Blood For Blood Part III

[Silktie]

PART III

Wednesday 17 November, Evening
Malcolm’s house, London

They’re sitting in two comfortable wingback chairs, positioned in front of the fire. Harry is cradling a tumbler of whiskey, staring into the fire absently as Malcolm observes him. His old boss looks weary, troubled. Harry takes a sip before turning to Malcolm.
“How have you been, Malcolm?”
“Oh well, I can’t complain. Life is… calm.” He smiles to himself.
“I’d have thought you’d be living by the sea by now.”
Malcolm takes a sip of his own drink before answering. “I have a cottage north of Scarborough where I go during the summer. In winter though, I prefer to be closer to civilisation.”
“North of Scarborough?” Harry asks in surprise. “That’s on the North Yorkshire moors, isn’t it?” He looks at Malcolm inquiringly. “I guess I always pictured you in Cornwall.”
“Oh Lord no,” Malcolm sniffs dismissively, “too many yobs descending on the place in summer.”

Harry stifles a smile – he finds it comforting that retirement hasn’t changed Malcolm as of yet, and he realises, again, how much he has missed him. He watches as Malcolm shifts in his chair awkwardly, and sees a glimmer of guilt in his eyes when he asks: “So, er, how’s Ruth? What happened to her after…”
Harry decides to take pity on him. “It’s all right, Malcolm. I know she writes to you.”
The relief on Malcolm’s face is almost comical. “Oh.” A thought suddenly occurs to him. “Does she know you know?”
It’s Harry’s turn to look a little awkward. “Er, no, and I think we should keep it that way, yes?”
Malcolm nods in agreement, before asking: “You don’t mind?”
Harry looks up in surprise. “No, of course not. Why would I mind?”
“Well, it is against regulations, for one…”
“Yes, I know.” He sighs wearily. “But after what happened… She needs friends she can trust, Malcolm. The two of you have always had a special bond, and I see no reason to deny her that because of some rule.”

As Harry looks back at the fire, Malcolm shakes his head in wonder.
“I never thought I’d see the day… Old hard-hearted Harry Pearce has softened at last.” He pauses, weighing the wisdom of his next words, but the need to let his old friend know that they have his support wins out.
“I’m happy for the two of you, Harry.”
Harry’s head snaps back to him, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight. Malcolm hurriedly continues.
“She wrote to me that you’ve been seeing each other… I think it’s wonderful, the two of you have always just fitted together.” He pauses again, before sticking his neck out a little further.
“She’s good for you. And you make her very happy, you know. Although what she sees in you is beyond me…” The last bit is meant as a joke, but it doesn’t have the desired effect on Harry. Instead, he looks stricken, and a little sad.
“No. Neither do I…” He turns his gaze back to the fire.
Appalled, Malcolm hurries to repair any damage he may have caused. ”Oh, no! Harry, I didn’t mean…”
Harry waves a hand in the air, and gives him a sad smile.
“I know, Malcolm. I’m sorry. I’m a little maudlin tonight.”
Mollified, Malcolm takes another sip of his drink, before continuing.
“I’m sorry about Jo and Ros.”
Harry nods, and rubs a hand tiredly over his eyes. “So am I.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room as both contemplate lost colleagues, before Malcolm speaks again.
“Nice as it is to see you, Harry, this is not a social visit, is it?”
Harry’s eyes linger on the fire for a few more seconds, before he squares his shoulders and looks at Malcolm.
“No.” He sighs. “I have no right to ask you this, but I need your help.”
As he explains the situation, he watches Malcolm carefully, and he doesn’t fail to notice the spark of interest in the techie’s eyes at the mention of Johnny O’Connell and his hacker skills. When he finishes his account, Malcolm stares down at his drink, deep in thought, and Harry holds his breath. Finally he looks up, and meets Harry’s eye.
“What do you need me to do?”

It’s the answer Harry has been hoping for. He feels like getting up and hugging Malcolm, but he doesn’t want to freak the man out with such an uncharacteristic gesture, so he settles for a grateful smile instead.
“I want to keep you off the radar. If things go wrong, I don’t want you to be connected to this operation in any way. The only people who’ll know of your involvement is myself and Ruth. She’ll be running our operations centre at the hotel, but I don’t want you on the premises. You need to go to Belfast as soon as possible, and find a place to use as your own operations centre close to the hotel. The conference will be held at the Culloden Estate – it’s on Bangor Road in Holywood. Here.” Harry draws a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Malcolm.
“Those are contact details for two men in Belfast who owes me a few favours. Tell them Harry sent you, and they’ll help you get whatever you need. As soon as you’re settled, let me know, and Ruth’ll send you everything we have on O’Connell’s modus operandi. You need to work on blocking any attempts he’ll make to interfere with the PSNI’s digital equipment, or possible remote detonation in the case of a bombing attempt. Remember, Malcolm, you only contact either Ruth or myself. No-one else will know that you’re there. Yes?”

