Sorry for the delay in getting a new chapter loaded. I'd lost interest for awhile but now I'm working hard on getting myself back on board. I hate to leave a story unfinished.

Chapter 7

#53 was off duty. Normally she would go back to her dorm residence where she shared a room with another Village worker but decided instead to walk down to the dock to see her cousin, #121, she always called him by his Christian name, Vano.

As she walked, she envisioned the medical director going through the medical supplies counting everything to make sure she hadn't stolen anything. It was an everyday occurrence and she supposed she should be insulted by it, but she chose to find it funny. He was just a typical 'Gorgio' always worried that the gypsy girl was stealing. She laughed to herself. If there was anything she wanted to take from the Village, they'd never know it was gone. And now as she walked, she thought maybe she was going to steal from the Village and it wasn't something it was "someones". How funny that be when they found out the Gypsy girl stole their two prized prisoners.

The supply docks were outside the Village resident area. It was a long walk but she didn't mind. Sometimes a delivery truck would drive by her. The drivers knew who she was and sometimes they'd wave as they passed but they never stopped to offer her a ride. She was okay with that too. The Gorgio boys would think she was easy and try to put their hands up her shirt. She wasn't pretty enough for them to even try flirting; they just wanted the good stuff without any extra effort.

She found Vano smoking a cigarette sitting on an empty crate. "Sastimos, Lavi," he said and passed her his cigarette. Her real name was Lavinia but everyone shortened it to Lavi which she liked because it was like 'Lava' meaning she was 'hot rock'.

"Heard you had some excitement today? That pretty English girl and #6 got brought in. I ran over and saw them dragging #6 up the beach. He didn't look to good. Is he dead?"

"No, he's not dead. I think they'd have to shoot him in the heart to kill him." She took a long drag on the cigarette and passed it back. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Usual."

He was a few years older than Lavinia and unlike her dark almond shaped eyes, his eyes were green and his skin although not fair, certainly not as dark as hers. No one knew he was Roma. He passed as 'dark Irish' a name given to the Irish folk who had origins going back to the days the Moors crossed over from Spain. His coworkers questioned why he talked with that Gypsy nurse but he said the girl was lonely and he didn't mind sharing a cigarette with her. They made a funny couple for as short and round as she was, he was as tall and thin.

"Do you think you can get a message to Cilyana?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. The usual supply boat was leaving that evening and he'd be on it. Once on the other side while the boat picked up supplies he'd have some time to find Cilyana.

"Good, because Cilyana told me she would help the English lady and maybe #6 too. They need to escape because I think #2 is going to kill the English lady and maybe #6 might die of a broken heart. I don't know if he would, but I know he likes her a lot and I think he should leave with her."

Vano turned to look at his cousin. He was protective of her, that's part of the reason the dock hands never bothered her because he said he'd beat anyone bloody who upset her. They asked him why did he care? Did he want her for himself? He said no, it was just because she needed a friend and he decided he'd be her protector. The guys didn't really care anyway because she was a Gypsy and probably not very clean anyway.

"And what's it you if the English lady dies and maybe #6 too? They're both Gorgios. They'd never do anything for you."

"Vano, you must not be so cruel. Not everyone is bad to us. Plus, God teaches us to help others in need and they both need help." She glanced at him annoyed that he'd be so selfish.

He rolled his eyes. He loved his cousin dearly. She was smart but always too ready to help others. How many homeless puppies did she bring back to camp when they were young he couldn't remember but there were a lot.

"So, if Cilyana helps them escape, then you'll have to leave because they'll come after you. You know they'll figure it out sooner or later." His voice was casual but he was genuinely worried. He knew you didn't want to cross the Village.

"Yah, I know. That's okay because I'm ready to leave. I've tired of the Gorgios and their fighting, and checking on me." She finished the last puff of the cigarette and ground it out on a rock.

"So are you sure you want me to talk to Cilyana? If she says she can help, there's no going back you know."

"I know." She looked around with a scowl, "I'm tired of this place. It's time to go. Thanks for the cigarette." She stood up.

"Sastimos, Vano. Let me know what she says."

XXXXXXX

He woke the next morning surprised to find himself tucked in bed covered with a warm blanket and the smell of bacon and coffee wafting in from the kitchen. He had no idea how long he'd slept but he got a quick reminder of yesterday as he tried to sit up and was greeted by his bruised muscles. He flopped back.

He called out. "I take it someone is in my kitchen." He was pleased, at least his voice sounded okay, not as loud as he'd like but at least clear and coherent, a far better situation than yesterday.

A beautiful smile came around the corner, "Ahh your awake. How do you feel?"

She sat on the bed and reached over to kiss him gently. He almost grabbed her arm playfully to pull her down with him but caught himself. He was in deep enough already and, of course, there were always the Watchers.

"I feel like I was run over by a bus, followed by a furniture lorry full of pianos. Other than that, couldn't be better."

