The convulsion jerked her head back and rolled her eyes up until they resembled a pair of white marbles. For a violent moment she was ridged, then went limp as a rag doll. To his frustration he realized she was quite unconscious.
He turned on the doctor viciously. "What's gone wrong?"
"A collapse." The man said, rejecting the rebuke with a critical scowl."The subject has shown high resistance. It may take a few more sessions to break through the natural defenses."
There was a great deal yet to implant into that suborn head of hers. He discovered his fury mounting as he looked down on a face made serene by the oblivion into which she had escaped him. She had not endured nearly long enough.
"We'll begin again."
"Tonight?" the doctor shook his head. "There would be danger of damaging the tissue."
Already Number Six had increased the girl's value in the eyes of the doctor. And in theirs. He felt the stifling limitations of his moves. But yet he must pretend as if he was still playing according to the rules.
"When will she be ready?"
This was met with a questioning glance. "In twenty four hours," the man's suspicions were aroused. "Number Six has already demonstrated a willingness to cooperate. I don't understand what further manipulation of the subject in this manner will gain. Or do you doubt his commitment?"
The good doctor tread too near, but he resisted the desperate impulse to justify his actions to an underling. To do so would only invite more scrutiny. "Don't make me doubt yours," he said dangerously. "See to your patient."
The threat was sufficient for the time being. The doctor went obediently about his examination. With disdain he thought of the many cameras, like hidden enemies, watching his every move, waiting for a misstep. He must deny them the satisfaction.
He returned to his chair. Settling back he rubbed his burning eyes and realized for the first time the lateness of the hour. Given a bit more time he would have shredded the girl's reality. But time was a luxury on which he could not count. If they became invested in the belief Number Six had yielded they may interfere. Resentfully he watched as the doctor went about his work with clinical efficiency.
He leaned over the girl and lifted her eyelids so she stared up as if transfixed by the light, erasing all illusion of tranquility. "Excellent," he said approvingly. "Splendid response."
"You seem pleased with the results, doctor." Number Two said.
A test was in order. Had Six gone to bed or was he still waiting? Number Two looked at the screen but didn't change the view. He rather enjoyed the image. It held a certain finality that suited his mood. He should like to see how it suited Number Six.
The doctor straightened away from the girl, leaving her in that odd unseeing state. Something to vex Number Six's sensibilities.
"Given the short duration of the treatment," the man's reply interrupted his musings, "the result is better than anticipated."
"We'll have Six in." He said, "See what he makes of it."
"I don't pretend to understand your method." the doctor objected tentatively, as suspicion stirred again. "But I must warn you that the conditioning may not be fully ingrained. Premature contact could be disastrous."
He bristled against the renewed demand for justification and his almost pathological desire to give it. "I did not ask for your opinion," he barked.
"Of course,"the doctor returned in a tone that was meant to be contrite."I merely caution against recklessness."
"Fortune favors the bold." Two said dismissively and grabbed up the yellow phone. "Get me, Number Six."
There was no indication surprise in the man's voice when he answered, as if he'd been expecting the call. Perhaps he had.
"My office, Number Six, immediately," Two said curtly. He set the phone aside and rested his gaze on Number Seven. Her mind may have slipped away, but her body, locked in its uncomfortable situation would serve well enough.
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Number Six stopped at the top of the ramp to survey the scene in Number Two's office. It would have been rude to do otherwise. It all had been so carefully staged for him.
The star attraction was seated under the light, as lifeless as an apartment store mannequin. The poor girl's head was strained back against the chair so that the blind eyes seemed to stare up as if in a trance. It might be something like that, if she were lucky. A doctor hovered nearby like an attentive undertaker.
Six came a few steps down the ramp and glanced over at the screen. The murdered woman displayed there could only be Casey's mother. The cruelty of it threatened to unleash the rage. But just now he could ill afford it. Tonight was to be a contest of wits, not muscle. He moved forward, intent on the man in the chair.
"What's this?" he demanded, dutifully taking up his role.
"A history lesson." Number Two said pleasantly.
"Revisionist history, no doubt."
"Is there any other kind?"
"Not in this place."
"Your ridged adherence to absolute truth does you no service, Number Six." Number Two admonished gently.
"We shall see about that."
"Indeed," Number Two replied still feigning good humour. He tapped the control with the tip of his cane returning the screen to its thick, languid bubbles, raising ever upwards.
Six turned on the doctor. "You seem familiar," he said accusingly. "have we met?"
"Yes," the man scowled in acknowledgment. "But I don't expect you would remember too clearly."
Six thought for a moment. "I might," he said slyly,"remember too clearly after all." he caught the glance that passed between Number Two and his tame doctor. "you were the fellow with the soothing voice and the sharp needle."
He left them to wonder how much he recalled of what was said between them the two of them that night and looked over at Casey, pinned under the light like a prized specimen. "Is this more of your special interrogation technique?"
