By snodlander
Laura looked through the apartment eye-spy. Two people, male and female, business-suited and notebooks in hand, stood in the corridor. She slid the mugger bar in place and opened the door.
"Yes?"
"Laura Robinson?" The woman was in her early fifties, crowfeet accenting her Sunday-school-teacher smile.
"You are ...?" Laura's apartment, while not in the worst area in town, certainly wasn't in the best. The rent did not include any security systems for the building.
They both reached into their jackets and produced cards for her to view.
"We're from the Guild. Can we come in?"
"Um ... sure. One moment."
She closed the door, removed the mugger bar and opened the door wide.
"Sorry, come in."
The woman smiled again. "Thank you." Laura had the sudden impression she smiled a lot, but rarely laughed. The two entered, the man following. He neither smiled nor spoke. Perhaps he was just there with his boss to make up the numbers.
"Is there a problem?" Laura asked, shutting the door and leading them into the living room.
"No, not at all. It's just a routine check, that's all."
"Please, sit down," said Laura, moving the papers off the couch.
"Actually, do you mind if we sit at the table?" The woman hefted her notebook apologetically. "It's easier."
"Oh, sure. Um, I've only got two chairs, though. Sorry."
She smiled again with cold reassurance. "That's fine, Laura. Mr Lee will take the couch, won't you, Peter?"
Lee sat on the couch in answer, rested the notepad on his knees and thumbed the lock.
"I'm Barbara Jones, call me Babs. This is my colleague, Peter Lee. Don't look so worried. We're here for a section seven, that's all."
Laura sat opposite Babs. "Section seven?"
"Oh, that's right; this will be your first, won't it? Don't worry about it, it's just an audit. We all go through them. It doesn't hurt." She shrugged. "Well, not much." And then she smiled again, to show it was a joke. "Shall we get it over with? It won't take long."
Laura nodded. Babs thumbed her notepad, made some rapid finger strokes over the screen then turned it around so that Laura could see.
"This is a copy of section seven of your Guild contract, requiring you to submit to audits by the Guild as and when required. Please read it and thumb it at the bottom."
Laura read the screen. "It says you're going to scan me?"
Babs nodded. "Only level one. The audit is oral. Mr Lee will only be looking to check your answers are truthful." The mirthless smile again. "Your deep and dark secrets will be perfectly safe."
Laura thumbed her signature. It wasn't as though she had a choice. "Okay, how does it go?"
Babs Jones looked at her companion, who nodded.
"I'll just ask you some questions and you answer them as truthfully as you can. Ready?"
Laura nodded, and suddenly the silent Mr Lee was there in her mind. No ready, steady, go; no warning; he was just there.
"Laura?"
Babs was looking at her quizzically. She had asked her something.
"Sorry?"
"Are you Laura A. Robinson?"
"Yes."
"Are you currently practicing as a licensed Listener?"
"Yes."
"Have you scanned anyone without their knowledge or consent?"
"No."
"Have you undertaken any contracts at less than Guild rates?"
"No."
And so the questions continued, routine questions about whether she was a good Guild member, an honest citizen, no threat to society. Finally Babs looked up from her notebook. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Laura felt the presence disappear from her mind, and she let the barriers drop.
"Sorry, but it's the law," Babs continued. "We have to self-regulate, or we'd have the great unwashed at the door with pitchforks in their hands. But now we've got that out of the way, let's get onto the important stuff."
"Important stuff?"
"Sure. The Guild is here to help you, not to punish you. You're not on your own, Laura, you're family. I'm you're representative. I want to get to know you, to help you anyway I can. The important stuff is not the audit, that's just procedure, it's keeping in touch. We can be a valuable asset, and you're entitled to use us."
"Any chance of a coffee?" Peter Lee suddenly asked from the couch.
"Peter!" Babs rebuked. "Don't be so rude! I'm so sorry, he has no social skills at all."
"No, sorry, I should have ...." Laura rose from her chair. "I don't drink coffee, sorry. I have some tea, if you like."
"That'll be wonderful, but let Peter make it, please. It's the least he can do for being so ill-mannered, while we have a girly chat."
Laura sat back down. "Okay. The tea is in the left-hand cupboard."
Peter put his notepad down on the couch and made his way to the worktop along one wall of the living room. Babs shook her head. "Men! They're only good for opening jars."
Laura smiled.
"So you've been licensed for eighteen months?"
Laura nodded. "About that."
"And you went straight into contracting? That's unusual. Your scores were good; you could have picked one of a dozen companies to work for. That's what most do, get ten years regular work under their belt, build their reputation, before striking out on their own."
Laura shook her head. "No. My dad was indentured. He got trapped by the system, worked for twenty years at a fraction of what he was worth. I watched it suck the life out of him. If I'm going to spend my best years working off a debt, it's going to be on my terms."
"Still, it must be hard, touting for contracts straight from training," said Babs, sympathetically.
Laura nodded. "Nothing worth anything is easy."
"So why here? You didn't grow up here." Babs smiled at Laura's suspicious face. "It's in your file, dear. I always read up on people I'm going to visit."
Laura shrugged. "I've nothing to go back to, and the work is here. Big transit centre, lots of first meetings. If I'm going to work on my own, this is as good a place as any."
"I suppose you're using brokers? How do you get on with them?"
"They're okay, I guess. Some are better than others. But they're a necessary evil, aren't they?"
"Do they ask you to break Guild ethics?"
"Oh, sure. All the time. They think because I'm new, I'm naive."
"And do you?" asked Peter Lee, returning with mugs of tea. "Break them, I mean."
"You know I don't. You were there when I was being audited."
He smiled. "Of course. Why haven't you reported them?"
"I'm not obliged to, and I need the legitimate contracts they offer me. Besides, they know the score. They know I won't, but they feel obliged to ask."
He nodded. "Fair enough. But anytime you feel uncomfortable about it, let us know. They have far more to lose than you."
"Talking of uncomfortable creeps, have you seen this guy?" asked Babs, passing over her notebook. There was a photo of a man in his twenties on the screen.
Laura studied the photograph. "No, not that I can recall, though he's got a very ordinary face, hasn't he? Why? What's he done?"
"He has this thing about Listeners. Lures them somewhere isolated with the promise of a big contract, then rapes and kills them. He's killed three Listeners in the last two years."
"Oh my God! That's awful. Why hadn't I heard about that?"
"We have a certain mystique," said Peter. "Normals think we know everything that goes on in their heads. It's not true, of course, and officially we are open about our talents. But if it got around amongst the Normals that we are just as vulnerable as them, it might weaken our position. We don't want another Capetown incident. The fewer Norms know about this, the better."
"Though, of course, we never refer to them as 'Normals'," added Babs, giving Lee an old fashioned look.
"I meant, of course, those differently gifted than us. No offence intended. But if ever you do see him, under no circumstances approach him. Don't let him know you're a Listener. Just get straight onto us. Not the police, the Guild."
Babs gave one of her bright, empty smiles. "Well, it's been lovely to meet you, Laura. Don't be a stranger, and I wish you every success. Seriously, if ever you need us, give me a ping." She rose, sliding a card across the table.
Laura assumed the interview was over. Presumably she had passed. She led them to the door and saw them out.
As they waited for the elevator, Peter said, "You remind me of my gran when you put on the friendly maiden aunt act."
"You say the most flattering things, sir."
"Yes, they taught me that on the managing people course."
"Had she seen him?"
"No, and she bought the killer story too. I got the names of three more brokers from her that need a visit."
"That must have been a level three scan. She didn't sense you?"
"No, I can be gentle when I have to be." He shrugged. "Or rough."
By snodlander
Laura walked to the port commerce centre. It wasn't just the cost saving. She felt awkward on public transport, catching odd looks from the other passengers before they hastily turned away. No one knew she was a Listener, she rationalised. She was just paranoid, but still the irrational discomfort remained. Besides, it was a nice day.
She was five minutes away when her phone buzzed. She hit the stud behind her ear. "Hello? Laura Robinson."
"Laura, darling, my favourite Listener. Are you busy? I've got a coffee and a Danish with your name on."
"Ted? Is that you?"
"Who else calls you 'darling'?"
"Where are you? I'm five minutes from the centre."
"Great, I'll meet you at Marco's."
"Have you got any work for me, Ted? Because I can get breakfast anywhere."
"Is that all I am to you, a source of money?"
"You're not even that, most of the time, Ted."
Ted laughed over the phone. "It's a good job I know when you're joking. Yes, we can talk business as well."
"Joking. Yeah, sure, whatever. And make it an Earl Grey. You know I don't drink coffee."
Laura closed the connection and smiled. At least the day held some prospect of a little bread-and-butter work. Ted Parkinson was a low-market private investigator, but he was decent enough. He knew when no meant no, and he didn't act awkwardly in a Listener's presence. She'd done a little work for him in the past, all at minimum Guild rates. He paid promptly, he didn't make telepath jokes and he kept his hands to himself. What more could you ask for in a business relationship?
He stood and waved to her as she walked into the pavement area outside Marco's.
"Hey, Laura, over here."
Laura smiled and walked over to his table.
"You do know P.I.s are meant to fade into the background, don't you?" she asked as she sat down. "Not leap up shouting and waving."
"Yeah, but how could a mug as gorgeous as mine ever go unnoticed? It's my curse. Here you are, an Earl Grey and a strawberry Danish; your favourite."
"Raspberry," she said. "But thanks, I'll take strawberry."
"Raspberry? You sure? Yeah, of course, stupid question. You sure that's okay? I can change it."
"No, that's fine," said Laura, breathing in the tea's perfume.
"Great. So, how's your love life?"
"None of your damn business. How's yours?
"I'm married, darling. I haven't got one. How's work? Busy?"
Laura shrugged. "I could be busier. What have you got for me?"
"Ooh, straight to the meat of the matter. No time for chit-chat over breakfast with a friend?"
"Great tie. You lost weight? How's the wife? What contracts have you got for me?" rattled off Laura, then took a sip of her tea to mask her smile.
Ted chuckled. "Fair enough. I have a peach of a contract, and I've saved it just for you. Ten minutes work, or maybe you can stretch it out to twenty, but he knows he has to pay for an hour. Two hundred and fifty dollars, and it's an evening job, so it won't interfere with any corporate contracts. Do I look after you, or what?"
"What's the job?"
"Some guy, two years married, thinks his wife is playing around. He's got money, she's younger than him, yada yada yada. So, he asks her some questions, you tell him if she's lying or not. Bingo."
"A truth and tell? That's a fifty-dollar job, Ted. Why is he prepared to pay so much?"
"He's a businessman. He wants the best, and is used to paying a premium for it. And I thought, who's the best ..."
"Oh, shut up, Ted. I don't have to be a Listener to know you're full of bullshit. What's the catch?"
Ted had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, there is just one little condition. He hasn't actually got his wife's agreement, as yet. If it's an irrational fear on his part, he'd rather not have her know he suspected her."
"No."
"He'll go higher, I'm sure he will."
"That's not the point, Ted, and you know it. I can't Listen to someone without their consent. I would lose my licence, and I'd have a debt round my neck that would drown me."
"No one would know."
Laura shook her head. "I got audited last night, Ted. The Guild would know, and do you think the authorities would leave you alone? Forget it, you won't get anyone to do this job. I guess you'll just have to do it the old fashioned way, lurking in the bushes with a camera."
"Yeah, well, that would be my preferred solution, but he wants a definitive answer quickly, and above all, cheaply. Oh well, I had to try. No hard feelings?"
"It depends. Was that all you wasted my time for?"
"Since when has sharing breakfast with a friend been a waste of time? Okay, okay," he said quickly, as Laura made to rise. "As it happens, I have two certified depositions I need authenticating this afternoon. Guild minimum. Do I get discount for two?"
"I'll tell you what, Ted, as you're a friend and you did buy me breakfast, I won't charge you any extra for this little stunt. Gimme." Laura opened up a channel on her notepad, and heard the ping as Ted sent her the details.
"Edward," she said, and grinned as Ted winced at the name. "It is always a pleasure to do business with you. See you later." She rose, paused, then snatched the Danish from the plate. "And thanks for breakfast."
Laura made her way over to the Listening Post in the business sector. She sighed as she saw Tony and Judy, then put on her happy face.
"Hiya fellas. How's tricks?"
"A bit slow," said Judy. "Has been for a while now."
"It's the Neilson Committee," added Tony. "Everyone's a bit jumpy about us. They'll be tattooing our foreheads and making us wear yellow stars before long."
Judy laughed and slapped Tony on the leg playfully. "Don't be silly."
"It's true, you'll see."
"God, Laura," said Judy. "It's like living with Doctor Doom sometimes. You don't know how lucky you are."
