Casey sat at the kitchen counter clinking her spoon round in a tea cup in a listless manner. In the quiet of the cottage the torments of the night before seemed to have caught up with her. Six felt the weariness himself, deep in his bones. The long march of brutal days were exacting a heavy toll. If not for the press of time he would have sent Casey off to her bed and gone to his own. He took some small comfort in the certainty that Number Two's obsession would have the man driving himself to the limit as well. Even now, he watched, like a cat at a mouse hole.
Six lifted his chess board from its place, careful not to upset the chessmen. Through the erosion of her endurance the girl watched vacantly as he carried it to the kitchen.
"An operative must be able to keep his wits about him, even under the most difficult conditions." He said, settling the board in front of the exhausted girl, "Succumbing to physical or mental fatigue can be a death sentence."
Grimly she straightened in her seat and focused. If his callous disregard for her suffering troubled her, she gave no indication. In this place, where human misery was treated as a commodity, it was easy to become numb to it.
"The best way to learn is to follow in the footsteps of the masters, "Six explained as he seated himself across from her, "To that end we will play a well known game. A match between two great players, Marshall and Capablanca. It is said to be one of the greatest games ever played on a chess board."
She was to play Black and he White. He gave her a brief lesson on the lay of the chess board and names and moves of each piece. It mattered little if she remembered. This was to be for the edification of Number Two, their constant unseen companion.
"You will play for Marshall, a fellow countrymen of yours," he said, "and I for Capa."
"Did you and dad ever play?" She asked wearily.
Deceiving those who had placed trust in him had always been a most loathsome part of his job. In that well practiced way of his, he lied easily. "Many times."
He should very much like someday to be honest with the girl in regards to her father. But he knew that day would never come. Not so long as she remained in the Village. And once he'd gotten her away...he smiled bitterly, their paths would never cross again.
"He never mentioned chess." she said, and he realized she was quietly testing him the way a jeweler test a diamond against glass.
Whatever Number Two could do to harm his reputation with the girl, he could do better. An innocent falsehood to further his goal may prove the stumbling block that derailed it.
"Spies are seldom completely honest," he replied, making no attempt to redeem himself "even with those closest to them."
This only served to cause more trouble. Many a dark thought stirred behind Casey's eyes. Number Two's work again. It was not only for himself she harbored misgivings. Some doubt about her father's loyalties had been seeded as well; and in her confused mind, found fertile ground. No one in the girl's life, past or present, was to be left untainted by Two's subversive fictions.
"It's cruel sort of irony," she said, "one can only deceive those who are foolish enough to trust."
Old anger stirred. He'd quit his job to escape the lies, only to find himself in this place, where deception was in the very air he breathed.
"With a friend like me you don't need enemies." He said bluntly.
She glanced at him, weighing his confession. And then chose to ignore it. "My father was English," she said. "And yet I never once heard him speak with an English accent."
"As an agent his discipline was always impeccable."
"I don't think I ever really knew him," she replied in a sullen tone, as if in acceptance of this newly born suspicion.
That should please Number Two. He felt himself tempted to give way to his anger. But there was neither time nor energy for such an indulgence. If he were to drive the knife in deep he need keep his wits. With resolve he applied his tired mind to the job at hand.
"Chess is a game wherein nothing is hidden, every move must be made in the open for your enemy to see." he said returning to the role of teacher. "But the purpose behind each move is only known to the one who makes it."
"It already feels familiar." She said.
"I think you will find the game suits your temperament."
"And yours."
"You're too kind." he smiled. "Shall we begin?"
As he played White, the opening move was his. He gave a camera a confidential look and played King's pawn to e4, very by the book. The first six moves of this game had all been quite tame, with Capa attempting some well known plays and finding, to his surprise, Marshall allowing it.
Six walked Casey through her moves and made his own mechanically, all the while feeling Number Two's impatience keenly. Watching a game of chess can be a dull task for a sleep deprived man, but Six had chosen this particular game for a reason and in a moment Two would find it fascinating.
"On his 7th move Marshall castles," he said calling attention to the moment with a theatrical air. He instructed Casey on castling and then continued. "And now Capa suspects a trap," He could almost sense Number Two's interest peek. "Capa makes his move, but not the one his opponent anticipated." with a little flourish he moved the Bishop's pawn to c3. "This," he went on, "was an important move. Can you see why?"
