The members of The Circle all babbled at once about their leader's rash attempts with the prisoner.

"Beating the man to a pulp gains us nothing."

"There are better ways of extracting information."

"What if it gets out?"

The gavel rang noisily off the table-top. "Quiet! Quiet, you bunch of twittering hens. He was stopped trying to assault me." The lie seemed to dull their outbursts. "Of course I wouldn't have condoned such behaviour." He looked around the table, staring down each member. "Our concern now is learning his secret, or we won't be invoking the 20 Days of Freedom sentence again."

"It's a little late to make friends," one sarcastic voice offered.

"Perhaps with us, but we do have other resources in house."

Mumbles and muttering ensued.

******

Cassidy sat in the darkened room, one arm about his wife and his attention on the summary of known events from Jason.

"So we know he's inside, he's seen Helen at the clinic, and he's back inside. That's it?"

"It was only yesterday, Reagan."

"I know, I know. Damn, I wish we had some way . . ."

"It's been this long, and we are a lot closer than ever. Be patient, my friend." Jason studied his comrade. "And now that you're staying in the city, we need to take precautions for that as well."

"I'll behave," he smiled, giving his wife a squeeze.

Jason continued. "We could try passing a message."

"I don't know. It's risky. And who to trust?"

"Then we wait. As I said, it's only been a day."

******

Brian only made a token resistance as he was shoved down a long hall and up a grand staircase. Pushed into the room, he stopped, once again his surprise tinged with immediate loathing. Another windowless room decorated with paintings, photographs and sculptures, all by famous artists. Music from old familiar theatre performances played softly, and seated smugly in the centre of it all, the Inquisitor.

"Welcome, Mr. Hayes, please, come and sit." He lifted a hand to one corner, "Doreen, bring Mr. Hayes a libation."

Brian took in the scantily clad woman as she did a model's walk toward him, hand outstretched with a drink glass.

He gave a snort, accepting the glass. "Beats a punch in the gut."

"Please sit. That was an unfortunate beginning – although you did present a threat." The comment was unctuous. "I think, with a little give and take we can come to a beneficial agreement." He raised his own glass in an intended toast.

Gulping his drink down, Brian shoved the glass toward the woman and sat heavily into a chair opposite his host. "That would be with you doing all the taking."

"Not at all, there are many advantages you could enjoy, with a little co-operation." His eye slid to the woman.

The inference brought a scowl to Brian's face, and he looked up at the woman. "Do you like being like this? A bargaining chip?"

Panic filled her eyes and her face flushed. He saw the raw fear, and he turned back to the Inquisitor. "You slimy pig."

He only made it halfway to upright before rough hands slammed him back down and a forearm tightened across his throat.

"It would seem Prisoner Kilroy prefers the difficult approach. Take him away."

Struggling to breathe, Brian was dragged from the chair and out of the room. A moment later, the other members stormed in.

"So much for your other sources." Angry looks showered a trembling Doreen. "Get her out of here." A voice commanded. "The presumption that your own vile tastes extend to everyone has only made him more resistant."

"Don't you presume to tell me how to deal with criminals." Inquisitor spat back.

"And just how is that?" Another member quipped. 

"Those cattle saw him when he returned. They know he was ill."

"So, stronger measures can proceed without blame." Another member pronounced.

"If that's what's required." Unhappily chastised, the Inquisitor called for his guard, dismissing the members.

******

The metallic taste he knew was blood, and it wasn't removed by spitting. When he rolled over, pain shot through his sides and back. Oh, God, not my kidneys. He did a half push up and managed to brace himself against the wall. The room looked odd until he realized it was his eye, it was swollen almost closed.

When a door opened, the light from outside made him gasp, and he tried raising a hand to shield his face. Between his fingers he made out the image of someone just standing there.

"My God, what did they do to you?" The image closed quickly, gentle hands helping him to sit. "Here, drink this."

He felt the rim of a glass on his lips and he swallowed, coughing.

"I'll be right back."

Was that an angel? Was he dead? "No, you idiot, it hurts too much," he managed to mumbled through his sore mouth.

A moment later the image was back and he heard the familiar voice. "Leslie?" It was almost a gargle.

"Shh, hold still." He felt the warm cloth dabbing carefully on his face, and he let himself go, mentally encouraging the attention.

When he was able to speak comfortably, he thanked her, bathing in the amber eyes that looked on worriedly.

"What is so important about what you know?"

He paused, trying to discern any guile. Could he trust her? Should he? He contrived a brief explanation of how his survival could undo their 20 Days of Freedom sentence, and when she persisted, he told her more. She helped to him get more comfortable, then left again for a bit. He worried he might have misjudged, and what the consequences might be. When she returned, she carried a tray with soup and a hot drink.

"Do they let you do this?" He asked.

"They don't know, so just be quiet and eat."

He drank the last of the soup and let her wipe his chin. "Leslie, will this mean trouble for you?"

"I've been in trouble ever since we were forced to be here."

"Forced?"

"It's a long story." She looked pointedly at him. "You asked me last time to carry your message outside. I'll do it."

"It could be dangerous. What if you're caught?"

"I won't. Can you trust me?"

There it was. Could he? Was this just a different approach? He stared at her face, praying inside she was telling the truth. He couldn't take much more anyway. It was a risk better than nothing – he hoped. He told her about the planned insurrection, and about Nurse Browne, praying she was trustworthy.

"There's a lot more I can tell them too." Her breath felt warm on his face. "Underneath The Precinct, there's a great underground repository of banned material. I have seen it."

He felt for her hand and held it tight. "I'm in your debt, Leslie." The statement was also a question.

"If your plan works, I'll be in your debt." Their faces were close. Time suspended. Instinct took over.

"I found the angel they must be looking for
Heaven must be wondering where you are . . ."

He half whispered the words, with a final squeeze to her hand. She stood, taking the tray with her.

"I'll be here - with you. Trust me . . . Kilroy." The name was spoken with affection.

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Total to this point - 10,658