Blood, Sand and Tears Part I

[Silktie]

Here's a last one before season 10 starts.

Spoilers for season 9, and mention of new characters for season 10.

-*-

It is difficult to keep quiet when everything is being done wrong, but the less you lose your temper the greater your advantage. Also then you will not go mad yourself.
- T.E. Lawrence


Reuters News, 30 June 2011

British Apache helicopters targeted a military base being used by Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi’s forces, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) said. The raid, on 30 June 2011, targeted the al Mayah military camp, near Az Zawiyah, west of the Libyan capital Tripoli. In a statement, the Nato-led international coalition said its forces had destroyed more than 50 military targets in the west of Libya this week.

* * *

Friday 1 July 2011, evening
London, Whitehall

Harry was not a happy man. The Home Secretary had dragged him along to a diplomatic cocktail function, and he was loath to refuse after the support Towers had given him during the Inquiry. However, that did not mean that he enjoyed being there. So he stood to the side, moodily sipping his second Scotch of the night, and watched the diplomats and politicians play out the timeless dance of political and sexual networking. He wondered again why Towers wanted him here. His eyes found the rotund Home Secretary across the room, deep in discussion with the Foreign Secretary. As though she felt his gaze on her, she looked across at him. She spoke briefly to Towers, and the two of them began to work their way through the crowd towards him. Harry frowned. He and Helen Carlisle had not yet found common ground, and she regarded him and what he did with ill-disguised distaste. She saw the Security Services as a necessary evil, and made it plain that she did not approve of their methods. As they approached, he suspected he was about to find out why Towers insisted on bringing him here.

“Harry,” Towers said expansively as soon as they were close enough. “Enjoying yourself?”
Harry surveyed his surroundings. “A room filled with insincere politicians, forgettable food and Scotch of questionable quality – what’s not to enjoy?”
Helen Carlisle lifted her eyebrows. “I can see why you’re not a diplomat, Harry,” she said haughtily.
He ignored her and instead addressed Towers. “Why am I here, Home Secretary?”
“Ah, yes. Why don’t we step into the Smoking Room for this conversation?”
He led them through a door to Harry’s right into a smaller room, where clumps of leather chairs were grouped together. There were a few other occupants, and Towers guided them to a deserted corner before settling himself in one of the chairs.
Harry scrutinised the two politicians opposite him. They were both wary, and doing their best to keep on his good side. He viewed that as a bad sign, and was sure he would not like whatever they were about to ask him.

Towers cleared his throat. “The government is working on a strategy to end the conflict in Libya, and Helen thinks you may be useful.” He turned to her. “Why don’t you explain it to him?”
So Towers wasn’t totally on board with the strategy, Harry surmised. But he was lower on the political pecking order than Carlisle, so wasn’t in a position to challenge her.
Helen eyed the experienced spook whilst trying to figure out the best way to make her proposal. As always she found him a difficult man to read. She’d had dealings with him in the past, and whilst there was something about him that intrigued her, she was also aware that there had to be a dark side to him. It was her firm opinion that no truly good man would choose such a shady occupation. Towers had advised her to be forthright and to the point, as Harry Pearce did not have an abundance of patience, so she got straight to the heart of the matter.
“I am personally going out there to meet with various role-players, to see if I can broker the start of negotiations,” she said.

It was Harry’s turn to lift his eyebrows. “You’re going to Libya? Isn’t that rather dangerous?”
“Well, when I say Libya, I mean I’m going to the HMS Liverpool, more specifically. She’s still lying off the coast. I’ll make my headquarters on the ship, and we’ll bring the role-players there to meet with them.”

Harry dropped his eyes in an attempt to hide his incredulity, but apparently he was not fast enough. Carlisle bristled. “You don’t have confidence in my abilities, I see,” she said acerbically.
“It’s not personal,” he responded calmly. “But I feel obliged to point out the patently obvious. You are a woman, and your chances of achieving anything in a country dominated by Muslims are slim to none.”
She smiled thinly. “I see your legendary powers of observation are still intact. Yes, it’s true that I am indeed a woman, despite some of the malicious rumours doing the rounds. However, I believe there is a way to overcome this problem.”

Harry glanced at Towers, who appeared more interested in the surroundings than the discussion. He really didn’t support this initiative, Harry decided. Carlisle continued.
“At this moment in time, Gaddafi is the biggest stumbling block to a negotiated solution. If we are to achieve anything, we need to persuade him to compromise. You know, of course, that Moussa Koussa defected in March.”
Harry nodded. The former Libyan Intelligence chief and then Foreign Minister was the first prominent member of Muammar Gaddafi’s government to jump ship.
“And you also know that he was regarded as one of Gaddafi’s closest confidantes before he defected. We have been trying to determine who has taken over that role. It didn’t help that MI6 has been unable to get close to anyone within the inner circle. In fact, they have been forced to move their base of operations out of Tripoli, and we are currently dependent on whatever the Foreign Office can cobble together by talking to other countries that still have some influence there. We think we have now identified a man that could be persuaded to act as our voice in Gaddafi’s ear.”