"I know how lucky I am," said Tony, giving Judy's arm a stroke.
"Ah, bless," she said, placing her hand on his.
Laura hoped her smile was staying in place. Listeners' ability to read body language tended to atrophy, especially if their talent was recognised early. It wasn't that she didn't like them. They were both pleasant enough in their own way. It was just that, when they were together, they cloyed. It wasn't jealousy, Laura was sure of that. After all, women were four times as likely to be a Listener than men, so for these two to find each other was wonderful, really it was. If only it wasn't quite so in-your-face.
"What about you?" said Judy. "Got anything lined up?"
"A couple of depositions for Ted Parkinson this afternoon, that's all."
"Oh my God! You'll never guess what he asked Tony to do yesterday!"
"The unfaithful wife job?" asked Laura. So, she wasn't his first choice. She felt oddly relieved. Maybe he knew she had integrity after all, and she was a last resort for a shady contract.
"He asked you too? The nerve! Tony nearly decked him, he was so angry, didn't you, love?"
"Well, no, I wouldn't have actually hit him, but I was going to report him to the Guild," said Tony.
"Really?" said Laura. "Only he does put a fair amount of legitimate work our way. It'd be a shame for him to be blacklisted."
"That's what I said," agreed Judy. "But we told him no one would touch his offer, even at two hundred."
Laura laughed. "I told him the same, only he was offering me two-fifty. I think he's giving it up as a lost cause."
"So, are you joining us in the hope of a drop-in?" said Tony.
"Later," said Laura. That had been her plan. Businesses often liked to hire Listeners without notice. They thought that this lessened the chance of a business partner bribing a Listener beforehand. There were rumours, but Laura didn't know of any authenticated case of a Guild member being found guilty of that. She wondered if that meant it didn't happen, or that the Guild handled it quietly. Probably the latter. However, she didn't relish the thought of spending her morning in a romance movie.
"I'm going to do the rounds of the brokers first, see if I can charm a contract out of them."
"You can do that here," said Tony.
"Yes, but sometimes it pays to put in a physical appearance, meet them face to face, as it were."
"Oh, does that work?" asked Judy. "Tony, we'll have to give that a try sometime."
"Anyway, good luck," said Laura.
"You too, darling," said Judy. "Oh, but if you're going to talk to them -." She licked the corner of her mouth. "Jam," she said in a stage whisper.
"Oh, now you spoiled my fun," complained Tony. "I wanted to tell her after she'd met the clients."
Judy laughed and slapped Tony's thigh again. "Isn't he awful?" she asked.
"Yes," agreed Laura, wiping the corner of her mouth as she walked away.
By snodlander
The commerce centre consisted of a conglomeration of large high-rises clustered around a network of pedestrianised squares. The ground floors of the buildings surrounding the Listening Post housed the offices of smaller companies, plus the usual shops, cafes and other service industries that greased the everyday life of the corporation workers. A couple of Listener brokers had offices in the square, but most hid in anonymous offices out of the prime real estate. Paradoxically, Listener contracts were the one type of transaction where face-to-face contact was not necessary.
Laura entered the office of a brokerage firm that had forwarded her a contract a month ago. The broker looked up from his screen and gave her a broad smile.
"Hi. How can I help you?"
"Just a courtesy call," said Laura. "I'm Laura Robinson, certified Listener. I've worked for you in the past. I just thought I'd stick my head in and say hello. Let you know I'm at the Listening Post, available if you need me."
The broker switched off his new customer smile. "Fine. Register, share your schedule and I'll ping you if we need you."
"Oh, I've done that already. Just thought I'd say hello."
"Hello. I'll ping you if we need you," he repeated, as if she were stupid. He returned to his screen. Laura retained her smile until she cleared the office door. Don't antagonise the customer. Clear any cams before snarling.
Normals - Differently gifted, she corrected herself - were like that sometimes. They wanted a Listener's gift in business, to ensure the stranger in front of them was not working some scam or another, but they didn't want them any other time. They were afraid Listeners would know their hidden secrets, their sexual perversions, their every flaw and indiscretion that made them human.
They ignored that would take a conscious effort. They viewed with suspicion that most Listeners could not progress beyond level two, and a deep scan like that would need at least level four. That any Listener found guilty of such a violation would not only find themselves in jail, but saddled with repaying the Guild years of training and prohibited from ever practicing again was neither here nor there. People projected all the weight of their guilt and shame on Listeners. It was that that made them feel inferior, more than simply their lack of one particular gift. And it was all so stupid, so needless.
Laura knew she should soldier on, visit the other brokers. They weren't all complete arseholes. On the other hand, she really didn't need the rejection, the look of fear and suspicion written so large on their faces no Listening was needed to see it. Still, she was not sure she could handle any more of Tony and Judy's love-fest either. As a compromise she browsed a clothes boutique whose smallest accessory would blow her weekly budget, bought a bottle of fruit juice at a corner shop and reluctantly returned to the Listening Post.
The Listening Post was little more than a collection of couches enclosed by a low partition under the glass-roofed square. A couple of other Listeners sat in the Post, but Judy had disappeared.
"Any joy?" asked Tony, as Laura sat next to him and plugged her notepad into the power grid. She shook her head. "Shame. Should have stayed here. You've lost your place in the queue."
"I expect I'll cope," she said. "Judy got a nibble?"
"Yes, a business to business intro. You just missed her. She should be back in an hour."
Laura nodded and delved into her messages. There were a couple of prospects for later in the month, but she knew they meant nothing until the contracts were signed. Otherwise it was just personal stuff; messages from friends with whom she trained in the academy, a gossipy note from her sister, spam that had somehow slipped by the AI filters. She started to balance her own finances, though that would hardly take any time.
"What would you be?" asked Tony, without warning.
"Sorry?"
"If you weren't a Listener, I mean. What would you be?"
"I don't know. It's not a question I've ever asked myself, really. I entered the Guild at twelve, and from then on, I just assumed I was going to be a Listener."
"You've never wanted to be anything else?"
Laura thought for a moment. "Well, before the Guild, I went through a phase where I wanted to be a dragon slayer."
Tony laughed. "A what?"
"A dragon slayer. You know, dress up in armour and rescue handsome princes from evil dragons, that sort of thing. Are you laughing at the dreams of a ten-year-old girl?"
"No, no, not at all," said Tony, openly laughing. "I'm just not sure what the prospects for promotion are in that line of work."
"What, are you joking? Half a kingdom and a himbo to flaunt in front of all my school friends? That's one hell of a bonus plan."
"Okay, okay. But apart from killing endangered species, you've never fancied anything else?"
"No, of course not. Why, what would you be?"
"I don't know. Something in politics, maybe. Something I could do that would make a difference."
"Really? I never saw you as a politician."
"Well, it needs to be done," said Tony. "Have you seen the crap people are spouting, I mean, supposedly intelligent people? You know what one senator told the Neilson committee? That we're witches. Straight up, he said the only mention of Listening in the Bible was divining, and that made us in league with the devil. That's the crap we're up against, and if they win, we're all out of a job, if we're not burnt at the stake."
Laura shook her head. "No, they need us. Never mind the police contracts and the courts, the health services and all that. Businesses wouldn't be able to cope. There's too much money invested. Surely people aren't that ignorant."
"Don't be too sure. They used to cope before the Guild. It's happened before, over and over. The Muslims, the blacks, the Jews. You get a minority, especially a privileged minority, and even intelligent liberals join in the blood lust. We're regulated like no other profession, and still it's not enough. Tell me I'm wrong when we have to wear yellow stars."
"I bet you keep Judy in stitches, don't you, Doctor Doom?"
Tony conceded a smile. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm a bit sensitive, but someone needs to be. Especially when this craps affects our bottom line."
"You and Judy feeling the pinch?"
"No, at least, not as much as some. I've got standing premium contracts with a couple of insurance companies. A lot of guys don't want to be scanned by a female Listener. They're scared she'll know how often he whacks off. Medicals are the one time they can insist on a male Listener, so I'm fairly fireproof. Still, just because I'm okay, doesn't mean I shouldn't give a damn about anyone else."
"You'd never last as a politician, Tony. You nowhere near cynical..."
"Whores!"
The scream interrupted Laura. A young lad, no more than sixteen, she guessed, stood a few metres away from the Post, grinning at his mastery of wit and repartee. Tony stood.
"Hey, arsehole!" Tony placed his index fingers to his temples and screwed up his face in concentration. The grin disappeared and the boy turned and fled.
Tony sat down and muttered curses under his breath.
"Give him a couple of years," he said, "and he'll be putting bricks through windows when he's not beating his wife."
"What was all that?" asked Laura, imitating Tony's performance.
"What? I've got a headache, that's all. What? You know we can only Listen. It's not possible to screw with people's head. Oh, you don't think that's what he thought I was doing, do you? Surely people aren't that ignorant."
"No wonder Judy keeps slapping .... Oh shit!"
"What?" asked Tony, turning to follow Laura's line of sight.
"See those two coming this way? They're Guild. They audited me last night. They must have seen your performance."
Babs and Peter strode side by side across the square towards the Listening Post. Laura couldn't read anything in their expressions.
"Like I said," said Tony. "I just had this sudden headache."
"Maybe you should be a politician at that," said Laura. "You've got the lying with a straight face off pat. You're screwed when they scan you, though."
By snodlander
"Good morning, girls," said Babs, smiling at the group. "And boy, of course," she added nodding at Tony. "We're from the Guild. Please ping my colleague Peter here with your Guild ID." She gave fleeting smile of recognition to Laura and gave a slight shake of her head. "We've got yours, dear," she said. She turned to her colleague, who was studying his notepad. He gave a slight nod.
"Okay," she continued, turning back. "Just a quick word, no need to worry. I just need to ask, has anybody seen this man?" She tapped the screen of her notepad. Laura saw the face of the killer they had warned her of appear on Tony's screen. There was a general shaking of heads.
Babs stepped closer and lowered her voice. "We're asking because this man is a criminal that targets Listeners. He is extremely dangerous. Listeners have died. We are asking you all to be vigilant. Pass the photo on to your colleagues. If you see him, under no circumstances engage him. Contact the Guild immediately. We will deal with him.
"There!" Babs gave her matronly smile at the group. "That wasn't painful, was it? Thanks for your cooperation. Now, Peter and I will be around for a little while, if you need us at all."
They sat down on a spare couch, phantoms at the feast. For reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on, Laura felt inhibited with the pair joining them, like schoolteachers sitting at your lunch table.
"Headache?" said Peter, leaning over.
"Excuse me?" said Tony.
"I saw you holding your head as we came over. Do you have a headache?"
"Oh, a slight one, I guess," said Tony.
Peter nodded. "Thought so. I expect it's gone, now there are no more idiots shouting at you." He grinned and sat back, looking down at his notepad as his fingers drummed over the screen.
Tony blushed and smiled guiltily at Laura. Laura returned the smile, shaking her head, then turned to her own screen, scanning prospects her AI had trawled from Web.
Her email pinged, a message from Abby. Five years her senior, Laura had adopted Abby as a mentor when she first started practicing, but that quickly became a casual acquaintance. Abby seemed in many ways five years Laura's junior. At least, she hoped it was Abby, and not just Laura was aging before her time. Still, outside work, she could be fun, a commodity that was getting scarcer.
"Abby's throwing a Mind Meld tonight," she told Tony.
"Jesus, why does she insist on calling it that?" said Tony. "Why can't she just call it a party? Who does she think she is, Spock? What's the occasion?"
Laura shrugged. "Her cat's birthday? Who knows? She doesn't often need an excuse. Are you and Judy going?"
Tony shook his head. "No, it's all too, I don't know, intimate, I guess. You know there'll be way too many girls, and we get uncomfortable, me and Judy. I mean, it's not like anything would happen, but some of the girls get far too close to the knuckle, know what I mean?"
"Yes. You mean you and Judy are two married old farts."
"Said the lonely old maid." Tony grinned. "Don't tell me you're going."
"I might. I could do with a girly night out and a few drinks inside me. Besides, it's like you were saying earlier. We have to unite, us Listeners."
"Hmm. I'm not sure that's quite what I meant."
Babs appeared, standing between the two of them.
"Laura, dear, do you mind if I borrow your young man for a minute?"
"Oh, he's not mine, God no," said Laura.
"You could have said that a little less forcibly," said Tony. "How can I help?" he said, turning to Babs.
"My colleague and I would just like a quiet chat for a minute or two. Are you free?"
"Well, I'm next in line for a drop-in."
"Oh, the moment anyone turns up we'll let you go. We understand. Business first. After all, that's why we're here in the first place, to help your business."
