In the Valley of Death Part III

[Silktie]

Warning: Language

PART III

Harry

Harry tried to make sense of what he’d heard. So they didn’t want intelligence from him. It was an immense relief. Every intelligence officer’s biggest fear was that he would be broken under interrogation and would betray and put in danger the lives of fellow officers. However, that begged the question what the true aim behind his abduction was. They intended to kill him eventually, apparently. But why not do it now and get it over with before his team had an opportunity to find him? Surely they knew that his officers would be moving heaven and earth to find him. All effort would be made-
He froze. That was it. His disappearance and death was a diversion.

His train of thought was broken when the conversation outside continued. This time the voice that spoke had a distinct American accent.
“Aren’t you worried that his team will find out what’s going on before we can get everything into place?”
The English man responded with a note of contempt in his voice.
“They’ll be running around like headless chickens without him. And their best analyst will be too consumed with grief and worry over her lover to do her job properly. She was always the biggest danger, but by feeding them snippets of information every now and then about their leader’s whereabouts and the fact that he’s still alive, she’ll keep focussing on finding him. It’ll take her out of the equation.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yes, it does. First thing you must do is strip him of his clothes. We’ll leave that and the crate somewhere in Yemen for them to find. They’ll think he’s being held there and focus their search in the wrong place.”

The men moved away and Harry could no longer hear what they were saying. He leaned back against the crate and thought about the conversation. His first reaction was a certain knowledge that they had already made a big mistake by underestimating Ruth. Harry was confident that she was stronger than they gave her credit for, and that she would be able to focus on more than just finding him. Whether that would be enough to save his life, he was less convinced of. But if this was the end of the road for him, he took some comfort from the belief that Ruth and the rest of the team would prevent whatever else these people were planning.

He tried to think of ways that he could help them and an idea came to him. Taking up his belt again, he used the buckle to prise loose a sharp splinter. Next he used it to make a tear in the lining of his jacket. He steeled himself and plunged the splinter into his finger before pressing it until a drop of blood appeared. Using the splinter as a crude pen, he began to laboriously write a message in blood under the lining.

* * *

London

Five men were gathered in the Home Secretary’s Office. The Yemeni Ambassador looked at the serious, angry faces surrounding him uncomfortably.
“Gentlemen. My government wishes to apologise for what happened, and is anxious to provide all cooperation to the UK to find and bring your man back safely.”
Towers was not to be mollified by empty rhetoric. “I hope you realise, Ambassador, that this can be seen as an act of war.”
Foreign Secretary Hastings gave his colleague an annoyed look, but Alec and the MI6 man, Ken Willis, nodded in approval.
The Ambassador turned to Towers. “My government wishes to assure you that they had nothing to do with this.”
“Oh please,” Alec interrupted, earning an outright glare from Hastings, “one of your intelligence officers were caught on CCTV.”
Shaking his head, the Ambassador took a folder from his briefcase.
“This man,” he perused the folder, “this Ali Al-Redhi, indeed used to work for our Intelligence. However, he defected to the forces wishing to overthrow our government four months ago.”
“You mean the pro-democracy movement,” Towers couldn’t help but interject.
“William, for God’s sake,” Hastings chastised before turning to the Ambassador.
“Forgive us. Emotions are running a bit high, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“Of course,” the Ambassador said magnanimously. “It must be distressing to have lost such an eminent member of one’s Security Services.”
Hastings nodded, but the other three men in the room’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

* * *

When Alec and Ken got back to the Grid, Tariq and Malcolm were huddled over satellite images, trying to track where each of the six ships that docked with the large ship in the English Channel had gone. Beth, Dimitri and Ruth were slumped before their computers or talking on the phone. Alec cast a critical eye over the team. They looked absolutely shattered; all of them had been operating without a break for two days straight now. Ruth, in particular, looked on the point of collapse. Making a decision, he called them all to the meeting room.

“We got nothing from the Yemeni Ambassador. He claims Al-Redhi defected to the pro-democracy movement a few months ago. Ken checked with MI6 who confirmed they’d heard rumours that a few intelligence officers had gone over, but they can’t confirm whether Al-Redhi was one of them.”
When he said nothing more, Ruth looked up angrily. “That’s it? You just took his word for it?”
Alec sighed. “Of course not. Towers tried to push him harder, but Hastings ran interference. Worried about a diplomatic incident, no doubt. Hell, Towers and Hastings almost came to blows after the Ambassador left.”
He met Ruth’s angry look. “We’re trying other avenues now. We have permission to ask the Americans for help.”
She didn’t respond, but dropped her head to stare at the table.

Alec rubbed a hand over his face tiredly.
“Look, you’re all exhausted. We won’t do Harry any good if we all collapse, so I’m ordering you to go home and get some sleep. From now on we’ll be working in shifts. Ruth, Malcolm, Dimitri, you go home. Tariq, Beth and I will take the first shift.”
Ruth’s head snapped up belligerently, but Alec pre-empted her objection. “Please, Ruth. You know Harry would have said the same if he were here.”
She closed her mouth before nodding reluctantly.

