Autumn Leaves Burning Part III

[Silktie]

DAY THREE

One hour later
London, Ann’s flat

Ruth paces Ann’s flat restlessly, glancing once again at her watch. Only a minute has passed since the last time she looked, and she blows out a frustrated breath.
She’ll call... No she won’t... Dolby’s men saw the exchange, they’ve picked her up... She will go to the Police...
Ruth makes a strangled noise and resumes pacing, trying to rein in her anxious thoughts. Ann wordlessly places a mug of tea next to the phone and squeezes Ruth’s shoulder reassuringly. The younger woman has told her very little, but she knows it is about a man Ruth loves, and that is enough for her. Ann is a romantic soul who enjoyed a long, happy marriage until her husband died and will provide any assistance her downstairs neighbour asks for. Ruth smiles thankfully at her, but it is fleeting, and the frown is soon back between her eyes. She reaches for the mug, and as her hand touches it, the phone next to it rings shrilly. Both women freeze and stare at it disbelievingly, as though it is somehow a cruel trick being played on them.
“Go on, love,” Ann urges, fearful that it will stop ringing before Ruth breaks out of her trance.
Her hand moves a few inches to the right and snatches up the receiver.

Silence reigns on the line as both women wait for the other person to identify themselves. Eventually Catherine snaps impatiently, “Who is this?”
Ruth forces herself to speak. “It doesn’t matter. Are you Catherine?”
“You organised for me to get the mobile, you know who I am,” Catherine retorts. “And it matters very much who the hell you are.” There is fear underlying her belligerent tone, and Ruth makes an instant decision to trust her.
“My name is Ruth. I used to work with your father. He’s disappeared, and I need to find him. Not for the Service,” she hastens to add, “for myself. He wants me to meet him at the place by the coast where he once took you and your brother for a vacation. I need you to tell me where that is.”
She stops speaking, and in the silence that follows she can hear traffic in the background. Catherine must be standing on the pavement somewhere whilst talking to her.
“You’re Ruth?” Harry’s daughter asks warily.
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”

This is not quite how Ruth expected the conversation to go, and she casts around for a way to do so, but comes up empty. She has no idea how much Harry has told his daughter about her.
“How?” she enquires in the end.
“The first time Dad asked you out, he referenced a movie. Which one?”
Ruth stares at the wall in front of her, amazed that Harry remembers such a detail. And told his daughter about it.
“Gold Rush,” she replies with a wistful smile, then finds herself elaborating unsolicited. “He mimicked the bread roll dance from it, and said he’d go anyway even if I said no, and be like the Charlie Chaplin character, waiting for the girl and making the bread rolls dance.”

It is the emotion in Ruth’s voice as much as the answer that convinces Catherine the other woman is who she claims to be. Her tone is much softer as she speaks again.
“A few months ago an older guy came to my flat. His name was Malcolm, and Dad sent him. He told me Dad planned to disappear and didn’t want me to worry when it happens. He also said a woman named Ruth might contact me to ask for a location, and to ask you that question to check whether it’s really you. Only if you answered correctly was I to give you the information.”
He started planning this from the moment he accepted the house arrest, Ruth thinks dazedly. Catherine’s voice continues: “He’s in Whitby. He’ll be waiting at the end of the harbour pier at the time you agreed.”
Ruth is momentarily overcome. “Thank you,” she manages to say after a few deep breaths.
“Are you going with him?” Catherine asks bluntly.
There is a slight hesitation before Ruth answers truthfully, “...If he’ll let me.”
Even though the other woman cannot see her, Catherine nods to herself. “I think he will. He wouldn’t have given you a way to find him otherwise.”
Ruth hopes fervently that she is right.
“Will you take care of him?” Catherine asks urgently when Ruth stays silent. “He hurts more easily than he lets on.”
Her concern for her father’s well-being is obvious, and a warm feeling spreads through Ruth’s chest on his behalf.
“I will,” she says with total conviction. “Thank you, Catherine. It’s impossible to express how grateful I am for this information.” She can’t resist adding, “Your father loves you dearly, you know.”
Catherine laughs softly. “I know. He had Malcolm tell me. The poor man blushed and stammered hopelessly, but to his credit he got the message across in the end.”
Ruth chuckles at the image, and Catherine likes the sound of her laugh. She thinks her father has made a wise choice in letting this woman into his life. “I wish you both every happiness. Good luck,” the younger woman says before ringing off abruptly.

