4th September 1991,12pm
140 Gower Street, London
She's had mixed results with her project so far, having ruled out quite a few of their agents, but unable to get up to date photos of family members for the rest of them. Of course, it might be a friend or lover the mole's trying to protect, in which case she'll have to start over from scratch. Or she might be entirely wrong in her theory.
She sighs and stretches, looking up to find the Grid teeming with activity. Lunchtime, she thinks and realises that she's starving. Perhaps Malcolm would like to go out and grab some lunch. She likes Malcolm.
She finds him where she'd left him, Harry still beside him.
"How's it going?"
"Three of them," Malcolm replies, handing her the pictures he's printed out from the screen.
"That's good. Do we know who they are?"
"Not yet. I've ordered the surveillance team to focus on them so we should know more soon."
"Lunch?" Harry suggests before she can.
"Yes," she replies a little wearily. "Malcolm?"
"You two go ahead," he says, and she wonders if perhaps Harry's had a talk with him and asked him not to cock-block him.
She folds her arms defensively. "Perhaps Jenna would like to join us," she says pointedly and sees Malcolm quickly turn away to hide a smile.
Harry groans. "What's she been telling you?"
"Me?! Nothing. We've not been introduced."
"Ah. Then people have been warning you against me, is that it?"
She glances uncomfortably at Malcolm, who's studiously focusing on his work and pretending he cannot hear their conversation.
"Malcolm?!" He sounds incredulous and rather hurt.
"No, no," she hastens to say as Malcolm lifts his gaze to Harry's upon hearing his name.
"Sorry, what?" he asks innocently, impressing her with his nonchalance. She really needs to learn that trick and fast. She can't keep letting Harry read her like an open book.
"No one's been warning me against you, Harry. I have eyes. I don't need any warnings," she says crossly and turns away, irritated by the whole exchange and especially the fact that it's happening at work around her new colleagues.
"Ruth," he calls after her, but she doesn't turn back, making her way to her desk to grab her coat and bag, determined to get lunch on her own instead. Much to her annoyance, however, he somehow manages to catch up with her at the lifts, in spite of his injured leg. She gives him her best, withering stare and steps into the lift, but he doesn't give up that easily. "Ruth," he says again, following her into it. "Look. I'm sorry."
"Are you?" She rounds on him, her eyes on fire.
"Yes."
"Good, because you're making my life impossible. You want to repay me for saving your life, Harry? Then stay the hell away from me!"
He looks genuinely taken aback by her words.
"This job is an opportunity of a lifetime for me, but if you continue like this, you're going to ruin it." She turns away again, not wanting him to see the tears that have gathered in her eyes.
"You're right," he says after a long silence and a little soul-searching. "I'm sorry, Ruth. My behaviour has been appalling. It won't happen again. I promise."
"I'd appreciate that," she tells him, without turning to face him, rather surprised and a little suspicious at the way he's backing off so quickly.
"Let me buy you lunch," he offers, only to have her glare at him. "To apologise," he clarifies quickly, "and to thank you for what you did back there, at the farm. I really am grateful." He gives her his best puppy-dog eyes, hoping to sway her. "A peace offering?"
She's tempted to tell him where to stick it, but she realises that she has to see him every day on the Grid, work with him closely, seeing as he's actually one of the most senior officers, and she can't afford not to give him a chance to prove himself capable of changing his behaviour towards her. Not if she wants to keep this job. He could destroy all her prospects at MI-5 in a flash if he chose, so she can't afford to alienate him entirely. She hates being in this position.
She sighs and nods her head, stepping out of the lift as it pings open. "Alright, Harry," she says, "just as long as it's clear that it's only a peace offering and I'm never going to sleep with you."
12:45pm
To her surprise, she's enjoyed herself, now that Harry's stopped trying to flirt with her, is relaxed, and just being friendly. It seems he can be true to his word, even if he is a spook – at least, temporarily – and he's surprisingly well read and interested in a variety of subjects, she's discovered. They've talked about literature, music, and philosophy, in the short time they've shared this meal, and she's impressed. Perhaps, if his new behaviour lasts, they might even get to become friends over the next few months. She thinks she might like that. She really hates antagonizing people and having tension between them. Of course, with Harry, she rather suspects the tension is not going to dissipate soon, no matter how harmonious a work relationship or friendship they manage to build.