Malcolm nods. “Actually, I’ve been working on a few things that may come in handy.” He notices Harry’s amused glance. “It’s, er, good to keep the old noggin ticking over…”
“Well, I’m sure the neighbours will be thrilled to know that you’ve been building state-of-the-art spying equipment in the back shed,” Harry can’t help but tease, and Malcolm laughs.
“I need you to do something else for me.” Harry has turned serious again, and Malcolm can sense that Harry is uneasy about asking him this, so he nods at him to continue.
“I need you to source two things for me. An older model Land Rover… and a gun.”

* * *

Thursday 18 November, Morning
The Grid, London

Despite getting home very late, Harry is still the first one back on the Grid the next morning. He feels slightly better about the operation after having secured Malcolm’s assistance, but he knows they are still in the dark about too many things. It would seem that any hope he’d had of avoiding contact with anyone linked to his time in Belfast was fast receding. He knows that he has no other choice but to contact Steak Knife, in the hope that the former agent can provide them with the breakthrough they need.

Steak Knife. Harry sits motionless, as the memory of the last time he saw the agent wash agonisingly over him. He can still remember every little detail as though it had happened only yesterday: himself and Bill in the pub, and the two PIRA Nutting Squad members bursting in, guns drawn, snatching Bill. He was forced to watch, helpless, as his friend was dragged off, and he’ll never forget the two men who did so - Patrick McCann… and his own agent, Steak Knife.

With a sigh, he turns to his computer, and types out the message to be placed in the Belfast Telegraph classifieds, under Deaths. The doors swoosh open and Ruth enters, just as he clicks on the Send button. She glances towards his office, and smiles at him when he catches her eye. After dumping her overstuffed handbag on her desk, she comes into his office, and on impulse, Harry gets up and envelops her in a hug.
“Morning,” he murmurs into her hair, and tries to ignore the little voice telling him his actions are an attempt to salve his guilty conscience for not informing her about Steak Knife. The tight squeeze she gives him in return goes a long way to soothe his troubled thoughts, before reality asserts itself and he wonders morosely whether he is about to ruin it all.

They pull apart, and slip back into work mode effortlessly.
“Please tell me we’ve found documents conveniently setting out the dastardly plans of those bloody Republicans?” His voice is resigned, as he can already tell from her face that there is no new information to offer him.
“Sorry. No luck with the Home Secretary then, I take it?”
Harry grimaces. “None. He seems hell-bent on allowing the Republicans every opportunity to launch an attack. In fact, he’s probably hoping it will happen just so he can have the pleasure of firing me, of course rather stupidly forgetting that he will probably be too dead to do so. Moron.”
Just as Ruth is about to reply, Harry’s phone rings. He glances at the screen. “I’ll have to take this, but I need to talk to you later – the Embankment. I’ll let you know.” With that she is dismissed, and the day starts in earnest.

* * *

“Ruth, do you know where Lucas is?”
Ruth looks up from her computer to see Beth hovering before her desk, looking worried. She glances at her watch – it’s nearly 11:00, and Lucas is supposed to brief them on the PSNI’s security measures then. A glance at Harry’s office confirms that he is back from his meeting in time, and she knows that Lucas’ absence will annoy him. She shakes her head at Beth.
“He hasn’t been in yet this morning. Has he said anything to you?”
“No, nothing. But he’s been disappearing regularly for the last few weeks.” Beth casts an anxious glance at Harry’s pacing form.
“Harry’s going to be apoplectic if Lucas doesn’t pitch for the briefing.”
Ruth knows Beth is probably right. In light of Lucas’ history, Harry gives him more leeway than he did with most of his other team leaders, but she also knows there is a limit to Harry’s patience, and given the pressures of the Northern Ireland operation, she fears what his reaction to Lucas’ latest disappearing act will be. Just then Harry strides out of his office, calling them all to the meeting room.

They file in, Beth and Ruth exchanging a nervous glance. Dimitri bounds in, seemingly unaware of the underlying tension in the room.
“Where’s Lucas?” Harry’s voice has a dangerous edge to it, causing everyone to avoid eye contact with their smouldering boss. As the silence stretches out, Dimitri glances around the table before speaking up.
“While we wait, I have something new from my Customs & Excise sources.”
“Fine.” Harry bites off the word.
“Last night they intercepted a small boat near Ballycastle in the north. Unfortunately, it was on its way out from the coast. It was empty when they searched it, but tests have confirmed that explosives had been transported in the hold recently. They’re holding the skipper of the boat.”
“Brilliant. Once again they arrived just after the nick of time.” Harry’s mood has clearly not been improved by the latest news. He’s about to continue his complaints, when he catches a slightly reproachful look from Ruth. Taking a deep breath, he makes an effort to reign in his anger and not shoot the messenger.
“Still, it’s something. Beth, Dimitri, get over there and talk to the skipper. Get me something! The time for delicacy is over, so do what you have to, just… don’t give me too much to deny, all right?”
They nod and start gathering their papers.
“And when Lucas gets here, I want to see him immediately.” The dangerous, deceptively calm tone of voice is back, and a chorus of “Yes, Harry” follows him out of the room.