Tony nodded his goodbyes to Laura, rose and allowed Babs to lead him over to the corner of the Post. Laura hovered her finger over the accept button for a few moments. The world accused Listeners of being aloof, of thinking themselves 'Special', as opposed to 'Normal', but it wasn't that Listeners preferred their own sort to others. It was the pressure from outside that pushed them together. Even the most liberal Normal threw up barriers in a Listener's presence. The only time a Listener could be normal was with other Listeners, who understood the limitations of the gift. She accepted the invitation with a sudden flick. She could always cry off, but how often did she let her hair down?
She made a few more calls, gave the contact sites a quick browse then decided lunch had priority over work. As she left, Tony was still in discussion with the two Guild reps, his finger jabbing the air as he made his points. Maybe he would make a good politician at that. He certainly seemed to have the passion for it.
After a pasta and tea in a local cafe, Laura hailed a cab and made her way towards the part of town Ted had rented an office for the afternoon. "I'm an animal of the streets," he'd say. "The city is my office." Meaning, he didn't earn enough to afford a full-time office. However, as so much could be done on-line, an office probably was over-kill for Ted.
Ted had rented an anonymous cell in a block of identical soulless rooms. She knocked on the door and entered. Ted rose from his seat, a smile on his face.
"Listener Robinson," he said. "Come in. Can I introduce you to Mr Eddison and Ms Fielding? They have made an affidavit each, and they need to be certified."
Laura nodded to the middle-aged couple sitting nervously on the other side of the desk to Ted. The nervousness bordering on fear showing on their faces. A Listener! Would my secrets be safe?
"Good afternoon," she said. "I am a certified Guild Listener, and have been contracted to witness your affidavit with a level one scan." She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "Sorry, I have to start with that, it's Guild law. I'm Laura. Have either of you been Listened to before?"
They shook their heads, eyes wide.
"Okay, I'll just talk you through what's going to happen, we'll get the paperwork out the way, certify your statements and I'll be on my way. In a minute I'll ask you each to read your statement out loud. While you're doing that I'll be Listening. It's not much more than an empathic reading." Laura saw the blank looks on their faces. "Basically, I'm not Listening to any thoughts, I'm just Listening to see if you believe what you're reading. I absolutely will not be listening to anything else. If you're smuggling penguins over the border, your secret will still be safe." She grinned to show it was a joke. The two witnesses stared back solemn-faced and slightly confused.
"Anyhow," she continued, crossing off 'stand-up comedian' from her future career choices, "before we do all that, I have to ask you to sign your consent to being scanned."
She handed her notepad over to Mr Eddison.
"If you could just read that carefully, Mr Eddison, and if you agree, just thumb the bottom."
While he studied the consent form, the woman nervously put her hand up like a kindergarten child with a weak bladder.
"Yes?"
"Will we feel anything? I mean, will it be ... unpleasant, at all."
"Not at all. I had to be trained to even notice if I was being scanned, and a level one is the least intrusive of all. Trust me, you won't know a thing."
Ms Fielding didn't look as though an undetectable scan was any more desirable.
"Your counsel has explained this," said Ted, gently. "If we're going to take your husband to court, we need to have the affidavit certified. You don't want to let him get away with this, do you? Honestly, there's nothing to it. I've been Listened to dozens of times."
Eddison thumbed the consent and handed the notepad back to Laura. She pulled up a new form on the screen and handed it over to the nervous woman.
"I tell you what, Mr Eddison. Shall we start with you, while Ms Fielding is reading the form? Just read your statement out loud, in full, while I Listen. Is that okay? If I need any clarification I'll ask, but otherwise I'll just sit here."
He nodded his assent. Laura started her mental preparation. Different Listeners used different techniques. She used the fisherman's net. First she threw it wide, becoming conscious of the minds in the room that had been nudging her subconscious. She saw them as shoals of fish, her net drifting in the air over them all. Gently, so as not to startle any of them, she let the net settle over Eddison's mind. The cords touched the edges of his thoughts so lightly hardly a fish stirred.
Laura nodded at Eddison, and he started his rendition. The words flowed over her. He read in a monotone that didn't inspire her to listen with any interest. Instead, she Listened to his guilt, his fear and his anxiety.
"There," she said, when he finished. "That was simple, wasn't it?"
He nodded, relieved. "And you were reading my thoughts all that time?"
"No, just your emotions, Mr Eddison." How many times would she have to tell these people? "Are you done there, Ms Fielding?"
Ms Fielding nodded, hesitantly thumbed the signature line and handed the notepad back.
"Same rules, then," said Laura. Netting her mind was even easier, the fear and embarrassment screaming out.
It was a divorce case, the details hazy in Laura's mind, but both witnesses believed their version of the truth. Fielding stumbled through her statement, Laura certified the affidavits and Ted evicted them politely from his office.
"Still putting the world to rights, then, one affair at a time?" she said, after Ted closed the door.
"Mock my profession, go ahead," he replied. "If it's so sordid, are you going to waive your fee?"
"Oh, if only I could," she said in mock disappointment. "But you know what it's like; Guild law. I have to charge you."
"The least you could do would be to take me out for a drink sometime, show some appreciation for all the work I put your way."
"Yes, Ted, but I'd be so embarrassed Listening to your wife's affidavit at your divorce if I did."
"Oh, she's open about these things. She says I can have an affair, providing I'm not cruel to my lover's seeing-eye dog."
"Goodbye, Ted."
"Because, you know, she'd need to be blind, because ...."
"Goodbye, Ted," repeated Laura firmly, as Ted's voice petered out.
"Goodbye, Laura," he said. "I remember when you enjoyed the cut and thrust of wit and repartee."
"I still do," she said, as she opened the office door. "You're just no match for me."
By snodlander
Laura could hear the music through Abby's door before she reached it. It sounded as though the party was in full swing already. That was good; she hated being the first. Something in her make-up made her rather be an hour early for an appointment than five minutes late. It had meant many long waits at corner coffee shops in the past.
The door was answered by Abby herself, bopping in a dress ten years too short for her.
"Whoo, Laura, you made it. Come in, come in."
Laura entered the hallway. "Hi, Abby," she shouted over the music, then waved the bag containing two bottles of wine in the air.
"Good girl. Get our priorities right. This way."
Abby led Laura to the small kitchen. The table was hidden underneath a collection of bottles and glasses. The music was slightly quieter in there.
"First things first, my girl. While you're still sober, sign a consent form. It's too noisy for talking anyway."
"Really? A consent form?"
"Yeah, best be careful. The Guild are swarming all over the place this week. Have you seen that creepy pair doing the rounds? So I thought, 'Cover your arse, Abby, girl.' Most are only doing level two Listening anyway, but if Ahmed starts any of his level three shit, just think about rare steak. He's a vegetarian, and it grosses him out. People can only Listen in the living room, the rest of the apartment is out of bounds. And just one more rule; enjoy yourself."
Laura smiled as she thumbed Abbey's notepad. "Thanks for the warning. I'll try."
"Oh, you'd better do more than that, my girl. Do you need any help?"
Abby grinned a smile rich with guilty pleasure, and help up a capsule between finger and thumb.
"Empathol?" said Laura. "Jesus, Abby. Are you out of your mind?"
"Oh, relax. It just helps drop the barriers a little, that's all. Rounds a few sharp edges, that sort of thing."
"Where did you get it?"
Abby tapped the side of her nose. "I have a friend of a friend who has friend who's friendly with a friend in the police." She paused, staring into space for a second. "Wait, one too many friends. Anyway, I've only got a couple, so if you want one, now's the time to say. A couple of the girls felt a bit too inhibited without one."
She palmed it quickly as a man in his forties entered the kitchen.
"Billy-boy! Enjoying yourself?" she cried.
"Need more beer," he replied, waving a crushed beer can. "Hey, Laura, you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"You know, Bill, that joke just never gets old, even the hundredth time you tell me it."
"Hey, hey, hey!" chided Abby. "No mind melding. You know the rules. You can only Listen to people who are in the living room." Her eyes went wide with delighted shock. "Oh my God, you'll never guess what Ahmed just thought."
She turned and headed towards the living room. "Ahmed, you disgusting creature. I'm going to have to wash the inside of my head out."
"Beer?" asked Bill, opening the refrigerator.
"I think I'll stick with some wine for now," said Laura, reaching for a glass.
"Hey, you been audited lately?"
Laura nodded. "Last night."
"Yeah, a bunch of us have this week. Weird, isn't it? No-one gets audited for months on end, then, Bang! You joining the fray?"
"The music's a bit loud. I wouldn't have thought it was your thing."
Bill grinned and pulled out an earpiece. "Pardon?"
"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?"
"Sure. These are really cool. Filters out nearly everything that's not speech. It has this little chip that generates anti-noise ...." Bill thrust the earpiece towards Laura so that she could better see the technological marvel.
"Eww, Bill. That's been in your ear. I'm not interested."
"Fine, live in the Dark Ages." He screwed the earpiece back in. "Don't come running to me when you're deaf, though. Come on."
"Just a minute." Laura closed her eyes, bringing her mind into focus. She carefully shuttered out the areas she didn't want to share, running her thumb over her fingertips like a rosary as she shut each section away.
She opened her eyes again. Bill looked at her in mock disappointment.
"Spoilsport," he said. They walked into the living area.
Laura paused inside the doorway. The curtains were closed and the lights switched off. The air seemed solid with loud music and laughter. She could only make out vague shadows. She cast her net. Eight people ringed the room; six women and two men. As she let the net gently lower she felt the others Listening to her. She flinched involuntarily as half a dozen separate enquiries probed into her mind.
Laura ran through her mantras, slowly letting down the barriers, allowing her friends entry into the forefront of her mind. Then she Listened, gently making her presence known, concentrating on the thoughts that were loudest, the emotions of the moment, avoiding any hint of barrier.
This was simple stuff, compared to Listening to multiple Normals. Listeners knew exactly how to compartmentalise their thoughts, how to invite another into certain areas, guide them from others, even rebuke and resist an attempt to cross the line.
There's a seat here The thought rose from the chorus of welcomes.
It's dark. I can't see.
Laura saw herself from a different viewpoint, silhouetted in the doorway. Not a photographic image, exactly. The viewer filled in little details, colours of impressions and emotions. Laura stepped forward, towards the person whose eyes she was borrowing. She felt clumsy and awkward. It seemed strange to turn slightly to the left, and see herself appear to turn to what would be the right if she were looking in a mirror. She fumbled her way through the dark and found the sanctuary of the couch.
"Thanks," she said to her unseen aid. There was a chorus of delighted disapproval from the minds surrounding her.
You spoke out loud That thought was from Ahmed, all peacock arrogance and schoolboy humour. Forfeit!
Hey! Not fair. I didn't know the rules.
The others repeated the chorus.
First sexual experience. Ahmed again, the bass laughter from across the room matching the emotions behind the thought.
Okay, okay. Laura conjured up Ahmed's face in her mind's eye. Raucous laughter filled the room. She allowed her eyes to drop. He was naked. As she imagined her eyes dropping further, she showed the company his manhood, as small as a maggot. The girls screeched with laughter.
No, no, no! protested Ahmed. It's a snake, a python, not a maggot.
You want me to carry on? Laura brought up a sign on the wall. 'Acme Meat Processing Plant.'
You are an evil witch! his thoughts screamed, though there was no anger in the accompanying emotion.
Laura stopped her daydream. She was laughing too much now anyway. Ahmed was an infamous lecher, but it was all meant in good fun. Mentally, she stepped back and quietened her thoughts, bringing her emotions to the fore and concentrated on Listening to the others.
She hadn't done this since her training, sharing with a group of other Listeners. It had been so difficult at first, taking months of practice. Listening to several minds at once was difficult enough, but letting your guard down at the same time was much harder. It was the ultimate exercise in trust - you wouldn't be human if you didn't have some dark corner of your soul you never wanted to see the light of day - but it was the ultimate intimacy as well. She could understand the appeal. If you had the confidence to expose your basest nature, and you could accept the basest of your partner's, then you would never experience the deceit or misunderstandings of normal couples. Maybe she was just the tiniest bit jealous of Tony and Judy, but she was equally sure she could never be involved in such a relationship herself. She wasn't the forgiving kind.
Laura sipped her wine and Listened, occasionally putting a thought to the fore for the others to read, but mostly she read and shared the positive emotions. She floated in the atmosphere, sharing an intimacy with friends that stopped short of anything more. The barriers slowly dropped as she recalled the training exercises, the warmth of shared experience, and as she gradually drained her glass.