His brow creased with curiosity. "How did you get in here? And when did you get here?" He painfully sat up and she fluffed the pillows behind his back for support.

"I was very worried about you yesterday. When I found out you'd gone home, it was already after curfew. The door wouldn't open for me so I climbed in the window, got you settled and slept... well slept a little on the couch. I watched you most of the night. I don't think you should be left alone."

He nodded while thinking she is a competent operative. Eluding the guards after curfew, climbing in through the window, and amazingly not waking him...

"Come on now, shake a leg. I've made you a good breakfast. I doubt you ate at all yesterday." She started to get up and he took her arm. "How about you? "

"I'm fine. We'll talk about it later." Her tone was defensive, the playfulness vanishing although she finished with a tight smile.

She attempted to help him out of bed and he waved her off. "Best to do this myself." He rolled onto his side and caught himself as he slipped to the floor. From there it was uncharacteristically clumsy, but he got himself to his feet.

He was obviously in pain as he slowly walked to the table. She wondered how badly he was bruised but didn't want to distract him as he made his way to the table. He sat looking into the kitchen while she fetched the dishes and coffee. What a bizarre situation, he thought. Here we are acting like domestic bliss when in fact we were both attacked yesterday. If this happened in London, you'd be packing to leave, calling the police, or arming yourself but instead here we sit having breakfast like all is normal. And indeed, yes, this is normal for the Village to be attacked, drugged and get up the next day like nothing happened.

His fingers starting drumming on the counter. Last night he'd thought about how much danger she was in. They would threaten, injure and probably kill her if they thought that would convince him to cooperate.

He had to end it although he didn't want to and the more he thought about it he really didn't want to end it. Whether he was lonely or not, no longer mattered. Yes, the physical element was very nice indeed, but he also had come to respect her daring, quick thinking, and that she accepted him for all he was. Yes, he was handsome, and could be very charming, tools he used frequently to disarm his opponents before they realized he was the enemy, but he was no angel and he wasn't even certain anymore if he was a good man.

The job he'd signed up for so many years ago said it was for the good of God and Country but lots of the missions he'd been sent on were for the benefit of highly placed heads of state and aristocrats. 'Favors' they were called that helped M9 stay in the good graces of Parliament. He'd justified these missions to himself as just part of the job but more and more he saw it as an abuse of power, a government sponsored private detective agency for the rich. Add to that his increasing vulnerability of becoming a known operative. His missions had always taken him to high risk locations and he operated with no immunity meaning if he was caught by the police or worse, he'd get no help from M9. He could be tortured and killed with no recourse. Best he could ever expect might be a trade for a spy held by the British and he probably would be in pretty bad shape when and if he arrived back on British soil. He'd killed on many missions and lied on many others and not always for the benefit of God and Country. He was told he was the best the Agency had and he'd eaten it up like a dog begging for a bone but everyone can be replaced. He might be the best now but there was young stud who was salivating to be the next agent to hold the title.

"Impatient today, are we?" She remarked as she watched his fingers drumming on the counter, and then switching to softly tapping. She was beautiful, smart, and he might be falling in love. He hated himself for what he did next.

"You went to #2's office yesterday. Why?" His voice was relaxed but his expression was dark and accusing.

"She ordered me in," she replied leaning on the counter, the smile disappearing from her face.

"How did you know?"

"I have my ears. The other prisoners here were very concerned about you as we are seemingly the darlings of the Village." He took a sip of coffee, but didn't touch the plate of food. "What did you discuss?"

"You, of course, and that she'd be very displeased to have to hurt either one of us, but if hurting me was the thing that would make you talk, she would unhappily do it. Basically everything she'd said before but more emphatically." She put down her cup. "She scared me this time."

He took a bite of food, "Rovers usually kill, did you know that? Or at least incapacitate a person for awhile. A person doesn't usually walk away the same day. Seems that's the second time you've had a meeting with #2."

She stood up. "What are you saying?"

"I asked you before and you denied working with #2, but as we both know extremely well if there's one thing spies are good at, it's lying."

Her brilliant blue eyes widened. "You're accusing me of working with #2." Her face showed no emotion other than the initial surprise of his words.

"Yes."

"Is there anything I can say that would change your mind?"

"No, I go with the evidence." His eyes were the cold icy blue that told her she had lost him.

"I see. Well, you are a difficult man. A very handsome one and I did enjoy making love with you the other night. I've had better lovers though." She began to walk out. "Should I ever stop by again?" she asked turning towards him.

"No"

The door hesitated before it opened, clearly the Control Room was not happy with the last few minutes.

"Be seeing you," she said flatly. The door opened and she walked out. She headed briskly up the hill angrily wiping a tear from her cheek.

XXXXXXX

#2 stood in the Control Room her eyes glued to the screen, her mouth half opened. The supervisor, #24, quickly strolled away from the large screen. He knew what was going to happen next and wanted to be as far away as possible.

