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Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - Silktie - 31-08-2011 04:37 PM
Your success will be proportioned to the amount of mental effort you devote to it.
- T.E. Lawrence
Monday 4 July, late morning
Malta
When they stepped off the plane the heat hit them square in the face. Harry started sweating immediately as they crossed the tarmac to where the HMS Liverpool’s Lynx helicopter squatted in the heat waves, its rotors slowly turning. There were six of them: the Foreign Secretary was accompanied by her PA and her Middle East advisor, Mark Appletree. Then there was the Foreign Office Arabic translator, Emmett Mayfair, who regarded Ruth with mistrust. Even though Harry merely introduced her as his colleague, Carlisle had evidently told Mayfair that Harry didn’t want to make use of his services, but preferred to bring his own translator. As soon as they were strapped in, the Lynx lifted into the air ungainly, pointed its nose towards the ocean and moved off. The pilot stayed low, skimming the rooftops to give the VIPs a good view of the Malta beaches before he turned towards the open horizon and increased altitude and speed. Not long after a low grey shape took form, and morphed into the formidable warship that was the HMS Liverpool. The Mediterranean was calm, and the pilot put the helicopter down effortlessly on the ship’s landing pad.
Commander Robert Marsh was waiting for them. He saluted smartly.
“Welcome aboard, Foreign Secretary.”
His eyes swept over the rest of the party, and Ruth noticed his mouth quirk when his gaze fell on Harry, but it was gone so soon that she wondered whether she had imagined it. He escorted them to the guest quarters, apologising for the Spartan accommodation as they walked.
“Unfortunately we only have four rooms in the guest quarters, so two of you will have to settle for the Officer’s quarters. I took the liberty of billeting Sir Harry and his colleague there.”
Ruth saw Mayfair smirk at the perceived putdown, but she immediately recognised the advantages of staying apart from the rest of the delegation. It strengthened her suspicions that there was a connection between the Commander and Harry. When she glanced sideways, Harry’s face showed irritation and he gave every impression that the arrangements inconvenienced him. It was a convincing performance, and he kept it up until they were alone with the Commander.
Marsh led them up some steel steps, and as soon as they turned the corner into a quiet corridor he turned to Harry and his face split into a broad grin. “Bloody hell, what’s the world coming to when a bloke like you gets knighted?” he asked as he shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically. Harry laughed and patted the other man on the back. “You know how it is – nowadays you only have to stay alive past fifty and you get one.”
“Bollocks. I’m past fifty and I don’t have one,” Robert said good-humoredly.
“That’s outrageous,” Harry responded, tongue firmly in cheek. “If you acquit yourself well during this operation, I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Ruth watched their interaction with interest. It was obvious that the two men knew each other well, and liked each other. There was mutual respect underlying their easy banter, but she could sense something deeper from the Commander, a more intense feeling that she couldn’t identify. It fascinated Ruth to see this new side to Harry.
He became aware of her attention and turned towards her.
“Forgive me. Robert, this is Ruth Evershed. Robert and I were at Sandhurst together, and then did a tour in Northern Ireland before going our separate ways,” he explained to her.
The Commander extended his hand, and his handshake was firm and reassuring. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Evershed.”
“Ruth is fine. Same here, Commander.” She studied him curiously, noting the close-cropped iron gray hair, the alert green eyes and the faint jagged scar that ran down his left cheek.
He nodded. “And when it’s just the three of us, please call me Robert.”
He turned to Harry. “I’ll post a Marine at the end of the corridor, to make sure no-one can disturb you without warning. I’ll say it’s standard practice if anyone asks”, he said as he showed them to two adjacent rooms. “I’m the door at the end of the corridor. I stocked up on some good Scotch in honour of your visit. Come over after dinner tonight for a drink. Now, unfortunately, I have to get back to the bridge.”
They watched him walk away, and it amused Ruth to recognise the same straight-backed marching gait Harry still walked with when moving with purpose. “He seems like a good man,” she remarked, and Harry nodded.
“A man you can go to war with,” he said enigmatically, before he brushed his hand down her back and headed off to his room to unpack.
Ruth opened the door to her own room and surveyed it. Spartan was definitely the right word to describe it. It was small, and contained a narrow cot, small table and a miniscule wardrobe. Everything was bolted down. She placed her suitcase on the bed and pulled out the burqa Harry had requested her to pack and hung it up carefully. She added her lightweight blouses, skirts and pants, and sat on the bed, wondering what this operation would bring. The digging Harry had asked her to do had brought nothing conclusive to light. There was the hint of something, a whisper she had picked up from MI6, but she hadn’t been able to pin it down before she left. She had requested her contact in MI6 to keep digging, and hoped that she would hear from him before the end of the day. Her phone beeped with a message from Harry, summoning her to his room.
She knocked and entered to find him sat on the bed, surrounded by electronic equipment.
“Where did all this stuff come from?” She knew for a fact that Harry had brought only one small suitcase along.
“I sent it on ahead. I didn’t want to arouse the suspicions of our illustrious fellow travellers by bringing it with us.”