Later she found her mind slipping over the others, stumbling over half-concealed thoughts as alcohol and Empathol broke down barriers. People were becoming clumsy about what they revealed, and she was becoming clumsy about the areas she Listened. When she heard a wistful memory of a past conquest, the face blurring between several people in the room, Laura decided it was time to leave. She didn't want awkward silences and nervous giggles when she met her friends next week. Thank goodness she had turned down the Empathol; alcohol was dangerous enough.
Laura climbed to her feet and made her way to Abby. She was relaxed on a bean bag, her face vacant and smiling. Laura held out her hand. Abby grabbed it and fell into Laura's thoughts.
Great party. Thanks for the invite.
You're going already?
Laura felt Abby push into her mind, looking for a reason. It wasn't cruel, but the inelegance as she bumped around in her thoughts betrayed the effects of the drug and drink.
No, you're right, Laura heard Abby think. That's cool. Glad you enjoyed yourself. Maybe next time you'll stay longer.
For a moment Laura hesitated. It was not possible to lie to a Listener, not like this. Laura didn't have to make false excuses, nor Abby utter false platitudes. They'd both been glad Laura had come, and the thought of staying was seductive, but she was still sober enough to realise she'd regret drinking any more. Besides, a couple of the others had already strayed over that boundary.
She waved, thinking her goodbyes, and left the room, carrying the warm feeling with her.
By snodlander
The incessant cry of the phone woke Laura. She fought back the covers and answered it.
"Yes? Hello? What?"
"Hi, Laura. It's Ted."
"Jesus, Ted. What are you playing at? Do you know what time it is?"
"Nine-thirty, darling."
"Christ!" Laura sat upright amongst the wreckage of her sheets, then she remembered. "Wait, it's Saturday, Ted. What are you doing waking me up on a Saturday morning?" she said, sinking back into the pillows.
"Oh dear. Bad night?"
"No, good night; bad morning." Her head wasn't right. The Listening last night had seemed so natural, surrounded by other Listeners, that she had to concentrate to speak out loud now. At least the wine hadn't given her a migraine. "The last thing I want to deal with this morning is your inept flirting and dodgy deals. Speak to me on Monday, if you've got a job on the level."
"I wish I could, my sweetheart, but my client is in somewhat of a rush. Can I buy you breakfast?"
"What's the job?"
"I'd rather not talk about it on the phone. I'll spring for a strawberry Danish too."
"Raspberry," said Laura automatically. "Why is nothing ever straight forward with you, Ted? And why does it always involve sitting at a cafe where you can pretend I'm your date? Have you really got a legitimate job for me?"
"Quite possibly. Could be a nice earner too. Look, meet me and we'll discuss it. If it smells bad, simply walk. What harm could it do?"
"This is going to cost you more than breakfast, Ted. Buy me lunch and I'll consider it."
"You're a cruel and venal woman, Laura Robinson. Okay, lunch, but I'm not springing for a bottle of over-priced Chianti."
Laura cursed silently. She had assumed Ted would balk at buying lunch. Maybe there really was a decent contract to be had.
"Okay, Ted, but if you're just messing me about I shall visit all shades of trouble on your sorry arse."
"Fair enough. I'll ping you with an address."
Laura closed the connection and pulled the covers over her head. She lay there, eyes closed, willing herself to drift back to sleep, but it was not going to happen. Besides, her bladder called for attention. Cursing Ted, Abby and herself for the way she felt, she dragged herself into the bathroom.
Showered and human again, Laura opened her notepad. True to his word, Ted had sent her an address for lunch. It was in a tourist area known for its bars and clubs. She suspected this was his idea of a joke, thinking her woolly demeanour this morning had been due to a hangover. It was true the wine from the night before hadn't left her completely symptomless, but she would have the last laugh. There had better be steak on the menu.
She pottered around the apartment, but it wasn't really big enough for any mess to develop. Nothing important or interesting arrived in her inbox. Finally she gave up on having any sort of weekend experience and phoned a cab.
It was a Tex-Mex restaurant, full of East-European waiters, close to the river. Laura arrived fifteen minutes before the time Ted had arranged. Ted wasn't there yet. Did that make her seem desperate, like the ugly duckling on her first ever date? The restaurant was half empty, the diners mainly families out for the day on a budget treat. She chose a table in a relatively secluded corner. The waiter looked as though he had never heard of such an exotic drink when she ordered an Earl Grey, so she settled for a diet Coke.
After five minutes of boredom, she called Ted.
"Okay, you've dragged me out my pit and I'm here at a pitiful excuse of a restaurant because you're too cheap to buy me a decent meal. You'd better not be late, Ted Parkinson, because I don't think you could afford that."
"Ah, my favourite girl in the whole world, after my wife, of course. So glad you've left your hangover behind and embraced the joys of a new day. I'm just walking up to the place now. Whereabouts are you?"
"Inside, far corner, hoping no one I know recognises me. It would be bad enough if they saw us eating together, I'd hate them to think that I'd choose such a cheap restaurant."
"Oh, that's ridiculous, my sweetheart. And it's such a beautiful day too. Come on outside, we'll eat at one of the pavement tables."
"What's wrong with eating inside like normal people?"
"I want the world to see us together, sweetheart. Besides, this is my treat, so I get to choose the table."
"Jesus, you are hard work," said Laura. "No, fine, we'll eat outside in all the fumes and dust where passersby can gawk at us."
"That's my girl."
Laura stepped out into the spring sunshine. Ted was standing in the entrance to the roped-off area.
"Darling," he said, smiling. "Seeing you two days running. What a rare pleasure."
"For you, maybe. What's this all about?"
"Let's order," Ted said in way of reply.
The waiter showed them to a table. Ted barely glanced at the menu.
"You know what I fancy? A chip butty. The missus has me on some health kick at the moment. She puts on a kilo, and I have to diet. Can you see the sense in that? I'll have a chip butty, my friend," he told the waiter.
"A chip butty?" asked the waiter in a thick accent, looking at the menu with a puzzled frown.
"Yes, a chip sandwich."
"You want a sandwich with a side order of chips?"
"No," said Ted, with exaggerated patience. "I want a sandwich with chips in it."
"I'm sorry, only what's on the menu."
Okay," said Ted, making a show of looking at the menu. "I'll have a Montezuma burger with fries, all right? And a Bud lite."
"And I'll have a rump steak, rare, with chocolate sauce, and a jacket potato, sour cream and salad," said Laura.
Ted looked aghast. "Chocolate sauce? With steak? Is there something you want to tell me? Am I the father?"
"It's a South American dish. Why did you take me to a Tex-Mex restaurant if you didn't want to eat Tex-Mex?"
Ted watched the waiter disappear inside.
"I wouldn't have, if I had known it would be so difficult to get a chip butty. Right, shall we chat, or do you want another buffalo sacrificed?"
"I'm listening," said Laura.
"Okay, first the confidentiality thing. What we're going to discuss is strictly between us."
"I am a Listener, Ted. I keep secrets every day."
"Sure, I realise that, but this one is potentially a biggie."
"My lips are sealed."
"Okay, so here it is. I had a visit from a guy. He made all sorts of claims about his life being in danger. He may be a nutter, he may be a liar, or he may be straight up, I don't know. I tried to check him out, but I couldn't find anything one way or the other."
Laura shrugged. "I can tell you if he's a liar, but if he believes what he's saying, you'll need a doctor to tell if he's delusional."
"No, that's fine. We'll set up a session, and you can tell me if he believes all the bullshit he's told me." Ted held up his hand to forestall her. "Yes, I'll get him to sign a consent, so you don't have to break any of your precious Guild rules. But there's more to it than that. How do you get on with the police?"
"Oh, they're very friendly every time they arrest me; give me a cup of tea and everything."
"Yes, very funny. I mean, do you do any work for them? Do you know any of their debentured Listeners? Any of your Guild friends contract for them?"
"Where's this leading, Ted?"
"Just humour me for a moment, pet."
Laura sat back and stared at Ted until he fidgeted uncomfortably.
"Okay, Ted, let me explain something about us. You know when I bit your head off yesterday about non-consensual Listening?"
"I told you, I'll get him to sign."
She shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean. I told you I'd lose my licence, yes? Well, it's much more than that. Listening, well, it's not an exact science. I was in training for nearly ten years. Putting yourself into someone else's mind, it's difficult. Not just from a technique point of view; it's hard on the Listener. You don't just read the words off a screen. You get to feel their emotions, their sensations, their soul. Yes, you can smile, but you have no idea. It's an act of incredible intimacy, more so than even sex. Putting yourself there against someone's will, well, it's sick. It would be like hiding in the wardrobe and watching someone else have sex."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Ted, grinning. "I do that for a living. I'm a private detective, remember?"
"Oh, ha ha. I'm being serious. Okay, it would be like watching your parents have sex. It would be a violation of their dignity. Most Guild Listeners wouldn't be able to do it if they were allowed to."
"I'm not asking you to do that, Laura. And I'm sorry I asked you to yesterday."
"Yes, well, that's how we feel, and the Guild training reinforces that. At least, that's how most of us feel."
"Most of you?"
"You won't get any Guild Listeners on retainers to the police, and any contracts would be under strict Guild conditions, certifying witness statements and the like."
"I feel a 'but' coming," said Ted, as the waiter arrived with Ted's beer. Laura remained silent until the waiter had left.
"But," said Laura, "Not all Listeners have been trained by the Guild, and Guild training doesn't take with everyone. The police have certain requirements that are prohibited by Guild rules."
"Non-consensual Listening?"
"Oh, it's perfectly legal. I can even see the sense in it. You've got some terrorist planning a bomb, you can't wait for his consent and then play twenty questions to find out where it's at. But if you can do it once, you can do it again and again, until you're Listening on level four to jay walkers to see what else they might have done. It's a bad habit to get into, and you won't find any Guild members getting pally with police Listeners. Now, you want to tell me why you asked?"
"My client has a bad history with both the Guild and the police." Ted help up his hands to placate Laura. "No, no. Don't get up tight. Hear me out. Let me tell you what he said, then make up your mind. Read him to confirm it afterwards if you want. Besides, here's our order. It would be a crying shame to waste all that food."
The waiter laid the plates on the table. Ted stopped him leaving with an outstretched hand.
"Half a mo. Just take this, will you?"
He lifted the top bun, dropped the burger onto his paper serviette and gave it back to the waiter. He scattered a thick layer of chips in its place and replaced the top half of the bun. He picked up the impromptu sandwich in both hands and winked at the waiter.
"Can't beat a good chip butty."
By snodlander
"So, tell me what happened," said Laura.
Ted was at home when he got the phone call.
"Mr Parkinson? My name's John. I need a private detective. Can we meet?"
"I expect so," said Ted. Caller ID had been withheld. Well, that wasn't exactly unheard of. "What's this all about?"
"I'm sorry, Mr Parkinson. I'd rather not talk about it on the phone. Are you free to meet today?"
Ted glanced at his watch. Four-thirty.
"I'm going to take a wild stab at your last name being Smith. Am I close?" he asked.
"Very close."
"So I'd be meeting a stranger I can't identify out of hours about a job he won't tell me about on the phone?"
"Pretty much."
"Goodbye, Mr Smith."
"I'll pay," said the caller.
Ted let his finger hover over the disconnect button for several seconds.
"You'll pay?"
"One hundred, wired to your account now, against whatever we agree your fees to be."
"One hundred? Just to meet me? You're sounding awfully like a cheating husband wanting payback for photos commissioned by his wife. You could wait till Monday. You could try another P.I. Why are you so anxious to talk to me, Mr Smith?"
"You want the truth?"
Ted gave a humourless chuckle. "Yes, why not? Just for the novelty."
"Because the services I'm after are not the most conventional, Mr Parkinson. You are honest enough that I can trust you, but not so honest that you're worthless to me. And because you need the money. Also, the last three people I contacted turned me down flat."
"Well, that last has the ring of truth about it. Have we met? Because you seem to think you know an awful lot about me."
"I do my homework, Mr Parkinson. There's more about people on the Net than even you realise. Do we have a deal?"
"Make it two hundred."
"I think, Mr Parkinson, that you will settle for one hundred. Do you know Addicted To Coffee, in Langton Avenue? I'll meet you there."
"I could find it." Ted stretched his legs out and looked up at the kitchen ceiling. "What the hell. Okay, Mr Smith, wire me the money, and we'll meet. But if it smells bad to me, I'll walk, understand? Give me your details, and I'll ping you my account number."
"No need, Mr Parkinson, I have it already. I'm sending the money now. Please come over as soon as you have confirmed receipt."
Mr John Smith hung up. Ted continued to stare at the ceiling. He already had a bad feeling about this. That the stranger knew his bank account details was perhaps the most worrying of all. He hated the cloak and dagger stuff. Give him an adulterer or a politician on the take, and he knew where he was. Which was probably what this was all about. Mr Smith doubtless suspected his wife of cheating, or his business partner, and had seen far too many spy films for his own good.
