Moscow Rules Part V

[Silktie]

Monday, 25 April 2011
London, Thames House

As they continued to stare at each other, both were frantically trying to figure out how much the other knew. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Elena observing their interaction with interest. His chest constricted with fear for Ruth and it made him appear even more forbidding. Ruth was shaken by his expression, and wondered whether the BND man had told Harry about the full extent of her inquiry. Harry did not look away for one second, and she knew she would have to lie as never before if she were to get out of this situation without arousing his suspicion.
“Did he indicate whether they have more information for me?” she asked, hoping to gauge what exactly the man had told Harry.
“No,” he responded shortly. “What information did you ask him for, and why don’t I know anything about it?”
Despite the suppressed anger in Harry’s voice, Ruth was relieved. His question led her to think that the BND representative had not gone into details, so she might be able to lie her way out of this.
“I’m sorry, but I wanted to double check the backgrounds of some German friends of Kate Middleton’s who are invited to the wedding. You’re so busy with the Russians at the moment,” and here she struggled briefly to keep the accusation out of her voice, “that I didn’t want to waste your time with such trivialities.”
His eyes narrowed slightly and he studied her expression carefully, but could find no indication that she was lying.
“I see,” he relented, his voice a little less harsh. “Next time keep me informed so that I don’t look like an idiot when talking to the local representatives, all right?”
She nodded contritely and got up to leave, doing her best to hide her relief.

As soon as her back was turned, Harry’s face softened. His BND contact had told him exactly what information she had requested. She had lied to him, and she had done it beautifully. Knowing that he should be angry about that, he was instead filled with a sense of pride in her abilities. He should not have doubted that she would put all the pieces of the puzzle together. She only needed one more, and it was in the information she had asked for. Surely it was only a matter of time before she found it. There was hope, after all, that the plan he had put into place on that dark beach would come to fruition. The thought led to a sudden desire to re-establish their bond.

“Ruth,” his voice was gentle as he called her back, and he waited until she turned around to face him. “Are you all right? You’re not coming down with something?”
She was surprised at his sudden interest after the distance he’d so religiously kept of late, and it made her suspicious. But when she looked into his face he wore an expression of earnest concern, and she didn’t doubt that the query was genuine. It touched her, and it was on the tip of her tongue to unburden herself before common sense prevailed and she lied, yet again.
“I’m fine. Perhaps a bit tired, but nothing more serious than that.” She paused for a moment, feeling the need to reach out to him in some way. “Thanks for asking, though.”
He nodded. “I’m glad. I’m sorry about the chaos and that we haven’t had time to talk of late; it’s the damn Russians demanding so much of me. Hopefully it will all be over soon.”
The last sentence was added as an afterthought but it sounded as though Harry had little confidence in the statement, and Ruth couldn’t stop herself from trying to make him feel better.
“We’ll get through this. We always do, don’t we?”
“I hope so,” he said with a small smile, and watched her as she walked back to her station. For the first time since the whole business started, he felt a tinge of hope.

* * *

The following three days were a blur of frenzied activity as they tried to cover all possible angles regarding the security of the Royal wedding. Ruth and a small army of analysts co-opted from other sections spent their time doing security checks on all the guests, servants and even the clergy that would be involved. Erin was also pulled off the Middle East operation temporarily to help out. The tight schedule did not allow for playing politics, and in fact forced the Section to work together as a team for the first time since Erin’s arrival. The new Section Chief’s regard for her colleagues grew as time went on and they handled everything thrown at them with aplomb. Harry noted all this with satisfaction, deciding that she might yet turn into a good Section Chief. On a personal level he had hoped that the focus on the wedding would keep Polyakova out of his hair, but she somehow persuaded the Foreign Office that her team could assist with the security arrangements and promised to take care of vetting any Russians likely to attend. This bought her access to many of the meetings Harry had to go to.

Towers was furious when he found out, and immediately instructed Ruth to double-check all clearances done by the Russians. She did so, but could find nothing suspicious about the Russian delegation. The only thing that was slightly out of the ordinary was that the Archbishop of Canterbury had asked permission to invite a representative of the Russian Orthodox church to attend, and would give him a tour of Westminster Abbey the day before the wedding.

From Thursday afternoon onwards Elena made sure to keep close to Harry, only letting him out of her sight when he had to attend a meeting to which she was not invited. She felt confident that their surveillance on the British spook had been sufficient to prevent him from making alternative plans, and that he would be forced to go ahead with the assassination the following day. One thing concerned her, though; there was little evidence in Harry Pearce’s demeanour that his life would soon be ruined. Surely he knew there was no way that he would be able to continue his career once the assassination had taken place? She was aware that he had precious else to look forward to; he didn’t seem to have any sort of personal life. He should be devastated by what was happening. She wanted him to be devastated.

