Ruth's Diary - No.17 (3.7)

[JHyde]

Long entry that includes 3.7, but also has Ruth's birthday and sets up events to follow in late Season 4.

**********************

[29th April 2005]

Today is my 35th birthday. I would have been happy to let it pass in silence but lo and behold, someone noticed. Harry noticed. Of all people! He had arrived at work before me and hidden a gift in my desk. There was a book about cats (which has lots of sweet pictures in it, but apart from that I'm not sure what else to do with it) and an album which seems to be based on The Red Shoes. The crafty bugger! I'm sure the only two people who know my love for that film are Malcolm and Sam. He probably got it out of Sam while he was interrogating her during that whole business with Fortescue. Come to think of it, that's probably why he made the gift of it. He probably felt embarrassed over the whole business.

Still, I blushed upon finding them in my desk. And then smiled at Harry later in the meeting room. I didn't tell anyone about them, why would I? But it's also nice to have a *good* secret to hug to your chest, for a change.


[2nd May 2005]

Oh God. Mother and I broke our months long silence today. She called with the news that my step-brother Peter shot himself in the head. She managed to tuck a 'happy birthday' into the same shell shocked phone-call.

Peter is so entangled with a part of my life I despise. One of the most difficult and most traumatic. But I'm trying not to think too much about what he must have been like when Angela, his ex girlfriend, found him. I'm slightly terrified of Angela (she used to work in Section D!) but you don't wish this misery on anyone, even someone you almost hate.

And much as I despised Peter in the end, I can't help feeling dreadfully sorry for him.

Harry found out a matter of hours after I did and insisted I take time off for the funeral. But I suspect he dug a little deeper in the files (both mine and Peter's) because then he reneged on that and said that I didn't have to. With all the work in the lead-up to the election, I have an excellent excuse to not get up to Cheltenham. I just can't do it, not for anyone.

I really do have my hands full with the election, anyway. It seems to tickle the funny bone of most of us in this department - everyone has been in fine form, jokes wise, with the election. Harry especially seems to get really humorous at this time.

Except for Danny. He's a ghost since Zoe left.



[4th May 2005]

Speaking of Zoe, Harry gave me good news today. She's safe in Chile and made contact. It's been a long month here without her and I miss her terribly. I hope she manages to build a good life for herself, but I am sure she misses Danny. And Will. Poor Will.


[5th May 2005]

Blair re-elected today, his majority reduced by 47 seats.

I always make an effort to vote, even when the choice is as miserable as it was this time around. At least I am able to vote. And whatever jokes we make at work, a big part of the status quo we defend is our right to vote.

For whomever the fool is that we pick amongst fools. Utterly uninspiring, the whole business this year. The Devil and the deep blue sea.

I posted my card to Angela today. I had been putting it off but I knew if I didn't write it today on my lunch break I never would. I struggled to come up with platitudes, but barely scraped by. I felt a bit like Cicero trying to say nice things about Sulla and ultimately failing. I really don't want to ever have to say anything nice about Peter ever again.


[7th May 2005]

It's managed to slip under the national radar so far, but in the last four days 7 people have died taking paracetamol from previously opened packets. 11 more are in serious condition. And from all over the country! They're all from the same supplier, Pharmavor and it turns out the pills have been laced with menazorphine, which was essentially like drinking acid for the victims.

The calling card on the fax sent to the manufacturer troubles me greatly, it implies they're not done. They signed it Al Saa’iqa which translates as Thunderclap and there has been no mention of them ever, not even on any chatter. What I eventually pulled for them was from an old book on the Crusades. They were like the Sultan's SAS. The thing is, their leader, a man named Ali Hassan Al-Mazboudi, was a brilliant war strategist who would twist the best of his enemies' inventions and use them against them. In this case, both Adam and I think it's medicine. Our culprit is using our best inventions to defeat us.

Guy Facer is putting pressure on Harry, I'm not sure how yet. He usually becomes transparent about political pressure sooner or later with me, in this case I'm guessing sooner. He's still spitting chips after the election.

Mind you, my work after the election still isn't done either. I'm barely scraping by this week and working the most insane hours.

I'm also still terribly worried about Danny. I tried to speak with him in earnest today but he wasn't having a bar of it. It doesn't help we've been working through weekends. Sometimes this job asks all too much of us. I wish I could convince Danny that it's not just him who questions this life of ours.


[10th May 2005]

Harry forced me to take today off. That, in itself, is a mark of how bad yesterday was. It is also a mark of how bad it was that I actually took today off sick. I am still sore.

Our culprit turned out to be someone I once knew a little, Andrew Forrestal. He was a real tech head - even better than Colin and probably on par with Malcolm, but different. He specialised in algorithms and code breaking, even back at Cambridge. I knew him at GCHQ and he wandered in yesterday on loan with the National High Tech Crimes Unit. I remember Andrew as being a cut well above the average techie and it seems that this was the basis for his discontent.