Ted thumbed the lock of his notepad and punched up his bank. The money was already there, paid via an anonymous cashing agency. Ted already knew that would be a dead end.
"Honey!" he called. The door opened and his wife stuck her head around the door. "I'm off out. Business with a client."
"Uh huh. What's her name?"
"Aw, you know you're the only one for me, honey."
"I'm the only one that would put up with you. When do you want dinner?"
"Not sure. I shouldn't be too late."
"Okay. I'll make up a salad nicoise. I know you like those, and then it won't matter when you get back."
"You spoil me," said Ted, rising and pecking her on the cheek.
Addicted to Coffee was a trendy coffee bar that tried hard to recreate an Edwardian Gentleman's Club atmosphere. Ted had no way of recognising Mr Smith, so he ordered a full-fat latte, sat in an over-stuffed leather armchair and waited for his phone to ring. He was on the point of leaving when it finally rang.
"Mr Parkinson, it's John."
"Ah, the mysterious Mr Smith. I had given up on you. Where are you?" Ted looked around the near-deserted room.
"I am in the multi-storey car park opposite. Third floor."
"That's nice for you. How about you stop being a prat and join me for a coffee?"
"No, Mr Parkinson. I need you to come here."
"So you and a few of your pals can show me your collection of baseball bats? I don't think so. Just as a point of interest, whose cheating husband were you?"
"Look above the door, Mr Parkinson. What do you see?"
Ted sighed and looked up. "The fire exit sign, a cam and a spider web. You'd think they'd take more care of hygiene in a place like this."
"And above the till?"
"Menu board, sign saying, 'you don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps', and a cam. Ah, you're camera shy?"
"Exactly. The coffee shop is part of a chain. The feed goes to a central office, in case an employee tries to remove evidence of his own sticky fingers. I'd rather there wasn't a record of our meeting, Mr Parkinson. I shall stand in the middle of the gangway on the third floor. You'll be able to see any gang of bat-wielding thugs long before they reach you."
"So why did you arrange to meet in the coffee shop, then?"
"I had to be sure you were alone, Mr Parkinson. Third floor."
The line went dead. Ted sat in the chair, staring into space for long seconds. This didn't smell right at all, but the mysterious Mr Smith had been right about one thing; he did need the money.
"Another?" asked the young waitress.
"No, thank you. I have to see a man about a ... something or other." Ted rose and strode out of the shop.
John turned out to be a man in his twenties, a non-descript face wearing non-distinctive clothes. Ted thought he would make a good detective, blending into crowds unremarked. He stood in the middle of the concrete aisle and spread his arms wide as Ted walked onto the floor, showing his lack of sporting equipment.
Ted began a wide circuit, checking around the parked cars and concrete pillars. All the time John turned slowly, facing him. Eventually, Ted closed on the stranger.
"Wanted to be sure we were alone," said Ted.
"Of course," said John. "I would be disappointed if you didn't."
"Okay, enough of the bullshit. What's all this about?"
"I need assistance in travelling to an appointment next week, Mr Parkinson."
"Do I look like a travel agent?"
"The trouble is, it won't be a straightforward journey. There are people who want to stop me. I need someone who can protect me from those parties."
"I don't deal with drugs, I don't deal with wet jobs and I don't deal with criminals," said Ted. "Well, not major criminals, anyway. I need a lot more detail before I act as your heavy."
"What do you know about the Nielson committee, Mr Parkinson?"
Ted shrugged. "Something to do with Listeners. The right want to lock them up, the left want them running free, something like that."
"If only it were that simple. Nominally the Nielson committee is gathering evidence and arguments on the future legislation and regulation of Listeners. That means whatever they decide, they are going to piss off some very powerful and rich interest groups. Every committee member has round-the-clock personal protection, and every aspect of their life is under scrutiny. That's just for sitting on the committee and hearing evidence from special interest groups. Wait till they meet to draw conclusions. Not one of them can get life insurance."
"You're on the committee?" asked Ted.
John shook his head. "No, I wouldn't step outside if I were. I'm due to give evidence at the hearing. I want you to keep me alive and get me there in one piece."
"You don't want a private detective, Mr Smith," said Ted. "You want to hire yourself a squad of brick-built bodyguards and book yourselves into the nearest police station."
"That's the problem. One of the parties who do not want me to testify is the police."
"Great. You're wanted by the police. Absolutely marvellous. And people have turned this job down? Amazing."
"I haven't done anything illegal."
"No, of course not. No one ever does."
"The crimes they accuse me of are completely bogus. They will arrest me, and I will simply disappear."
"No. That can't happen, not in this day and age. Do you know the electronic paper trail an arrest leaves? People can't just disappear."
"They can, Mr Parkinson, if it's sanctioned high enough. Do you know how many people disappeared after the Cambridge dirty bomb attempt a few years ago? After all, if a Listener knows someone is guilty, what's the point of a trial? Convince yourself the truth can topple a government, and it's only a short step to label anyone who tells the truth a terrorist."
"You know how paranoid this sounds?"
John gave a mirthless chuckle. "I know paranoia, Mr Parkinson, and sometimes it's the only way to survive."
"So you want me to keep you away from the police and smuggle you into the committee hearings, which I guess is crawling with security personnel?"
"No, just the office of a certain politician I trust. Once there he will be able to get me into the hearings."
"A politician you trust? That has to be the craziest thing you've said so far."
John smiled. "I guess so, but it's the only shot I have. I'll pay you well. Ten thousand, for five days' work."
"I don't believe a word of this, you realise that?" said Ted. John shrugged. "I'm not touching this, not without some verification."
"What can I do? The thing about a paranoid in hiding is that there isn't much you can verify."
"You'll repeat this in front of a Listener, and let her Listen as deep as she needs to."
"There may be an issue there."
Ted threw his arm in the air. "Of course there is. Why would that surprise me?"
"Listening to me is no good, the Guild doesn't want me to testify either. I suspect they'd be more merciful. They'd probably just kill me on sight."
"Jesus, is there anyone doesn't want you dead?"
John grinned. "I don't think the Quakers are too upset with me."
"That's just as well. Those preachers can be evil in a fist-fight. Listen, John, I'll be straight with you. If what you're saying is true, you're dead. Seriously, you're just breathing now out of reflex. No one is going to raise a finger to help you if you won't let a Listener verify your story. Thank you for the hundred dollars. Goodbye."
Ted turned on his heel and started towards the stairwell.
"Wait!" called John. "Okay, get a Listener, for all the good it will do. But make sure it's one you trust. And not one working for the Guild, an independent. Maybe she could even be useful."
Ted turned back. "That's better. And it will cost you fifteen thousand."
"You don't know me, Mr Parkinson. I don't negotiate. The fee will be ten thousand. I'll pre-pay it into a bond for delivery on completion, but that's the fee. It's the best hourly rate you've ever earned."
"What do you know that's pissed off so many people, Mr Smith?"
"Best you don't know, Mr Parkinson."
"What's your real name, then? I feel stupid calling you John Smith."
John Smith merely smiled.
"Okay, I think I know a Listener we can trust. I'll arrange a meeting. How do I contact you?"
John remained silent.
"Right, I'll wait for your call then. Goodbye, Mr Smith."
"See you later, Mr Parkinson."
By snodlander
"That's it?" said Laura. "Tell me, was he wearing his underwear on his head?"
"Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but he seems to be a crazy with money. He's put the fee in a bond, just as he said, conditional on me delivering the goods." Ted pushed the plate away and waved the bottle of bud lite. "I'm tempted to take it, if he's on the level. If you can certify he definitively hasn't done anything wrong, then I can register that with my law firm. That should cover me in the event of the police finding out I'm involved, and allay his fears that he might disappear with no trace. It would be difficult to argue with a Listener certification."
"Well, it's not my neck, Ted. If you want me to Listen to him, then fine, it's a standard truth and tell, but how deep a hole do you want to dig for yourself? The police can make it pretty unpleasant for you if they really do suspect him of being a terrorist."
Ted shrugged. "What can they do? If he's right, and he does have the backing of some politicians, then once he's testified he's pretty much fireproof, so that should go for me too. The only risk is if someone finds out that I'm helping him, and the only other person that knows is you. Are you going to rat me out, Laura?"
"Rat you out? Have you been watching children's TV again? Who says things like that? Honestly, who?"
"So, is that a 'no'?"
"No, Ted. I will not 'rat you out', not if he's done nothing wrong. If he's really a criminal, then sure, I shall be onto the police in a flash, just as quickly as you will. But if he's legit, then neither of you have anything to fear. Want me to sign in blood? Of course, it won't be my blood."
"No, that's fine. One other thing I have to ask, though, before we arrange a meet. He says the Guild are after him too. Where do you stand on that?"
"There he is either lying or delusional. The Guild isn't some secret police force, sending death squads to take out anyone who says bad things about Listeners. Christ, the streets would be littered with bodies if that were the case. They're just a trade organisation, Ted, nothing more. There's no secret agenda. He probably just said that to avoid being Listened to. Which tends to make me believe this is all bullshit on his account, anyway."
"Okay, but just supposing this. Just suppose you Listen to him, and he's legit; the Guild really are after him for nothing he's done illegal, just because his evidence could be detrimental to the Guild."
"Won't happen," said Laura firmly.
"Okay, but just suppose it did. Where would you stand, Laura? Would you turn him over to the Guild, even if he was innocent?"
"'Turn him over to the Guild?' Listen to yourself, Ted. The Guild don't have a secret squad of enforcers. But, just to indulge you, if this nutcase is truly innocent, if he really is the victim of a police frame-up and a Guild conspiracy, then, no, Ted, I would not deliver him to secret Guild assassins. Neither will I deliver you over to be vanished by police death-squads or alien abductors, no matter how great the temptation. What I choose to divulge to Guild reps is mandated only for violations of Guild regs, and to the best of my knowledge there is no regulation that says I can't help innocent nutcases hide from the Guild, the police, or the fairies that live under the stairs."
"You're pretty sure he's a nutcase, then."
Laura shrugged. "Either that or a liar. I guess I'll know when I Listen to him. I'll tell you what, though. There's no way I'm meeting him in some deserted car park. I want witnesses around, people who will notice if he sticks an ice pick into my brain."
"I'll protect you, my little damsel in distress," said Ted, smiling.
Laura gave Ted a look that suggested that of the two, Ted had more to fear on that count.
"So you'll meet up with him to Listen, then?" asked Ted
Laura shrugged. "Yeah, why not? But somewhere public, the Listening Post, maybe. If he's a nutcase, I want to manage the risk."
"I'm pretty sure he won't go for the Listening Post," said Ted. "He's got paranoid delusions about the Guild, remember? What about somewhere like a restaurant, somewhere where there are people about?"
"I guess."
Ted leaned back and smiled. "That's good, then."
"When are we going to meet?"
"Now?" said a voice by her ear, as a hand fell lightly on her shoulder.
"Jesus!" yelled Laura, knocking her coke over and sending her cutlery clattering to the floor. Ted unsuccessfully tried to hide his laughter behind his napkin as Laura desperately dabbed at the tablecloth with hers. "You scared the bejebus out of me, you arsehole."
She turned to face the man sitting at the table behind her. She gave an instinctive smile of recognition an instant before her forebrain supplied where she recognised him from.
Looking back at her was the face in the photo the Guild had shown her.
By snodlander
He didn't look like a serial killer, but then who did? Laura had a sudden flash of every news item she had ever seen. The neighbour looking into the TV camera and saying, "But he was so ordinary-looking. Who'd have thought he hid all those bodies in the cellar?"
"Sorry," said John, looking concerned. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, I, that is, erm, you didn't, well, yes, you did, but, well, it's okay." What a brilliant conversationalist, her inner voice told her. They might well be her last words, and they were hardly likely to be included in future books of notable quotations.
"It's just, I needed to be sure you were alone, and I wanted to overhear your conversation with Mr Parkinson."
Was this how a rabbit felt, watching the approach of the juggernaut, able to cover the distance to the bank with seconds to spare, but unable to move, fear scrambling its motor neurons?
"Are you all right, darling?" asked Ted, amusement creasing his eyes. "I'm jealous. I wish you found me that startling."
"Yes, sorry. I was startled, that's all. Yes, that's it. I didn't realise anyone was behind me, that's all." Laura waved her hand and watched the approach of the waiter, hoping the genuine start she had felt covered the sudden panic filling her mind. "Yes, may I have a glass of water, please? Sorry, I've made a bit of a mess."
"No problem," said the waiter, scooping up the cutlery from the floor and gathering the plates. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, no, that's fine, thank you."