* * *

It is closer to 12:00 when Lucas steps onto the Grid. Ruth, who has been keeping an eye out for him, moves to intercept him, but before she gets a chance to warn him, Harry’s voice cuts through the air.
“Lucas!”
Ruth gives him a sympathetic smile, and Lucas reluctantly moves towards Harry’s office.
As soon as he’s inside, Harry impatiently instructs: “Close the bloody door!” He waits until Lucas has done so before continuing.
“Where were you?”
“I had… things to take care of.” He doesn’t look Harry in the eye, but he can still sense Harry’s anger rise another notch.
“Are these things in any way connected to the Northern Ireland operation?”
“… No. Look, Harry, I…”
“For God’s sake, Lucas! We’re about to walk into a very dangerous situation in Northern Ireland. I need you on top of your game, not swanning off to do God knows what at the most inconvenient of times! I will not allow your personal life to interfere with an operation…”
Lucas’ head snaps up. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Harry’s eyes narrow and he stands up abruptly, sending his chair scuttling across the floor. “What did you say?!”
Lucas meets his stare squarely. “Are you denying, Harry, that you have a personal stake in this operation? Are you going to lie to my face – again – and tell me your personal feelings about the IRA are not going to come into play during our time in Belfast?!”

The two men glare at each other across the desk, neither willing to give an inch. Finally, Harry breaks the tense silence, his voice dangerously low and controlled.
“Don’t make me regret my decision to make you Section Chief. I’ve given you a lot of leeway because of your… situation, but my patience is wearing thin. I will not tolerate you ignoring my orders again, is that clear?”
“Very.” Lucas continues to hold Harry’s look with a challenging one of his own, before turning on his heel.

Harry drags his chair back to the desk and sits down heavily. When he picks up his pen, he notices that his hand is trembling. He closes his eyes, but it doesn’t stop Lucas’ accusation ringing in his ears. Exasperated, he flings down the pen, gets up and grabs his coat, and steps out of the office.
“Ruth.” She looks up. “Come with me now.”
He waits until she has collected her coat, before ushering her through the doors.

* * *

They are seated on their favourite bench on the Embankment, looking across the river at the Houses of Parliament. The November afternoon air is cold, but at least it isn’t raining, for which Ruth is extremely grateful. She loves being back in London, but sometimes she misses the warm, sunny climate of Cyprus. She tucks her scarf into her coat more securely, before turning to study Harry. It is obvious from the red hue of his face and his moody silence during the walk over that the confrontation with Lucas has gotten to him.
“A penny for them?”
Turning his head towards her, he gives her an awkward smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you out here in the cold to listen to me think.”
“Hmm. Much as I love coming here with you, it would be helpful if you tell me what it’s all about before we turn into popsicles.” She looks at him inquiringly.
Harry devours the sight of her, his gaze travelling slowly over her features. Noticing the trusting, open look she is giving him, he suddenly wishes he was worthy of the faith she places in him. For as they sit there, he so desperately wants to tell her everything; confess about his plans to contact Steak Knife, and how the idea of vengeance is slowly growing in his heart, squeezing out all other thought, and that he no longer knows how to change the path he is choosing. But he cannot find the words, does not know how to articulate his thoughts in a way that would make sense to a sane person, a moral person, like Ruth.

Instead he sticks to operational matters, despising himself for his cowardice.
“I’ve asked Malcolm to help us with this operation.” He watches her reaction carefully, worried that his decision to involve her friend will be yet another thing that she can disapprove of. Instead she smiles slightly, and looks at the river.
“I thought you might. What did he say?”
“He said yes.”
She nods. “Of course he did. How is he?”
“He looks well. Sends his regards. He was happy to hear you’d come back to us…” He tries to sound casual, but something in his voice must have given it away, because she turns towards him with an accusatory look.
“You know!”
Holding her gaze, he smiles gently. “That you’ve been writing to each other? Yes.” He looks at his hands.
“Are you angry?” This time it is Ruth who sounds a little apprehensive.
“No!” He gestures helplessly. “Why does everyone assume that I’ll be angry about this? Am I that pedantic about the rules?” His indignant expression makes her laugh.
“Well… Just when it pertains to personnel matters. When it comes to operational rules, you tend to veer the other way.” She lays a cold hand against his cheek to placate him. “But I love you anyway, pedant or not.” In response, he takes her cold hand between his two gloved ones, warming it, whilst explaining that they will be the only two to know of Malcolm’s presence. But whilst he’s talking, she can see the growing sadness in Harry’s eyes, and she knows for certain that he is not telling her everything.

