Moscow Rules Part VI

[Silktie]

There will be some more artistic meddling with the Royal wedding in this chapter.

Friday, 29 April 2011, Royal wedding day
London, Westminster Abbey

Ruth’s words floated around the room and had contrasting impacts on the two people squared off in front of her. Elena seemed to fold in on herself; her face contorted by grief and hatred for the man who had killed her husband all those years ago. Harry, on the other hand, felt a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders. Although he knew this did not mean that everything would be back to normal between Ruth and him, at least she knew that he had not cold-heartedly shot two innocent civilians to save his own skin. Following soon on these feelings was immense admiration for Ruth for figuring it all out, and satisfaction in the knowledge that his faith in staking his life, career and freedom on her doing so had been justified.

Elena’s eyes jumped between Ruth and Harry, calculating whether she could play them off against each other to make her escape. Since her arrival in London she had picked up on the tension between them, as well as the rumours doing the rounds that the senior man had in fact given away that state secret to save this woman’s life. It was only the distance between the two that had dissuaded her from threatening the analyst to put more pressure on Pearce. Now, however, it was abundantly clear that she had miscalculated. The adoration and pride on his face as he looked at Ruth showed that in reality his feelings for her were as strong as ever. She could see the strategy he had played to outwit her begin to take shape, now that she was aware that he had known who she was all along. Despite the intense hatred she held towards the English spook, she felt a stab of admiration for the way he had out-thought her.

Still holding out the syringe towards Harry threateningly, she said, “Congratulations, Pearce. It seems you were one step ahead of me the whole time. How did you find out about Yevgeni and Katya?”
“They were sloppy. Civilians would have stayed at the scene to gawk, and would have given statements to the police right there. They had no reason to catch a train to Berlin and try to cross the Wall back into the East to report what they’d seen.”
Harry kept his voice and face expressionless as he continued. “And they were heading towards the Oberbaumbrücke, which was known as a favoured crossing point for the KGB.”
He paused, then concluded more softly, “They also spoke Russian to each other on the train.”

Ruth was listening carefully and felt the last of her fears melt away. The one thing she had still harboured doubts about was whether he had known that the couple were KGB officers when he had killed them, or whether that was something he had found out later.
Harry added, “A few years later I was able to make enquiries and learnt their identities. I also found out that Yevgeni had been married, and that his wife’s name was Elena.”
This measured explanation angered the Russian woman. “You feel no remorse for what you did? Killing my husband? What about Katya and her unborn child; did that child deserve to die?!”
Visions of throwing up in a dank Berlin alley swam to the front of his mind and for a second he was back there, alone, filled with terror and self loathing. The slightest twitch of his mouth gave Harry away, but only those who knew him really well spotted it.
“No, Elena. I feel no remorse. They were not civilians, and they presented a severe threat to the interests of my country, which I am sworn to defend. Katya chose to bring her child into it, not me.” He paused for a moment to collect himself; waiting for the feeling of nausea to subside.
“Besides, I happen to know that their instructions were to determine whether foreign influences were driving the spate of bombings in Germany, and if so, to eliminate those influences. Your husband and Katya would have killed me if I hadn’t got to them first, is that not so?”

Elena chose to ignore the question. “So what happens now?”
Mindful that he was facing a woman with nothing left to lose, Harry kept a careful eye on the syringe in her hand.
“You belong to us. If you don’t cooperate, I’m sure your President would be interested to know that his own Security Service had plotted his assassination.”
He could see in her eyes that she knew she was cornered, and was contemplating going for him. Imperceptibly he shifted his balance to the balls of his feet, ready to parry any thrust she made with the poisonous syringe.
Ruth, who had quietly observed the interaction between Harry and the Russian woman, stepped forward. “Put down the syringe, Elena. You can’t take us both down with it. There’s no way out.”
A harsh laugh burst from Elena’s lips. “There’s only one of you I really want to take down-“
“You won’t get near him,” Dimitri said from the doorway, his gun levelled steadily at her head. In that moment, Ruth was eternally grateful that she had had the foresight to drag the field officer along as back-up.

