Saviours of the North Sea Part VI

[Silktie]

PART VI

06 March, 21:00
Shetland Islands

Ruth wearily makes her way to Catherine’s room. She has had a frustrating day trying to get information from the environmental contingent. Without success. They are either consummate liars, or know nothing. Ruth is leaning towards the latter. None of the people she spoke to showed any sign of deviousness. When Catherine doesn’t answer her knock, she uses the cloned key card Tariq had made for her to open the door. Inside, Catherine is hunched in front of a monitor with a pair of earphones clamped on her head. Ruth watches over her shoulder as she manipulates some dials, finally bringing McCintosh in the background into focus.

“What’s this?”
“Bloody hell!” Catherine whirls around at the sound of the other woman’s voice.
“Ruth! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She turns back to the monitor and reaches for the controls to bring the Energy Secretary back into focus.
“I’m just editing my interview from this morning,” she says casually. Not fooled in the slightest, Ruth reaches over her shoulder and stills Catherine’s hand. They both look at the man on the screen, a mobile pressed to his ear.

Catherine sighs.
“Look, we don’t have to tell my Dad, do we?”
“No, we don’t have to,” Ruth says easily before leaning in closer, a frown appearing between her eyes. “Can you zoom in on that mobile he’s using?”
Surprised, Catherine does so, and watches Ruth’s frown deepen.
“What is it?”
Ignoring the question, Ruth instead asks, “Can you isolate what he’s saying?”
The younger woman shakes her head. “I don’t have the equipment for that.”
Before she has finished speaking, Ruth is reaching for her own mobile.
“Tariq, you still in the Ops Centre?” She listens briefly. “Good. I’ll be right there.”
She turns to Catherine. “Come on, and bring that recording.”
As they leave Catherine asks, “How did you get into my room?”
Once again Ruth ignores the question.

After introducing Tariq and Catherine to each other, she hands the techie the recording. “We need to hear what McCintosh is saying in the background.”
“No problem,” Tariq says, eager to impress the boss’ pretty daughter. Catherine’s eyes widen upon seeing the array of electronic equipment scattered around the room, and Tariq launches into a very technical explanation of how the equipment he is going to use works. Ruth watches for a moment in amusement before stepping quietly into the corridor and making a call.
“Hi, it’s me. There’s something you need to see.”

After a few minutes McCintosh’s voice can suddenly be heard clearly through the room. At that exact moment Harry enters. Catherine starts, then glares at Ruth accusingly.
“Thanks a lot. I should’ve known you’d go running to him.”
Harry glances between his daughter and his beloved analyst.
“Don’t blame her. She was doing her job,” he says evenly. He turns to Ruth. “What’ve we got?”
She explains briefly, before they lapse into silence to listen to McCintosh. They look at each other in surprise after a few words.
“What language is that?” Catherine asks.
“Russian,” Harry answers, a little perplexed.
“Bad Russian,” Ruth can’t help but point out, causing Harry to smirk.
She translates as they go along, and the three spooks glance excitedly at each other when they hear the businessman mention the night of the eighth.
Harry turns to Catherine with a proud look on his face. “Well done, love.” His daughter beams at the praise.
“Now, this is really important. Did he see you filming him?” There is concern in his voice.
Catherine shakes her head, and Harry looks relieved. “Good. Good.” He turns to Ruth. “Get Dimitri and Beth in here.”

Once Catherine has left, Ruth says, “There’s something else.”
She instructs Tariq to zoom in on the mobile. Harry leans forward and squints at the screen. “Is that…?”
Tariq nods. “It’s one of MI6’s specially designed encrypted satellite phones.”

