Lily knocked lightly on Simms' open door. "You wanted to see me?"

He nodded. "Come in, sit down. Let me finish this up." He turned back to the papers on his desk while she settled in the chair across from him.

After a minute, he looked up again. "Campbell."

"Give me another day or two," Lily answered. "I'll have a better answer then."

Simms nodded. "You're making progress, then?"

"I'm … getting a much better idea about how she thinks."

"Good."

They were silent for a moment. "What else?" Lily prompted.

"I've been going over the Balkans logistics notes you made. It's good work, all of it."

"Thanks."

He shifted, framing his next words, watching her closely. "But I'm going to need you back in the field full time."

Romanov didn't even blink. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She blinked then. "I'm sorry, was it a question?"

"Not really, no."

Lily shrugged. "Okay."

"It's not a demotion. I want you to understand that. It's just a matter of necessity."

"Who's going to do the planning?"

"I am. You are, when you have time. But it won't be your primary assignment."

"When do I start?"

"As soon as you're done with Campbell."

"I could sign her off right now."

"No, take your days. Finish it up."

Lily sighed. "Damn. Should have told you I was done." There was another pause. "Anything else?"

"You don't have any questions? Comments?"

She considered him quizzically. "Should I have?"

"You've paid your dues, Romanov. We all know it. If you don't want to be in the field … now's the time to say so."

She sat back in her chair. "I can go back out for a while."

"For a while?" Simms repeated, surprised.

"For a while." Lily hesitated. "It's wearing me down. I won't lie to you about that. I can see a place where I won't be able to do it any more." She shrugged. "But I'm not there yet."

Simms nodded slowly. Her confession surprised him. But he'd reviewed her record, knew what she'd been through. He shouldn't have been surprised at all. "You let me know when you get there."

"I will." She stood up. "Anything else?"

"No. Keep me posted on Campbell."

"I will."

Control snagged the phone in his hotel room. "Yes?"

"We have a situation," she said.

"Critical?"

"No. Level three. Code two-forty-nine."

Control hesitated. They had codes, he and Lily. They went from one (I am fleeing the country and being pursued) to nine (we may have been discovered, proceed with caution) and then they got silly. He had no idea what 249 was. Something like, I desperately need to have my feet rubbed. It was not critical, not life-threatening. But the fact that she'd called him at all told him she did need to see him, and soon.

"Location seven," he answered. "You have my itinerary."

"Understood."

The phone went dead. The whole call had lasted perhaps ten seconds. Much too short to trace. Not that she would have called him from home anyhow.

Vaguely uneasy, but also confident that she had accurately assessed the severity of the situation, he dressed for his dinner meeting.

"Mr. McCall?"

"Hello, Nancy," he rumbled smoothly over the telephone.

Nancy looked around the mostly-empty cubicle farm. "I'm not sure you should have called me here. How did you even find me?"

"Never mind about that. But you're right, we should be brief. I have located your … gentleman friend."

"Already?"

"Yes. And I have a plan to dissuade his further interest. Come to my apartment when you leave work."

"I'll be there."

"Good. I shall be waiting."

"Hey, Nancy?"

Campbell whirled, slamming down the phone guiltily. Lily Romanov was leaning on the edge of the cubicle. "Sorry. Didn't know you were on the phone."

"I was done anyhow," Nancy said quickly. "You just startled me."

"Sorry. I got your gun back." Lily brought out Nancy's own weapon. It was brightly polished. "We were right, the sites were off just a little."

"Oh. Thanks." Nancy swapped her loaner gun with her own. They were similar automatics, but her own felt somehow reassuring in her hand. "What do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"No, really, I want to pay you back."

Lily shrugged. "Knowing that you have an accurate gun when you're behind me is payback enough. You got big plans for the weekend?"

Nancy shook her head. "No. Just … take care of some things around the house. Why? Do you want to do something? Go to the range or whatever?"

"No, not really. I plan to spend most of the weekend in bed."