Elena’s eyes flicked to the new arrival before returning to Harry, who stood far enough from her to prevent her from reaching him with one lunge. The young officer was right; she would not get to the object of her hatred before being killed herself. Reluctantly she lowered the syringe, letting it slide from her hand onto the floor. Harry moved forward and kicked it away from her. The two antagonists stood almost toe to toe, looking at each other. In Elena’s eyes Harry saw pure hatred, and the remnants of the grief she still felt for the loss of her husband thirty years after his death. Never taking his eyes off her, he instructed Dimitri, “Get her out of here quietly, then get back to your post as quickly as humanly possible.”
The field officer moved into the room and took her by the arm. As she was led past him, Elena smiled. To Harry it looked more like a grimace. There was malice behind that smile, as well as a hint of triumph.
“Goodbye, Pearce,” she practically spat at him before Dimitri manhandled her out of the door.

Ruth let out a sigh of relief, but Harry continued to stare after Elena with a frown.
“Harry-“
“Wait. Let me think a moment.”
She stayed quiet, watching him quizzically, trying to work out what was bothering him. Harry’s head snapped round to the wooden chest at the same time as Ruth’s eyes widened.
“Why did she say goodbye to you?” Ruth queried, her voice laced with concern.
“Precisely.” He moved towards the chest and opened it carefully, explaining over his shoulder.
“This chest was presented to the Abbey as a gift by the representative of the Russian Orthodox church. He brought in the syringe for the FSB in it.”
Stepping closer, Ruth peered at its contents from behind Harry.
“You think he brought in something else for them?”
He didn’t answer, but began to remove the contents one by one, with great care. There was a false bottom more than halfway up. Harry looked round at Ruth. Both held their breath as he carefully lifted the false bottom, exposing a huge bomb. The timer was set for 11:15, right in the middle of the Royal wedding.
“Christ,” Harry muttered before reaching for his mobile.

Ruth glanced at her watch. As she did so they heard the choir strike up in the Abbey. The bride had arrived. They had fifteen minutes.
“Malcolm, are you still at the hotel?”
She looked up in surprise at Harry’s words. Malcolm?
“Can you get to the Abbey in the next ten minutes?”
The frustration on his face told Ruth that the answer was negative.
“Okay. Ruth is going to send you an image of a bomb from her mobile. We have fifteen, strike that, thirteen minutes. Call me back with some advice.”
Even before he’d hung up Ruth was circling the bomb with her mobile, capturing as much detail as possible and sending it to Malcolm. The tension hung thick in the room as they waited silently for his call. She had so many questions, but she knew that this was not the time to ask them. Instead her eyes stayed on Harry, seeking assurance from his calmness. He was bending over the bomb, trying to figure out how to defuse it. The irony of the situation did not escape him; it was, after all, a bomb that had started it all.

He glanced up at Ruth to find her concerned gaze on him, and gave her a reassuring smile. Just then his mobile rang shrilly and both of them jumped at the sound. They looked at each other with sheepish smiles as Harry answered.
“I think I know how you can defuse it, but I’m not a hundred percent certain,” Malcolm said immediately.
Harry glanced at the clock again.

Seven minutes left.

“Your best guess will have to do. I’m putting you on speaker phone.”
Before he could do so Malcolm hastened to add, “You’ll need something to cut the wires with.”
Handing the mobile to Ruth, Harry told her, “We need something to cut the wires with.”
Both of them began to scrabble around the room until Ruth suddenly remembered. “I saw a small kitchen next door.”
Harry sprinted out whilst she nervously watched the timer count down.

Five minutes left.