As the waiter left Smith rose and sat at their table.
"I'm sorry for all the games, but as Mr Parkinson told you, I'm a paranoid nutcase. I didn't want you to tell the Guild about me, not till you had an opportunity to meet me."
"How long were you sitting there?" said Laura. Long enough to hear her describe him as a paranoid nutcase, obviously.
"Five minutes," he said. "Give or take."
"Sorry for the paranoid nutcase comment." Oh God, she was sitting at a table with a serial killer, apologising for calling him mad. Perhaps she had it all wrong. Perhaps she was the mad one. What sane person would be doing this?
Smith shrugged. "It's fine. I'd be the same, if I were in your shoes."
She brushed her hair back over her ear, discretely hitting the stud hidden there. "What have you got against the Guild?"
She enunciated the last carefully. There was a click in her ear as the voice dial kicked in.
"You mean, apart from them trying to kill me?" said Smith.
She heard a double click - error. Damn. She brushed her hair back again. "The Guild - doesn't kill people, Mr Smith. We're unpopular enough as it is."
Double click. Double damn.
"Nevertheless, they tried," he replied.
"Well, there's a simple answer, Laura darling," said Ted. "Just Listen to him, and we'll know. Job done."
"No, sorry, I can't. Not now. I can later, though, say, three?" Laura rose from her chair. "Thanks for lunch, Ted. Ping me, and we'll meet later."
The two men rose. Smith stood between her and the exit from the dining area. He looked fit. Could she turn and vault over the rope barrier before he caught her? Was he armed, or did he like to feel the life flow out of his victims?
"But it will only take five minutes," said Ted. "What's the rush?"
"No rush," said Laura. "I just want to make sure that, you know ...." She reached for the stud, no attempt to hide the movement now. "Police." Click - double-click.
Smith reached into his pocket. Laura braced herself for a lunge. She'd be damned if she would curl up and die for him. Instead of the gun she was expecting, he pulled out a small box and placed it on the table.
"What the hell?" said Ted.
"It's a wi-fi jammer," said Smith.
"I know what it is," said Ted. "I also know what the statutory punishment is for using one. What the hell are you up to?"
"Ms Robinson here tried to contact the Guild. Nice touch, by the way, flicking your hair back. It might have worked. Just listen to my story, that's all I ask. Maybe give me a minute or so before you phone the Guild if you still don't believe me. After all, isn't that what you promised Mr Parkinson you'd do? No secret Guild assassins?"
"What's going on, Laura? What am I missing?" Ted looked to and fro between the two of them.
"He's a murderer, Ted. He preys on Listeners, lures them with promises of fat contracts then kills them."
"What?" Smith looked genuinely startled. "No, that's not true. Who told ... oh, clever. The Guild sold you that story? It's a lie, Ms Robinson. Wait, you recognised me? Damn."
"What?" Ted looked like a man that has entered the cinema half an hour after the start of the film.
"The Guild has my picture. They can recognise me. Shit, that makes it harder."
"Makes what harder? What's going on? Dammit, Smith, you need to explain a hell of a lot before we go any further."
Laura noticed Ted take a step forward, placing himself closer to the space between her and the serial killer. She appreciated the gesture. The waiter approached with a glass of water as the three faced each other.
"Are you leaving?" he said. "The bill?"
"No," said Ted. "No, another three coffees, please. Wait, two coffees and a tea. We're still enjoying our chat. Aren't we, guys? Please? There's a simple resolution to all this."
"Okay," said the waiter suspiciously, carefully placing the glass on the table and giving the trio a doubtful look.
Smith shrugged and sat back down. He spread his arms wide and smiled at Laura.
As the waiter left Ted looked at Laura anxiously. "Laura, darling, let's just hear him out, okay? Look, Laura will promise not to phone anyone till we've established the truth, and you'll switch the jammer off, okay? Think about it, there's a simple answer. You'll answer my questions, Laura will Listen, and if you're telling the truth, there's no foul, right?"
"And if she can't establish I'm telling the truth?" said Smith.
"Well, then I'll beat you senseless while Laura brings down every emergency service she can reach on her phone. If you're a mad killer, we can't let you go, now can we? You've got to agree that's reasonable."
Smith stared at Laura. Eventually he shrugged. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with that, because I really don't have any choice. Ms Robinson?"
"He kills Listeners, Ted," said Laura, returning Smith's stare.
"Well, let's establish that for sure, hon. I promise you, Laura, by everything I hold dear, I won't let anyone hurt you. You say the word, and he'll be pissing blood for a week. Let's just hear him out. What harm can it do?"
Laura glared at the stranger, but it was difficult to argue with Ted's infuriating logic. If Smith was going to pull out a gun and shoot her, he could have done so by now. Besides, she would know for sure within moments if he was a killer.
"Fine," she said curtly, and threw herself back in her chair. "Whatever, but this will cost you double rates, Ted."
"Okay, there, that's better," said Ted. He took his chair and positioned it between Laura and Smith. "All friends together. Mr Smith?"
Smith reached out and hit the switch on the jammer. Laura thumbed her notepad. She had a signal.
"Ms Robinson? What are you doing?" Smith appeared calm, but there was an edge to his voice.
"Standard consent form," said Laura. She also brought up the number the two Guild reps had given her two days earlier, ready for a speed dial.
Smith shook his head. "You have my consent, but no thumbprints. You don't want the Guild to know you met me. You really don't want them to know you tried to Listen to me. Mr Parkinson here will be witness that I give my consent freely."
"I want to Listen at level two," said Laura. "That means as well as knowing if you're lying, I'll be able to hear the thoughts at the forefront of your mind. Do you understand that?"
"Knock yourself out," said Smith.
Ted raised his eyebrows at Laura, who reluctantly nodded.
"Okay, let's get this farce over and done with." Laura closed her eyes and cast her net. Against the background noise of humanity, the focused points of children's thoughts and the amorphous blobs of their bored carers, Laura felt the net slip over the mind of Ted beside her, stretching beyond him to ....
Laura snapped her eyes open. Smith was looking at her, sat back and relaxed. There was a knowing hint to his expression. Ted, to his credit, was staring at Smith, his back to Laura.
Laura tried casting her net again, this time with her eyes open. There was Ted. She stretched further. Unseen inside the restaurant, she sensed the waiter moving towards their open-air table.
"Who are you?" she said. Smith remained silent, a faint smile on his lips.
"What's up, darling?" asked Ted.
"It's him," she replied. "He's not there."
By snodlander
Ted turned to face Laura, frowning. "Not here? What are you talking about?"
"I mean mentally, he's not there," said Laura. "He's .... " She felt as though she were trying to explain the colour yellow to a blind man. "I can't hear him. He's just not there. He's got no mind."
Ted turned and slowly stood. "You mean he's blocking you? Sounds like an admission of guilt, Mr Smith." Ted's arms hung loosely by his side, but there was something about his stance that suggested Smith should make no sudden moves.
"No, he's not blocking me. The way you block someone is to scream things in your head, think repulsive thoughts they shy from, lead false trails. It's incredibly difficult to do, but the point is, I'd know. That's not what I'm saying, Ted. I'm saying, he's just not there. I can't hear his thoughts at all. His body might be here, but his mind isn't."
When was the last time anyone startled me,? thought Laura. When I was six? Seven? When you could hear the background hum of people's thoughts around you, how could you not hear them behind you, even if physically they were silent?
"So, what, you're a robot?" said Ted.
Smith gave a short laugh. "You've read about MIT's AIDA project, yes? An entire building full of super-computers, and she's got the IQ of a dog. No, Ted, I'm not a cyborg from Dimension X. Prick me and do I not bleed?"
"We might well have to see about that," said Ted. "Why can't she Listen to you? And no more bullshit."
The waiter arrived at the table with the drinks. The three of them stared in a silent Mexican Standoff until the waiter was out of earshot.
"Okay, things have changed," said Smith. "I didn't realise the Guild would be quite so proactive, and I certainly didn't anticipate their murderer story. That was stupid of me. Here's the deal. I'm pretty much screwed now, one way or the other. I'll level with you, tell you why I have to get to the Nielson hearings. Now, you've got no way to Listen to me, so you're going to have to try things the old-fashioned way. You'll have to trust your instincts. And sit down, Mr Parkinson. Your coffee will get cold and you're attracting attention. I promise I'll keep my serial killing habits to a minimum this afternoon."
Ted made a show of placing his chair between Smith and Laura, then sat. "So, talk," he said.
"My name's Andrew Christmas. Yes, it's a stupid name; I'd hardly make that one up, would I. Until very recently I worked for the government, though I was born and raised on the Falkland Islands."
"You don't have a Caribbean accent," said Ted.
"The Falklands are a bunch of rocks off South America, Mr Parkinson; home to a few hundred people and a few thousand penguins. The arse end of the Empire, forty-three years behind the rest of the world."
"Forty-three, huh?"
"Forty-three. That's a significant figure, isn't it, Laura?"
"What?" said Laura, unprepared for the question. What was significant about forty-three?
"Okay, let me give you a history lesson. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin."
At thirty-seven, Julian Fredericks was ahead of the curve. As senior research chemist at United Pharmaceuticals he was at the peak of his career. Everything he'd wanted by forty he had achieved by thirty. His team made significant inroads in the fight against endemic diseases every year. UP stock rose accordingly, and the directors of the company made sure that Fredericks had everything he could possibly want. Everything was perfect.
It was his team that nearly discovered the cure for Alzheimer's. Fredericks' father had died of it, unable to recognise his son, constantly asking for his wife who'd died ten years earlier. Fredericks knew that he was at a greater risk of catching it, and so he took a personal interest in the development of the drug UP hoped would boost their profit margin. Oh, and bring relief to thousands around the world, of course.
One strand proved particularly hopeful. The animal trials of AZ73 went very well, with little or no side-effects. Fredericks was convinced it would prove effective in human trials, but he was always an impatient man. Quite against protocols, he insisted that he and his wife be included in the first human trials. UP rewarded those employees that signed up for the tests. It was a much more cost-effective solution than having to pay strangers.
The voices started two weeks later. At first, they were just barely audible whisperings when he was in the presence of the other guinea pigs. All he could pick up were hints and suggestions of emotion. Over time, though, he started to hear words. He was an educated man, and of course he worked in the medical field. He knew what the symptoms of paranoia and the belief in special powers meant, but he didn't want to be taken off the trial. Besides, no one else reported side effects. Instead, he tried to live his life normally. But he was a scientist, with all the curiosity that involves. He couldn't help but document and test his malaise as it progressed.
One day he was working in the lab with Myra, one of the other test subjects.
"How was your weekend?" he asked, as he wrote up his notes.
"Oh, pretty quiet," she replied.
Fredericks listened to the whispering in his ear.
"How's Frank?"
"Frank?" Myra stared at the paper she was reading, but Fredericks could see her colouring.
"Yes, Frank. He ... he works in Finance, doesn't he? Aren't you two an item?"
Myra whirled on him. "How do you know about that? We've been so careful. Who told you? Oh God, does everyone know?"
Does his wife know? screamed the secret voice in Fredericks' head.
"No, I just ... I thought I saw the two of you in Oakland on Saturday, that's all. It was you, wasn't it? Outside that hotel with the ugly decor?"
"Yes, but not together, we are always ... you saw us together?"
"Don't worry," said Fredericks. "It's no concern of mine."
How could it be paranoia, if people really were saying one thing to your face, and thinking another? Was it illusions of grandeur if you really were special?
That evening he decided to use his new-found gift to his own advantage. His wife had seemed distant recently. He listened to the voice, subtly changing his behaviour based on what the whispers suggested. For the first time in weeks, they made love. He listened hard as their bodies locked together, wondering how she ranked him. To his cost, he learnt.
The next day he drove into work and spent the first part of the morning on the phone to his lawyer. He ordered his staff out of the lab and destroyed all the records on AZ73. Then he walked in on a meeting between his friend Frank Dibbs and a government delegation and broke Dibbs' nose before he had a chance to rise from his chair.
It was not perhaps the most conventional way to give an employer notice of resignation, but it was nonetheless effective. When in the next couple of days Fredericks served divorce papers on his wife on the grounds of her adultery and sold everything he had to start a charity school for underprivileged children, people assumed he was undergoing a midlife breakdown. But Fredericks was always an ambitious man.
His success in finding philanthropists became legend. He seemed to know just what to say to extract funds for his noble causes. He started up his own pharmaceutical company, also a charity, providing low-cost drugs for social programmes. When he announced the discovery of a drug to immunise people against Alzheimer's, UP protested. But when Fredericks offered to make the formula freely available to any company with the wherewithal to manufacture it, UP found itself on the ropes. How could they push a prosecution against such a saint whose only crime was to free the world of a debilitating illness at no profit for himself?
