False Omen Ch. 3

[JHyde]

I appreciate reviews and would love to hear your thoughts. The delurker challenge still stands. If you've never posted on the forum before, leave me a review and suggest a word for me to incorporate into my next chapter, and will be duty bound. Hope you're all still reading.

kirmostar, there's a special scene just for you that I'm writing tonight!



Ruth smiled shyly and accepted the cup of tea with murmured thanks, grateful for its warmth.

"It's been so cold lately, more hot chocolate weather," she said, not daring to look at Harry who had drifted closer.

"Quite."

Ruth suddenly remembered they were drinking tea and hastened to correct the implied reprimand.

"Not that I don't like tea, Harry - I love tea. Nice and strong, just like you make it."

Harry took pity on her. "It's allright Ruth, I know you like tea. It's why I brought it to you."

They sipped in silence for a few moments, each wondering what the other was thinking. Oddly enough, it was the same thing: the last time they had been up here together, they had shared one of those moments that made it feel as though she had never been away. Ruth recalled the tears that had made his eyes so very bright, and she found herself trying to picture them, a practice that had occupied maudlin moments while she was in Cyprus. She looked up, and discovered those every eyes were currently trained on her expressive face. Disconcerted, she hurried to the matter at hand.

"Bushra," she began.

"Yes," her companion sighed. "Bushra. You were at school together."

"Yes, in Petersfield. She was a day girl, I was a boarder. Her family were orthodox Muslims, they practiced strictly, but they sent Bushra to Bedales with me because they wanted her to have the best education she could. Her parents only immigrated here a few years before she was born, but they were better off than most Pakistani immigrants because her father was a GP, and had some standing in the local community. He was part of the elite back in Pakistan anyway, and was really rather more British than most of the Hampshire locals."

"It's hard to imagine you at school," Harry said, looking away and turning back to face the view from the top of Thames House.

"A miserable teenager buried in her books? Yes, very hard to imagine," Ruth returned with some degree of bitterness. "I hated it there, but it does rather encourage a spiritual awakening when it comes to literature and art and drama, and that was good. It was the reason I wanted to study Arabic, so I could read the poetry of that language."

"And that was how you met Bushra?"

"Oh, we'd had classes together for years. Around third form we really bonded though - we were coupled together on a project in English Lit and became fast friends. Her family liked me, I was well behaved and modestly dressed and didn't curse (at least in their hearing or Bushra's), and my fascination with their culture endeared me to them quickly. I think her father felt sorry for me, so far from home and without my own father for so long. Bushra was wonderful to practice conversation with, she was fluent in several dialects and made it that much trickier and so rewarding when one got it right...."

Ruth continued to wax lyrical about the excitements of Arabic conversation and how different it was, while Harry inwardly marvelled at just how blue her eyes became when she was excited about something. Truthfully, he also conjured the image of those eyes in idle moments or when pressed. They both softened him, and galvinized him for action when necessary.

"....and it becomes a soft clicking sound instead, more of a 'ckkk' noise, it's really quite beautiful when done correctly. I could never have become so fluent in Arabic without Bushra, she was irreplaceable. We actually had so much in common, quite alike in the strangest ways."

"Exceptionally bright and passionate then," Harry murmured, looking for all the world as though he was not listening to her. Except for the slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Ruth coloured slightly, but ignored the implied compliment. "She was. So much. We practiced Urdu sometimes as well."

"Urdu?" said Harry, roused from his daydream-like demeanour. "You're not conversant in Urdu, are you?"

"Oh no," Ruth hastened to add. "It was something I became interested in while spending time at their house, and became a bit of a hobby. I -- flirted --- with it," she was almost coquettish as she emphasised the verb, looking up at him from beneath her long lashes, "but was too focused on Arabic and Persian to be really serious. It does mean I can occasionally pick up an error from a GCHQ transcript if it's really shoddy."

Harry shook his head in wonder. He pitied any teacher who had been faced with this powerhouse of intellect in the form of a lithe, fresh faced teenager. She was frightening enough now.

