by the tap of Ruth's heels as she traversed whatever covering was used for the kitchen floor, followed in turn by Harry's heavier tread. Two more minutes and victory would be assured. The sound of Harry inviting Ruth to take a seat as they had a great deal to discuss was music to Bernard's ears, as was the unprompted response from Ruth, proving that all those months of conditioning had been worth the time and money. Admittedly the FSB, aka the old KJB, had been more focused on removing Harry Pearce from the land of the living than on allowing Bernard his revenge, but happily for everyone, except of course Harry and Ruth, the two desires had dovetailed. Given the level of security that surrounded Harry, not to mention Harry's ever alert presence of mind, when Ruth had been gifted into their hands after the events of the estuary Bernard, hovering on the edge FSB trust, had seen a possible way to achieve the desired outcome. His argument that the best chance of Pearce liquidation was via a shock tactic pressing on a vulnerable point had eventually been given the green light. A prototype experiment that if successful could be used a blueprint for future use. Poison umbrellas and Novichok were so yesterday, but this method….

Bernard was pulled out of his momentary reverie of self congratulation by Harry's voice attempting to contradict Ruth's assertion that he'd left her for dead. Hissing down the sound system Bernard reminded Ruth, 'Tell him he's a liar and then shoot him." As Ruth duly responded and the shout of Harry trying to say he loved her was drowned out by a gunshot that temporarily deafened, Bernard now issued his final order.

"Ruth turn the gun on yourself and pull the trigger."

His sour smile of triumph was interrupted not by the anticipated sound of the final shot but a sudden piercing scream and then a silence. Bernard trying not to panic repeated his instruction, but no further shot was heard. The disquieting silence broken by the even more disquieting sound of a distinctly masculine groan.

Oh God. Harry Pearce had survived. Injury status unknown.

Thanks for reading and as ever if you have moment a review would be appreciated.