"Alone?" Nancy teased.

"Could be," Lily returned dourly. "See you Monday."

"Have a good one."

Nancy holstered her gun – her own gun – and went to gather her things.

"His name is Michael Smith," McCall pronounced. "He has been twice convicted of breaking and entering, and once of menacing. He has been in jail three times, and he is currently on parole. He works nights and weekends at a small convenience store just across from the park."

"Which store?" Nancy asked eagerly.

Robert smiled tightly. "No, no, my dear. I found him, we follow my plan."

She nodded her reluctant assent.

McCall brought out a small map of Central Park and opened it on the counter. "The store is here," he said, pointing. "There is an entrance to the park just here. And here, along this path, there is a bridge. Now the path, as you can see, curves up and over the bridge, then curves back on the other side. A more direct route would be under the bridge, through this tunnel. There are fairly heavy woods on both sides; it would be inconvenient and slow to leave the path."

Nancy nodded. "I'm with you so far."

"Have you a little nerve left, Miss Campbell? Not a lot is required, only a little."

She swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go into the store and provoke this man. I want you to induce him to follow you out of the store and into the park."

"And then?"

"Then you will run down this path, as fast as you can. Around the curve, up over the bridge, and around the other side. Your stalker, I am fairly sure, will try to take a short cut, through the tunnel. Where I will be waiting for him."

Nancy bit her lip. "And what if he doesn't? What if he stays on the path?"

"Then I will see that, and have time to climb the far embankment and cut him off."

"You're sure?"

McCall smiled warmly. "I assure you, Nancy, you will not be in any danger from this man." He studied her for a moment. "Do you think you can do it?"

Something in the intensity of his gaze made her blush. I think I could fly to the moon if you said so, she thought vaguely. Then she shook herself mentally. What is it with you and older men all of the sudden? "I can do it," she said, with great certainty.

"Good." McCall retrieved the video tape from a shelf. "Let's go."

Nancy blinked, startled. "What, now?"

"He's working now, yes. Let's have it done with, shall we?"

"I … I …"

"We can wait," Robert allowed gently. "He is also scheduled to work tomorrow evening. But I rather thought you'd want to enjoy your weekend without the threat of his presence."

"I do. I do, you're right. Let's go."

McCall nodded his approval. "Very well."

Nancy couldn't fight down the nervous flutter in her stomach as she and McCall walked her escape path back and forth. It wasn't fear. It was excitement.

"Ready?" Robert said.

"I'm ready," Nancy said, trying to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice.

"On your way, then." He put the video tape in her hand. "I'll be waiting in the tunnel. And remember, if anything goes wrong, you shout and I will be there. Understand?"

"I understand."

She left him on the sidewalk just outside the park and jay-walked through heavy traffic to the little store. She paused on the sidewalk and peered through the window. He was there, the Man, looking very ordinary as he sold cigarettes to an underage boy. He had been so frightening on her turf. On his own, he was as common as dirt.

Nancy waited until the teen left, then strode into the store and up to the counter. The Man was watching the tiny black and white TV above the counter and didn't even bother to look at her. "Help you?" he asked, bored.

"No," Nancy said, "but you could have helped yourself, if you'd left me alone when I told you to."

The Man snapped around. His eyes glittered with recognition and danger. "Hey, Pretty Girl. Come back for another round?"

"Come back for the final round, Mr. Smith," she pronounced. "You're already on parole, Michael. One call, and you're back in the can."

He slapped both hands on the counter. "Don't threaten me, Pretty Girl. You don't want to threaten me."

Nancy let herself look afraid. "You threatened me, Pretty Boy. How do you like it?"

"I don't like it," he snarled. "I don't like it at all. And I'm not going back to prison, you bitch."

"Yes, you are." She brought the tape out from under her jacket. "Because I'm not just going to call your parole officer, I'm going to show him a home movie of you in my apartment. You're going back to jail, loser." Nancy turned, tossed her head, and walked out.