21:30

The whole team is gathered in the Ops Centre and everyone has been brought up to date. Harry’s face is set as they contemplate the latest developments.
“Could it be some sort of black op from Six?” Beth looks at Harry as the man with the most experience of Six’s workings.
He shrugs. “I don’t know of any. Perhaps I’ll make a few calls.”
He steps out of the room, and Ruth quickly turns to the others. “We need to keep an eye on Catherine.”
Dimitri looks at her incredulously. “You want us to spy on the Boss’ daughter?”
“Yes,” she says calmly. “But for her own safety. If McCintosh finds out what she’s busy with, she could be in danger. Harry can’t use Service resources to protect his own daughter without it looking like nepotism, so we’ll do it on our own initiative.” She looks at them imploringly. They still appear dubious so Ruth says impatiently, “Harry loves his daughter, and he will literally kill anyone who harms her. I think we can all agree that that’s a complication we can do without on this operation.”
Beth is the first to nod. “I agree. Tariq, can we use one of the roaming surveillance sets in Catherine’s room?”
He nods. The door opens and Harry walks back in, so Tariq murmurs quickly to Ruth, “I’ll show you how to do it later.”

“Six denies all knowledge of McCintosh,” Harry declares.
“Do you believe them?” Ruth asks.
Harry ponders a moment before nodding. “I do. I applied some pressure, but the answer didn’t change. This is not an officially sanctioned operation.”
Dimitri frowned. “So you think one of Six’ agents may be operating on own initiative in some way?”
“Possibly,” Harry shrugs. “Or McCintosh got the phone some other way.”
Ruth lifts her head. “Maybe from whoever is about to execute the sabotage.”
Harry rubs a hand across his face in frustration. “Anything’s possible, and we won’t figure it out tonight. At least we have two days to get more information and prepare. I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep while we still can.” He nods at them and walks out the door. When everyone else has left, Ruth turns back to Tariq.
“Can you do something for me?”

22:15

Ruth is about to start undressing for a shower when there is a soft knock at her door. She opens it to find Harry leaning against the doorjamb.
“Can I come in for a while? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”
She smiles softly. “Of course.”
While she closes the door, he wanders over to the window. The storm outside is at its zenith, and flashes of lightning light his face as he stares out into the darkness. There is great worry and even a little fear in his expression.
“Hey,” Ruth says softly, running her hands up his back and over his shoulders, before wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “We’ll look after her.”
He turns in her arms and searches her face. “I can’t ask you to do that, you know that.”
“You don’t have to – you know that.” Her hands wrap around his neck and pull his mouth down to hers. They kiss languidly, savouring each other. When they finally part, he smiles at her gratefully.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ruth. I owe you one.”
She smiles back, her eyes an aroused smoky grey. “In that case - I was about to take a shower… I can do with some help washing my back.”
He kisses her again. “Your wish is my command,” he murmurs against her mouth, his voice low and deep with desire as he backs her towards the bathroom.

For the second time that day he forgets all about his personal rules, and makes love to her standing up in the shower. He can’t remember the last time he’s done something like this, but it feels good, oh so good. He vaguely registers pain as her nails dig into his shoulders, and will much later be thankful that the Home Secretary doesn’t schedule another morning meeting at the spa.

* * *

07 March, 08:00
Shetland Islands

Harry’s knees protest as he descends the few steps into the breakfast room. He winces and smirks to himself as his eyes sweep the room. Noticing Ruth sitting by herself at a corner table, he fights the urge to join her. Instead he collects a copy of the Financial Times from the rack next to the steps and looks for an empty table, but unexpectedly finds his path blocked by McCintosh. The businessman leers at him.
“Did you enjoy your night in the bird hide then, mate?”
Harry glares at him. Out of the corner of his eye he is aware of Ruth’s head turned in their direction, and he restrains the impulse to do the man bodily harm.
“Grow up, mate,” he retorts instead and moves to push past McCintosh. Jean-Paul blocks his way.
“Bet it was a cold and miserable night. That bitch wouldn’t put out to save her own life.”
Harry takes a deep breath and slowly turns his head. McCintosh takes an involuntary step back from the coldness in the other man’s expression.
“Or perhaps she just displays good taste in choosing whom she ‘puts out’ for, as you so charmingly put it,” Harry says in a deceptively pleasant tone.
McCintosh’s face flushes angrily. Harry holds his look until the other man turns away.