"Dessert?" he offers, but she shakes her head.
"No thanks."
"Go on," he cajoles. "Have some cake. I'll feel bad eating it alone."
"Then perhaps you shouldn't eat it either."
He wrinkles his nose, making him look rather sinister, what with all the bruising on his face and the cut on his cheek and lip. People have been doing the most comical double takes when they see him, so he has taken to just smiling and telling them, "Bike accident."
"I'm not sure I can resist the temptation," he murmurs.
"It's not good for you, and besides, we should be getting back," she says, standing and looking down at him expectantly. "Coming?"
He sighs. "Alright. Let me settle the bill then."
They walk back slowly, owing to Harry's limp.
"Are you sure you should be walking without crutches?"
"I'm fine," he says, but she can see the beads of perspiration on his brow and she'd bet a month's salary that he's in a lot of pain, despite the bravado. She's pretty certain that he shouldn't be putting his weight on his leg yet, but thankfully his care is no longer her problem. Still, it's a good job they didn't go very far from the Grid for lunch.
"You never give into temptation, do you?" he asks her a few moments later.
She glances at him, sure he's not talking just about the cake.
"Nope," she confirms. "And I bet you never say no to temptation either."
"Rarely," he agrees with a disarming half-smile.
"If you don't hold yourself to some standards then you just end up disappointing yourself and those you care about," she tells him.
"If you never allow yourself to be spontaneous," he counters, "you miss out on all the things that make life worth living."
She shakes her head. "No, you don't. Planning is what helps you get the most out of the experience. Every time I've been spontaneous, I've regretted missing something, something I wouldn't have overlooked if I'd done the research properly beforehand."
He smiles.
"What?"
"I'm just relieved to hear you have been spontaneous about something in your life, Ruth. I'd be obliged to feel sorry for you if you hadn't."
7pm
She makes a frustrated sound and scrunches up the piece of paper in front of her, turning it into a ball and tossing it towards the waste paper basket, missing it quite spectacularly.
"Not a former netball player then," Mark says, walking over to her and leaning against the edge of the desk beside hers.
She looks up, her eyes alighting on his face. "Sorry?"
"Nothing. No luck?" he asks.
She shakes her head, lifting her arms up and stretching, letting her eyes roam over the deserted space around her. "What time is it?"
"Time to call it a day," he replies. "I'm here to take you home."
She frowns.
"Coolidge ordered me to take care of you," he clarifies.
Her frown deepens.
"Because you're new," he hastens to add.
"Right. I suppose it's good of him to feel concerned."
"Between you and me, I think he's rather impressed by you. I think he sees great potential in you."
She sighs, lifting her hands to rub her face. "I hope to God you mean as an analyst, Mark, because if-"
"Of course," he interrupts, sounding a little alarmed.
"Good," she says in relief. "That's good." And she gives him a grateful smile.
"I can have a word with him if you like," he offers.
"Coolidge?"
"No. Harry." He looks a little uncomfortable as he says it, but she quickly dismisses it with a wave of her hand.
"It's fine. It's taken care of. He's promised to stop."
"Good," Mark replies, sounding relieved.
"Just give me a moment and I'll collect my things," she says, putting an end to their conversation. She hates that the circumstances that lead to her getting this job are the same ones that are making it so difficult. If she hadn't saved Harry's life, Harry wouldn't have behaved with such familiarity and people wouldn't just assume she'd fall for it, but then she wouldn't be here either. She's buried herself in her work to avoid the others' gazes, whispers and innuendos, but even there, it's only lead to frustration as she comes up against one brick wall after another. There seem to be no direct links between anyone in Bond's group and the personnel in their section.
When she thinks about it, it's logical, seeing as they seem to be unaware that MI-5 has found them again and has them under tight surveillance. If there was a mole in Section D, they'd tell them that for sure. It's a puzzle that's proving hard to crack.