Harry didn’t bother to hide his scepticism this time. Muammar Gaddafi was not the kind of man to be influenced by anyone, in his opinion. He was power-mad, and he would cling to it even if he had to destroy his country to do so. He would also deal harshly with any confidante who held opinions he did not want to hear. Men like Gaddafi surrounded themselves with yes-men; if you didn’t toe the party line you wouldn’t last long in the inner circle.
“What makes you so sure that this man you’ve identified has influence over Gaddafi?” he asked.
“He is regarded as somewhat of a hero in Libya,” Carlisle responded. “He was arrested and interrogated by us after the Lockerbie bombing, but did not crack, and we let him go. He returned home to great acclaim.”
Now Harry knew why he was here.

He had handled most of the interrogations after Lockerbie, and it was he who had broken the man that divulged the names of those involved.
“Ah, I see,” he said.
“Do you?” Carlisle asked sharply.
“Yes.” Harry gave her a hard look. “The man you’re referring to is Yusif al-Sanussi. I was the one who interrogated him.”
He could see Carlisle’s distaste over the methods she suspected he’d used to interrogate the man in her eyes. It was a bit rich, seeing as how she was more than willing to use that incident to her own advantage now.
“What makes you think he’ll be susceptible to the Western point of view?” he asked, wondering how much she knew.
Carlisle looked at Towers, who roused himself from his indifference. “It has come to our attention that al-Sanussi may not be such a big hero after all, but was made to look like one and put away for a rainy day.”
He regarded Harry with a hint of a smile. “Apparently a young upstart of an intelligence officer saw an opportunity, and put it into place without getting approval from his superiors. By the time they found out there was nothing to be done.”

Harry smiled. “Not so young and not quite an upstart by that time,” he said ruefully. “How did you find out?”
“Richard Dolby is still a bitter man about the way you circumvented him. I suspect he blabbed in the hope that it would cast you in a bad light.”
“Hmm,” Harry responded non-committally, although he secretly concurred. It would not do to play out their internal squabbles in front of powerful politicians like these.
He turned back to the Foreign Secretary. “So you want me to blackmail him into helping you.”
She flinched at the use of the unsavoury phrase, and when she looked into the spook’s eyes she saw a hint of scorn there, and knew he had used it on purpose. It was a subtle reminder that, in this instance, she had no right to the moral high ground.
“Yes,” she ground out.

Harry sat back thoughtfully. He could point out to her that even if al-Sanussi could be coerced into doing their bidding, Gaddafi would never listen to him, and al-Sanussi would be lucky to escape with his life. In the end, all they would achieve is the destruction of a possible valuable inside source. But there was also another angle to consider: The NATO forces had been stepping up the bombing campaign recently, and he feared that Britain might become a target for reprisal attacks. A germ of an idea began to form in the back of his head.
“All right.” He looked at the Foreign Secretary. “I’ll need to bring my own Arabic translator along.”
She seemed about to object, so he interrupted: “I can’t do this with a Foreign Office translator who’ll show discomfort at some of the things he’ll have to translate. It’s non-negotiable.”
Carlisle glared at him, suspecting that this was yet another dig at her.
Towers observed their interaction with interest. “I agree with Harry, Helen. Best let them do their dark work in isolation.”
She acquiesced reluctantly. “We leave on Monday,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll see you at Brize Norton at 08:00.”
Harry also stood, and nodded. “I’ll be there.”

The two men watched her stride out of the room briskly.
“I think you pissed her off,” remarked Towers, somewhat amused.
Harry shrugged, then studied the other man. “You know this is folly. Gaddafi will just as soon shoot al-Sanussi than listen to him.”
“I know,” the Home Secretary sighed. “And so does the PM, I suspect. My gut tells me this is a PR exercise more than anything else. The more pertinent question is why you agreed to do it.”
Harry drained his glass. “I wasn’t aware refusal was an option,” he stated before rising from his chair.
His studied casual air set off alarm bells in Towers’ head and he scrutinised his companion closely. “For God’s sake, Harry. Don’t do anything idiotic. You barely survived the last Inquiry...”
Harry looked down at him. “I assure you, I will act in the best interests of the country.” He nodded a greeting, turned and walked away.
Towers looked after him, not mollified by the enigmatic answer he received at all.