"And after school?" he enquired, regretfully returning the conversation to work oriented lines. "You went to Oxford, and Bushra....?"

"Bushra stayed with her mother. She worked in the community centre in a job her father had arranged for her, and he looked for an eligible groom. We stayed in sporadic touch, but when she was twenty her father found the man, Essam as we now know, and it was harder. I didn't even attend the wedding, which is why I never recognized him in the meeting. I was due to visit Turkey that summer and unable to go to the wedding as the marriage had been arranged quite quickly and I'd already paid for everything."

"She has a son," Harry said slowly. "Unusual that she only has one after so many years of marriage."

"I gather from what records we've been able to locate that there was some difficulty in falling pregnant a second time." Ruth looked down at her shoes, hating to reveal something so intimate about her old friend.

Harry made a mental note to tell Lucas about that, seeing an angle that could prove useful when convincing the wife to tell what she knew. Surely the problems with fertility had caused problems between Essam and his wife, and playing off those might make her more open to helping them.

"The son is 13 now. He's currently in Pakistan visiting his father's relatives. I understand he left last week, in a visit hastily arranged only days before," Ruth continued. "It all suggests a growing danger for Bushra, and for the UK at large. But we really need to know who that man on the end of the phone is. He's the one pulling the strings, to continue Ros' Wizard of Oz metaphor."

"OK," said Harry, beginning to see how the next few days might play out. "We're lifting her tomorrow and you should be part of the debriefing, I agree. Work with Tariq for the rest of the night, keep on trying to find out who that man on the conversation is, and work on a list of possible contacts Essam might have made. We need to know who else might be involved in a possible attack. And we need to know the nature of the threat as soon as possible."

Ruth nodded. "What I have at the moment would suggest conventional weapons, Harry. In his business role, if Essam is involved directly in the attack, he has access to pharmeceutical goods that would greatly enhance the explosive capabilities of a one person bomb."

"One person bomb," said Harry, looking out once again toward the Thames. "It makes it sound like a convenient TV dinner.

_____


Ruth had shuffled off from the Grid around midnight, and was back a little after 6am. She wanted a jump on the day, knowing once Bushra was here her day would be shot to pieces. Ros appeared shortly after 7am, looking tense.

"Tariq's a few minutes away," she said in lieu of 'good morning'. "Bushra's being watched by more than our boys."

"Then how do we lift her?" Ruth asked, almost dreading the response.

"We're going to lift her Ruth, there's no doubt about it." Lucas had once again appeared from nowhere to assauge Ruth's fears. "Besides which, if she's being killed, we need to know why. She must know something."

Tariq chose that moment to blunder onto the Grid, pulling his helmet from his head and looking as though he'd been pulled through a hedge backwards. He hadn't quite mastered the art of semi-corporate dressing yet. Lucky field agents who were able to dress less formally.

"Tariq, I've figured out how we're going to get the target without her tag-team knowing," said Ros, once again skipping the pleasantries. "We're going to need access to traffic control and Lucas, tell Wendy to get her old lady outfit out."

Lucas grinned. "She'll love that. It's the only time she doesn't wear stilettos."

"Yeah, well with legs like hers...." said Tariq, drifting off only as he caught sight of Ros' face.

_______


Ruth waited anxiously for the surveillance team to radio in and tell them when Bushra's car was approaching Lucas, who was waiting near the middle sized intersection decided upon, on the major route back into the city. The surveillance team had already confirmed she was not far away. Around the corner, some way down, Wendy waited too, seemingly fascinated by the window display of an op-shop filled with wedding dresses.

Tariq checked the feeds. "This is Zulu One to Zulu Three, can you hear me?"

Lucas cleared his throat imperceptibly. "Ready Zulu One."

"Zulu Four speak to me."

"I'm here Zulu One, and I'm loving the rubber soles." Wendy enjoyed the dressing up part of operations like this, and with her makeup trowled on she really looked the part she been cast.

"Be careful, Zulu Four," Lucas drawled. "Some old man might take a pass at you looking like that."