* * *

Thursday, 28 April 2011, late evening
London, the Grid

It was after ten when Harry sent everyone home for a few hours’ sleep, keeping only a skeleton staff to monitor developments. As the others left, Elena followed him back to his office and sank into one of the visitor’s chairs uninvited. He moved to his drinks tray and poured himself a generous measure of Ardbeg, pointedly not offering the Russian woman anything. Whilst he settled into his chair and sipped the Scotch, Elena observed him closely and could for the first time see the toll the last few weeks had taken on the man in front of her. He looked exhausted, tense. Resigned to his fate. She twisted the knife.
“Tomorrow you will poison Medvedev for us, using a syringe that will be provided to you once we’re at the church.”
He lifted dark, unreadable eyes to appraise her. “Once I inject him, is he going to drop dead in the middle of the ceremony?”
The thought seemed to amuse Elena. “No, no. We have no desire to ruin such a happy occasion. He will begin to feel ill, but there will be enough time for him to leave and go to his hotel, and to die there.”

After taking another sip, Harry rolled the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid slosh around. “Aren’t you worried that they will have time to save him?”
“There is no antidote, Harry. He will die a slow, agonising death at the hand of an eminent British spy.”
Her expression held no sympathy for either Medvedev or for Harry.
He polished off the Scotch before responding. “You’re going to throw me to the wolves, then? No lies about how you will protect me afterwards; set me up somewhere comfortable?” Smirking into the empty glass, he added, “I don’t merit a nice dacha by the sea?”
She was not amused, he could tell. “No. No dacha for you, nice or otherwise. Because we both know you would never agree to come over to us. We will give you time to disappear, and then we will tell the world how Medvedev died. I am confident that you need no help in disappearing. People like you always have an escape plan in place, don’t you?”
He had no doubt that she was lying, and that they aimed to kill him as soon as he had done their dirty work for them, but still he played the game. “Oh, I have a plan,” he replied with more confidence than he felt. “Who will give me the syringe at the church?”
“I will.”
He cocked his head to one side and frowned. “How will you get it past the security?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Elena stood up and moved to the door, then added with a hint of malice, ”Get some rest, Harry. You have a big day tomorrow.”
As she walked out he fought the urge to throw the glass at the wall. He sat motionless for a few minutes, before getting up wearily and collecting his coat. Outside his office he stood for a bit, watching the activity on the Grid with a wistful expression, before moving through the doors. Perhaps for the last time.

* * *

Ruth’s flat

She was supposed to be snatching a few hours’ sleep, but instead she was following a hunch. There was a sense of desperation in her actions, as this was a last ditch attempt to find something that would let her help Harry. Ruth had already decided that if her hunch proved to be wrong, she would go to Harry’s house early the next morning and tell him that they knew everything. Hopefully that would remove any incentive he had to go through with the assassination. And then she would help him disappear, if that was what he wanted. She would not stand by and watch the Russians ruin him. Crouched over her computer, she flicked through the Stasi surveillance photos for the day the Heuers had moved to Berlin. She concentrated on the images taken at border crossing points between East and West Berlin, and specifically on the foot traffic coming through the Oberbaumbrücke pedestrian crossing. It was in the early morning hours that she found them. Karl and Liesl Heuer had crossed over from East Berlin. Trying to contain her excitement, she made a call.

* * *

Friday, 29 April 2011, Royal wedding day
London, The Ritz Hotel

Russian President Dmitry Medvedev had just stepped out of the shower when there was a knock at his door. His security officer opened it to find a waiter outside, with the President’s breakfast. He waved the man in after checking under all the silver dishes, and left the waiter to set up the dining table in the large sitting room. None of the guards noticed the waiter emptying a small vial over the scrambled eggs with a deft slight of hand. By the time Medvedev sat down at the table, the waiter was long gone.

About half an hour later, the waiter, seated on a bench outside the hotel, intercepted a call from Medvedev’s suite requesting that the hotel doctor should attend to the Russian President. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph before placing a call of his own. When the other person answered, he spoke only a few words.
“It’s a glorious day for it.”

* * *

Westminster Abbey

Harry moved through the early arrivals at the church with ease, looking quite at home among the distinguished guests in his immaculate morning suit. Dimitri and Erin were stationed outside, keeping an eye on the arrivals and the crowd. They had all enjoyed dressing up for the occasion, and did their best to blend into the background. Harry had assigned Ruth to keep an eye on the diplomatic contingent. She had stormed in late, looking beautiful and elegant, and he had forgotten to admonish her for her tardiness. There was something in her eyes, a look of excitement, and she tried to catch him on his own for a private word, but circumstances would not allow it. Elena stuck to Harry like a woman fearing that her attractive date would abandon her for someone else given half a chance, and did not allow him any opportunity to speak to anyone privately.

“The Home Sec has arrived,” Dimitri notified them.
Harry started moving towards the door, but Elena pulled him back.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
A flash of irritation crossed his face. “To greet the Home Secretary. It’s protocol. You don’t want to arouse suspicion, do you?”
She let him go, but made sure to stay within earshot as he approached the politician.
“Ah, Harry. You’re looking smart,” Towers greeted with a beaming smile. His demeanour lifted Harry’s spirits.
“So do you.”
“Yes, well, it’s good to get some mileage out of the old fine feathers.”
The Home Secretary’s gaze flicked over Harry’s shoulder before he continued casually, enunciating the words carefully. “It’s a glorious day for it, don’t you think?”
Harry took in the grey skies beyond Towers with a flicker of a smile. “Yes, glad the English weather played along.”
After nodding sagely, the Home Secretary leaned towards his Counter Terrorism Head and murmured confidentially, “You know, Harry, if everything works out well today, I think I might be able to make the Inquiry go away permanently.”
The two men looked at each other for a few seconds more, before Harry nodded and walked back into the church.