She could hear the trumpets and organ from inside the Abbey, providing a muted soundtrack to their crisis. Absurdly she wondered whether she was going to die without seeing Kate Middleton’s dress. Or before she and Harry had a chance to talk…

He ran back into the room, brandishing a blunt looking vegetable knife. At her sceptical look he commented, “It’s the sharpest thing in there.”
When he moved past her she grabbed his arm. There was so little time, and so much to say.
“Harry,” she said urgently, squeezing his arm and looking imploringly into his eyes. For once in their long and complicated acquaintance she did not hide her feelings from him.
He hesitated for a moment before smiling softly and nodding at her.
“Ruth,” he returned in a gentle voice, and everything she knew he felt for her was audible in the one word.
Then he was crouching next to the wooden chest, waiting for the instructions.

Three minutes left.

“Find the connection between the green and black wires. It should be near where the timer is pressed into the plastic explosives.”
Harry carefully traced the two wires until he found the joint as Ruth kept an anxious eye on the clock.
“Got it.”
“I suspect that’s the failsafe. You’ll have to cut the black wire as close as possible to the connection.”
He started sawing at the black wire with the blunt blade, cursing freely as he struggled to get it to bite.
“Two minutes,” Ruth said quietly.
With a final effort the wire gave way.
“Black wire cut,” Harry confirmed as he wiped the sweat from his eyes.
“Now you have to cut the red wire, and simultaneously pull the green wire from the plastic explosive.”
“Christ Malcolm, I might as well be working with a bloody spoon here. Have you any idea how difficult it is to predict when the wire will break?!”
Ruth laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll pull the green wire. Just tell me when.”
He smiled tensely at her, realising that there was no-one else he wanted with him in these moments. Both paused for a fraction of a second when they heard the first strands of God Save the Queen echoing from the Abbey.
“Let’s hope so,” Harry mumbled before he put the knife to the red wire and began to saw at it. Ruth’s fingers were clamped around the green wire, ready to snatch it out when he gave the word.

Thirty seconds left.

He redoubled his efforts. The knife got through the casing around the wire and started to cut through the woven copper strands.

Fifteen seconds left.

The wire began to give. He was down to a few strands still holding together. Harry folded them over the knife and readied himself for an almighty yank.

Five seconds left.

His eyes met Ruth’s, and they both took a deep breath.
“Now,” Harry commanded, yanking the blade through the wire at the same time as Ruth pulled the green wire from the explosive.

The red wire mercifully snapped, and their eyes flew to the timer.

The clock had stopped at two seconds.

The two spooks stared at the figures on the digital display as if fearing that it would start up again. It didn’t.

In the background, the last lines of the anthem died away.

Silence descended on the small room, only to be broken by Malcolm’s worried voice.
“Hello? Harry? Ruth?”
Harry remembered to breathe. “It worked, Malcolm. We’re all right.”
He closed the chest with a dull thud and promptly sat down on the lid, flicking his morning coat out of the way. “I think I can presume to speak for Her Majesty the Queen when I thank you for saving this auspicious occasion from ruin. You have our eternal gratitude.”
The relief in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ll speak to you a little later.”
After disconnecting the call his eyes lifted to Ruth. She took a step in his direction and he wordlessly shifted aside so that she could join him on the chest. They sat next to each other, shoulders touching, contemplating the absurdness of their lives. During one of the most romantic and important happenings of the year, they were sat on a bomb in a dusty back chamber of the church, decked out in their finery. Harry wondered whether things could possibly get any stranger for them.

Apparently Ruth’s thoughts had gone along the same lines because she suddenly started to laugh, and Harry soon joined her. They were both aware that their mirth was in part caused by the release of the stress of the last few weeks, and soon sobered.
“Malcolm?” Ruth queried, looking at Harry.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, we have time.” She did not add, now that we’ve disarmed the huge bomb. Neither of them needed reminding how close they’d come to death.
Instead of answering the question Harry said instead, “Thanks for your help, Ruth. I couldn’t have done it without you. None of it.”
After a moment’s pause, he voiced the greatest fear he’d lived with since the start of it all, the thought that had threatened to destroy him.
“I feared that you would give up on me after finding out about the pregnant woman.”
Ruth studied her hands, the uncertainty in his voice not lost on her. In spite of his use of the past tense, he obviously still harboured those fears.
“I never gave up on you,” she admitted after a moment.
He smiled, the uncertainty replaced with relief. “Towers told me, but I needed to hear it for myself.”
“Towers?” Ruth frowned. “You were in contact with him?”
Harry nodded. “We managed a few cryptic conversations.”
She stared at him and he could tell that she was struggling to make sense of it all. It was time to explain everything to her.

