There seemed to have been a long interval he couldn't remember. Then a period of waking and dreaming in which the two states were indistinguishable, one from the other. He had not known nor cared where he was or even who he was. It had been surreal and pleasant. The world in which he now lay, listening, was a bit more tangible and his existence in it more certain. but it was no less pleasant. He suspected this was due to drugs rather then any true contentment on his part.
The hospital was quiet and the darkness beyond the window completely still. It was to this stillness he listened for the sound that had disturbed him. He did not realize he'd fallen asleep until he woke again, his ears prickling at a distant mutter. Faint at first as to be scarcely heard, then growing louder, until it was like the purr of a tiny kitten at the foot of his bed.
It came from the beach. He rose from the bed as unsteady as a sailor fresh from a long voyage and went on bare feet to the window. It was bright in the room making a mirror of the window pane. He placed his hands on the sill to keep himself standing and pressed his face to the cool glass. Through his own reflection a light seemed to bob gently. A ship in the harbor. There was a smaller light closer in. The sound belonged to it. He recognized the fitful murmurer of an outboard motor. A speedboat was moored to the dock. The supply lines were open once again.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
He turned in clumsy surprise. A hard faced nurse in a stiff white uniform stood behind him, having crept up on her thick rubber soles. Her hands were planted with fierce disapproval on wide hips. The patients in her ward did not wonder about unsupervised. With all the tenderness of a steel worker she took him by the arm and steered him back to bed.
When he was laid down and the blanket yanked up to his chin, she stood over him and said sternly. "Unless you want another shot, you best stay put."
He didn't want another shot nor did he want to go on looking at her unpleasant face. He closed his eyes. The sound her shoes made going away was almost as imperceptible as sound from the outside world. The speedboat was gunning its engine as it went back out to sea. How large was the shipment? How often did it come? Was it always this time of night, whatever time this was? He thought he might listen for the boat's return and keep a tally of the trips but he was already dreaming.
He dreamed The Village was ablaze and he stood atop the mountain to watch it burn. In his sleep, he smiled.
It was Number Two's face that greeted him when he next awoke. It was day. But what day? The day preceding the night before? Or had several slipped by since his last conscious memory of the ship in the harbor?
"I see you're back among the living, Number Six."
The demand for his mental faculties was premature. Sleep still clung to his brain like a heavy film. He looked past Number Two at the window. A blue, cloudless sky greeted him.
"Feeling better, I trust?" Number Two asked with something approaching kindness.
His response was to ask a question of his own. "What day is it?"
"Monday."
His mind become more acute. He should like to know the exact date. "Which Monday?"
"Monday." Number Two repeated.
Disorientation was to be in it, then. He was not to know how much time he had been robbed of.
"Mind if I sit?"
Six said nothing, so Number Two invited himself to the chair beside his bed. He looked fresh and well rested, as if just returned from holiday. His cane tapped gently against the floor.
"You had me worried, old man." Two said.
"For how long," he inquired. "were you worried?"
Number Two sniffed at the bait and sidestepped the trap skillfully.
"You have a remarkable resilience, Number Six." Number Two said, "The doctors are most impressed with the speed of your recovery. You should be right as rain in a day or two." Two crossed his legs and looked out the window, "Lovely view."
Six yawned and touched his shoulder. It still bore a thick dressing, but the wound presented no more discomfort than the persistent ache of a stubbed toe. No doubt he was thoroughly drugged. Perhaps a thoughtful consideration to ease his suffering but more likely it was intended to make him behave.
"I want to leave" He said.
"I'll speak to the doctor." Two replied. "If you promise to avoid excitement, I believe it can be arranged."
The man's manner was aggravatingly pleasant. He was not in the mood for company and the irritation he felt at his jailer's presents was a welcome surprise. In spite of the doctors best efforts he was more himself this morning.
He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and balanced there for a moment as if on a tight rope over a canyon.
"Still a bit groggy." Two observed. "Never mind that. It will pass."
It did not pass. Nor was it meant to. He got to his feet and hobbled around.
"That's right," Two encouraged. "get the blood pumping."
The body was still a bit weak but seemed to function well enough. The problem rested with the head. It felt like a helium balloon bobbing on a string. One false move could send it floating up into the rafters. Number Two was taking no chances.
Casey was on his mind but he wouldn't inquire. While he had been out of the world Number Two had no doubt occupied himself with the girl. In due time Two would permit him to see her and the state he was to find her in was meant to cause a shock. It was best not to dwell upon it. He could little afford to overwhelm his impaired senses with raw emotion.