"Get her back there!" #2 hollered. "She can't leave!"

Realizing the absurdity of it, #24 said, "Do you want me to activate a rover to chase her back in?"

"No," said #2 not hearing #24's sarcasm, but with mounting panic in her voice.

"What just happened?" she turned to #24 standing on the other side of the circular room.

"#6 trusts no one, something he's learned well from the all the attempts the Village has made to trick him. #67 is the most alluring of the females that have been tried before but I guess he's on to her too."

"But she's not working for me!" cried #2. "Everything she's done has been of her free will!"

"It seems #6 doesn't believe that."

"So now he won't care what happens to her!" #24 could hear the desperation in #6's voice.

He thought to himself that #2's over management of the situation, calling #67 in twice was the alarm for #6. Her obsession with the younger woman's beauty and her own desire to prove herself by breaking 6 was her downfall.

"Call him into my office now!" she demanded. Although #24 was disliking this #2 more every minute, he thought it best to intervene.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea. If you call him now, he'll be sure #67 is working with you. Your desperation, I'm afraid will come through. Let him settle down. He's clearly in physical pain and maybe will regret his words when he's feeling better. Think of it as a lovers quarrel instead of a break."

"Then we must use the Pulsator, that photo-psychotropic light display…. thing to soften him up tonight." Her tone was becoming pleading. She'd read about the Village's use of light as a mind altering technique, and the multiple times it had been used on #6 with varying results and although it never seemed to have a lasting effect she'd use anything if she thought it might work.

"I can check with medical but I know that don't like using it if he has any kind of injury as it slows down healing."

"Do it!" she ordered. She looked about the room nervously as all the Watchers quickly turned back attending their various cameras. She'd made a scene with her outburst and all the Watchers had watched her as well as #1.

She straightened herself to her full height. "Call me when you hear from medical."

XXXXXX

Nurse # 53 arrived at the residence of #6 later than she had planned. She told the director that 6 was supposed to report that morning but as he hadn't she would go and fetch him. She took her medical kit with her fully intent on doing the checkup in his house and not returning with him to the hospital. No one would question her as she was better than most of the doctors. She also needed to see him alone. Maybe she would be able to talk to him if there were no microphones, but if there were she had her backup plan.

The door opened for her and she found him resting in a lounge chair just outside the kitchen. She announced herself and got a mild wave in return.

He looked tired and she immediately went about taking his vitals wordlessly fearing that he may have gotten worse overnight.

"How do you feel #6?" she asked officially.

"Couldn't be better," he replied his eyes still closed.

"Could you sit up for me? I want to check the bruising."

He opened his eyes looking at her sideways. "For you, anything," he said with a mildly amused grin. His voice had a deep gravely tone that she found pleasant. Getting out of the chair was difficult and she asked if he needed help to which he said, no, but as he struggled she put one arm under his and the other on his furthest hip and in one strong move rolled him to an upright position. He looked at her with an appreciative smile.

"I think you're stronger than any cart pony I've ever met."

A self conscious smile pulled on the corners of her mouth.

She guided him to the kitchen stool. "You need to take off your shirt."

He sat obediently as she examined the bruising that was now turning into a rainbow of colors but when she touched his tapped ribs, he gently removed her hand. "Lets not do that again," he said.

"You need to come to the hospital tomorrow for another X-Ray," she said.

He studied her face. "You're Romany."

She didn't answer but continued her examination. She wasn't interested in any derogatory comments, although he had been respectful of her in their past interactions.

"Your people were brave fighters in the resistance during the War and they suffered for it. Men, women and children. I've met many of them. They continue to resist behind the Iron Curtain, I know. I've worked with them. They take great risks with no complaints. Good people, I like them."

They made eye contact and she could see sincerity and admiration in his soft blue eyes.

"You can put your shirt on now," she said her voice devoid of emotion. She handed him a bottle of pills.

"These are for pain. You should keep them on you at all times in case you need them when you go out."

He looked at her his eyes turning a cold suspicious blue. "How do I know that's all they are?"

She opened the bottle and held it for him to see. Inside among the pills there was a small piece of folded paper. She looked at him again. "Take one with your breakfast when I leave." She looked at the cold untouched food on the counter and walked to the other side of the counter now facing the living room wall and the Watchers. Shielded by his body she drew the small piece of paper out and placed it under the plate.

"The pills are all good. I packed them myself. Make sure you take one now."

This was a new wrinkle. It was unlike the Village to use an underling for its tricks and especially a minority like a gypsy.

"Thank you," he said and she left as quickly as she arrived.

With his back to the camera, he picked up the note. 'Gypsy Queen help #6, #67 escape'. He quietly ripped the note up and placed it on his first fork full of cold eggs.

XXXXXX

*Sastimos – A Roma greeting suitable for 'hello' and 'goodbye'