As they got up from the table, Dimitri gave Beth a meaningful look, and she put a hand on Ruth’s shoulder and held her back. Ruth frowned at her inquiringly, but Beth waited until they were alone before speaking. She looked extremely ill at ease as she reached into her pocket.
“We thought you’d like to have Harry’s things that were dumped at the site of the accident.”
She laid his watch, pen and other contents from his pockets on the table.
Ruth reached out and touched the watch with trembling fingers. Beth watched her uncomfortably before gathering her courage.
“Ruth,” she said gently, as she once more reached into her pocket.
“He also had this on him.”
She placed a small black velvet box next to the watch, and Ruth froze.
Beth stood up as she spoke again. “Dimitri and I didn’t think everyone else needed to know about it.”
With that, she quietly left the room.
After an eternity, Ruth managed to move and pick up the box. The ring inside was simple and elegant, and beautiful. She turned it in her shaking fingers reverently, and read the tiny inscription:

Ruth, my love, my life. Harry

“Oh, Harry…” Her sight blurred and she wondered how long he’d been carrying it around with him, waiting for the right opportunity.
She slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

Outside, Alec collared Malcolm.
“You’re staying with Ruth, aren’t you?”
Malcolm nodded. Ruth had offered him the spare room, saying that her and Harry’s house was closer to the office than Malcolm’s, and he had recognised the offer for what it was: an unspoken plea not to leave her alone with her memories in the house she’d shared with Harry.
“Good,” Alec continued. “Please get her to rest. Drug her if you have to.”
With that, he handed Malcolm some pills.
“Er, right,” Malcolm mumbled.

* * *

Alec was dozing at his desk when Tariq shook his shoulder. The young man had dark circles under his eyes and his stubble stood out starkly against his pale skin. Rubbing his own unshaven cheeks wearily, Alec tried to get his eyes to focus. He desperately wished for a drink, anything with alcohol in it, but knew that this would be the worst possible time to start drinking heavily again. He needed all his wits at their sharpest to handle this crisis.

Tariq was holding up a mobile, and Alec’s tired brain finally cottoned on to the fact that it was Harry’s.
“I’ve been checking the calls log on Harry’s phone against the time he left the Grid. The last call he received was from Beecher, the CIA man.”
Sitting up straighter, Alec thought about this nugget of information.
“Can you get a recording of the call somehow?”
Tariq shook his head. “Harry’s phone is encrypted and I personally installed a device that makes it impossible for anyone to monitor his calls.”
He seemed devastated by the idea that his own technology was hindering them in their search for Harry.
“Tariq.” Alec stood up so that he could look the young man in the eye.
“None of this is your fault.”
“I should have realised sooner that his car had been in an accident,” Tariq replied stubbornly.
“How? By telepathy? It’s not your job to track Harry’s every movement, and you know it. We were outsmarted, but it’s nobody’s fault, okay?”
The techie nodded miserably before moving back to his station.

Sighing heavily, Alec grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and called over the Grid.
“Beth, come on.”
She looked up. “Where are we going?”
“Liaising with the Cousins.”
Beth was nonplussed. “But it’s the early hours of the morning. They’ll be asleep.”
“All the better. We’ll catch them off guard,” Alec said, sounding cheered by the thought of inconveniencing the Americans.
She followed him without further argument.

At Beecher’s house, Alec leaned heavily on the doorbell, and it sounded incredibly loud in the silence of the early hour. A light went on upstairs, but still he continued to ring it. When Beth rolled her eyes at him, he grinned at her.
“You’re a real charmer, aren’t you,” she muttered in an annoyed tone.
“When I have to be,” he responded as Beecher yanked the door open and stared at them groggily.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning! What the hell do you want?” he asked incredulously as he realised who was standing in front of him.

Alec waded right in. “Harry’s been kidnapped.” He explained what had happened briefly before coming to their reason for being there.
“The last call he received before going off to his mysterious meeting was from you. If I were a suspicious man, I’d suspect you of setting him up. And I am a suspicious man.”
He gave Beecher a hard look. “But Beth here thought we should at least hear your side of the story, so here we are.”
The three spooks stood staring at each other, each waiting for the other to blink. Finally Beecher broke the silence.
“I’m very sorry to hear about Harry. The CIA will give you all the support it can in finding him, of course.”
“How kind. But you haven’t answered my question.”
Beecher’s eyes moved between the two MI5 officers briefly before settling back on Alec.
“I called him to set up a meeting for tomorrow… For today, I mean.”
“What about?” Alec would not let up.
“To make sure everyone here is still committed to military action in Libya.”
A few seconds ticked by before Alec smiled. “Right, thanks. Sorry for disturbing you.”
But he did not sound sorry at all.