"It's quite routine." the doctor said in a tone that was beginning to develop frost.
"Torture always is," Number Six said. "to a sadist."
The permanent scowl was momentarily wiped away by righteous indignation. "Your attitude is most unacceptable."
"Is it?"
"There are treatments for people like you." the man's voice was full of threat, like a schoolboy promising certain retribution at the hands of his big brother.
"So I've been told," Six replied carelessly. "But I've yet to see any evidence of that."
He turned his back on the doctor's ire and leaned across to the desk to meet Number Two's disapproval. "The good doctor seems a bit out of sorts." he told him. "Perhaps you aught to send him on his way."
"You are in high spirits tonight, Number Six." Two said with distaste. "Why don't you tell me what's on you mind?"
"Get rid of the doctor." Six said, "and we'll talk."
To his delight Two snapped at the doctor, "get out!"
Number Two was certainly in an accommodating mood tonight. So out of character. The man must have laid some very nasty trap for him. He would find out the nature of it when Casey was revived.
The steel door slid open and he heard the doctor start to leave. He spun round, "just a moment."
The doctor cast an almost anxious eye on his boss. The turn of events had unsettled him. He was the confident man when his test subjects were rendered properly docile by drugs and restraint. Having one issuing demands caused him go all to pieces.
Six smiled at him, "won't you be so kind as to see the girl home?"
The man gobbled back uncertainly.
"By all means," Two said with something approaching good nature. "We're quit finished. For now."
The light switched off.
He reached her just in time. Like a jellyfish pulled from the sea she collapsed and would have ended in a puddle on the floor had he not caught her. As he leaned her back in the chair her eyes focused on him as if she were waking from a dream. For a moment there was an almost blissfulness about her, then memory returned. She drew away from him to glance at the screen in that involuntary way one looks at a car wreck. Not finding what she had expected she looked back at him. He read the confusion and mistrust. Number Two's history lesson had been effective.
"You can go now, Number Seven," He held out his hand, "The doctor will see you home."
His hand was ignored and to his disgust he saw she was looking at Number Two. Her eyes were pleading for permission. Six ground his teeth against the anger. For the moment at least it seemed they had won her over.
"It's quite alright my dear." Number Two said magnanimously. "You've done well. Go along home and get some rest. We'll talk again soon."
With sickening meekness Casey took the offered hand and allowed him to help her to her feet, all the while artfully avoiding him with her eyes. He was glad of it, what he would have seen there would only stir the rage.
The doctor swooped in cold as death and took charge of her. She didn't seem to mind accompanying her tormentor. They went out leaving him alone with Number Two.
As the door closed he turned back to the man. "You should be pleased."
"This is only the beginning." Two assured him. "We have many ways and means. With a free hand our methods are most persuasive."
"That's always been your problem, hasn't it?" he said tauntingly. "You have all this power and yet there is an unseen chain about your neck, restraining your more ambitious impulses."
He'd struck the nerve but the reaction was well managed. "I would be careful, Number Six." Two said pleasantly, "Circumstances change."
"Indeed they have already changed," he countered, "in my favor."
"How do you figure that, my good man?" Two leaned down and touched the controls.
The light came on, washing over him, reminding him who was the prisoner and who was the warden. It seemed to have sharp little teeth that gnawed at corners of his brain.
"You aren't in a very comfortable position." Two observed wickedly.
He said, "I think quite soon, you will find that is you who are in the uncomfortable position."
Two leaned back in his chair, making a show of being at ease. But some trouble showed in the deepening furrows of his brow. "I've indulged you as much as I intend, Number Six." He said with a touch of impatience. "Are you ready to talk?"
"About what?" he asked. "My retirement?"
"Nothing so mundane." Number Two said irritably. "What were you and Number Sever playing at today?"
The business on the Clock Tower had done the trick. "I'm training your assassin." He said with an air of innocence. "It's what you wanted."
The tone was effective. Two looked as if he had been slapped. "Training her to assassinate me?" He spat.
He let a playful smile slip across his lips, "She requires no instruction in that."
"I'll have no more of your insolence, Number Six." Number Two warned. "You are to break her for us."
"I agreed to do nothing of the sort."
Two came out of his chair. "If you don't break that girl," he leaned over the desk, his balled fist pressed hard against the smooth surface, "she will be subjected to social conversion."
"I would have thought you preferred the death penalty." Six said without feeling. "Breaking people is your specialty, not mine."
"You've broken plenty in your time." Two snarled.
The playfulness went away and angry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I will instruct the girl in the fine art of professional murder," he said levelly. "I may even tame her for you. But if you want her broken I will have no part of it."
Two settled back. Glared. He was a man not yet convinced. Six parked himself on the edge of the desk and looked at the screen with its ugly bubbles. It like the light had a troubling effect. Almost lulling, if he allowed it.