* * *

Harry stood on the pavement and contemplated the implications of the idea developing in the back of his mind. He needed to talk it over with someone, and there was only one person that came to mind. His driver was waiting patiently at the kerb, but Harry wandered a few paces away before dialling the familiar number and lifting the mobile to his ear. She answered after only a few rings and his heart lifted at the sound of her voice.
“Hi,” she said warmly. “Are you done?”
“Hi Ruth,” he said, his voice caressing her name like an endearment. “I can’t face another minute in the company of those windbags.” He hesitated, and glanced at his watch. It was half past nine. Was it too late to see her, he wondered, before ploughing on.
“I know it’s a bit late, but can I come over?”
“Harry.” There was a note of reproach in her voice, and he froze in disappointment before she surprised him by adding softly: “It’s never too late for you to come over,” and he could have shouted for joy. Their relationship had become intimate shortly after the conclusion of the Inquiry, but it was still quite new, and he was cautiously learning the boundaries of this new state of affairs. He was careful never to assume anything; he had read the situation wrong too many times in the past to take that risk.
He smiled, and a woman passing him glanced at him curiously.
“Will you stay the night?” Ruth continued hopefully, and he agreed eagerly.

He dismissed his driver, and walked a few blocks before hailing a taxi. Mercifully the cabbie didn’t want to talk, preferring instead to listen to the radio. The news was on, and the mention of Gaddafi’s name grabbed his attention.
“Can you turn the volume up?” he requested, and the cabbie complied. Harry listened with growing concern.

Earlier today, Col Gaddafi threatened to attack Europe in revenge for Nato’s operations in Libya. He said Libya would target European “homes, offices, families” unless Nato stopped its campaign. “We can decide to treat you in a similar way. If we decide to, we are able to move to Europe like locusts, like bees,” Col Gaddafi said.
“We advise you to retreat before you are dealt a disaster.”

As he stared out the window, he thought back to his interrogation of Yusif al-Sanussi. The Libyan had been a tough nut to crack, but Harry and his colleague Archie had managed to do it eventually. They had relied on psychological methods rather than violence – creating the impression that other detainees were being beaten up, shocked or water-boarded through sound, or by leaving tell-tale equipment lying around the interrogation room. They had also found out that this particular suspect had a child with an underage western mistress, and Harry used this to good effect to break him. In the end he had sung like a canary, giving up the perpetrators and the means to prove their guilt. Because of the completeness of his surrender, Harry had gotten the idea of planting him back in Libya as a sleeper. If he was sent back as a man who had withstood the torture of the imperialists, he would be feted as a hero and chances were that he would gain an influential position in the Gaddafi inner circle. That, Harry had believed all those years ago, might be invaluable in future. And now that time was here, he reflected as the cab pulled up in front of Ruth’s apartment block. It was time to awaken Agent Yushua.

tbc


Harry's involvement in the interrogation of Lockerbie suspects is mentioned in Harry's Diary. I will take some artistic liberties with events in Libya and Britain's reaction to it in parts to come.

[A Cousin]

Well! It's good to see Harry is stalking the diplomatic cocktail functions of power spreading good cheer. I love that his first line is him being cheeky to a politician. Great stuff!

Gee, I wonder who the Arabic translator is going to be?

Yeshua = Joshua? If so, good name that. If memory serves, Joshua was a spy too?

As ever, a great start Silktie.

[Sparky]

Another great start to a story - I don't know how you do it. I love that Harry and Ruth are all ready together in this story so hopefully it gives us the chance to see how well they mix the personal and professional - I'm guessing (and hoping) that we know who the translator is!

Looking forward very much to the next part!

[Tea Lady]

Great idea Silktie. Are we going to see Harry and Ruth on a warship??

Loved the Towers moment. Glad he was in there, batting for Harry during the inquiry.

[pookster]

Wonderful and intriguing start. Loved the up to date detail, the politics and the behind the scenes workings of the HS, FS and Harry. The already fledgling HR relationship is great too. And I'm looking forward to more.

[thegrandtour]

Great news: Silktie's new fic! Bad news: Last one before series 10? That's a long time!
Anyway, you show again a great skill and confidence in the writing as well as a very good geopolitics sense and knowledge.
Everything sounds so plausible that it's as if reading an article in a newspaper, but with a touch of romance, thanks to the Arabic translator
Sorry to copy Euterpe, but a great start, as ever! Thanks

[lottanyman]

Thanks!! That's a great start to my holidays And a fantastic first chapter as always! Can't wait to read more...