They got to work, setting up the communications equipment and the laptop that linked them to the MI5 database. Ruth accessed her mail, and found a message from her MI6 contact waiting for her. Harry was laying out an array of bugs, and paused when Ruth said, “Ah-ha…”
“Got something?”
She turned to him, her eyes bright and triumphant. “A recent MI6 assessment of the Libyan rebel movement. They express concern that unity among the different groups is tenuous, and feel that unless total victory is ensured in the near future, the rebel alliance might fall apart.”
Harry sat back on the bed and wiped the sweat from his face. Even with the air-conditioning he was hot. “So that explains the sudden haste,” he grumbled, wondering irritably why Ruth seemed unbothered by the stifling heat.
“Let’s keep the fact that we know about this to ourselves. Carlisle called earlier; she wants to hold a planning meeting in an hour.”
Ruth nodded, noticing Harry’s discomfort. “I’ll get you some ice water,” she offered, and squeezed his arm as she walked past him. She had seen the ice machine at the end of the corridor earlier, and filled two glasses to the brim.
Harry accepted his from her gratefully, then took her hand and pulled her down to sit next to him. She took the washcloth that lay folded at the foot of the bed and wrapped a handful of ice in it, and placed it on the back of his neck.
He sighed appreciatively. “Oh God, that feels wonderful.”
Ruth smiled. “It’s a trick I learnt in Cyp-“
She stopped talking suddenly, unwilling to broach a subject they had skirted around until now.
Harry closed his eyes momentarily, sadly. He took a deep breath and touched her hand reassuringly. “It’s all right to talk about your life in Cyprus, Ruth.”
She turned her head away, unconvinced, so he pressed on. “This ice trick is working like a charm. Any other useful things you learnt there?”
He was doing his best to put her at ease, and she appreciated the gesture; tried to meet him half-way.
“Well, I learnt to cook. Seafood dishes especially.”
Harry perked up. “Really? I love seafood.”
She smiled. “I know. Every time we go out to dinner you order it in some form or the other.”
“Ah, yes. Boringly predictable, as usual.”
“Oh no. Not in the least. Those are the last words I would use to describe you,” she said with conviction, and he tried not to look too pleased.
He leaned in to kiss her softly. “Thanks.” After a look at his watch, he drained the glass. “Come on, duty calls.”
* * *
The six of them were gathered around a small conference table. Carlisle’s PA handed out folders, and hesitated momentarily when she reached Ruth. Harry scowled at her and she hastily placed a folder in front of the other woman as well.
“All right,” the Foreign Secretary stated as everyone opened their folders, “this will be the state of play: Tomorrow morning the rebel delegation will arrive by helicopter. Mark and I will handle that meeting. Your presence will not be required, Sir Harry.”
She gave him a challenging look, expecting him to argue, but he nodded amiably instead.
“Good,” she said, the wind somewhat taken out of her sails.
“They will leave by two o’clock. The government delegation will come in the afternoon, and will consist of only one person. He will come by boat.”
Harry glanced at Ruth; they both understood the meaning behind this. Yushua was not coming with the blessing of Gaddafi.
Carlisle’s voice brought them back to the matter at hand. “You will naturally be present for this meeting, Harry.”
“No,” he said, and everyone stared at him in surprise. “I think you should make your pitch to him first, Foreign Secretary, without him being aware of my presence,” he explained. “Then, once you are done, I will make an appearance. Take him by surprise, unbalance him. I will hold a separate meeting with him and play my part.”
Carlisle hesitated, clearly not happy with this arrangement. However, she could not think of any good reason to refuse, so nodded shortly. “Fine.” She gestured to the folders. “The position we would like him to persuade Gaddafi to take is in there. You should also note, Harry, that Mark will take the lead during the discussions. You see, I’m not a total idiot,” she continued with a note of triumph.
Harry pursed his lips and refrained from pointing out that all the men in the room would still be aware that she called the shots behind the scenes.
“I’ve never thought you were a total idiot, Foreign Secretary,” he responded equably instead, as he scooped up his folder and marched from the room.
Carlisle smiled, pleased, but the smile slid from her face moments later, replaced by an uncertain look, as she belatedly recognised the implied insult in his comment.
* * *
The Commander’s room was more spacious than those of the other officers. It held a small dining table that could seat four people, and the three of them were gathered around it and a bottle of Ardbeg. Ruth mostly sat back quietly and observed the two men. Their rapport was unmistakable. Ruth had seldom seen Harry so relaxed in someone else’s company. He laughed easily and often as Robert regaled them with amusing tales of military life, and she felt a weight lift from her heart. She could see the shadows the last year had put in his eyes slowly melt away under Robert’s easy camaraderie, and was unspeakably grateful for it. It made her recognise the importance of friends outside the Service, of people in one’s life that weren’t weighed down by the same terrible knowledge that she and Harry shared. She resolved to make a greater effort to attend her choir practices more regularly, and not to spur the offers of friendship from the other women any longer. Harry’s eyes met hers, and he smiled softly, perhaps intuitively guessing where her thoughts had gone.