Sighing, he moves towards an empty table and seats himself. He has barely sat down when the Under Secretary for Energy approaches and grabs the other chair at the table.
“May I, Harry?” She sits down before Harry can answer and while he is still in the process of standing up, like a gentleman does.
He smiles stiffly at her. “Of course.”
He watches morosely as Ruth leaves the breakfast room, not missing the amused look on her face as she passes their table. Despite the Under Secretary’s best efforts, their conversation is desultory at best as Harry’s heart is simply not in it. It is with great effort that he hides his relief when his mobile rings fifteen minutes later.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to have a crisis at the office that needs your attention,” Ruth asks teasingly, “or are you enjoying your breakfast?”
Harry feigns his best expression of concern, before barking, “What? I’m on my way.” He hears Ruth laugh softly as he disconnects, then looks at the Under Secretary apologetically before making his excuses and escaping gratefully.

10:20

Ruth is in the Ops Centre with Tariq, checking whether the feed from the surveillance equipment in Catherine’s room is coming through successfully, when the communication from GCHQ comes in. They have finally narrowed down the destination of the coded message that provided them with the coordinates, and have also located a telephone call made from the same location at roughly the same time.
“Unfortunately they only have one end of the conversation,” Tariq explains as soon as the rest of the team arrives. He plays it, and Ruth translates:
“The test was run successfully last night. She’s old, but we’ve fixed everything that needed to be fixed, and replaced some of the navigational equipment with more modern electronics. The launch went smoothly, the capsule was able to complete the round trip and was retrieved again without any problems. We are ready.”

Harry frowns. “And right after this the coordinates were sent?”
Ruth nods. “To a location in the middle of nowhere in Siberia.”
“I’m running voice recognition.” Tariq waves at another console in the background.
Dimitri looks thoughtful. “That location is on the route the decommissioned Russian ships would have taken. Tariq, have we received the list of Cold War ships that seems to have disappeared?”
“Oh, yes.” Tariq reaches for a paper lying on the table. “Came in about half an hour ago.”
They all watch intently as Dimitri scans the list. “Yes.” He looks up at a ring of questioning expressions.
“Harry, I think he’s talking about one of these ships that disappeared. We dubbed it the ‘bullet carrier’. From the outside it looks like a normal fishing vessel, but it’s been adapted to launch a capsule that can hold one man. The capsule has sensors in its nose and is guided to a specific target by a homing beacon, such as the one I found on the oil rig. The man inside can then use a remote controlled arm to plant explosives or listening devices, or do all manner of things.”

Remembering something, Ruth pulls the transcript of McCintosh’s recent phone call to her. “McCintosh talks about hand-held sensors, not a capsule.”
“Tariq. Pull up a map and pinpoint the origin of the call on it,” Harry instructs.
Once he’s done so, Dimitri leans over his shoulder, studying it. “Let’s assume they departed from the Laptev Sea the day after the call was made. Can you map their probable route, and put in the path of the storm?”
Beth leans forward. “You think the capsule was damaged in the storm?”
Dimitri shrugs. “It’s possible.”
Tariq looks up. “They would’ve passed through the storm at some point,” he says, pointing to the monitor.
“So instead of using the capsule, the ship is now going to pass close enough to the oil rig to give a diver with hand-held sensors a chance to reach it, do his business and get picked back up?” Harry looks at Dimitri. “Is that possible?”
“Sure. It’ll have to be a damn good diver, though.”

At that moment the console behind them beeps. Tariq rolls his chair over. “We’ve got a voice match!”
Everyone crowds around the young techie.
“Andrei Gelashvili. One of the Russian Navy Special Forces’ brightest stars until he deserted in 2008.”
Ruth turns to Harry, and he needs only one look at the excited expression on her face to know she’s figured this out.
“2008. That was when Russia and Georgia fought over South Ossetia.” She is met by blank expressions, and sighs exasperatedly. “Gelashvili is a Georgian name.”
Harry sees it now too. He feels like hugging her, but nods gravely instead. “His parents were probably forced from Georgia whilst it was still part of the USSR, but made sure young Andrei here never forgot his heritage.”
“Exactly,” Ruth says, beaming at Harry. “We’ll probably find that he stayed in Russia when the USSR broke up, and got the best military training they could offer. Until Russia went to war with his real motherland, and he left to fight for Georgia.”
“And,” Harry continues, “MI6 ran a huge operation in that war – on Georgia’s side. Which means that Gelashvili probably had contact with Six’s agents, and were given the satellite phones to communicate with them.”
Ruth takes over. “My guess is that Gelashvili is doing this for money. Georgia has struggled to secure significant international assistance since the war, especially for rebuilding their military assets. When the environmentalists refused to be bribed, McCintosh somehow found a man with a cause that needed money.”

