The sun, already low over the ocean, cast slanting rays through dark clouds. With mind still foggy and battered body protesting, Number Six moved towards the General Store. Too much time had already been wasted shaking off the after effects of Rover and several over zealous guards. While he had been so indisposed the world had moved on and he must now play catch up.
At some point, without his notice, curfew had been lifted. The Village was alive with aimless shuffle. People with nowhere to go, in a hurry to get there, before the rain came to drive them back to their peaceful cells. He moved past them impatiently.
All round he could feel the eyes of his unseen stalkers. They bore into him from the shadows, too intensely to be missed. Six looked up at the Green Dome, glowing softly in the dying light. Number Two should train his watchdogs better.
Behind the Dome the mountains rose above him, their stony faces bright with the setting sun. If she had managed to escape, Casey might be up there, somewhere among the trees, preparing to weather the night. She could not risk a fire, so it would not be a comfortable one.
The door of the General Store still stood open. People passed without interest. From inside came sounds of the Shopkeep busy with his inventory. Number Six went in.
Progress had been made. Merchandise was either gathered into piles or returned to righted shelves and racks. By the door, in an untidy heap, were the casualties of Casey's outburst. Broken glass and pottery, soiled bits of clothing and mangled produce. Number Six stepped round the mess carefully and looked at the suspenders on the Shopkeep's broad back. The man was writing intently on a clipboard and making unhappy sounds with his tongue as if he were all alone in the world.
Unnoticed Six crossed to the counter and found the bell amid the clutter. He rang it.
"I'm sorry. We are closed." The Shopkeep said as he turned. Upon seeing Number Six, his face darkened.
"I won't take but a moment of your time." Number Six said. "I curious about the girl that was here earlier." he waved a hand at the mess.
Resentment creased the man's brow. "And what should I know about her?" He asked, the professional congeniality scarcely clinging the edges of his voice.
"Has she been captured?"
The fat face stiffened. "I couldn't say, Sir."
"Couldn't or won't?" Six asked nastily watching the Shopkeep's eyes. Nothing showed in them. As he would expect. The man was a trained liar.
"Couldn't say. I've been in the shop all day. I've spoken to no one." The Shopkeep sniffed with something that might have been irritation. "As I've already told you, the shop is closed."
"The shop being closed hasn't effected your ears has it?" Six said, still nasty. "Did you hear any gun shots?"
"I should say not." The man sounded almost hurt. "This is a civilized place."
"As civilized as a Roman Amphitheater." Six snarled.
"Really, Sir. I find your tone most offensive."
"I suppose you would." Six prowled the shop with hard eyes. "What did she take?"
The Shopkeep said with a haughty air. "I'm not at liberty to say."
Six moved closer, crowding him. The facade of the friendly Village Shopkeeper slipped and for a moment the true man looked out at him in uncomfortable surprise. The mouse is not meant to threaten the cat. For a hard moment the men faced each other, then the Shopkeep shifted his gaze, almost frantically looking for someone to bring Number Six to heel for him. Number Six smiled. Perhaps someone would come to put him in his place, but in the meantime he held the upper hand.
He prodded."Are you at liberty to say anything? Or has The Village got your tongue?"
"Your line of questioning is most inappropriate." The Shopkeep stammered unhappily.
"Is it?"
"The rules, Sir."
"Are made to be broken."
He threw it out like a challenge and watched the other man react with something close to panic.
The Shopkeep got some distance and composed himself as he pretended to consult something on his clipboard. A subtle reminder that he was a busy man. "A friend of yours isn't she?" he said, not troubling himself to hide his contempt.
Number Six made no reply. His fingers moved restlessly.
"I can appreciate that you might be upset considering the circumstances,"The Shopkeep snapped in an attempt to restore proper order. "but it gives you no right to barge in here and interrogator me."
Number Six said. "I take liberties."
"I should say." The Shopkeep was again playing at being consumed by his figures. "I don't know anything about that girl. You are wasting both your time and mine."
"Am I?"
The new challenge bothered the man. He had been hoping for an easier victory. "I've told you I don't know." he complained.
"I don't believe you."
Anger glittered in the Shopkeep's eyes. He tossed the clipboard aside and sucked in his breath contemptuously.
There was a cruel edge to his voice when he spoke. "Well, I for one, will be most pleased to see that girl brought to justice."
"For the good of The Village?"
"Of course. Such disharmonious behavior can not be tolerated."
Six let the nastiness seep back in to his tone. "And what can be tolerated?" Anger rose with every word "Blank eyed submission to the dictates of a sadist?!"
The shopkeep's face paled in alarm. No one in The Village dare disparage the great Number Two.
"What do you think just punishment for the disruption of this twisted paradise of yours?" Six went on wickedly. "Exile? Execution? Or perhaps something more human, say, social conversion?"
"I'm sure I don't have any idea what you're on about." The Shopkeep said with an almost petulant whine. "I only meant that I was expecting a shipment today and now am told it will be delayed as long as she is still at large."
Obtaining a confession is always satisfying, but especially so when the subject is unaware he has given one. The small victory served to sooth his rage.
"Shipment?" Six said easily. "How does it come. By boat or helicopter?"