Robert had watched the interaction between Harry and Ruth all night, and had seen the soft expression on his friend’s face when he looked at Ruth in unguarded moments. He filed the information away and didn’t give any indication that he’d noticed. He knew Harry as a private man, and he did not want to put him in an uncomfortable position by letting on that he could see Harry had feelings for his translator.
“So, Ruth, I take it you have an interest in Arab history?” Robert asked, trying to draw her into the conversation; curious to know more about the woman that seemed to have broken through Harry’s defences.
“What makes you say that?” Ruth asked guardedly.
“I just assumed, since you speak Arabic. People usually learn the language of cultures they’re interested in, don’t they?”
She relaxed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“What started you off, if I may ask?” He was truly interested to hear her answer, she realised. She glanced at Harry and he gave her a subtle nod, as if to say, you can trust this man.
“Lawrence of Arabia,” she explained with a smile. “I saw the movie when I was twelve years old, and was hooked. I devoured everything I could lay my hands on that had been written by and about T.E. Lawrence after that. That naturally brought with it an interest in Arab culture.”
The Commander stared at her. “Twelve? You read Seven Pillars of Wisdom when you were twelve, then?”
Ruth nodded somewhat self-consciously, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“Incredible. I can’t get most of the people under my command to read it, and they’re grown-ups.”
His incredulity amused Harry. He, on the other hand, had no trouble imagining a twelve-year old Ruth losing herself in the adventures of T.E. Lawrence.
“Ruth is an exceptional woman,” he said, unable to hide the warmth and admiration in his voice.
“You make your troops read Seven Pillars of Wisdom?” Ruth asked, intrigued.
“Of course. It’s a must-read for any Westerner going to war in an Arab country. Even though we might now think that many of Lawrence’s views are quaint, he had a rare insight into the psyche and culture of Arab people.”
She appraised the Commander anew, pleasantly surprised by his comment. But then, she should have known that any good friend of Harry’s would not be narrow-minded about the world. His next words only strengthened this impression.
“I don’t think either the Foreign Secretary or her Middle East advisor have read it, though.”
Harry and Ruth smiled at each other.
“No,” Harry responded thoughtfully. “And that is why I’m going to pursue a slightly different agenda to theirs.”
He looked directly at his friend. “And I may need some help in doing so, Robert.”
tbc
Note: Ruth's interest in T.E. Lawrence is documented in the Personnel Files.
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - Tea Lady - 31-08-2011 05:18 PM
Goodness Silktie. You certainly have done your background research for this one. Really enjoying this.
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - beatrice4ruth - 31-08-2011 06:07 PM
I am like Commander Robert Marsh. I shake my head in disbelief at your knowledge of the Arab world and at your intricate plot.
I am wondering what lies behind the Commander’s more visceral reaction to Harry. I love how professional Harry and Ruth are. Only a friend would guess that there are deeper feelings between the two of them.
You describe so well the distrust between the delegation and Harry. You capture the inherent duplicity that comes with Harry's position. The devious side of Harry as a spy can be somewhat off-putting, even though we know it is for the protection of the realm.
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - pookster - 31-08-2011 08:28 PM
Terrific chapter. Loved the change in Harry when he was with Robert. I'd love to read their joint history. Wonderful depiction of Harry's abilities as a spy - how he's able to play the part but to his own agenda. So well done and looking forward to more.
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - cateau1 - 31-08-2011 09:29 PM
Shaping up to be best ever Silktie. I love it that Harry has a friend he can totally relax with (other than Ruth). Am looking forward to lots of plot twists we didn't see coming!
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - Sparky - 01-09-2011 06:31 AM
I agree with Cateau1 - this is a fantastic story and one of your best (if not the best) to date! The way you have managed to include so much re Libya as well as delving into the personal relationships ie Harry with both Ruth and Robert is great. It's so nice to read about a relaxed Harry.
As always, really looking forward to the next part!
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - A Cousin - 01-09-2011 01:42 PM
This is just great, Silktie! You are so good at combining credible plot and believable character.
I really like how your new characters are as vivid as the characters we already know. I am still casting Commander Marsh in my minds eye. I am looking forward to Yeshua's introduction. Seems he might be the only person who actually knows where Gaddafi is!
One of Gaddafi's sons is quoted as saying that their leaders are fine and that they are drinking tea and coffee. Yes, but do they have CAKE!?! Oh, and thanks for the recommendation!
(*tosses Seven Pillars of Wisdom on the ever growing pile....*)
RE: Blood, Sand and Tears Part III - thegrandtour - 02-09-2011 09:18 PM
I'll join the choir to say how good your story is, based on a very thorough research, completely plausible, following the news. The best of Spooks really. Plus the fact that it's focused on Harry and Ruth, with a glimpse on Harry's past, and a glimpse on Ruth's youth. Could we dream of a better story? No!
Actually, I'd love to see this as a spin-off after series 10! That would be perfect. You should send it to Kudos!