The thrill of figuring it all out makes them momentarily forget that there are other people in the room, and they stand staring at each other, the air crackling with attraction. Dimitri, Beth and Tariq look on patiently; after Albany there is little concerning Harry and Ruth that still surprises them. Finally, Dimitri clears his throat.
“If he’s Russian Navy Special Forces, he’ll certainly have the diving skills to pull this mission off.”
He turns to Harry. “Do we capture him, or do we just remove the homing beacon?”
Harry ponders silently, staring absently at the photograph on the screen. Ruth watches him with concern etched on her face. She knows what he’s thinking; that here is a man who is trying to protect his country, but at the same time could give them a tremendous amount of information about Russia’s Armed Forces. It’s the old conundrum: human decency versus the good of the realm.
Harry turns half away and his shoulders sag a little. “We capture him,” he says quietly. “I’ll talk to the Home Secretary, get approval for Navy backup.”
He meets Ruth’s eyes briefly before turning and leaving the room, and she closes her own sadly.

* * *

11:00

“Dear God, Harry,” Towers rubs his forehead with thumb and forefinger. “I can’t take you anywhere without you conjuring up some kind of outlandish plot.”
They are in the Home Secretary’s suite. Towers gets up and moves to the window, his back on Harry. “You’re sure that McCintosh is behind this?”
Harry watches the broad back intently. “Yes. We have audio and visual proof, Home Secretary.”
He pauses before asking sympathetically, “Do you know him well?”
Towers glances sharply at Harry, trying to gauge how much he knows, but as usual he finds the spook impossible to read. “I… knew his father well. We were at university together.”
“And you had no inkling that he would go to such lengths to secure these oil concessions?” Harry carefully watches the Home Secretary’s expression.
Towers looks out the window again. “None.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he finally turns fully towards the other man. “You’re going to have to handle it with the resources available to you at present.”
Startled, Harry blurts, “What?”
“I’m not authorising the use of the Navy. In fact, I’m ordering you to remove the homing beacon. I don’t want any attempt made to capture this Georgian.”
“That’s absurd!”
“Excuse me? Last time I checked I was still your superior. Now just bloody do as you’re told.” Towers’ jaw is set stubbornly.
Harry’s voice lowers to a dangerous pitch. “What are you implying, Home Secretary?”
“You want me to spell it out for you?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I want. Let’s put all the cards on the table, shall we?”
Towers glares at him. “Fine. You’re still in your job only because I went to bat for you. I got the Inquiry to grant you a stay of execution on the understanding that you remain as long as I’m satisfied with your performance. If you defy me on this, I will no longer be satisfied with your performance. Is that clear enough for you?”

Harry stares at the other man unblinkingly. Towers can feel sweat starting to run down his spine. The spook grinds out his next words.
“Perfectly. You want to protect McCintosh, so you want us to make the problem go away without uncomfortable questions being asked afterwards.” He gets up abruptly and stalks towards the door.
Towers frowns, confused. “What are you going to do?”
Harry turns at the door. “I don’t think you’ve given me any choice in the matter. I’m going to let corruption take its ugly course.” He slams the door behind him with considerable force.
Towers stares at the closed door for a few moments before turning and angrily kicking a dustbin across the room. He’s not sure who he’s angrier with; McCintosh, his infuriating Head of Counter Terrorism, or himself. Perhaps it had been a mistake to keep Harry in his post, and he wonders whether he should get rid of him after this fiasco has been sorted out.

tbc