“I couldn’t confide in you. I had no choice, Ruth. I’m truly sorry about that. This was about personal revenge for Elena, and I could not take the risk that she find out how important you are to me. If she had, she would almost certainly have tried to use you against me.”
His eyes were on her, begging her to understand his reasoning.
“I had no way of knowing whether the Russians were already monitoring my every move. I know they’ve had me under surveillance since the FSB delegation arrived; chances are they’d done so from the moment they decided to come after me. Towers is the only one with which I have a standing protocol in place that allows me to communicate with him without it being picked up. I activated that as soon as I learnt that Polyakova was coming to London. It allowed me to meet with him the night before the Russians arrived and tell him what had happened in Berlin.”
“How did the Russians find out it was you?”
“The Inquiry, I suppose. They must have gotten hold of the transcripts, and Elena put two and two together. She came to London with the express aim of avenging her husband’s death.”
Speaking from experience, he added, “When you nurse a grudge for such a long time, the mere death of your enemy is no longer enough. You want to see them suffer. Since my career is the only meaningful thing I have left, I suspected that she would try to force me to do something that would destroy it. Of course, I had no idea what shape it would take, but it had to be big. I figured as long as I played along it would prevent the Russians from making alternative arrangements to achieve their objective. So I told Towers to get you involved to investigate me.”

Her eyes swivelled to him, a frown lodged between them, prompting him to explain further. “You’re the only person I trusted to figure it all out. If, for some reason, I could not communicate with anyone, or the Russians were able to ensnare me to the extent that I would have been forced to go through with whatever they had planned, someone needed to stop it. The country’s safety may have depended on that. It was the only way out I could see.”
Ruth sat silently, trying to process all that he’d said. “So you gave the Home Secretary the recording of your first private meeting with Elena? Towers didn’t have you under surveillance as he’d claimed?”
“Yes, I gave it to him, and no, he never had me under surveillance. For a while I worried that Dolby might have, but obviously he didn’t, otherwise I would have been in prison by now. It was the Russian tail that I picked up on.”
A thought occurred to her. “Why couldn’t you ask him to tell me the truth? Let me help you that way?”
Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Because I needed to convince Polyakova that we had drifted apart. If you had known everything from the start, she would have picked up on something, and would have known the depth of my feelings for you. But this way, there was genuine mistrust and suspicion between us, and she bought it. I refuse to have you put in danger again on my behalf,” he stated adamantly, before looking slightly embarrassed at the outburst and looking at his shoes. The left one had acquired a small scuff mark on the toe, he noted forlornly.

Ruth studied him carefully. “And Malcolm?” she prodded.
“I asked him to remove Medvedev from the playing board for today. In case the Russians had a back-up plan.”
“And how did you contact him?”
“Through the blatant exploitation of my dog and the elderly woman who takes him for regular walks.” Harry smiled to himself, sure that he would at some point get an earful from Malcolm for having to pick up trash in a park. He briefly relayed how he had used Scarlet’s walk to plant the cigarette pack with the instructions for Malcolm, had slipped Melvin a note to call Malcolm and tell him to clear the dead-drop, and had asked Mavis to check that it was done and then remove all traces.
She was still puzzled. “And how did you know he had succeeded in preventing Medvedev from turning up?”
“He provided Towers with a word code about the weather, which Towers then relayed to me when he arrived.”