Sunday morning we discovered that it was more than hacking into Pharmavor's system. The bank accounts at National Municipal were drained. Initially, the boys (one of whom was Andrew) were able to trace it back to a West London mosque, but it was all a ruse, further destroying relations between the government and English Muslims. Immediately after the raid, all emergency calls were re-routed to sex chat lines and it was all one man with a laptop and a phoneline. Andrew and a laptop and a phoneline.

Colin was convinced this was someone who had cracked the one perfect algorithm, the G and J key. This is something I have only heard tell of, but let's just say that it is has been at the top of any decent hacker's list to crack for more than 13 years. It is the lynch-pin of internet security.

And thanks to Andrew it very nearly got out to the general public. It would have brought the world to its metaphorical knees. It turns out he was at uni with Joukowsky and was an integral part of the work and writing the algorithm. He was justifiably angry, but so many people died from his bitterness.

I ended up being caught in the firing line thanks to my damn curiosity. Andrew and I had been chatting for most of Sunday, intermittently. Mostly about what we miss while working in this job. All through Sunday I was working on where the hacker was getting his information from, especially after discovering there was no way they wrote Arabic. I had Andrew cross reference historical background with searches online for Arabic writers. He was probably filtering the results all day, especially as the last thing we talked about at work was my being convinced that certain searches would result in us finding him.

But at the end of the night Andrew invited me to have dinner with him. I was tired, I've been working so hard - the idea of having someone cook me dinner and talking about the same intellectual interests was too much for me to turn down. So we had dinner, which was brilliant. And I asked Andrew why he was still in such a low level job despite his brilliance. He should have been a superstar! He gave me something that sounded like the manifesto of an anarchist university student, but one that I can identify with from time to time in this job. He told me he was leaving the Service, going somewhere warm and slow...and suddenly he was quoting The Prophet, and the details fell into place.

And then he had me pinned on the floor. He wasn't going back to the NHTCU the following day, no-one would miss me. He sent a message to Sam from my phone saying I was sick. So then no-one would miss me either. (I find myself crying again while I write.)

It was Danny who figured it out. He came looking for me after they figured out it was Andrew, who was already dead. They had tried to pay him off, although Andrew was planning to double cross them. It turned out Malcolm had done his own bit of lacing, by coating the diamonds with some chemical that would induce a heart attack in under a minute. Normally I would find out what said chemical was, but it was enough to watch Andrew die in front of me. It was almost worse being there by myself. True, no Andrew to do anything to me. But there I was, praying that the diamonds were far enough from me, that someone would find me before I died of thirst. It was the most terrifying 24 hours of my life. It puts the rest of my life into perspective, certainly. I found myself quoting The Prophet again to myself, only this time it was from much later on.

"Now therefore disclose us to ourselves and tell us all that has been shown to you of that which is between birth and death."

I have so much more to do, with or without this job.

The worst part is, Andrew and I were so alike. I made Danny promise me that we would never end up that bad, that sad. I envy him that bond he had with Zoe, knowing they could count on one another so perfectly. He was the last person I saw before I left with Andrew the night before and I tried to reason with him then. I know he misses her, but at least he has felt that way for someone who was worthy of it. I can only hope I might some day too.

[29th May 2005]

Danny mentioned to me on that awful Sunday that Will North was still hassling him about Zoe. I asked him today if Will was still an issue and he just smiled and wouldn't say anything, no matter how many questions I asked. I did some digging - it turns out Will is now working in Chile, mainly doing wedding photography. I'll try and keep that information from Harry, should it ever cross his mind to look.

***************

Please review! No, really, please.

[Silktie]

Great stuff! Poor Ruth, I like the fact that she uses quotes and refers to Cicero, for instance, when talking to herself (well that's what a diary is, really). It feels very true, and she must really have been terrified she would have to sit there with this corpse for days.

But awww, her bemusement over Harry's present is funny. I actually thought it was sweet of Harry to put some thought into her gift - he knew she liked cats and went to the trouble of finding out what her favourite movie was after all! That's way more effort than most guys would put into these matters. She could've just gotten a box of Belgian chocolates...

[Aria]

Brilliant entry, JHyde. I love all the background you give like her birthday presents from Harry and Peter's death. Loved all the stuff about the Election and agree that it wasn't much of a choice back then. You really capture her feelings of loneliness well and her determination not to end up like Andrew. Loved all the classical references.

[Tea Lady]

I enjoyed this and really liked the idea of Harry getting Ruth some presents. I bet they were the only gifts she got. Sad to see Ruth getting closer to Danny but glad that she knows that Zoe and Will found happiness together even though it was on the other side of the world.

[lwhite53]

Loved this entry -- H's gift, Peter's death, Andrew Forrestal, poor Ruth really does go through a lot, doesn't she?