She glanced over her shoulder just long enough to see him come around the counter after her. Then she sprinted into traffic.

On the far sidewalk, she paused at the park entrance and looked back. He was following. He got hung up by crossing traffic, then broke across. She sprinted down the path.

Once she was in the park, Nancy didn't have to look back. She could hear his feet pounding after her on the path. He was faster than she expected. But she still wasn't afraid. It was only fifty yards to the bridge, and Mr. McCall was there, waiting for her, watching over her. She would be fine. She would be fine.

The exhilaration was overwhelming.

She loved the rush. She would never, never tell Mr. McCall that part. She had genuinely meant what she'd said, about wanting to be in the field so she could make a difference. That was all true. But there was also this. The absolute rush of the game.

She sprinted up the little hill and across the bridge. As she started down the far side, she listened intently. The footsteps behind her fell away. The Man was going for the tunnel. Nancy slowed her pace. Robert would have him now. She was eager to double back and see his face. She had no doubt that the lambasting would be memorable, and she didn't want to miss a word of it …

A gunshot barked from the tunnel.

Nancy's feet skidded as she stopped. A shot? There couldn't have been a shot. Shooting was no part of the plan. Maybe it was a car, outside the park, a backfire … no. It was distinctly a gunshot, and it had come from the tunnel.

Ah, God, Nancy thought in sudden despair, I've gotten Mr. McCall killed.

But when she turned into the tunnel, McCall was still on his feet. She sagged with relief and stepped to his side. "Mr. McCall, I heard …"

"I know what you heard," he said calmly. The gun was still in his hand. He gestured with it. The Man – Michael Smith – was in a heap at his feet. "I don't think this man will bother you any more."

The thin sheen of perspiration on Nancy's skin felt suddenly icy. Her excitement turned to confusion. "But you were just going to talk to him. You didn't say anything about …" There was bile in the back of her throat. "You killed him. You killed him!"

"Yes," McCall answered coldly. "And her, too." He gestured with the gun again.

Nancy followed his gesture. In the shadow of the wall, ten feet away, there was another body on the ground. Smaller than the Man, with long brown hair …

"Lily!" Confusion turned to fear. Not again, not again. Nancy took a step towards her.

McCall stepped in her way. "No, no. You have no further business with her."

She stared at him. Her heart felt like lead, and it banged relentlessly in her chest. The fear from Prague was back, the panic. She was bewildered, terrified, and her first instinct was to run. Her whole body coiled in preparation. "But … but … why?"

McCall sighed wearily. "First of all, Mr. Smith there? He isn't – wasn't – Michael Smith. He was, in fact, Michael Kostmayer. Mickey, to his friends. Which he considered me to be. Unfortunately for him."

"Kostmayer …" she repeated in recognition.

"A Company man, of course."

"But …"

He shook his head impatiently. "Don't you get it, Nancy? It was all a game. Another of the Company's endless, idiotic games."

Nancy nodded numbly. Lily was dead, this other man – a Company man – was dead. McCall didn't care about the bodies. He was clearly insane. He had a gun in his hand. And he was talking about games.

She still wanted to run, but she knew she wouldn't make it. Run, in her mind, suddenly became, survive. The physical panic subsided enough to let her think. Stall him, the survival instinct said. "I don't understand," she said.

"I know you don't," he said wearily. "You're not really very bright, are you?" He shook his head again. "Let me draw you a picture, little one. Lily, there, she was your training agent. And she needed to know if you would come apart under pressure. Not training pressure, not nice safe exercise pressure, but real pressure. To do that, she needed to create an exercise that seemed very, very real to you. So she enlisted Mr. Kostmayer to menace you."

"She … he …"

"They are very good friends," Robert said dourly. "Very good indeed. So he stalked you, frightened you. But they didn't expect you to come to me for help."

"You … killed them," Nancy managed to say. "You killed them."

"Yes. They were with the Company."

"But you're … they were your friends."