The girl leaned forward and studied the board, her fatigued mind and inexperienced eye searching for the answer. Finally she said. "You can keep me off d4 and b4, also you can pull your Bishop back if you need to."
"You catch on quickly." Six returned warmly."Now your move, d5."
She moved the black Queen's pawn forward two spaces.
"Marshall has just launched his attack. He sacrifices the key central pawn." Six said quietly, so the listener would have to strain an ear to hear. "And now Capa is certain he has fallen into a prepared trap."
Casey's eyes brightened as she sensed something of interest was about to take place. "Had Marshall and Capa played against one another before?"
"Many times. Pawn takes pawn" he swept his hand over the board and took the pawn she had just put down. "With Marshall only defeating Capa one time."
"That must have annoyed Marshall, no end." She watched him, as if thinking over the significance of what had just transpired.
"No doubt. But now is the moment when Capa seemingly blunders into the trap so carefully laid for him."
He watched her without appearing to. She was an intuitive girl. The idea that this was more than a simple chess game was already occurring to her.
"Why step into a trap when you can avoid it?" She asked.
He said mildly. "Capa knew taking the pawn would subject him to brutal onslaught. But he realized his opponent had devoted many a long night toiling over this plot against him and he felt honor bound to meet the challenge."
"Isn't it enough just to defeat your enemies?" She asked looking intently across the board at him.
"To defeat an enemy is only a matter of skill and a little luck." he said. "But to beat him at his own game is glorious."
As if seizing upon his aspirations for Number Two's downfall and the part she was to play in it, she said, "Pawns don't fair well, do they?"
"Never under estimate the hidden power of a pawn," he advised. A fair warning to all.
Her look was suddenly sharp. "Am I a pawn?"
He studied her for a moment trying to determine if she were pretending. Her expression betrayed nothing.
"To them." he said evenly.
"And to you?" she demanded.
Her mistrust was genuine enough to annoy him, "At present, merely an irritation."
She pressed,"but useful for getting what you want."
"What I want is away from this place." he said to fulfill the expectations those who listened. "What is it you want, Number Seven?"
"To be left alone." she said icily.
"In the Village that is a frivolous dream best forgotten."
His words wounded that still independent mind. She recoiled like a stepped on snake, striking back with venom of her own. "In exchange for my freedom did they offer you yours?"
"Never. I know too much."
"And yet you've made a deal with them."
Again he felt the bite of her distrust. If it were an act she was good enough to make him believe it.
"As have you." he said coolly. "Number Two's little spy."
"I have no choice in the matter." she parried his attack. "You brought me back."
"Had to."
She caught his eye and all the misery the Village had visited upon her seemed to look back at him. "If you know the game is rigged, why do you play?"
The tremor in her voice betrayed her. This was no act. The interrogation was in earnest. She meant to rest from him some understanding of his motives. Some assurance that though his use her, she might have confidence in his intentions. He could give her no such assurance. But if she were clever enough, he would in due course, show her.
"Sometimes one must." He said coldly. "When you grow up a bit more, you'll understand."
She took the insult and pried more vigorously into his private business. "You could have left it alone. Why do you risk it?"
Her eyes held his and to his surprise he read in them concern for his well being. For all her suspicions that stubborn loyalty would not die. Such sentimentality could prove a liability.
"They have a saying in the Village," he said, still cool, "Questions are a burden to others and answers a prison to one's self."
The intensity was suddenly gone out of her. Realizing he would not be swayed she resumed her act.
"Number Two aught to be proud of you." she said with scorn.
"It is you who should be concerned with winning his favor." he admonished.
"What if I don't?"
He said harshly. "You're minds not on the game."
The momentary confrontation had sapped her reserves. She allowed herself to be warned off and returned obligingly to the chess game.
He waited impatiently as she made her clumsy assessment of the board. After a long moment she saw the obvious move.
"I can take your pawn with my Knight." she observed.
"And that is precisely what Marshall did."
Almost gleefully Casey seized the pawn. He then removed Black's pawn with his Knight and delivered her another small triumph.
"Knight takes Knight?" she said eagerly.
"Yes."
"Marshall must have been beside himself with joy when Capa swallowed the bait." She said embracing her role with enthusiasm as the excitement of the last exchange lifted her mood.
