The door to his office opened with a click, but Control did not turn from the window. The sky was filled with the light of a brilliant sunset, all oranges and yellows, but the colors made Control think of something else entirely and he found himself unable to look away.

"Hello, Control," said Tony from behind him.

"Hello, Tony," said Control. With some effort, he made himself turn, though one hand remained to grip the edge of the window frame.

"Valerie said you wanted to see me, sir," said Tony. "I think... I think she was crying." He sounded bewildered.

"Ah," said Control. "I expect you haven't heard the news yet, then. You see, Tony, something quite terrible has happened."

"Yes, Control, I'd gathered as much," said Tony. "But I've been working on that report you asked me to finish for tomorrow."

Control sighed. He always hated to give bad news to Tony.

"I'd appreciate it," said Tony, "if you'd tell me the unpleasant news yourself. You always tell things so clearly. But I can go and ask Valerie, if you'd prefer. I could even get you a cup of coffee while I'm at it."

"No, thank you, Tony," said Control, although he was quite tempted to take Tony up on his generous offer. Instead, he tried to break the news as gently as possible.

"A number of planes have been hijacked in America," he said. "And some of them have crashed into buildings in New York." He paused, then made himself finish. "Deliberately, it appears. Several thousand have been killed."

"Oh, dear," said Tony. "That is quite bad indeed."

Control felt suddenly grateful for Tony, his friend's perennial calm understanding soothing him in a way that his own fruitless musings rarely could.

"Yes," he said simply.

"What are we going to do?" asked Tony.

"We shall send aid, of course," said Control. "Money and supplies, should they be needed. And I expect the agency will assist the Americans with tracking down the related criminals. It will be easier, I should think, for us to gather information on their behalf."

He felt suddenly weary, as if all his years leading the SIS had caught up to him all at once. What good were they, he thought, if they couldn't prevent this sort of thing?

Tony crossed the room and laid a hand on Control's shoulder. Oddly, the weight of it was comforting rather than adding to his burdens.

"But what shall we do?" said Tony, getting, in his quiet way, to the heart of what Control was feeling. What could they do as people? Not as intelligence, or as a source of funds, but as human beings, witness to a great tragedy brought about deliberately by their own kind. Where could they even begin to repair the damage?

"I don't know, Tony," said Control, turning back to the window and the now almost-extinguished light of the sun. "I really don't know."