Five years later, shortly after the government hit its target to immunise the population against Alzheimer's, the Guild was announced to a sceptical world. It took years to convince the scientific community, but the evidence of the blind trials were conclusive. A tiny proportion of the population had latent telepathic powers, which Fredericks could bring to the fore with a programme of intense training.
Different people had the skill in different degrees. Some could only read emotions, a very few could delve deep into the human subconscious. The results of Fredericks' own tests were never revealed, but historians generally agreed he must have been a particularly gifted Listener, to discover his gift and train himself. His training was pretty crude at first, but you know what practice makes.
The Guild have been very careful in guarding their secret. A few people in government agencies have learnt the truth, but it's in their best interests to maintain the status quo. People who threaten to tell the truth are a threat to all sorts of interested parties.
By snodlander
"Bullshit!" said Laura.
"I know," said Andrew. "It's hard to believe. You've been told one thing the whole of your life, and then I come along and tell you something else. It's hard to credit. Nevertheless, it's true."
Laura shook his head. "No, it's complete bull. For a start, no one could keep a secret that long, not an organisation as large as the Guild."
"It's been done before. And we're talking about a multi-trillion dollar business. That's just the Guild, never mind all the multinationals and governments with a vested interest. Did you know only six countries in the world have a GNP greater than the Guild? Money is a very powerful tool. Plus, if a Listener is harbouring thoughts of selling out the Guild, don't you think someone would know?"
"No. I mean, sure, Fredericks founded the Guild, everyone knows that, but it had nothing to do with Tridenazol. He lost his father to Alzheimer's. Of course he's going to adopt that as his charity, but that doesn't mean there's any connection."
"No?" Andrew took a sip of his coffee. "Tell me, Laura. If Listening is a natural genetic aberration, how come in all the thousands of years of human existence, it was only discovered at the same time as the large-scale production of that particular drug?"
"There were Listeners before, it just wasn't understood. Joan of Arc was probably a natural Listener, but they called that witchcraft; Gates, but they called that good business and dumb luck. Never mind the schizophrenics and soothsayers through the centuries."
"Or maybe they were just madmen or lucky, and we're retro-fitting our perceptions on them."
"So why can't we all Listen?" said Ted. "I was given Tridenazol as a kid, everyone was. Why aren't we all Listeners?"
"It doesn't work like that," replied Andrew. "The Guild is right, there is only a tiny proportion of the population that has a genetic disposition towards Listening. Did you ever see Scanners? They re-made it a couple of years back."
"Oh, please!" snorted Laura. "That was such a crap film. Listeners can only Listen. It's simply not possible to control someone's mind with telepathy. That is total fantasy."
Andrew held his hands up in surrender. "I know, I know. That's sort of the point I'm making. Everyone broadcasts, Listeners can receive, right?"
"Basically," agreed Laura.
"So tell me, why can't you Listen to me, a Falkland Islander?"
"You have a jammer?" ventured Ted.
Andrew laughed. "Oh, if only. Can you imagine the money I could make from that?"
"Tell me. Why can't I Listen to you, Mr Christmas?" asked Laura
"Does your licence allow you to practice anywhere in the world?" asked Andrew, as though that was the natural progression of the conversation.
"Pretty much."
"Pretty much. But not everywhere. Ever been to Haiti?"
"No."
"Zimbabwe? The People's Republic of New Zealand?"
"What's your point, Mr Christmas?"
"My point is, even if you wanted to, the Guild would not let you go to those places, right?"
"The Guild hasn't ratified an agreement with those places, and Zimbabwe made it a capital offence to be a Listener. The Guild doesn't want Listeners placed in peril, or coerced to Listen in an unregulated environment."
"Okay, that sounds reasonable. But have a wild guess: Name three countries that haven't got a Tridenazol programme in place for the population. I'll give you a clue. It starts with 'New' and ends with 'Zealand, Haiti and Zimbabwe'. Now, isn't that a coincidence? Did you know, as part of the agreement to allow Listeners to operate in a country, the Guild insists on compulsory inoculation of the population with Tridenazol?"
"It's part of their charitable charter," said Laura. "Like you said, Fredericks was passionate about it after losing his father to Alzheimer's. They have all sorts of clauses in their agreements."
"But they won't allow a Listener into the country until the programme has been implemented. Not agreed, not started, but already implemented."
"Why can't I Listen to you, Mr Christmas?" repeated Laura.
"The Falklands didn't inoculate its population until five years ago. I was twenty then, a complete idiot, knowing the West was under attack from Islam and communism and the European Federation and who knew who else, and I was stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere, unable to do anything. And then the government offered me a job. A patriotic, exciting job that would defend the West from its enemies, and most importantly of all, get me off that God-damned rock and into the real world. Providing, of course, I didn't take Tridenazol."
"Of course," said Ted.
"You believe this bullshit?" asked Laura, aghast.
"It makes sense, darling. Who are you going to trust your secrets to? Who's going to courier information across borders? Who can't have sensitive information just sucked out of their brains? They would make the perfect spy."
"Oh, you don't know how attractive that sounded to a country boy like me," said Andrew. "Spend a lifetime herding sheep, knowing every person you were ever likely to meet, or being James Bond. They could have told me I would get Alzheimer's in ten years time and I would still have bitten their hand off to take the job."
"So, what changed?" asked Ted.
"You have no idea how they're using it," said Ted. "You ever learn about our torture camps in history? That was bad enough, torturing people till they admitted planning to attack the West. Now, it's a capital offense just to think the wrong thoughts. You think something up here, and the next thing you know a government Listener picks over every thought you've ever had, and you're never heard of again. I know. Some interrogations have to be supervised by someone who's never going to betray it to a Listener. I've seen things ..." He took another drink of coffee. Laura got the impression he did it to gain time to control himself. "I've done things I'm not proud of. But enough is enough. You shouldn't end up in an unmarked grave just because you thought the government was screwed."
"And this is what you're going to tell the Nielson committee?" asked Ted.
Andrew nodded.
"Laura here doesn't believe you. Why should the committee? Why should I?"
"I've got some government files," said Andrew. "And a lead on some Guild information. But right here? Right now? I haven't got a magic wand. I can't make you believe."
Ted looked at Laura. Laura gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.
Andrew shrugged. "Well, I did my best. Give me ten minutes before you make the call?"
"Too late," said Laura. "I made it five minutes ago. If you're telling the truth, you've nothing to fear from the Guild. We're opposed to non-consensual Listening. If you're not, then you're a murderer. Either way, you should just wait here."
Christmas jumped up. Ted rose with him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Just wait, and we'll ..."
Christmas took Ted's wrist, and in an instant Ted was face-down on the floor, his arm twisted up at an unnatural angle.
"If he's your friend, you really, really don't want the Guild talking to him," said Andrew Christmas. "You don't want to talk to the Guild either. Trust me."
He released Ted's wrist and ran towards the exit.
By snodlander
Ted picked himself off the floor, massaging his shoulder.
"Well, I believe him on one score, at least. He's military trained. I can hold my own against most men in a fair fight, though I'm better in an unfair one. You sure he's not on the level?"
"He can't be, Ted. All that bull about conspiracies and drug side-effects? Complete fantasy."
"What about you? Did you really call the Guild?"
Laura nodded. "Be here any minute."
"Well, in that case, I shall bid you adieu. Shame though. I could have done with the money. I'll just slip away."
"Seriously, Ted, you don't need to. There are no such things as Guild death squads."
"Sure, but they said that about life on Mars. Better safe than sorry. And if things get weird with this guy, ping me. Did you say you were picking up the tab on this?"
Laura matched his grin with a withering look, and he disappeared into the restaurant in search of the waiter.
Laura sipped her tea and waited. She didn't have to wait long. A car pulled up outside the restaurant and the two Guild reps she had met before stepped out and weaved their way through the pavement tables.
"Laura," greeted Babs as she reached Laura's table. "He's gone?"
Laura nodded. "He ran off a few minutes ago."
"Which way?" said Peter. He sat at the table and thumbed his notepad.
"That way." Laura indicated the side street down which Christmas had disappeared.
While Peter murmured urgent instructions into his phone, Babs took the chair recently vacated by Ted. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked, concern written all over her face. "Did he threaten you at all?"
"No, not at all. In fact, if you hadn't warned me, I'd have not had second thoughts about him."
"Yes, he's clever like that."
"We told you not to approach him," said Peter, eyes on his notepad as his fingers flew across the screen.
"I didn't. He approached me. By the time he sat down, it was too late."
"Oh, how terrible for you," said Babs. "Tell me, what happened?"
Peter spun his notepad round and pushed it towards Laura. She recognised the Guild consent form.
"Just thumb that before you start," he said.
"You want to Listen to me? Why?" asked Laura.
Peter and Babs shared a look.
"It's just standard practice, Laura," said Babs. "Just in case you get confused by the questions."
Laura thought of Ted. He was pretty decent, as far as Normals were concerned, and though his suspicion of the Guild was completely unfounded, he was as close to a friend as Laura had outside the Listener community. He'd put Laura in contact with Christmas in good faith.
She shook her head. "No, if that's okay. I'll tell you what you want to know, but I don't want you Listening. I'm, well, I'm a bit shook up, and it's embarrassing to admit that, you know?"
There was just the slightest hesitation, then Babs switched on her instant smile.
"Of course, I understand. You're not obliged to agree. Peter, I'm sure we can waive that for now. So, tell me. What happened?"
Laura recounted the events at the restaurant, carefully editing out any references to Ted. As she spoke, Peter Lee made notes on his notepad and Babs tutted and murmured sympathetically.
"So, there was no one else here?" said Peter, when she had finished.
"No, why?"
"Three cups," said Peter, indicating the table with a sweep of his hand.
"Oh, I was here with a friend," said Laura. "He left before Andrew Christmas arrived. Perhaps he was watching, waiting to catch me alone?"
"And you couldn't Listen to him? When did you last have a drink?"
"Last night, but I'm sober now. It wasn't that."
"Maybe you were tired."
"No, I'm telling you, he just wasn't there. It wasn't that I couldn't Listen, he was just invisible."
"Jammer?" said Peter to Babs.
"Um ... I don't know," Babs replied.
"Listen, I'm going to entrust you with some privileged information that is strictly between you and us, okay?" said Peter. "This absolutely cannot become common knowledge. We suspect that the way this bastard can trick Listeners into vulnerable situations is that he has developed a jamming device. Christ knows how it works, and thank God it's not out in the public domain. We think he's developed the prototype and is testing it on Listeners before killing them. Thank goodness you called us when you did. Heaven knows what he would have done if you had left it any longer. You did the right thing. But we don't want this common knowledge, understand? You have to promise me that you won't mention this to a soul, not even other Listeners, okay? We don't want Listeners panicking, and we don't want the Norms to get hold of this."
"Well, okay, if you think that's the best thing," said Laura.
"Absolutely. You did well, Laura. We appreciate it. Hopefully we can pick him up any moment now."
"And in the mean time?" Laura really did not look forward to meeting a crazed killer again.
"You're fine," said Peter. "You've scared him off. He knows you recognised him, and he knows you called us. He won't be back. That would be stupid, and if there's one thing he's not, it's stupid. Give us a ping if you're worried, any time, day or night. But we've got him on the run now. He won't be back."
Babs gave Laura a reassuring squeeze of her hand.
"You go home, honey," she said. "Relax. Keep our number on speed dial, but you'll be fine, I know it."
"Thanks," said Laura. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. She left.
"Jammer?" said Babs, when Laura had left the restaurant.
"It's what her friend thought might be happening. It's as good as any excuse," said Peter.
"I thought he left before Christmas arrived."
"Well, that's what she said."
"I wish I could do that," said Babs. "Listen at level four without being detected, I mean."
Peter shrugged. "What can I say? It's a gift. Her 'friend' was one Ted Parkinson, a private investigator. Look up his details, there's a good girl. I think we need to pay him a visit."
"And her?"
"She's bought our story. She doesn't want to believe anything bad about the Guild. We don't need to worry about her for the moment. Christmas won't want to contact a Listener who's cried wolf on him already."
By snodlander
The bag was pulled from Ted's head and he blinked in the harsh artificial light. He was strapped to a chair, unable to move. The young man standing over him tossed the cloth hood to one side, but made no attempt to remove the foul-tasting plastic gag from Ted's mouth.
"Mr Parkinson. How nice to meet you. Laura's told me so much about you, yet I feel I hardly know you at all. Still, I'm sure that's all going to change." He picked up a hypodermic needle and squeezed a dribble of clear liquid from the end. "Now, I'm just going to give you a little shot of Empathol. Nothing heavy, just a little something to take the rough edges off. You don't mind, do you?"