He moved cautiously to the window. It was a long way and he was tired by the time he got there. He found it necessary to lean on the sill as he looked out.
The view was indeed lovely. They were on the second floor overlooking an expanse of lawn and a thick cluster of trees. Beyond that lay the beach. He could see the little dock and the empty blue of the harbor resting under an equally blue sky. The ship would come again. He must be ready for it.
Behind him Number Two was quiet, watching, waiting for just the right moment to spring the nasty business that had brought him here. It would have to do with the girl. Two was not one to squander leverage. It is never wise to allow your opponent the opportunity to surprise you.
Without looking round he snapped. "This isn't a social call. What do you want?"
In answer Number Two said. "If you feel up for a walk, there is something I'd like to show you."
The sudden malice in Two's voice caught his attention. Whatever he was to see would not be to his liking.
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Number Two was pleased to see the girl was just as he had left her, crumpled under the blue light like a pile of discarded rages . It made for an emotional scene. Number Six's reaction was as delightful as it was predictable. The man went to the one-way glass that separated them form the interrogation room and in hard silence observed the still form for a moment before facing him angrily.
"What have you done?"
He ignored the question and the accusing eyes. This display of moral outrage was nothing more than an amusement to him.
"You really have won her over." Two said. "At one point she cried out for you. Called for you by name. Poor thing. I do believe she was delirious." He chuckled. "It's a been a long time since you've heard your name, hasn't it, Number Six? It's a shame you had to miss it."
"We had a deal!"
Number Two laughed coldly. "A deal? My dear fellow, perhaps it was you who were delirious. I made no deal with you. You simply broke. Gave me what I was after."
It was clear Number Six's hostile impulses were surging up, but he lacked the capacity to act on them. He kept still, for the moment biding his time. Likely concocting a reprisal that would be as cunning as it was violent. Let him contemplate it. When this was finished he wouldn't be capable of launching a mild criticism against his betters.
"She was most devastated to learn of your betrayal." Number Two said. "It was really quite touching. She even wept. I hardly thought her capable."
There was moment of surprise, quickly subdued. Number Six had expected his little confession would earn him some measure of control over the girl's handling.
"For a man who shuns all human company," Two went on as if to rub salt in a wound. "you inspire fierce loyalty. She was reluctant to believe me and still may not fully. I suppose that is one of the qualities that endears you to my masters."
"You wanted her to trust me." Six said in a voice barley controlled. "Why would you tell her?"
Number Two said. "You do over estimate your own importance, Six. This is Village business. The girl must be questioned." The violent rage he felt from Number Six did not trouble him. "Her father managed to not only elude us, but to infiltrate into the most sensitive areas of our organization." He smiled with pleasure. "You can imagine the scandal. My master's are most impatience to learn how it was done."
The girl on the floor was beginning to stir. Just a fitful flicker of the fingers on her out flung hand. She would be coming round soon. If need be the session could begin again. It may do Number Six good to witness an unrestricted interrogation.
"She hasn't been terribly cooperative." Number Two effected a tone of disappointment. "I would have hoped for a more profound response. Disillusionment, you know, can be most powerful. But I believe she's holding out some hope that you were honest in your intentions to help her."
Number Six had moved close to the glass, it pleased him to see that the man was obliged to lean against it to hold himself steady. On the other side the girl was trying to raise and making a poor job of it. She fell back and lay still, breathing heavily.
He allowed Six time to absorb the hopelessness of it all before saying. "I'm sure you can appreciate the technique. The realization that you confided in me at all was enough to cause a good deal of emotional distress and she was persuaded to give us some information. Nothing we didn't already know. But once she is convinced of your duplicity the shattering of her confidence will be complete. I will have no trouble extracting whatever I wish."
"She was a child at the time." Number Six growled. "She knows nothing."
"I certainly hope for her sake that is not the case." He said with mock sympathy, "But no matter, I must try."
"Why?"
This was hurled at him as if it were a tangible weapon. His own shield came up to meet it.
"My masters expect results."
"You have no right." Came the familiar rebuke.
"We have every right." He shot a hard look at Number Six. "It's a matter of survival."
"Who's survival?"
"Why, ours of course."
He returned his attention to his other prisoner who was once again trying to get up. She'd pulled herself into a half seated position, her trembling arms bracing her upright. It must be a hard thing to watch. He glanced over at Number Six. The man hadn't made a move. The drugs may not have sweetened his temper but they were inhibiting the more aggressive tendencies. Though Six was enraged enough to kill., in his present condition he wasn't likely to do so much as throw a punch. Number Two moved closer, feeling unusually bold.