"I suppose that he was," he swept his Rook across the board and captured her Knight. Marshall had sacrificed much for his gambit. "It would have been a terrible shame if all those years of planning had gone to waste."
She considered the last few moves. "Knights don't fair well either." She said cautiously.
"On the chess board only the King is above sacrifice," he said. "Both players will use all the others ruthlessly to defeat him. Knight to f6. Black is preparing his assault."
She made the move and began again her unpracticed study, trying to see what Marshall had so carefully prepared for his most important opponent. He caught a flicker of surprise when he returned his Rook to its starting point. If she had known Marshall's strategy this would have proven only a minor irritation. At times a little trouble is all one can cause.
"And now Black makes his move." he indicated where she was to put her Bishop. She followed the path the piece could travel next and smiled as he moved his pawn to protect the White King.
The sense of victory animated the girl. She was now consumed with the game, leaning forward, eagerly examining the possible lines of attack. A warrior's spirit still lived in her. She would need it in the days to come.
"You have me on the defensive," he remarked. "Knight to g4."
The move placed her Knight right up on his line. And in mortal danger from his pawn. As she set the piece down she wondered at this. "Marshall was willing to give up his last Knight so easily?"
"Sometime in chess as in life," he said, "one must bait the trap with something too choice to be easily passed up."
She was sufficiently surprised when instead of taking the offered Knight, as she and Marshall before her had anticipated, he moved his Queen forward three on the diagonal thus blocking several avenues of attack. It was considered a great move as it was both defensive and offensive. But Marshall had not been deterred. He had pressed the attack.
"What would you do?" he asked.
"Run my Queen right up to your line." She replied boldly.
Her instincts were superb, one might believe her father had truly been a great chess player.
"Very good."
Even a staged event can stir the lust for blood. She made the move with enthusiasm, making no effort to conceal her joy as she closed in for the kill.
"looks like you have me on the ropes." he remarked.
She gave his pieces an almost casual glance, trying to see what he would likely do next. It would seem in this moment that Marshall would be successful as Black crowded White's line. He made the move Capa had almost a hundred years earlier. A great move, even if forced. He placed the Queen's pawn in the center of the board. In doing so Capa had avoided many traps.
"Marshall has nothing better," he said, "Knight takes pawn on f2."
She did as instructed.
This was the point at which Marshall's well planned gambit first began to falter. "And now, as they say, the trapper is trapped." he announced dramaticly. "The Storm has broken."
Casey was looking for his meaning on the field of battle. Using her limited understanding of the game to try to guess the outcome. Did she understand the trap into which Marshall had stepped when he had so arrogantly failed to anticipate the instincts of his rival? It was likely Marshall himself had no fully grasped it.
Again Six repeated Capa's brilliant strategy, stubbornly ignoring the generous offer to capture the Knight, he merely moved his Rook to further threaten the already imperiled piece. A disappointment to Marshall no doubt. But though his first attempt was thwarted, Marshall was not finished. He had continued to press his attack. It was a tenacity Six expected from his own opponent.
He noted Casey had recognized the upcoming move, her hand hovered near the black Bishop, with a tentative uncertainty. Her own instincts were strong but she had not yet learned to trust them fully. She best learn quickly.
"When an assassin sees his shot, he must never hesitate," he scolded. "Bishop to g4."
Again she appreciated the boldness of the move, crowding in close to his line, seeing the chance to threaten his King from a protected position, just as she had threatened Number Two from the cover of the crowd. She was an ambush predator by nature. She would have proven a valuable prize had the Village won her. He did the world a service depriving them of her.
He took her Bishop with the Rook's pawn. Though it was bloodbath for Black's major pieces, she had guessed Marshall's next move and showed no distress. Like Marshall she was ready to continue the attack. She saw the opportunity and without being instructed moved her Bishop, putting the white King in check, just as Marshall had done.
He moved his King a square and out of immediate harm. But this assault was far from over. Like a shark Casey circled the battle field with her eyes. Seeing the possible moves. The obvious one became clear to her, she made an almost imperceptible move towards the black Knight.
"Bishop g3." he instructed.
"I would have thought Marshall would move the Knight," she said disconcertingly as her impulse to act was crushed.
One must balance instinct with knowledge.
"As did Capa. Perhaps that is why Marshall chose not to. Always keep your enemy guessing."