Ruth stands immobile, clutching the receiver and listening to the disconnected tone. It sinks in for the first time – she is really going to do this. She is going with him.
Ann watches the play of emotions on Ruth’s face with a small smile of understanding. Seldom has she seen such yearning on someone else’s face. She hopes to God everything works out.
Ruth turns to her. “I need one final favour from you,” she asks as her eyes travel to the suitcase standing just inside the door.

* * *

DAY FOUR

London, Ruth’s flat

The two men detailed with the surveillance of Ruth Evershed watch her walk out the front door of her building, and slip into the throngs of early morning pedestrians a few paces behind her. She is easy to follow; she is wearing her red blouse today and stands out in the crowd. They have been following her for a month – ever since she handed in her resignation – and her routine has become boringly predictable. During her notice month every day had been the same. Catching the bus to work, leaving more or less on time and going to a Rare Books Shop where she browsed for an hour or so, before catching the bus home again. Since her last day at work, the routine has changed to a later start, before taking the bus to some bookshop or other – the same Rare Books Shop most often – where she browses for hours on end. The only bit of excitement occurred when she suddenly got in her car and drove out to Sussex a few days ago. Today, however, she is back to the usual routine. She disappears into the bookshop, her large handbag slung over her shoulder. The two men glance at each other wearily; this is probably the dullest surveillance they have ever had. One man follows her inside, whilst the other resigns himself to loiter across the street interminably.

Ruth picks a few books from the shelves and settles into one of the comfortable chairs scattered around the shop, and begins reading. She is vaguely aware of the man that entered shortly after her; he has settled into another chair out of her line of sight. The shop is quiet for the time being, but she knows from experience that things will pick up later on. She is proven correct when a group of students enter noisily about an hour later, and Ruth decides it is a good time to visit the Ladies. On her way there she passes the man that followed her in. His nose is buried in a newspaper and he pays her no attention. Hitching her handbag more securely onto her shoulder, she pushes open the door to the Ladies and disappears inside. A few minutes later two of the students – one blonde and the other dark-haired - go into the bathroom as well, and comes back out shortly after that and leave the shop. The man notices them in his peripheral vision, but there is no splash of red, so he doesn’t chance a direct look and waits, wondering what women do inside the Ladies that always take so long. Time ticks by and still the mark does not reappear. He is getting antsy now, and his eyes dart around the shop one more time. He can’t see her. Just as he’s about to get up and check the bathroom, the door opens and a woman comes out. He expects it to be her, but it is not. It is the dark-haired student that entered after her; that he thought had come back out with the blonde one and left the shop. Only now does he notice that she is the same height and build as the woman they’d been following.
“Oh, shit.” He brushes past the woman and bursts into the bathroom. It is empty, except for a large handbag filled with the clothes she wore that morning. The red blouse mocks him from the top of the pile, and he closes his eyes in despair before rushing out to his colleague.

* * *

Whitby

He leans against the stone wall and gazes across the harbour. He arrived in the town yesterday, and has drifted through the streets almost non-stop since then. By now he is sure – he is not under surveillance. Still, his senses remain heightened, and he is aware of every casual glance directed his way. The professional in him weighs every person that passes him in the blink of an eye, judging who is a potential watcher, and who is just a normal citizen going about his or her business. Whitby is large enough for a new arrival not to stand out, even out of season. He knows this, counts on it. He has planned every move to the most miniscule detail, determined to get this right, to give himself every chance to succeed. No, he thinks, to give them every chance to succeed. He hardly dares hope that she’ll come. There is so much that can go wrong. What if she didn’t understand his hidden messages? Dolby could have picked her up the moment he disappeared – he would surely have her under surveillance, what if she can’t shake them off? Or perhaps she won’t be able to get hold of Catherine. His hands clench together unconsciously. Another thought, darker and more painful than the others, lurks at the back of his mind. He has refused to acknowledge it until now, but as he stands staring into the water, he forces himself to do so.
She may not want to come.