The man's face turned gray with sudden horror. "I'm afraid I've said too much already." He glanced round as if expecting someone to jump out at him.
"Is a ship anchored off shore?" Six smiled with derision. "The Supplies ferried ashore by motor boat?"
"I'm not a liberty to say." The man nearly squeaked.
"When would it arrive? Late at night? After everyone has gone to bed?"
"What's this all about?" The Shopkeep demanded coldly, making another try at regaining some authority. "You know better then to go round asking questions."
"I know no such thing." Number Six glowered, his tone as cold as the Shopkeep's.
He looked out the door at shadows now spreading cool and long into the street. The girl had slipped their net. A small bit of luck.
"If that will be all," The Shopkeep said impatiently, "I really must return to my work."
Six turned back to him. "I need a mirror." he snapped.
"I've told you the store is closed."
"A small mirror." He went on as if the man had not spoken."Three or four inches will be satisfactory."
Unconsciously the Shopkeep slipped back into the familiar role, "The only mirrors I have of that size would be a woman's compact."
"That would do nicely."
Realizing his mistake the man's jowls giggled with displeasure. "Well, I'm afraid you will have to return for it in the morning."
"I'm afraid that won't do." Number Six said quickly. "I require it now."
"I really must insist." The man said, his voice rising. "I have a great deal of work to do."
"For Number Two?" Six sneered.
"Of course."
"He can wait."
The man flushed all the way to his fat neck. "Really, Sir. That is no way to talk."
"I will talk anyway I like." Number Six told him unkindly.
The man's face grew redder, but not with anger. He was afraid of the unseen eyes.
Six glanced round the small shop, full of the hidden cameras and microphones the man feared. He said loudly."Tell me more about this shipment you are waiting for. The one you will get once the girl is caught?"
"Please Sir. I've already told you." The shopkeep nearly yelped. "I'm not a liberty to say."
"Are you at liberty to sell me a mirror?"
"Really, Sir." he sputtered. "I must insist you leave at once."
"I will, as soon as I have what I came for."
"This is most improper."the voice shook now with important rage. "But if you insist."
"I do."
"I will make a report."
"By all means."
Indignantly the Shopkeep huffed through the piles and rummaged round.
"I'm in rather a hurry." Number Six said. "I'm about to lose the light."
He came up redder than before with a small compact in a pink case, splashed with gaudy flowers. He handed it over to Six. "Will that suffice?'
"It will indeed. How much do I own you?"
"Five credits."
Six followed the man's broad back to the counter. There was a wait while the Shopkeep searched for his punch. When it was finally located amongst the mess, he punched Six's card with a show of dissatisfaction and handed it back. "Will that be all?"
"Quite." Six tucked the little mirror away in a pocket "Thank you for the information. It will prove invaluable." He swept his thumb and forefinger across his eye. "Be seeing you."
The Shopkeep blushed redder still.
Stepping through the door, Number Six glanced back at the Dome still warm in the waning sun. Number Two was playing the patient man again. Allowing him to misbehave to an end he could not yet guess. He gave the Green Dome a salute and turned towards the beach.
A breeze brought the smell of rain and a promise of a wild night. It was fresh and cool against his face. He walked faster, feeling the energy of the approaching storm. Thunder complained far off across the darkening water and the waves tossed restlessly. Then fingers of lighting caressed the horizon. He looked that way, to the point where the clouds seemed to touch the water. A ship would come, but not until they were satisfied Casey would not be able to attempt an escape. The girl had to return to The Village. But it would be on his terms, not theirs.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see several men, unable to keep him in sight and still remain in hiding, now trailing behind at some distance. It was a lovely evening for a stroll.
Number Six followed the now familiar path along the edge of the lapping water to the point where the rocks jutted out sharply towards the waves. It was quiet, save the sound of the ocean and the cry of a bird diving low over the dark water. Six climbed onto the rock and faced the mountains. The light hit the tree tops high up and turned the clouds, now covering the peeks, a rosy pink. If Casey was up there she might see. Through the snooping eye of the camera, Number Two, in his sunken lair, certainly would.
A smile of private conspiracy touched Number Six's lips as he got the little compact out of his pocket and opened its flowered top. Thunder sounded much closer now, echoing off the mountains and rolling down the gullies towards him. The air was electric with lighting. The direction of waning light was not optimal. He turned the mirror experimentally until it caught a ray and bounced it back brilliantly. He flashed the light towards the silent mountains.
The sun sank lower and the dark clouds pushed in. Soon it would be too late. The breeze became a wind, heavy with rain. He hunched his shoulders against it. He heard the call for curfew, carried faintly on the wind. Behind him the men were like shadows on the sand and beyond them the lights of The Village drifted through the rain.
As time passed he could sense the men becoming as restless as the sea and as charged as the lighting. They wouldn't humor him much longer. He was in no mood for a fight. He scanned the mountains, his hope fading with the light.
"Hey! Are you deaf. It's curfew," A harsh voice shouted above the wind. "Come on down from there."
He didn't shift his focus, steeling himself for what would no doubt follow.
Then far up the slope he saw the answering flash. A sudden, bright stab of light, glinting at him through the dimness.
His mirror caught the last feeble rays and spelled out a single word.
"Wait."