He looked away, round the room at the unseen watchers. The watchers who watched the watcher. How was the home office taking all this, he wondered? They had let Number Two have his head. Permitted him to make some very rash moves. How much farther would they be willing to go if they thought it would get them what they were after? He should like to find out.
"I know what you're up to." Two said accusingly.
"Do you?"
"You're pretending to cooperate. Playing along."
"Really? For what purpose?"
"To make me trust you," this was near a shout.
He looked quizzical, "do you trust me?"
"You're a trained conspirator," Two said nastily. "Number Six, the master manipulator."
"What's my end game?" He asked. "What am I after?"
The man opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He wasn't quite sure about that. Not just yet. He said sullenly, "You're trying to make a fool of me."
"Nothing so banal." Six replied. "I going to destroy you."
Number Two was on his feet again. "You admit it?" he almost shrieked.
"Why not? It's what you believe." His eyes went to the red phone. "But what do they believe?"
Two followed his gaze, and froze on the phone as if it were a venomous snake surprised upon in the garden path.
"Do they believe as you?" he let some bitterness taint his voice, "or can they see what is right in front of their eyes?"
Number Two glanced at him, then away. He didn't answer. His masters were more convinced than he.
"I've done as you asked," Six said angrily. "I kept my part of the bargain."
Number Two retreated again to his chair, sinking far back into the shadows like a wounded bear returning to its den. His voice came out of the darkness. "You will continue to train the girl under my directions."
"I've agreed to train her." he said. "And to that end I want no more interference from the Village. She is to be left to me."
"You have no say in the matter." Two hissed at him.
"There are to be no more interrogations," he warned. "And you are to keep Dr. Mengele away from her. Is that understood?"
"You don't dictate terms to me." Number Two spat back defiantly.
"I think you will find that I do."
There was no challenge, just impotent rage emanating from the shadows. Number Two suspected that he was right. They would soon find out. He rose and started for the door.
"I'm watching you," Number Two shouted after him. "You've made a concession. Whether in earnest or as a ploy, it was a concession. The first chink in that perfect armor of yours."
He stopped and turned back. "In that case you aught to be commended."
"I will break you, Number Six." The voice shrilled from the chair.
"One of us will break."
He enjoyed the silence that answered. Enjoyed the feeling of power it gave him. He looked at the man half hidden in shadow, feigning control to conceal a growing fear. Was he really so different from Number Two? This thought he did not enjoy. He turned and stalked up the ramp. The steel door opened obediently.
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Number Two glowered at the door for a long time, feeling trapped behind it. Trapped in the vastness of his office. Alone but always seen. Angrily he rose from his chair and slammed the controls. The screen showed him Number Six just now arriving home. The man looked well pleased with himself as he saluted the camera and went inside. He resisted the impulse to switch views and spy on Six further. Instead he reached for the yellow phone.
"Get me Number Forty Nine." He snapped into it.
Six believed himself in charge. He would soon learn other wise. There was nothing of which the Village could not deprive him of. No depths of misery to which it could not drive him. The thought of it was exhilarating. Number Two smiled cruelly,
The doctor answered, sounding displeased.
"You are out of sorts, my good man," Two said amiably. "Perhaps some time in the operating theater will cheer you. I'm authorizing the procedure on Number Seven. I want it done tonight."
Rather then the anticipated enthusiasm he was met with an uneasy pause that almost frightened him. When the doctor replied his voice was indignant. "By who's authority?"
"By mine!" Something had changed. Panic threatened to overcome him. He yelled into the phone."I am ordering you."
There was another tension filled silence then the doctor's cold voice was in his ear again. "You know there is a new directive regarding Number Seven. Highest priority. No extreme measures to be used yet." Now suspicion tinged the man's words. "Are you testing my loyalty?"
He put the phone down with a hand that shook and switched the camera. Number Six was in his bedroom, readying himself for bed in a relaxed manner. He gave the camera another salute, "Be seeing you." he said mischievously and turned out the light.
Number Two glanced round at the hidden eyes. He had been out maneuvered by Number Six. They believed Six's desire to cooperate genuine. Nothing would dissuade them that the man had not really broken. That the appearance of submission was merely subterfuge to cover some form of treachery. In the quiet of the empty room he sensed a growing isolation.
He left the sanctuary of his chair and stood in front of the screen. On it Number Six had already fallen into peaceful sleep, secure in his victory. How cleverly the man had made his play. He hadn't been informed of Number Seven's change in statues. He fought back panic as he realized the full implications. His masters had moved to preserve the girl for Number Six's scheme without his knowledge. To test his commitment? Wildly he realized ignorance would provide him no alibi. He had acted against them. His order to have the girl medically adjusted could only be seen as working at cross purposes. Even deliberate sabotage.
He had no allies in the Village. His eyes flew to the red phone just as it buzzed. The panic that stalked him like a hungry beast would not be denied. It devoured him.