He cannot blame her if this were the case. It is unfair to expect her to give up everything to come with him. She’s already had to do it once before, after all. But he knows, if she doesn’t come, that a part of him will die. In this he cannot help but be selfish. He wants, more than anything, a chance at a life with her. Ever since the Home Secretary delivered her message to him a year ago, this day is all he’s thought of and planned for.
Tell him I’m not doing it out of guilt, he remembers. He’s held onto that statement with determination through the dark year that followed, letting himself believe that they may have a future together. But now that the time is here, the doubt once again begins to creep in, and it scares him.
Please come, he begs the restless water silently. Then he feels guilty at his selfishness, and he thinks, No. Do what makes you happy, Ruth.

* * *

London

Richard Dolby is apoplectic. The two men that are detailed with the surveillance on Ruth stand before him, heads bowed.
“You lost her?!” His voice goes up a register. “The woman was an analyst for God’s sake, and yet she pulled the wool over your eyes with consummate ease!” He glares at them. “What about CCTV?”
One of the men clears his throat and mumbles, “We checked. She obviously knows where all the blind spots are. We can’t find her anywhere.”
The JIC Chairman sinks into his chair, contemplating the scope of the catastrophe he is faced with. Not only has he lost Harry Pearce, but now he has also lost the woman Harry gave away that state secret for. As he picks up the phone and calls the Home Secretary, part of him is aware that this will become his Albany. And whilst Harry’s has cast him as a romantic hero in the eyes of many, his own is more likely to cast him as the court jester. With this last defiant act, Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed have condemned his career to ridicule.

tbc


Thanks, A Cousin, for coming up with the Gold Rush idea.

[beatrice4ruth]

Great suspense! Harry and Ruth are so well matched emotionally and intellectually. I love how for a whole year Harry planned his escape with Ruth and how he got Malcolm and Catherine involved. The portrayal of the two is so true, the shy Malcolm and the chip off the old block Catherine.

Once again, Ruth is underestimated by men in high position. As she said to Professor Curtis, it will not be the first time nor the last time. Luckily she is not alone; she has the support of Dimitri and a great neighbor to fool her watchers. I like how you portray the surveillance of Ruth from the point of view of her observers.

Your compelling story describes so well the agony of Harry, so worried about the success of his plan and so desperate for Ruth to join him. They have to meet, it just can't go wrong.

[A Cousin]

Right back atcha.

I love Ann. I like how you don't make her just a device. You take a moment to instill her with her own personality and motivation.

Good old Ruth - boring her minders into complacency.

Favorite bit: Please come, he begs the restless water silently. Then he feels guilty at his selfishness, and he thinks, No. Do what makes you happy, Ruth. Good man, Harry.

What's the old saying? If you love someone, set them free. If they don't come back to you...hunt 'em down and kill' em! But seriously, it's actually, ...they were never yours to begin with.

Apoplectic. Good choice of word.

Interesting that you describe Ann as a "romantic soul" at the beginning and Harry as a "romantic hero" at the end. I guess we know why Ruth trusts them both. Was that parallel on purpose?

[Sparky]

A great chapter, loved all the planning behind the scenes from both Harry and Ruth and all the 'spy-craft' they both use! I'm hoping the HS sticks to his word and calls Dolby off the trail.

Looking forward to the next part

[richliga]

Hehe...loved Gold Rush thing...) cant wait for next ch!

[pookster]

Terrific intrigue and suspense - loved how Ruth used the wonderful Ann to help her find Catherine and Harry used Malcolm. And how they used their professional skills to out with TPTB. And I thought Harry's thoughts while he waited for Ruth at Whitby were so well done too. Well written. And very much looking forward to more.

[MrsHat]

Oh brilliant! Hoping Ruth will arrive safely at Whitby

[Silktie]

(05-08-2011 07:13 PM)A Cousin Wrote:  Interesting that you describe Ann as a "romantic soul" at the beginning and Harry as a "romantic hero" at the end. I guess we know why Ruth trusts them both. Was that parallel on purpose?

Er, no...

I wish I could claim it was because then I'd look really deep and all, but it was unintentional.

[Tea Lady]

I too love the line, "Please come, he begs the restless water silently."

I did give a little yelp on the train, when I read the place was Whitby. I will have to make my way to the end of the harbour pier when I visit next month to see who I can find watching over the sea...

[DogSoSmall]

Haha, I'm going to be in Whitby next month too, Tea Lady. If I see someone gazing absent-mindedly into the water from the pier, I'll sneak up behind them and go "BOO!"

I'm loving the romance of this fic. Set off nicely by the siggy pictures!