This was the real lesson being taught and he saw the interest glimmer in her eyes. His Rook relieved her of the Knight. She watched as he removed the piece from the board. The harsh sacrifices continued.
"In retrospect Capa regretted this move, believing that King to e1 would have been better." he explained. "He was wrong."
"But I can put you in check," she pointed out.
"Quite right," he smiled.
She did so, bringing her Queen all the way onto his line, aligning the powerful piece menacingly with his King and announced with almost sadist pleasure. "Check."
There was only one move to make, he made it. Placing his King to the open square recently vacated by the Rook.
"Much better advantage for White." He pointed out. "Sometimes the simple move is the best."
Casey took the white Rook just as Marshall had done. Much debate had been had over this move. But perhaps it was the best move left to Marshall, a man who had laid a trap only to fall into one himself. Number Six allowed his thoughts to wonder to another man who liked to set traps. Number Two, watching with anxious eyes from his many cameras. The master schemer must feel himself in Marshall's position, having planned and plotted so diligently, only to watch in dismay as his intended victim escaped him time and again. But Number Two could no more guess what was to come next then Marshall as he faced Capa all those years ago.
"Best be careful," He warned. "White is starting to untangle. Bishop to h4."
She did so and the white Queen moved to h3. To avoid an exchange of Queens Marshall was forced to move Capa into check once again. Six walked Casey through the play, enjoying her fervor each time she saw an opportunity to threaten his King. As with the game of old he shuffled his King out of harms way, never cornered, but never safe, until at last his retreat landed the white King in a safe harbor.
Casey leaned forward with a slight frown as she recognized the place of safely her predetermined actions had driven his King.
"Marshall's plans seems to be falling apart." she noted, glancing offhandedly at a camera as she did so.
"Don't count him out just yet," he warned. "Black has one more chance to set up a winning tactic. Always remember, don't press a desperate foe too hard."
"The Art of War," she said thoughtfully. "When you surround an army, leave a free outlet."
Chambers had been diligent in the tutoring of his daughter.
Finding Sun Tzu an amusing way to frustrate their audience, Six quoted again from the ancient text. "All warfare is based on deception."
Picking up on the sport Casey answered in kind. "The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent."
Indeed. And as they sat here engaged in cheerful banter, they could be no more sure one another than was Number Two of either of them.
"You really are full of surprises, Number Seven." Six laughed good naturedly. "Your new masters will be delighted with you."
She gave him an unhappy glance before returning her attention to the study of the board, attempting to muster her fledgling understanding to see what a master of old had seen. Whether she saw it or was just running on pure intuition he could not tell, but again she repeated Marshall's move, placing her Bishop on f2. It had not proved to be the winning move Marshall had hoped for.
"I'm beginning to think you're a mind reader," he said.
"That would be a handy skill around this place."
"It's been tried." he remarked curtly. The memory of another girl was suddenly sharp in his mind. With that one it had been cards. They did know how to destroy trust. "As with all things it can be twisted to suit their purposes."
Casey leaned in as if becoming engrossed in the game once again. Her chin rested in her hand in a contemplative manner, so that the fingers artfully covered her mouth. With a thoughtful furrow to her brow she said aloud, "That last move was pretty good. I may have you now," then in a whisper. "Two wants me to believe you're a traitor."
"Do you?" Deftly he positioned his Queen on f3, again commanding the center of the board with his most powerful piece.
"Maybe not." she answered as if in concession to the brilliance of his move. Then whispered from behind her fingers "But he want's me to believe it and that makes him vulnerable."
It did indeed. He smiled. Perhaps it was Number Two's game that was crumbling.
"Black has gotten himself in a bit of a bind, hasn't he?" he said. "How do you suppose he'll get out of it?"
The study of the board became genuine. "He has to reposition," she said finally.
"And so he does."
Dutifully she pulled the black Queen back to f1. Though it was preordained, the realization that the gambit she was reenacting on its heels disappointed her. She was a girl who liked to win.
"You have good instincts." he said. "But do you trust them?"
She looked at him for a brief moment, searching herself. Then said with confidence. "Implicitly."
"They are about to be put to the test. You must act on them without hesitation."
He turned his attention back to the game, placing his Bishop to d5, and thus avoiding several traps. Marshall would not have enjoyed this move as it threatened to end his well rehearsed attack. All those long hours of toil were poised to offer him a yet another defeat.
