A sound roused him. He'd drifted off, not his intention. He rose from the chair stiffly and looked towards the bedroom. Casey was a still form in the shadows. Beyond the window the sky was beginning to lighten. This number Two showed extraordinary restraint. A patient man makes a more difficult adversary. He stretched, noting again an out of place sound. It came from beyond the door. Time was finally up.
The door opened. Four big, dower men poured through it and up the stairs to crowed around him. He grinned. The fight at last.
"How can I help you?" he asked, just filling the moment between now and the first punch.
"You have an unauthorized house guest." One of them said. "We're here to remove her. Don't make any trouble."
"Me, never." He said and slugged the speaker in the mouth.
The man reeled back and the others closed in. It was tight quarters for a brawl. Artfully he ducked a blow and delivered another of his own. Only a few feet away the object of this foolishness slept as bodies crashed and furniture broke. He staggered under a well stuck right cross and went backwards into a pair of arms that clamped round him, lifting him off the ground. His feet struck the snarling face that came at him. He and the man who was attempting to crush him like a bug, staggered back into the kitchen. Tea cups clattered to the floor. The others followed them into the even more cramped space. Six flung his head back, felt the impact as the back of his skull struck the other man's face. Something gave, like stepping on a snail. There was a muffled cry and the hold loosened. He broke free swung at one of his assailants, sending the man flailing backwards. The other two grabbed him, holding his arms, pushing him back. He was grabbed from behind again, this time the arm went round his throat.
He was losing to the crushing vice that cut off his air. Red showed at the corners of his vision.
He kicked out again connecting with someone. This was traded by a jarring blow to the side of his head. More red. The arm round his neck clamped down tighter. No air. His mind was far too slow. He never saw the man who delivered the closing blow, he didn't even feel it. Yet it carried him away, like a leaf on the wind.
He was laying on the floor. Air was burning its way back into his lungs, choking him. Someone cursed and a sledgehammer caught him in the temple. It split his head and blackness poured into him. He drowned in it.
It was dark. He looked up at the ceiling. Still at home. Home, sweet home. He could feel the emptiness of it even as awareness seeped into him. She was gone of course. He lay, feeling the pain, knowing movement would bring more. The hidden eyes watched him. How long had he lain there? Had they been content to watch him? Such patience. Number Two should get another hobby.
He rolled over. It didn't disappoint. He hurt from head to toe. It felt as if they'd used him for a dance floor after he was down. He got his knees under him and worked himself up against the counter. It was a long climb. He was panting by the time he gained his feet. He hung there in the dark, bent over, breathing shallowly. He had a least one cracked rib. He pushed himself away from the counter and stumbled slowly out of the kitchen. He fell into the chair. He was still wet. A chill set in, making him shiver. His aching muscles protested. He closed his eyes.
Where was she now? Back on her beach, colder than himself? Afraid? If she had any sense she would be. She didn't strike him as a particularly sensible girl.
Anger alone propelled him out of the chair. He staggered to the door. It wouldn't open. No reason to expect it would. They wanted him here. A ringing stared far off. He listed to it, growing louder, darkness pushed in after it. He turned away from the door, heading for the window. His mind was clawing up a muddy hill. He went to his knees. It was full dark and the ringing had become a hum. He swayed and fell forward.
On the infrared camera Number Two watched his unruly pet collapse.
"Should I ring the doctor?" The supervisor asked.
"That won't be necessary."
"Do you think that wise? You know how valuable he is."
"A fact that has been impressed upon me since my arrival." Two snapped. "And yet what value is he to us as he is? Wild as an animal. Fighting us at every turn."
The supervisor opened his mouth to speak.
Two raised a hand stopping the words, "Leave him where he is. Pain is a good teacher."
"And if he dies?"
"He won't die. Men like that are harder to kill than cockroaches." He looked back at the unconscious form on the screen. "They will be here long after the rest of us have perished."