Back in the car he turned to Beth.
“What did you think?”
“He’s lying,” she responded without hesitation.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Beth fished out her mobile. “Tariq, can you check Harry’s diary for today and see of he had any meetings scheduled?”
She waited a few moments while Alec drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Right, thanks.” She hung up. “No meeting with Beecher pencilled in.”
Without taking his eyes off Beecher’s house, Alec blew out a frustrated breath. “What the hell is going on?”
Beth had no answer to that.

* * *

Harry

The crate was loaded into a truck and Harry was unable to see anything for the duration of the drive. After some time the truck’s movement seized and he heard doors opening and closing. The back door slid open and someone climbed into the space. Harry heard a splintering noise and saw the end of a crowbar appearing between two slats. He moved as far away as possible and watched as one end of the crate was broken open. It fell away to reveal a man standing outside the truck in bright sunshine. Beyond him a bush plane sat on a runway, and beyond that there were only trees. There was no sign of life anywhere. When Harry didn’t move, the man spoke and Harry instantly recognised the American voice.
“Get out.”

Harry’s eyes once again swept the surroundings, but he saw nothing that could be of use to him. He began to inch forward, trying not to move his head or his knee too much. The American lost patience and stepped forward to grab Harry by the collar and drag him out. As he did so, he crinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of old vomit emanating from the crate.
“Got seasick, did you?” he commented as he deposited Harry on the ground. The sudden movement made his head spin and his stomach rose up again. It was with some degree of satisfaction that he threw up all over the man’s shoes, momentarily disappointed that there was nothing but bile in his stomach.
“For fuck’s sake!” The American jumped away, and Harry steadied himself on all fours.
“Not seasick,” he managed to croak out. “Concussion.”

The man fetched a bottle of water from the cab and rinsed his shoes. Harry watched with envious eyes as the water trickled into the grass. He’d not had anything to eat or to drink since the kidnapping and he was famished. Noticing Harry’s interest in the water, the man took a deep drink from the bottle.
“Get up,” he commanded.
Harry shook his head carefully. “Can’t. Knee’s gone.”
The American regarded the pitiful sight before him critically. “Jesus,” he drawled at last, “they haven’t even started with you and you’re already fucked. You won’t last a week.”
He beckoned to someone outside Harry’s field of vision and moments later two large black men appeared from behind the truck.
“Strip him,” he tossed some clothes at Harry’s feet, “and dress him in that. Then bring him to the plane.”

After dressing in lightweight pants and a T-shirt, Harry watched as his old clothes were thrown into the crate and the truck drove off. The two black men hoisted him into the plane and shoved him down on the floor at the back before chaining him to a steel ring welded to the seat in front of him. They disappeared again and Harry looked up to see the American watching him from the cockpit. He got up and walked down the length of the plane, a bottle of water in his hand. He squatted in front of Harry and debated with himself before handing his prisoner the water.
“Here. Don’t drink it all at once.”
Harry stared at him, surprised by the act of kindness, and quickly grabbed the bottle before it was snatched away again.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice gravelly and dry. He took a careful sip, and couldn’t remember a time when water had ever tasted so sweet.
As the American got up, Harry figured he might as well ask.
“Where are you taking me?”
There was a brief hesitation, then the American responded. “You’re going to Bukavu, to become the guest of the FDLR.”
“The FDLR?” Harry asked in surprise. “You have contact with a rebel group in eastern DRC?”
The American smiled. “We have a business agreement with them. They give us coltan from the mines they are controlling, and we help them with weapons.”

The plane took off as Harry slowly sipped the water and contemplated his fate. He was going to the Democratic Republic of Congo, right in the heart of Africa and one of the most unstable regions in the world. Bukavu was situated on that country’s border with Rwanda, and was held by the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda, the remnants of the Hutu forces responsible for the genocide. He shuddered at the thought of what they might do to him and closed his eyes in despair.
Who would ever think to look for him in the Congo?

tbc

[A Cousin]

The international scope of this is amazing! How do you keep it all straight? How is it all going to tie together?

I kind of enjoyed Alec and Beth "inconveniencing the Americans." Hmmm...is the American voice Harry recognizes Hogan? Dale? Roscoe? So many suspicious Americans, so little time!

Ruth's determination, Malcolm's awkwardness, Beth's steel, Alec's audacity and Tariq's guilessness are very well done. And the inscription - I teared up.

Ruth. Ruth will think to look for him in the Congo.

(P.S. I watched a documentary film about Rose Mapendo the other night. Bawled my eyes out. Such atrocities in the DRC. Incredible woman.)

[Tea Lady]

Very good Silktie. I have my Atlas out.

If I was Ruth though, I might take that ring to a pawn brokers. If Harry's on vacation in the Congo, he may not return

[DogSoSmall]

Haven't had a chance to catch up with the new story before now, but I am truly gripped again. It's like it's real!!!!!

Beautiful, romantic inscription.

[Aria]

Another tense and nail-biting chapter, Silktie. Loving the global scope of this fic with all the political intrigue. I'm working overtime in trying to keep the faith. Carry on with the great work. Loved the inscription on the ring, so sad.

[HellsBells]

Totally gripped by this story, Silktie. Can't wait for the next chapter.