Walter stared into a large pair of liquid brown eyes and sighed. She really is beautiful, he thought, as his eyes swept briefly over her slender, lithe form. And no-one in the business had a better nose for this hard-to-detect type of plastique. If she thought the explosives were hidden in the crate of faux jewellery, then it was so.

As he carefully lifted out trays of flashy earrings and garish necklaces, Walter pondered her future, now that she was a captive of Section. He feared it would be brutal and short. All too many operatives were constantly lost in Section's battles with the more vicious terrorist organisations.

He was careful to turn his face from her so she could not see his concern, hear his soft, sad sigh, but she sensed it anyway, with that intuition all females seemed gifted with. She briefly touched him, a feather-light contact that indicated her own concern for him and his state of mind. Turning to her slightly he gave her a reassuring smile.

Her eyes indicated her trust in him, and Walter felt a pang of remorse. Trust was so often abused in Section. So often betrayed. How would she survive untainted? So few managed to hold onto any sense of self. So few managed to hold onto their souls in the face of the darkness they were compelled to confront on a daily basis. Those who did were not unscathed. Wariness was a quickly acquired defence mechanism.

Is this the philosophizing of age? he wondered. He'd been feeling old lately. Down. He'd seen his Sugar's light ruthlessly extinguished by the very organisation he served, and hope for any of them was all but gone. The lovely female beside him would undoubtedly go the same way as his beloved Belinda, and countless others like her. Used, abused, betrayed. Killed. A victim of "the greater good".

For a moment he let his mind drift to the unthinkable. To let the bomb his hands were carefully disarming explode and take them both into oblivion. It would be quick. He would escape the burden of watching people's lives being destroyed around him, and she would never know what it was to have it happen to her. His hands faltered.

This isn't living. It's existing. The thought was a painful one.

Section used the human desire to survive. The deep-rooted, if unexpressed, hope that things would get better, if only one stayed alive long enough. Walter shook his head slightly. Things never seemed to get better. It was amazing, humbling, uplifting and frightening to see, first hand, just how much the human spirit was capable of enduring. And conversely, how very little it could take to break it.

She touched him briefly again, the concern clear in her lovely dark eyes. He nodded and resumed his work on the detonator. There were innocents at stake. Collateral, if he could not defuse the bomb in time. He despised the term, even as he accepted that sometimes the losses could not be avoided. He could not, however, place his life above theirs. It was not in his nature. Section exploited that. Of course.

With a sharp sigh Walter threw off the dark thoughts and concentrated on the job at hand. There. The device was disarmed. Housekeeping could take care of things from here. Walter turned from the crate, then paused and picked up a ring from the tray nearest him. It was a garnet the colour of heart's blood. Beautiful in its own right, yet despised as a "fake ruby". A deception. He slipped it into his pocket, unsure of why he wanted to keep it. Maybe a reminder. Of what he was not quite certain.

After one last look around the dimly lit store, he turned to leave. He glanced at his companion. "Come on," he invited gruffly. She cocked her head, regarding him solemnly for a moment, then followed, her claws clicking quietly on the uncovered floor. Man and beagle headed for the dark van waiting outside, and the end of another day alive in Section.

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