She boarded the train in the middle of the afternoon, having taken a taxi from the TV studios directly to the station. her instructions has been delivered two days before, a full fortnight after the BB incident which prompted Control to first indicate that Blaine was not up to scratch. Now she was travelling halfway across the country to brief his replacement. Did, she wondered, this replacement understand the ramifications of replacing another operative in this organisation? Ah well, she mused, he soon would.

She was soon settled into her sleeping compartment. As usual, The Office had purchased all four berths to ensure she would not be disturbed or her cover compromised by other travellers. She smiled at her reflection in the well-polished mirror set into the vanity unit, her eyes sparkling mischievously. She doubted The Office, or more particularly Control, would be amused at the ways in which she planned to be "compromised" tonight! She had avoided detection of this activity by The Office up till now; she would continue with her precautions and all would be well. With that thought in mind, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror and headed off to the dining car. And the hunt!

Next morning found her communing once more with her reflection. A good night, they concurred, most enjoyable. She had spied her quarry in the dining car, alone with his WSJ. His cravat had sealed the deal, she thought warmly as she recalled the fun they had had with that seemingly innocent piece of clothing. Smiling a broad and faintly secretive smile at her reflection, she put the previous evening's activities from her mind and set to work. Within minutes, she was unrecognisable as the willowy, cream-skinned redhead who had turned the heads of every man in the dining car. After quarter of an hour, she completed the transformation that ensured not one of them would give her a second glance on this new day. Quickly she packed her things into the small grip on the bed. Glancing round to ensure that nothing has been missed, she collected grip, handbag and coat in one hand and suitcase in the other. As she left the first class compartment, a porter spotted her and offered to help. She smiled sweetly at him and handed him the suitcase.

A few minutes later, she was standing on the busy concourse, suitcase at her feet, handbag on shoulder, coat over her arm and grip in hand. As she scanned the crowd for her contact, she toyed with the catches on the suitcase. The crowd thinned somewhat and she spotted him, slicked-back hair, tweed suit and...her eyes widened in horror as she recognised the cravat. His disguise was good, but he had main one major error. Mentally, she checked herself over - no she was wearing nothing that he had seen the night before. this would be a true test of her disguise - would he recognise her? Trust Control to put them on the same train for a meeting in the anonymous concourse!

She reached down for the suitcase, her fingers brushing the catches once more. "Here, let me," said the tall, well-built - and familiar - stranger. they walked along the concourse in silence, side by side. As they neared the end of their walk, she dropped a little behind him. They turned to walk out of the main doors...or at least he tried to turn right but was stopped by the seemingly magical reaction of the suitcase to being twisted about its vertical axis. For several seconds, as he fought with the wayward luggage, she thought he would fail the test. Then he stopped, put down the case and turned to her.

"How d'you switch off than darned gyroscope?" he asked, with a smile. Returning the smile, she brushed the catches.

"Well done," she whispered, "You've passed. Let's talk."

Partly inspired by the Spinning Wheel challenge.