Scott looked longingly at his tread mill. Normally when he felt like this, he would thrash himself senseless for a couple of hours to the point of exhaustion- the post-work out adrenaline lifting his mood and easing the tension. But with his ribs still hurting and a severe lack of sleep, he couldn't muster the necessary enthusiasm, so instead he headed to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. The dark, bitter liquid scalded his tongue, but he took a second swig anyway. The caffeine sort only to heighten his irritability, yet the process of making it gave him something to do at least.

Having quickly showered and dressed, he stopped in the doorway and looked back at his apartment, knowing that when... if, he returned, his world and the world around him could be a very different place. As he drove out of the underground car park, the street above was decorated with a layer of frost, glistening under the street lamps. Two hours before sunrise and only four hours since he'd arrived home, he headed back to work under a foreboding inky-black sky.

Scott pulled up in front of the first of many barriers which blocked off the main road to all but pedestrians. He exited the car and approached a checkpoint, side stepping a man-hole cover than had been temporarily sealed tight. He presented his ID card to one of the armed soldiers stood waiting in a small hut. The sub-zero temperature stung Scott's face and neck and he pulled up the collar of his coat. With a nod, the soldier handed back his card and Scott was waved through into the large town square from which Briggs would address the population later in the day.

Once a formal garden, the square was surrounded on all sides by governmental agency buildings. In the centre remained a statue of a woman, carved from stone, passing scraps of bread to three waifs, a symbol from a past that was no more. Concrete now lay where grass once was, and the square now played host to less recreational activities, not least as the place of public execution for those deemed enemies of the state. Given how often these executions by firing squad occurred, the state did indeed have many such enemies.

The podium from which Briggs would deliver his message, stood upon a raised platform, which in turn, was deliberately positioned next to the area where the executions took place. Scott climbed the five steps of the platform and surveyed the square. Capable of holding seven thousand people, Briggs' new security measures meant there would be significantly less attending later that day and of those, all had been pre-invited and most had been pre-vetted. Scott remembered back to the last speech Briggs gave from that very podium in front of such a large crowd. His stark message announcing the abolition of food and fuel vouchers for the poor, was delivered to a wildly enthusiastic audience of those unaffected by such measures. Briggs' final words returned to him now.

"That endearing statue," he'd said pointing to the centre of the square, "is all that remains of a time when we were weak and where pity almost annihilated us. Make no mistake, that statue is strong, made from the finest of marble, but I am made of granite, and I am stronger. My will is stronger."

The crowd had cheered wildly at that. Even the large navy and burgundy flag of the republic, seemed to flap excitedly in support of Briggs' oration. Scott looked up at the same striped flag, this time hanging listlessly in the frigid air. Scott hoped this was a good omen.

"Agent Scott."

Scott turned to see Lieutenant Colonel. Richards approaching the platform.

"Good morning, Sir," Scott replied. "Thanks for meeting me so early. I trust you received our amended security plans in good time?"

The officer sneered in response. "In good time would have been several days ago. Your last minute revisions have caused me a considerable headache. I must say I find you're troop request unusually heavy-handed. Is there a credible threat I've not been made aware of?" Richards was an army-lifer and held very high office under Briggs, under whom he'd once served. He also found it extremely difficult to hide his contempt for Scott, unable to understand why Briggs would leave the organisation of such an event to the Agency and not the Army.

"No new intelligence, Sir, but in light of recent events, General Briggs made it very clear last night that he wanted an increased level of security. His words were "above and beyond our usual manning levels."

"Yes, I read that, but ..."

"Shall we begin the recce?" Scott interrupted.

Richards did up the top button on his dark, wool coat. "Let's make it quick then."

They began by walking the perimeter of the square with Richards pointing out key positions, including those of the rooftop snipers. "One there, two more here and here, and another four on the exit points and surrounding buildings. The 6th  Infantry will be positioned here, as you requested. The 7th  will man up to a one mile radius from this point. All but essential road traffic will be stopped up to a two mile radius. Will that suffice?"

"It will."

"I would like to see the General this morning at some point. Schedule me a meeting."

"I'm sure General Briggs would love to converse with you today, but he has given strict instructions that he is not to be disturbed. He has granted me an exception to this for a quick ten minute briefing at noon." Scott found it hard not to enjoy the look on Richards face. "Could I pass on a message, or maybe you could catch up with him at the banquet tonight?"

Richards could barely contain his annoyance.

"I must say, Agent Scott, I find this highly irregular. As the senior officer under General Briggs, I must insist that I brief him before this event."

"I apologise unreservedly, Lieutenant Colonel. Richards, but General Briggs was insistent and I would not wish to disturb him. However if you wish to take it upon yourself to contact him, I'm sure he wouldn't react too badly to the unwanted interruption. Sir."

Richards looked at Scott and then down to the area, where five of his troops, would, on a weekly basis conduct the ultimate of society's punishments; the concrete beneath which, was forever stained no matter how hard it was scrubbed.

"No, no, I'll not distract John today, he obviously has more pressing matters on his mind. I will see you at the general staff briefing in two hours." With a nod and an about turn, Richards walked off taking his bruised ego with him.

Scott welcomed the warmth of the reception area as he entered the building and having signed in and successfully avoided a conversation with the night watchman about the weather and the likelihood of snow, he summoned the lift. The doors opened and he came face to face with Zeke, who had clearly come up from the basement.

"How is she today?" Scott asked.

"Argumentative and unapologetic."

Scott nodded.

"Damn woman, even now, she refuses to tell us anything."

"Maybe she just needs more time down there to persuade her. Or I don't mind trying to get her to open up a little," Scott suggested lightly.

Zeke's ComDat buzzed and he took it from his pocket and read the message, shaking his head lightly. "Times up, I'm afraid."

"Why is she being transferred? She's too old and too weak to be moved. She'll be dead within a matter of days and you'll get nothing out of her if you send her there." Scott had only visited the final detention centre, more commonly known as The Factory twice. There was no way Cecily would be able to cope with the unrelenting hard labour.

Zeke shook his head.

Scott looked Zeke directly in the eye.

"He can't, he won't. When? Not today?"

Zeke nodded once.

"No, no this isn't right... not the right thing to do, Matheson. It really isn't. Have you tried to talk Briggs out of this?"

Zeke laughed again. "Why are you so concerned about her anyway? Since when have you been bothered by a little capital punishment?"

Scott clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to rein himself in. "My concern, Matheson, is that she is an asset, one of the most important assets we've acquired in a long time. This will be an utter waste. In fact I am going to go and tell Briggs exactly that right now."

"I wouldn't bother," Zeke asked. "I am under strict instructions to stop all unnecessary contact with the General today."

"Since when?" Scott asked, incredulous at the thought.

"Since an hour ago."

"But I have a briefing with him at noon."

"Cancelled."

"What do you mean, cancelled?" Scott asked, in a higher pitch than he would have liked.

"General Briggs called me an hour ago. All contact with him is to go through me."

Scott's mouth opened and shut silently, mirroring Richards outside in the square, half an hour earlier.

"Zeke, this highly irregular and potentially dangerous. Why is he insisting on this?"

Zeke shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to say."

The lift door opened at Zeke's floor and he walked out.

"I'll see you at the staff briefing in just over an hour. Oh, I should also mention that Briggs wants me to run that too."

The doors closed leavingScott staring into space.