"She doesn't yet despise you." He said softly. "But after a bit more time in there, she will."
Number Six said nothing. He was watching the girl. She was getting to her feet now. Shaky as a new born lamb but determined to stand. Her eyes were on the mirror in which she could only see her own shattered reflection. It was clear time had run out for her. Six was unreadable, rendered momentarily helpless, but patiently waiting for an opportunity to turn the tables. He would not be given one.
"In your former life you thought you could save people from men like me." Number Two said thoughtfully. "How long did it take you to realize that those you worked for were no different?"
There was no answer. He did not expect one. Number Six's expression was that of vault door slamming shut.
"Don't worry." He said, his tone soothing. "I'm not going to ask about your resignation. You aren't yet ready to tell me. But soon you will realize how foolish it is to resist."
"Was there ever a time when you resisted?"
He'd expected a rebuke and the question caught him by surprise. He had no defense against it. In a rush of self righteous anger he shouted. "I am wise enough to recognize an act of futility!"
"You are a sadist and a coward." Six said cruelly.
Impulsively, he raised a hand to strike that arrogant face. Cold eyes dared him. And to his humiliation the hand seemed to wither in on itself, drawing back to touch his own lip. His fingers trembled.
Number Six looked at him in open disdain.
Bitterly he said."You are a fool, Number Six."
"But not a coward."
With irritation he left off worrying the lip to glare back at the insolent man. How little it mattered that Number Six, in this moment, felt himself superior. What good did his bravery do him now? What good had it ever done? He was trapped in this place, where he would languish until he was either broken or destroyed. At the thought Number Two smiled with true satisfaction.
Number Six had returned his attention to the window as if he had lost interest in the conflict. The girl was looking round the tiny room and Number Two was glad enough for the distraction.
With painful weakness she began to walk. The blue light followed her, bathing her in its harsh glow, making her seem almost ghostly. Dulled by its effects, she examined the walls. A door caught her notice. She went over to it. There was no handle.
For a time she ran her fingers round the edges of the door as if hoping to find some chink, some tiny flaw she could transform into an escape rout. But it was tightly fitted and she was without the strength to expend on pointless effort. She rested against the wall and her eyes came back to the mirror. She knew she was being observed.
"You weren't completely dishonest with the girl." Two said. "You do want to help her. Though not in the manner presented."
Suspicion poured out of Number Six, but he was listening.
"If you are willing to bend just a little. You can help her. You may even save her."
There was no softening. No outward show of submission. Only that intense stare.
Number Two said. "Use your considerable talents to shape her to our purpose."
He enjoyed the stillness of the man, it was as if he had been turned to stone.
"You are thinking of all the ways you can get what you want without giving in, aren't you, Number Six?" He smiled. "I assure you there are none. If you are to help her. If she is to go on living at all, it will be according to my rules."
He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a white button. It born the number seven. "The girl dropped this when she first arrived." He held it out to Number Six. "Would you be so kind as to see that it is returned to her?"
Nothing changed in Number Six, he remained the stone man, but his hand come forward to accept the number.
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From the control room Number Two watched as Number Six stepped out of the car and made his way slowly to his own door. It opened for him and the cameras switched as he went in. For a moment he stood in the familiar surroundings, like a man returning home after a long absence. He appeared to accept the comfort he found there with reluctance. Suddenly his hand dipped into his pocket and he smiled grimly. When he went up the stairs he seemed on a mission.
As Number Two watched The Supervisor came to stand beside him, his critical eyes following the action on the screen. "You should be pleased." He said. "No one has ever gotten so far with Number Six."
"He's not yet yielded." Number Two corrected. "He still thinks there is a way to beat me. He will not be satisfied until he has explored every possibility."
Number Six had taken the button out of his pocket and was turning it over in his hand in a contemplative manner. Two watched, feeling tension rising in himself. Any moment the man could toss the thing away and the game would be lost.
"Do you suppose he intends to give it to the girl?" The Supervisor asked.
"With that man it is a waste of time to suppose anything." Number Two said in irritation.
Number Six went to the shelf containing his chess set and laid the button in the exact center of the board with exaggerated care. When he straightened from his task he gave the camera a salute.
Six had submitted to keeping the button, for the time being at least. Yet the man's actions were strangely unsettling. Number Two continued to watch as Six moved about his cell. There was no particular display of defiance now. He was just a tired man preparing for bed. Number Seven would be released from the hospital in a few days. But it was best not to anticipate Number Six's behavior. Two turned away from the screen. No matter, Six would comply or he would bear witness to the girl's death.