Take the gag out of my mouth, he thought. Take it out.

Nothing happened. Sextant continued to stare at him.

Take out the gag. He repeated the thought over and over. He knew he was wasting his time, but it was all that he could think of to do. He squirmed on the bed, and Sextant looked at him curiously.

"Full of hate, aren't you?" he said. "You'd love to cut my heart out, wouldn't you?"

Chicken shook his head. Take out the gag.

"You don't? Well you should. I would, if I were you."

Chicken shook his head again. Take out the gag.

"Don't even know what hit you, do you? One minute you're walking along with your girl, and the next minute… well, here you are. Don't know how, don't know why, and you don't even know what's coming next."

Chicken nodded. Take out the gag.

"Yes? Yes what? You do know what's coming? You smart enough to figure that out?"

Chicken nodded. Take out the gag.

"It's not going to be pretty, son. Believe me, I know. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Chicken nodded violently. Take out the gag.

"You think there is? You're wrong, boy, nothing at all. All you can do is keep on hating. Hating helps a lot."

WILL YOU TAKE OUT THE GOD DAMN GAG.

Sextant frowned. "You want to tell me something, don't you?"

Chicken nodded.

"Sure, why not, but keep your voice down. You start to yell and I'll hurt you bad." Sextant's fingers worked quickly, and the gag came off. "Well, what is it?"

Chicken grimaced as the gag came off. He worked the muscles in his face, and he wet his lips.

"Come on, you wanted to say something."

Speaking in Slovenian, Chicken said, "I have a great deal to say, Vlado Priol."

Sextant's eyes narrowed at the sound of the language. A knife appeared in his hand, and the point pricked the skin of Chicken's neck. In Slovenian, he said, "What do you know about Vlado Priol?"

Chicken swallowed hard, and tried for a steady voice. "How can I talk with a knife at my throat?"

Sextant lowered the knife. "Talk."

All the way, thought Chicken. Roll the dice. "I will continue to talk in Slovenian because I don't want the girl to understand. Your name is Vlado Priol. You have other names, one of which is Sextant. Your control is…was, David Ogden. Your assignment is the rape of that girl over there. Are you aware that your mission has been aborted?"

More to himself than to Chicken, Sextant muttered, "It can't be aborted. Gibraltar rules."

"Nevertheless, it is."

"How do you know these things?"

"I work for the same people that Ogden worked for. The same people that you have worked for from time to time."

Sextant came close to smiling. "You? How old are you?"

"Sixteen. The same age as you when you killed Josip Koller."

A silence, and then Sextant said quietly, "You're a dead man."

"I don't think so." Chicken was amazed at his own calm.

"You are. After that you have to be."

"Think, Sextant, you're supposed to be one of the bright ones. How many people ever knew about you and Josip Koller?"

"Only one, Ogden, and he's dead."

"Then how did I know? Would Ogden have talked, would he have told anyone your secret?"

"Never."

"Then how did I know?"

Sextant thought. "You're one of them. You're a sensitive."

"Top marks."

" Ogden told me about you people, but I never really thought…"

"Now you know."

"And soon you will be a dead sensitive."

"Are you sure? That means you'll have to kill the girl, too."

"Obviously."

"But your orders from Ogden clearly forbid that. As I recall, he said, I do not want her life, in fact I forbid you to take it. Isn't that so?"

Sextant frowned. He shook his head slightly, as if disturbed by a buzzing insect.

"Those were your orders. Tell me, in all your years with Ogden, did you ever disobey an order that he gave you?"

"Never."

"Did you ever put your personal safety above his wishes?"

"Never."

"But you're going to do that now, aren't you?"

Again, that insect buzzing. "Sometimes… sometimes it is necessary for the agent in the field to…"

"Disobey," Chicken said firmly. "The word is disobey."

Sextant's head went down. "Yes."

"Now listen to me, Vlado Priol." Chicken spoke rapidly, the words tumbling out. "If you can disobey one order, you can disobey another. There is no need for this thing to happen. I've been inside your mind, and I know that you don't want to do it. I know that the idea sickens you, and that you are doing it only out of loyalty to a dead man. But how much longer can you go on being loyal? All your life you've been doing things for David Ogden. Isn't it time that you did something for yourself? Isn't it time…"

Later, after it was all over, Chicken would look back and wonder how effective his plea might have been if he had been given a chance to finish it. But he never did. The door swung open, and Sextant's three animals spilled into the room. They were beer-drunk, they were weaving on their feet, and they were angry.

"Time's up," growled Beer-gut. "We want that little girl, and we want her now."

Richie, behind him, said, "Yeah, I wanna piece of that cute thing."

"We tossed up coins," said Phil. "I get to go first. Odd man in." He giggled.

In quiet Slovenian, Chicken said to Sextant, "Call it off. You can't let this happen."

Sextant said nothing. Still kneeling on the floor, his head was down and he was sunk in thought.

Go for it, thought Chicken. Go for it all the way. In English, he shouted, "Okay, boys, it's party time. Come and get her, she's all yours."

Sextant's head snapped up. "What are you doing?"

"It's what you want, isn't it?"

The three men rushed to the bed. Beer-gut ripped the ties from Lila's legs, and the other two tore at her clothing. Her hands were still bound, but she fought with her feet, kicking out as Richie tugged at her ski pants. She screamed, but with the gag in her mouth it sounded like a muffled moan. She twisted from side to side until Beer-gut pinned her shoulders.

"Get those God damn pants off," he grunted.

"Lie still, bitch."

Sextant, still on his knees, watched without moving. He seemed turned to stone.

"Well," Chicken whispered, "is this really what you want?"

No answer.

"Why don't you take the gag out of her mouth? That way you can hear her scream."

No movement.

"Just the way your mother screamed."

Still stone.

Richie had Lila's pants down around her knees. Phil had cut the ties on her hands, and was trying to get her sweater over her head. Beer-gut leaned over her, trying to kiss her.

"Still the good little soldier?" asked Chicken. "Still following orders?"

No answer.

"That's about what I expected. The last time you hid under a pile of goatskins."

Sextant finally looked at him. In the plaintive voice of a little boy, he said, "I was only six years old."

"Yes, and how old are you now?"

"Damn you," whispered Sextant. "Damn you."

Sextant came up off the floor in a single fluid motion. He plucked Richie off Lila and flung him against the wall. He caught the back of Phil's neck with the edge of his palm, and Phil crumpled to the floor. Beer-gut yelped, and backed away from the bed. Sextant hit him once, almost casually, in the belly, and he doubled over, retching.

Sextant turned back to Chicken. The knife was in his hand again. He cut the ties on Chicken's hands and feet.

"Get her dressed, and get her out of here," he said. His face was wet with tears. For the second time in forty years, Vlado Priol was crying.