"Just now things are starting to unravel for our friend, Marshall," he said with meaning. "He is about to lose his advantage. He has to move quickly. Bishop's pawn c5."
Casey did as instructed, but realizing that she was playing the losing side had sapped her passion for the game and allowed the weariness to return unabated. This was no time for napping, he was about show her what she so desperately wanted to know; had she the imagination to interpret the meaning.
"Look lively now." he said.
With great effort she brought her attention back to the board.
The next was a serious of exchanges, white pawn takes black pawn. Black Bishop takes white pawn. And then White made his move. Rook's pawn to b4, at last assuming the initiative and Black's hopes for victory fell to ruin.
Casey took note of the shifting battle. The action had moved to the other side of the board away from her initial attack. She was on the defensive now and she knew it.
"There is only one good move for Black," he said. "Do you see it?"
Wordlessly the girl moved her Bishop out of harms way. A retreat that would prove only a moments respite.
"You are a quick study, Number Seven," he said admirably. "But now the way is clear for the sleeping the Rook to enter the game. Black acts in desperation. He can't afford to let White have the open, while the White King is safe. He blocks the way with the Rook's pawn.
She did so, following Marshall's desperate but not entirely ineffective attempt to complicate matters.
"At this point Marshall was just fishing." he explained to the man hiding behind the cameras. "Hoping to find a way out of a losing gambit." He enjoyed the idea of Number Two's growing suspicions. "Of course this only led to an inevitable exchange of pawns."
They shuffled the pieces round, each taking and losing a pawn in turn.
"And then," he said with a bit of drama, "White Rook to a6." He swept his Rook across the board," "Your Bishop is in trouble again.
The black Bishop retreated and there was another brief skirmish in which Black took yet another pawn but this only severed to free the white Knight.
"Knight takes pawn." He removed the black pawn with his Knight, settling the piece in the well protected square in front of his king. But at this stage of the game his enemy would spare nothing to gain regain control.
Casey had given up trying to anticipate the moves Marshall had made. Her mind was fully occupied with searching for the answer to the riddle laid out on the chess board before her.
"Black makes a last attempt." he said. "He moves his Bishop to b4 hoping to pin White down."
Casey did so and he advanced the white pawn to b6 and saw the question in her eyes. Her rudimentary understanding of the game did not cover the significance of this.
"There is something I failed to tell," he said almost slyly. "If a pawn crosses enemy the lines it can be promoted to a Queen."
She considered the once insignificant pawn. The lest important piece was about to become the most powerful and there was no challenge that could be raised to stop it. A faint smile touched her lips and he knew she understood the meaning. Did Number Two? He smiled himself.
"Now Marshal knows his time has run out. But he is not a man to give up. He acts rashly. What do you see?"
"Bishop takes Knight." She said. "But it won't interfere with Capa's plans."
"Nothing can stop what's coming," he said softly, "but with no way out he will fight to the end."
Almost reluctantly she took the White Knight just as Marshall had done in his desperate attempt to swing the game back in his favor.
"A good move," Six said, "but not good enough. Bishop takes Bishop."
She scarce noticed as he relieved her of the Bishop. The full revelation of his plan was coming to her as she held the captured Knight. In numb silence her eyes sought him out. He avoided her. It was better she get used to the idea now. When the time came there would be no room for argument.
"One must never consider the loss of the individual piece but focus instead on the defeat of the enemy," he admonished. "The game is nearly finished. What is Black's best option?"
She mulled it over. There weren't many, not for Marshall so many long years past and not for Number Two now. But whatever the man did in retaliation it would be desperate, ill conceived and perhaps deadly.
"Black makes a forced move to prevent shenanigans," he informed her. "Rook's pawn to h6."
She did so woodenly as the implications of his revelation, both terrible and desirable, settled over her. She did not have to like his plan, only accept it.
With emphasis he made his second to last move, sliding the white Rook's pawn to b7, one space from Black's line. White controlled the board.
He instructed her next move, the last gasp of a dead man."Black Rook to e3, attacking the white Queen."
The move was made and met.
"White Bishop takes pawn on f7. Check."
There were of course were still counter moves left, but Marshall had chosen not to make them, foreseeing his unavoidable defeat.
Number Six looked into a camera and said with a note of finality. "Black resigns."
.
.
.
.