* * *

Friday 19 November, evening
Ruth’s house, London

It’s late, and Harry stares at the darkened ceiling of Ruth’s bedroom, listening to her even breathing as she sleeps snuggled against him. His brain refuses to shut off, and he goes over the day’s developments again. They received no new information; Dimitri and Beth’s interrogation of the skipper only proved that the man is nothing more than a mule who has no idea of the details of the operation. Although there is a lingering tension between himself and Lucas, they’ve tacitly agreed to set aside their personal differences for the duration of the operation, but Harry knows he will have to have another conversation with his Section Chief to sort things out. The only positive development was a communication from Malcolm indicating that he’s found a place close to the hotel, and is all set up.
And of course, there is Steak Knife.

That morning, he had opened the Financial Times with mixed feelings, looking for Steak Knife’s answering advertisement. He is honestly no longer sure which outcome he would have preferred; but there it was, black on white, providing the final impetus. As soon as he saw it, he knew for certain that he would not let this opportunity pass him by – that he would use the trip to Belfast to exact revenge for Bill’s murder.

Ruth moves slightly, and her naked leg rubs against his. Harry turns his head and softly kisses her forehead, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach increasing at the thought that what he is about to do has the potential to ruin everything he has with her. He is ashamed that that thought is not enough to stop him from doing it. There’s nothing he wants more than to be honest with her, but he’s not sure she will understand that the manner of Bill’s death is the single biggest regret of his life. It is the one thing he cannot reconcile himself with, even after thirty two years, and every time he loses another officer, it is Bill’s face that he sees. He knows that it is largely responsible for the emotionally reticent man he has become; that it was his first brutal lesson in the art of repressing personal feelings in the defence of the realm.

Of course he doesn’t blame all his limitations on it; Harry is well aware that he could never have taken the decision to sacrifice Bill for the good of the operation, and so many other decisions that followed it, if there hadn’t been a ruthless streak in his personality to start with. But he often wonders whether the psychological impact on him would have been less if it hadn’t been his best friend of fifteen years who’d been the first mutilated corpse he’d had to identify.

Ruth protests slightly in her sleep, and Harry realises he must have unconsciously been tightening his hold on her as he thought about his past. He lets go, and she turns away from him onto her other side. Although it is something she has done almost every night they have spent together, tonight it causes panic to flood through Harry – it is as though she can sense what is in his mind, and is already distancing herself from him. He rolls over too, spooning himself against her back, and carefully wraps an arm around her. She sighs, and relaxes against him, entwining their legs. Relieved, Harry buries his face in her hair and tries to sleep, tries not to think about the fact that tomorrow he’ll be back in Belfast for the first time in thirty two long years.


TBC

[ballerinabunny]

This is such a brilliant story. The plot is really well placed and there is enough shippyness to keep me very happy! Also, thank you for bringing Malcom in! Can't wait for more! x

[Tea Lady]

Well written once again. I am loving the H/R moments here. Surely Ruth must know what Harry is up to?

[lwhite53]

This just keeps getting better, Silktie. Love the Harry/Malcolm scene, the H/R moments, and Harry's introspection.

Yes, TL, I'd bet that Ruth knows what Harry's up to. And . . . I think Lucas does too!

[TygerBright]

"...Are you going to lie to my face – again – ......?!”
Brilliant. He finally said it...

I've been collecting chaps since I don't do cliffhangers well but feel I now have to read instead of skimming...dang. Must make time in RL... great story, thanks a lot.. keep 'em chapters coming

[Lukyan Lyubof]

Brilliant setting for Malcolm, loving the interesting scenes between Lucas and Harry and Harry and Ruth

[JHyde]

Loving it.

I do think Harry is being grossly unfair in lying to the others at this stage of the game. This isn't exactly a mission to protect and defend, this is about vengeance. Harry needs to come clean because he's dragging these people he cares about into the mire with him.

This is a time when Harry needs to tell the truth.

[A Cousin]

So, Harry has a personal "stake" in this operation with Steak Knife? OK - I'll stop now.

Absolutely brilliant, Silktie.

I think it an interesting and insightful point that both Ruth and Malcolm are aware of Harry's tendency to be a stickler with the rules in personal matters but less so with operational matters. Methinks he doth protest to much? Seems to me that this operation is getting very personal.

The exchange with Malcolm was nothing less than perfect, the tension between Harry and Lucas is well done, and (shallow me) the spooning at the end made me melt a bit.