The Prisoner

Number 6 is obviously a very intelligent person with a wide range of experience. Maybe he has one or two mental tricks up his sleeve that we don’t know about …




Number 10 stepped through the door, stood at the top of the ramp, and froze. “What the devil?”

Number 2, a puzzled look on his face, raised both hands, palms upward, and shrugged.

Two men stood in front of Number 2s desk. To the left was Number 6. He nodded to Number 10 in greeting. On the right was, well, Number 6. He nodded to Number 10 and smiled. Number 10 approached slowly. Curtis was dead, of that he was quite sure. Plastic surgery? Number 2 looked honestly at a loss. Again, quietly and to himself, Number 10 repeated, “What the devil?”

“Supervisor.” Number 2s voice quivered.

“Yes.” The voice seemed to come from no where in particular.

“I want you to go over ALL surveillance records for the past three days. I want to know if you can find Number 6 in two places,” he hesitated, “at the same time.”

“What?!” The Supervisors voice belied his confusion.

“You heard me!” Number 2 barked. “Just do it. NOW!”

“Yes sir.” And on his end the Supervisor shook his head even as he began pulling up video files. “Another one gone round the bend,” he whispered to himself.

The Butler entered with a cart. Tea service for five. Five? The Butler bowed to Number 6. Twice. He stepped back, waiting to serve.

Exasperated, Number 2 spat out, “And we’re supposed to do exactly what with TWO of you?!”

“Well,” said the Number 6 on the right, “if you’ve no use for the both of us … ”

“You can always send one of us home,” the Number 6 on the left finished the sentence.

Number 2 laughed oddly. “Which of you would you suggest?” He queried, looking from left to right, right to left.

“You choose.” Both Number 6s answered him in chorus.

The Butler began to ready the tea service for five as though someone had just asked him to serve.

The metal doors opened again. And in walked … Number 6.

Number 10 went numb. Number 2 bolted from his chair, running to the back of the room. There was a hidden panel, an escape route there. But as he ran his legs seemed laden with lead weights. His feet sank into the floor. For all his efforts at running he moved centimeters, if at all. Looking over his shoulder he watched as three smiling Number 6s walked calmly towards him. He began to scream …

Number 2 jumped upright in bed, a cold sweat covering him and soaking the sheets. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open. His heart was pounding, his breath came in short, labored gasps as though he’d been running. He leaned forward, putting his face in his hands. “Oh, bloody hell. That’s all I’d need, that’s all I’d need.”

Not so very far away, in his flat, Number 6 rolled over in bed, ready for sleep now, a satisfied smile on his lips. And he remembered happily Dr. Seltzman, and all that he had taught him so many years before.


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