.
.
Number Two had felt Six's goading throughout the chess game. But now as he stood before the control room screen staring back at that arrogant face, the anger welled.
"Resigns!" he shouted at the screen. "Is that what you're after? My resignation? Well, you won't get it."
Number Six seemed to smile knowingly back at him as Two became aware of unwelcome attention from those around him. This only severed to drive the anger.
"It's a code!" Number Two bellowed as he watched Number Six reset the chess board.
The Supervisor looked his way like an obedient dog, eager to please.
"The game," Two nearly raged. "It's a code."
"It's a very famous game, Sir." the Supervisor countered. "One of the top games of the 20th century. Marshall is said to have planned that variation for as many as 12 years in advance."
"You saw nothing unusual about it?"
"No, Sir, Number Six copied every move exactly. He has an excellent memory, you know."
"As must you." this was more of an accusation than a compliment.
The Supervisor looked only mildly abashed. "I've studied Capablanca vs Marshall many times."
With effort he brought himself under control. The chess game was more than a mere taunt. Six was telling him something. His plan perhaps. What was it the man had said? "In chess nothing is hidden."
The conversation between Six in the girl had not seemed quite right either. Almost artificial. As if other meanings were applied to the words allowing the conspirators to speak of clandestine things in the open. Why not? They were both trained spies.
"You found nothing at all unusual," he pressed the Supervisor, searching for something to confirm his suspicions, "about the game nor the conversation?"
The bald man shrugged with as much of a dismissive air as he dare. "No, sir." then added thoughtfully, "Though for a novice, Number Seven, demonstrates a remarkable aptitude for the game."
"You seem to know a good deal about chess," he said almost unkindly. "Would you say Chambers had been an excellent player?"
At this the man's face changed, concern passed over it as if he had just heard a growl from the bushes. Some unpleasant thought was stirring.
Two seized upon it. His instincts had been correct. "Well?" He demanded.
"I've been over Number Twenty Three's files many times," The Supervisor said with the caution of a man facing a lion. "There is no mention of his being a chess player at all."
An obvious lie, meant to be discovered. That it had not been sooner, enraged Number Two.
"And yet, Number Six, told the girl that he was," he was nearly yelling again, feeling both triumph and fear. "Don't you find that odd?"
"Well, yes. I suppose."
"You suppose?" he barked.
Abased the Supervisor dropped his gaze.
Number Two glared at the screen. The girl was watching distantly as Six reset his chess board. Was she Six's pawn? The insignificant piece that was about to granted the power to destroy him? He would never pry the man's plans of him. He glowered thoughtfully. Had the girl understood Number Six's critic message? Might she be compelled to tell? His master's would never allow an interrogation. This shook him deeply. He was not at liberty to discover the plot against him. Number Six could flaunt it boldly and he was not even granted the freedom to inquire. Frustration and rising panic threatened to shatter his ragged nerves. He grasped for solstice and found it. He needn't harry himself trying to solve Number Six's clever riddle, he only need cut the knot.
The girl was fragile, a wisp of smoke to be blown away. A simple enough procedure. The thinnest of smiles touched his lips. All he required was an opportunity.
Six finished arranging the pieces on the board and carried it back to its place. "Do you swim?" he was asking the girl.
"Yes."
"Good. I want you add that you training regiment. A swim every morning before breakfast. Get you back in shape."
Number Two felt the fever, burning in his brain. Driving away the exhaustion, fear and uncertainty. Dangerous clarity returned. Six had to be gotten out of the way.
He said, "I want Number Six in for test. Physiological and physical."
The bald man nodded, "I'll schedule it first thing in the morning."
"I want it done immediately."
"It's already quite late and the test take hours to complete."
He wheeled on the man and keened truculently. "Are you afraid of keeping him up past his bed time?"
"No, Sir," came the appeasing reply. "I only thought…"
"Don't think." he cut him off. "Simply obey."
He turned back to the screen blocking any further efforts to mollify him. The pair was now leaving Number Six's cottage. A comfortable silence had fallen over them as they drifted through the late afternoon, not heading anywhere in particular. Just, it seemed, enjoying the moment. Darkly, his gaze rested on the girl as she walked in the shadow of her protector. For all her feigned suspicion of the man she clearly felt herself safe in his presents. A siren sounded and Number Two smiled. He would soon see to that.