He turned his head to look at Ruth and was disheartened by her expression. She appeared distracted, her face closed to him, and he couldn’t blame her. He thought about apologising again then decided against it. What was the use? There was nothing he could do to change what had happened. And perhaps he deserved losing her respect; perhaps it was retribution for shooting the pregnant woman. The thought that this might be the end of everything he had wished for for so long, spurred him into an admission.
“I still dream about it,” he said. “The woman.”
Ruth looked at him, at the regret on his face. “It had to be done, but I… I can’t make peace with it. Jane was pregnant with Catherine at that time, you know.”
He didn’t say it, but she knew what he was thinking; that his daughter was a constant reminder of what he’d done. Her heart went out to him.
“Yes, it had to be done,” she said softly, offering understanding, if not quite absolution.

In the silence that followed her statement, they heard the first notes of the Jerusalem hymn being sung. Harry looked over at her, and she pretended not to see the extra wetness in his eyes, or to hear the hoarse note in his voice when he spoke.
“You look absolutely beautiful today, Ruth. Very elegant.”
She smiled broadly, pleased that he’d noticed.
“And you look distinguished and handsome,” she returned the compliment, not aware that her voice had taken on a more intimate timbre.
He turned his head away again, not trusting himself to read her correctly any more. Too many times he had thought that she was giving him encouragement, only to be proven wrong.
“Thanks,” he responded, the sadness seeping through his voice. It was as though her compliment had reminded him of everything there could have been between them, but which he now believed to be lost.

Ruth, in turn, thought of all the things she had wanted to say to him when they had been seconds from death; how in those moments her heart had been filled with the deep love she felt for this man. And despite everything that had happened, back in Berlin and over the last two weeks, he was still that same man, she realised. None of the things she had learnt about him had changed that.

“Harry.” She gently turned his face towards her, letting him see her love for him in her eyes before leaning forward and kissing him. His arms went around her instantly, and they got lost in each other as the beautiful music swelled around them and filled the small room. The last time they had kissed they were about to be torn apart by the vagaries of the job they had chosen to do. This time, their kiss held the promise of a shared future, and the music took their hearts along as it swirled joyously out of the Abbey and into the sky, before dispersing in the atmosphere and drifting over the green and pleasant land they had both sacrificed so much for.


Fin


Thank you so much for reading.

[richliga]

Best fan fick ever i guess! love that u did not go into too much words between them... Its the things they dont say to each other that sometimes means and matters so much more!

[Sparky]

Fantastic last chapter and it tied up everything perfectly and answered all my questions - another wonderful story.

[pookster]

Terrific chapter and story. Loved how they worked as a team to diffuse the bomb. And then a happy WAFie sigh at the ending and that it was what passed between unsaid that meant so much was perfectly IC and beautifully written. Well done.

[DogSoSmall]

I agree, the best fan fic yet. Really excellent storyline, and a lovely romantic ending. Thank you for keeping us so entertained!

(Can I just whisper in a really small voice, because it's unfair of me, but Harry would never, ever say gotten, and you get his character so spot on that this one Americanism really sticks out! )

[Silktie]

Noted and corrected, thanks.

[Tea Lady]

Yes, excellent story Silktie. You answered all my questions there. Towers, you old goat and Malcolm picking up the rubbish in the park, great writing

I hope William and Kate apprecicated what Harry and Ruth did for them and they at least got a bit of cake.

[Tineke]

Brilliant story again Silktie, loved the way you let Malcolm play his part.
If only this could be an episode in the next series.

[DogSoSmall]

I've just read through all the parts again in one go to keep the flow, and enjoyed it even more. The best thing about it is the way you have Harry's intelligence shining through - instantly appreciating the danger, reading everybody so accurately and planning his way through to spectacular effect. I love this Harry who is so on top of his game. Very true to the "real" Harry. I agree with Tineke, I can completely see this as an episode.

[Ceridwyn2]

Beautiful job yet again. You're attention to detail is spectacular.