“What is this fascination you English have with the weather?” grumbled Elena.
“It’s tradition,” Harry shrugged, before glancing around distractedly. “This whole day is about tradition.” He noticed Ruth hovering in the background, keeping an eye on them, looking anxious.
“Elena, the diplomats will be arriving soon. Where’s the syringe?”
With a secretive smile, she guided him down a passage to their right. “It’s in the Chapter House.”
Harry frowned. “That part of the church is not open to the public. How did you… Ah.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Gifts from foreign emissaries are usually kept in the Chapter House. The representative from the Russian Orthodox Church brought it in for you, didn’t he.” It was a statement, not a question, and Elena smiled in acknowledgement.
“Congratulations. You are a smart man.”
She led him into a small room with narrow, high-set stained windows. It was filled with all kinds of wooden chests, religious relics and other trinkets.

She moved straight to a large intricately carved wooden chest and opened it. While she retrieved the syringe from underneath some old looking scrolls, Harry’s thoughts went back to the first time he’d encountered her. He had been in the process of identifying possible Sugarhorse assets and had taken notice of her swift progress in the KGB. This had led him to inquire about her from one of his established assets. The other woman had laughed before telling Harry to forget about recruiting Elena Polyakova. “Her husband was killed in the line of duty. She is fiercely loyal in his memory,” his asset had told him.

Harry came back to the present and broke the silence, ignoring the apprehension churning his stomach.
“Elena. Medvedev is not coming to the wedding.”
The quiet certainty in his voice made her straighten up, and she swung around, holding out the syringe.
“How do you know?”
“A number of the guests at the hotel came down with gastro. Apparently something went wrong with the scrambled eggs this morning.”
She knew without having to check with her colleagues that he was telling the truth. He was telling the truth because he had organised it. It made her very, very angry.
“You bastard! We watched your every move. How?”
“A bit of old school tradecraft and the help of some friends.” He paused. “It’s over, Elena.”

She laughed her unpleasant laugh. “It’s over?! It has just begun, you idiot.” Taking her mobile from her purse, she thrust it at him. “I am going to destroy your life with one phone call. The information about how you killed that innocent couple is ready to be distributed to your superiors and every news channel.”
“No, you’re not going to make that call,” Harry said.
She stared at him, at his calm certainty, and a nagging suspicion began to take root in her mind.
Harry could see that she was beginning to figure it out, and nodded.
“I know.”
“Know what?” she asked, but some of the fight had gone out of her.
“I know who Karl and Liesl Heuer really were,” he said as he took a step closer to her.
Elena shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. They were an innocent German couple that you shot down in cold blood.”
“Elena,” Harry said evenly, “they were not. They were-“
“Yevgeni Polyakov and Katya Borodin,” a third voice said behind them.

Harry turned around to find Ruth standing there, her eyes, bright and triumphant and... relieved, on him. They never wavered as she spoke once more.
“They were undercover KGB officers, and Yevgeni was your husband, Elena.”

tbc

[Sparky]

Another great update - I'm hoping we get some flashbacks in the next chapter to explain all the coded messages etc.

[pookster]

Terrific chapter. Loved how Ruth was able to lie convincingly to Harry and that she found out the truth. Great stuff. More please

[richliga]

Really exciting chapter! Hope u wont let us wait too long for the next one!

[MrsHat]

Phew! So glad Harry managed to avert disaster and Ruth figured it out! Love it!

[DogSoSmall]

This is so great. I love that Harry is completely on top of the situation, and that he can know that Ruth is lying, whilst making her believe that he doesn't know either that she is lying or that he knows that she has something to lie about (or something like that.............lucky your way with words is significantly more clear than mine!!).

[A Cousin]

Yes, it's a glorious day for it! Don't mess with Sir Harry!

But you still have some explaining to do. How does Towers fit into it all? Did he know from the beginning or did he only find out who the couple really were and what Elana's real motive was when Ruth called him? Did he help with Harry's plan to "poison" Medvedev's food? Was that the dead drop he passed through Mavis?

The mind games in this are spectacular! That moment when Harry confronts Ruth about her BND request reminds me of the moment in 4.10 when she and Adam confront him about the Contingency Committee when he just waits for her to figure it out on her own. It's those moments that really show how well matched they are intellectually.

And yet you still manage to get some sweetness into it with "She had stormed in late, looking beautiful and elegant, and he had forgotten to admonish her for her tardiness." Aaaaawwwwww...!

[Tea Lady]

Ok, so if I have this right, Harry only just found out the couple was KGB. He still thought at the time he had killed an innocent couple? Surely that will still seem a bad thing to have done?

Harry must have still planned the scrambled egg thing though and had his escape plan for when the Russians blabbed about the killing. So Harry was still going to have to leave, yes?

Excellent chapter. Think I have it now.