"They were with the Company," he repeated impatiently. "They were not my friends. There are no friends in the Company. Haven't you gotten it yet? They deceived you. Betrayed your trust. Just as they betrayed mine. Just as the entire Company betrayed mine." He moved closer, his eyes hard and dark. "Don't you get it, Nancy? They are nothing but liars and hypocrites. They will stab you in the back in a heartbeat. They will take your whole life, all your work, all your high ideas, and they will destroy you." He straightened. "So they must be stopped. All of them."

"All of them." Nancy's heart was still thudding and she could hardly focus on his words. She only knew that she needed to keep him talking.

"All of you," he amended. "They were a start," he said, gesturing to the two bodies. "And you. The three of you will be found here, and there will be profound consternation in the office. Confusion, and fear. But they will not suspect me. Because I am their friend." He sneered this last word out. "You will be the first, and then I shall kill every other Company agent I can find."

"But … but …"

"I begin with the three of you. I will end with Control. And I will kill every other agent who crosses my path."

"But you can't …"

Behind him, Lily Romanov stirred, moaned.

McCall wheeled and raised his gun. "Damn it, why aren't you dead yet?"

Nancy moved. "Don't," she snapped as she drew her own gun.

Robert turned. They stood face to face, five paces apart, their guns aimed at each other. "You won't do it," McCall said calmly. "You haven't got the nerve."

"I won't let you kill her."

He smiled coldly. "She's already dying. I doubt she'll go anywhere while I take care of you."

Nancy pulled the trigger.

The gun did not fire.

McCall laughed. "My turn."

Nancy lunged at him. She got past his gun, got one arm around his neck, her fingers ripping at his hair, and swung her useless firearm at his head with the other.

There was motion everywhere. A hand grabbed her arm behind McCall's neck. Another closed over her gun. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back. Too many hands, too many voices. She pulled back sharply and stared at the three of them – McCall, Kostmayer, Romanov.

There was not a mark on any of them.

She had needed the game explained to her the first time, but now she got it in a glance. Her terror turned to rage. "It was all a set-up. All a game."

"For everyone but you," McCall – a very sane McCall again – admitted. "You did very well, young lady." He rubbed the back of his head ruefully. "Very well indeed."

Nancy looked at each of them in turn. Her gaze settled on Lily. "This was all your idea."

"Mostly.

"You bitch. You incredible bitch."

Lily shrugged.

Kostmayer took a step forward. "We haven't met." He stuck his hand out. "I'm Mickey Kostmayer."

"Fuck you," Nancy said evenly. "Fuck all of you!" She turned and strode out of the tunnel, then clambered up the hill to the path again.

In a moment they joined her. "I don't blame you for being upset," McCall said soothingly. "It's a damned dirty trick we've played on you. But there really was no other way."

"And that makes it all right, doesn't it?" Nancy snarled. "The ends justify the means, is that it?"

"I did warn you," McCall answered. "If you continue on your path with the Company, you will be forever surrounded by betrayal. The people you care for most, the ones you should be able to trust – you will never be absolutely certain that even they will not betray you. It is the life you're signing on for."

Nancy glared at him. She raked her gaze past Kostmayer again. He was looking away from her, and she had the distinct impression he was amused. She looked again to Lily. "Well?" she demanded. She was shaking with rage now. "Did I pass? Can I do the job?"

Lily considered her for a long moment. "It's not my decision," she answered finally. "It's yours. Can you live like this? Can you do the job?"

"I can …"

"No," Lily interrupted. "Don't answer now. Go home, spend the weekend, think about it. Really think about it. No illusions. No glamour. Just the job. Think, and tell me on Monday."

Nancy glared harder at her. The older woman seemed utterly unimpressed. None of them, in fact, seemed very impressed. They were probably already thinking about where to go for a post-game beer.

For the first time she saw them. These people who she thought had cared about her were nothing but cold, and probably nothing but killers.

And she was trying to join their world.

Furious, hurt, and more frightened than she had been through her whole ordeal, Nancy turned and fled.