Ruth gnawed at her fingers, unable to stop herself from imagining the worst. It was a solid plan, but that didn't always mean a clean conclusion. A burst from the comms broke her reverie.

"Zulu One, this is Echo One. Bookshop has passed go, tag team in sight."

Ros was already in motion.

"Zulu Four, you are go. It's still the silver Lexus. Zulu Three, stand by."

Wendy turned from her post, and ambled toward the pedestrian crossing, pausing at just the right moment to halt the silver Lexus from passing through the crossing. She was right in front of the car when it screeched to a halt, the driver cursing while his companion bellowed at him to manoeuvre around the old woman. Wendy grinned to herself, hunched over and gesturing rudely to the men shouting in the car, taking her time as she pushed her walker across the white stripes.

"Zulu One, I have Bookshop in sight," Lucas said urgently.

Tariq tapped his keyboard, confident in his moves.

"Zulu Three, red light in 3, 2, 1....."

"Zulu One, Bookshop is stationary at the intersection. Making the approach now."

Lucas bound to the small blue hatchback, and quickly unlocked the front door with his skeleton key, his coatsleeves close enough so that no drivers around could see his swift movements. The woman in the car screamed, as she desperately looked for a way to get rid of him, but it was done. Lucas was in the car and speaking urgently in her ear.


"My name is Tim and I'm MI-5," he flashed his false ID. "You need to move NOW. You're being followed."

Wendy was still moving slowly across the road, but stopped as she deliberately spilled her basket of groceries over the crossing. The driver in the Lexus held down on his horn and Wendy took the opportunity to curse at them, buying extra time.

"No!" Bushra shouted. "Get out of my car!" She looked around to see if the car behind her had noticed the exchange, looking for help anywhere she could find it.

Lucas knew there was no choice. The light turned green, they had to move now. His hand in his pocket, he withdrew his weapon, keeping it low so that no-one passing would notice. She screamed again. "You have no choice in the matter, Mrs Essam. Move. NOW!"

Bushra hit the accelerator, just as Wendy finally reached the other side of the crossing. "I'm across Zulu Three, I couldn't hold them any longer."

Lucas remained tense, directing Bushra curtly to make a left down a sidestreet and then to follow out onto another main road with much more traffic than the one they had left behind. At the same moment, the silver Lexus had arrived at the same traffic light where Bushra had met with her pursuer, which was mysteriously red again already. Both men cursed angrily. The hatchback was nowhere in sight.

[almh]

Ooooh, they've got Bushra! That's got to be good I love the bit at the beginning between Harry and Ruth, the bit about hot chocolate This is really good

[JHyde]

Holy cow, almh, I'm a speed reader, but that's impressive! Thanks though

[almh]

Not that impressive, it still took a couple of minutes

[Silktie]

Good chapter! It was nice to read about Ruth's childhood and her interest in Arabic. Loved the Harry/Ruth conversation - very realistic the way they always return to the safe ground of discussing work as soon as the conversation threatens to become too personal. And still no clue as to why they want to kill Bushra? That's evil, JHyde.

[JHyde]

I really do try and write as I could hear them saying it. If I can't hear them playing a scene or line or word in my head, I scrap it. My favourite bit in this was picturing NW saying that she flirted with Urdu.

You'll start to get some ideas in the next chapter. I have to keep you all reading!

[Tea Lady]

"Exceptionally bright and passionate then" - Harry and Ruth double talk and they were not even sitting on a bench. !!

Really enjoying it JHyde.

[lwhite53]

Do you hear Kudos . . . Wendy in the stilettos . . . some more agents so we can have proper ops, please!!

A single man who's not a relative alone in a car with a married Muslim woman -- no wonder Bushra was freaked out!

Awaiting next chapter, eagerly.

[JHyde]

Thanks for the encouragement, guys. I'm bogged down in the plot of the next (very long) chapter and could really do with some!

[Kirayuki]

I'm wondering what Bushra's reaction to Ruth working for MI5 will be.(Especially after all the muslim exremism and Lucas holding her 'hostage' to get her there).

Fantastic read though. Looking forward to the next chapter immensley!