He ignored Ted's muted shout. Grabbing his hair, the interrogator pulled Ted's head forward. Ted winced as he felt the needle slide into his scalp.
"Not that this makes it react any faster," he said. "It's just that a needle prick is harder to detect in the scalp. I'm so glad you have a full head of hair, Mr Parkinson, otherwise I'd have to administer it through the nipple, and quite frankly, I'm not that way inclined. There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He carefully placed a chair in front of Ted and sat down.
"Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions. Just relax. There's really no need to be anxious. We're not barbarians, quite the opposite. I assure you that you won't be hurt in any way. Oh, you give your permission for me to Listen to you, don't you?"
Ted thrashed around, but the straps didn't give him much leeway. He looked around. The room was bare, windowless, and they were the only occupants.
"Now, you met Ms Laura Robinson this afternoon. Why was that?"
Ted glared at his questioner.
"A job?" continued the interrogator. "You didn't trust this John Smith? Very wise of you, Mr Parkinson. And after you met with Ms Robinson, what happened."
Ted closed his eyes.
"Oh, what's this? Are you trying to block me, Mr Parkinson?" The young man laughed quietly. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Do you know how much training it takes to block even a novice Listener? And I'm no novice, Mr Parkinson. Not at all. Just screaming obscenities in your head won't do it, and they're not even very original obscenities at that. Oh, naughty, naughty. She trusted you, and you set her up with that meeting, knowing Mr Smith would turn up. And you call yourself her friend?
"Now, why do you think she couldn't Listen to him? Oh, really? You believe him? That's such a shame. And even after she said he was a liar, you were still going to take the job. Love of money, Mr Parkinson. It's the root of all evil. I expect you know that now. How were you going to contact this man? Just wait for him to contact you? That's hardly a brilliant plan, is it? But you're not really a brilliant man. You're below average, even for a Norm. Still, you've been very helpful, very helpful indeed. You've told me absolutely everything I wanted to know."
He rose and stood behind Ted.
"You've been so helpful, I'm going to give you a little reward. I'm going to take your gag off now. I can hear you cursing, there's really no need to vocalise your thoughts, Mr Parkinson. Besides, no one will come running, so let's just keep this civilized, shall we?"
He unbuckled the gag. Ted spat on the floor.
"Yes, it does taste awful, doesn't it? I really must remember to wash it between interviews. But I've got something to take the taste away."
He sat in front of Ted again, unscrewing the cap from a bottle of Scotch.
"Take a swig. Wash that taste away." As he proffered the bottle, Ted turned his head away.
"What, you think it's poisoned? Drugged?" He took a swig. "Ah, that hits the spot. Now, come on, be a polite guest and take a drink when it's offered to you."
"Piss off, you smug bastard," said Ted. "You think I'm going to cooperate with you? The fact you want me to drink it is reason enough for me not to."
The interrogator sat back and stared at Ted. Ted matched him with a glare of his own. "You want to read my mind? You want to know what I'm going to do to you when I get free?"
"I'm not Listening to that, Mr Parkinson. What's your wife's name? Jan? You had sex last Thursday. It wasn't very fulfilling. You suspect she just did it so you would go to sleep and stop bothering her."
"Shut up!" shouted Ted.
"You're worried she doesn't feel it's very fulfilling either. Which is a shame, because you still love her."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Do you want me to go get her, Listen to her feelings on the subject? What if I Listened to her being raped, and let you know exactly what she was feeling? Perhaps she'd be fulfilled then."
"You leave her out of this, you bastard!"
"I'd be glad to, Mr Parkinson." He held up the bottle and gave it a little shake. "Drink on it?"
By snodlander
Laura didn't want to go home. The thought of spending the long afternoon in her cramped apartment, stretching into a longer evening, with nothing to do but hide under the covers from the bogie man, filled her with no delight. Ted had been right, it was a nice day. She walked for a while, following the course of the river, but the attraction soon palled. She jumped on a tram headed for the commercial district. She didn't want to work, either, but there might be someone at the Listening Post. They would be company at least.
There were two people in the Post. Laura's heart sank when she saw it was Tony and Judy, but any company was a bonus right now.
"Hi," she said, flashing them a smile.
"Laura, hi," said Tony.
"Hi Laura." Judy was grinning like lotto winner. "What's up?"
"Nothing much. You seem, um, happy."
"Mm-hmm," she said. Laura could almost swear she was expanding with the pressure of keeping something inside. Judy turned to Tony. "Can I tell her?"
Tony shrugged. "I guess you'd better, before you bust something."
"Tony's been offered a position with the Guild." She reminded Laura of a teenager who had just been asked to the prom by the school hunk.
"Congratulations," Laura said.
Tony tossed his head dismissively. "It's not much, not a paid position or anything, but they've offered me the job of local Guild rep."
"Oh, it's more than that, honey," said Judy, laying her hand on his knee. "They're offsetting some of his training debt against the role, plus he gets to represent us at council. And then there's the media. I expect the local news crews will want to interview him when they're doing a Listener story. Imagine me, living with an honest-to-goodness TV star."
"Now you're just being silly," said Tony. He coloured slightly. "Still, it's a start. They say they want someone who's not afraid to stand up for what's right. And if things pan out right, this could be a leg-up onto more important things. We all need to be more assertive with this Neilson crap going on." He placed his hand on Judy's. "You feel better for getting that out your system now?"
"Oh my God, Laura," said Judy. "You have no idea how desperate I was to tell someone."
"Well, it's a relief. I thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant."
Judy screamed with laughter. "Oh my God. You know, I don't think that would be as exciting. I mean, anyone can get pregnant, right? But how many people get to represent their colleagues? Hey, do you think you'll get to testify before the Neilson committee?"
Tony chuckled. "Give me a chance, honey. I'm just the new local rep. No one outside the city will have heard of me. Anyway, enough. What are you up to, Laura? You aren't normally around at the weekend. Times tough?"
"No, I'm not touting for work. I just needed company, that's all, and I'm a lonely old maid with no friends."
Judy frowned. "That sounds like a plea from the heart, hon. What's up?"
Laura took a deep breath. She needed to tell someone.
"You know that photo the Guild showed around yesterday?"
"The serial killer that's stalking Listeners?" asked Judy.
Laura nodded. "Well, I've just had a cup of tea with him."
Judy clutched her cheeks, her eyes wide. "Oh ... my ... God!" she breathed. "You are joking!"
"Well, at least I had the best news for two minutes," said Tony. Judy slapped him on the leg, more from habit than anything else.
"Shut up, idiot. Oh my God, Laura, for real? That's awful. What happened? Tell us."
Laura recounted her story again, leaving out Ted's involvement.
"My God. And he didn't kill you?" said Judy, when Laura finished.
Tony laughed. "Well, she'd hardly be telling us about it if he did, would she, thicko?"
Judy slapped him again. "You know what I mean. He didn't try, I mean. He didn't make a move on you or anything?"
"You'd be horrified at how long it's been since a man made a move on me," said Laura. She meant it as a joke, but Judy's pitying look told her it missed its mark.
"You must be in a terrible state," she said. "Listen, hon, you can't go home. Not to your lonely apartment, not on your own. You have to come home with us, doesn't she?" She turned to Tony for confirmation.
"Um, sure, yeah," said Tony, thrown by the sudden offer. "Sure you can, if you want."
"After all, Tony's the new rep. That's what he's here for."
"I'm not sure that's in the job spec, honey," he said. Judy slapped him on the leg, this time with more force. "But of course, we'd be delighted to have you," he continued, rubbing the spot where Judy had hit him.
"Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I expect you want to celebrate your new role, don't you?"
"Nonsense," said Judy. "Seriously, Laura, you need to come home with us. I mean it. We've got a put-u-up you can use."
Laura wasn't sure what she relished the least, Judy's wide-eyed drama queen act, or the lovey-dovey spooning the couple would inevitably regress into.
"No, I'm fine," said Laura, smiling.
For a moment it looked as though Judy was going to argue, but Tony laid his hand on her knee.
"That's fair enough. She's a big girl, babes, and if she doesn't want to, you should respect that. But you know, Laura, our door's open if ever you want us, all joking apart. If you want to come home with us, that's fine by us. We've got to stick together, right?"
"I guess. How long are you guys hanging around for?"
"Here? Till five, I guess," said Tony. "You never know, someone might want some work. Besides, the Guild sort of implied I should hang around the Post as much as possible, in case someone needs some help. But listen, if you two want a girly afternoon doing whatever it is you girls do, then feel free. So long as you don't spend any money," he added, giving Judy a mock-stern look.
"No, that's fine," said Laura. "I'm going to grab a tea from Marco's and just hang around, catch up on mail, that sort of thing. You guys want a coffee?"
By snodlander
The afternoon wore on, and Laura began to unwind. She caught up with her backlog of social obligations. Her mum was still her mum, of course, but there had been an indefinable reserve in their relationship ever since she joined the Guild seminary. Their face-to-face contact was limited to Christmas and family funerals, though their electronic interaction was always friendly.
Laura composed a gossipy summary of the last month's events. She left out that afternoon's adventure. How could she word it anyway? 'Dear Mum, met a lovely man today. He's single and active, and he has plenty of interests outside work. Murder is the main one.'
It helped to have Tony and Judy around, though she hated to admit it. She was aware of their presence, the way someone in a restaurant is aware of the crowd of fellow diners around him. She wouldn't Listen to them, even if they consented - that would be so sugary she'd get diabetes - but their minds were there, gently pressing on her consciousness. She found it reassuring.
Even so, by four she was bored, and there was only so much tea she could drink. Tony flopped into the chair next to her.
"Listen, I was just messing around earlier. Seriously, you should come home with us. It's not five star, but it has a certain homely charm."
Laura smiled and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks, that's sweet. But I don't want to impose."
"Rubbish. We need to stick together. The world's becoming more and more hostile to Listeners, and I can't think of a more obvious case that demonstrates that. Come home with us, at least for tonight. Help us celebrate my grand elevation into the Guild."
Laura pursed her lips. "I'm tempted," she said.
"That's sorted, then. Judy, slaughter another fatted calf. Laura is joining us for dinner."
"No, no," said Laura. "If I'm going to impose on you two, the least I can do is buy a take-out. Do you like Thai?"
"Don't be silly," said Judy. "You're our guest. You don't need to do that."
"Shut up, woman," commanded Tony. "We're getting free food. Why else do you think I invited her over?"
"You're wicked!" said Judy, coming over and slapping him on the arm.
"Ah, ah. You know the rules. No beating me in front of witnesses. Seriously, Laura, come. Bring food. It will mean one evening where my partner doesn't subject me to spousal abuse. Ah, ah!" he warned, as Judy raised her hand again.
Laura suspected she might regret her decision. They truly were too love-dovey to be healthy. Still, she would grin and bear it. They were right; she really did not fancy a night alone in her apartment.
"Okay, ping me your address," she said. "I need to go home and pick up some things."
"Toothbrush? Change of clothes? Skimpy negligee?" Tony raised his arm to fend off Judy. "Will you stop beating me, woman? You want me to come with you, Laura? Be your bodyguard?"
"You can't even defend yourself from Judy. What good would you be as a bodyguard?"
Tony shrugged. "Still, I'd be happy to."
"No, I'm fine. Anyway, I wouldn't want to drag you away from your loving partner." Laura grinned.
"You could drag me. I won't mind."
"No, honestly, I'm fine. Thanks for the offer. What time do you want me round?"
Tony shrugged. "Whenever you want. Not too late, I'm hungry, but turn up whenever you want."
"Fine. I'll see you later, then."
It was a forty minute walk back to her apartment. Say forty-five minutes to shower, change and throw a change of clothes into a bag. She'd splash out on a cab to Tony and Judy's. Plenty of time. It occurred to her this was her first sleep over since she was ten. She grinned to herself as she walked down the street. Maybe she should bring a chick flick and a makeup bag, and they could pig out on popcorn and diet cola until two in the morning.
As she walked she thumbed her notepad and brought up her favourite Thai takeaway. She ticked off enough food for the three of them, and a couple more besides. It didn't do to skimp on friendship. She copied Tony's address into the delivery details and ordered it for eight. Finally she snapped the notepad off and stopped off at an off-licence on the corner of her block to pick up a bottle of wine.
Two parties in as many evenings. She knew how to live all right. Although, she admitted to herself, they were the only two this year. She entered her apartment block, rode the lift to her floor and fumbled for her key. She pushed open the door and entered the safety of her home.
"Let me talk."
For the second time that day Laura let out a startled scream as the closing door revealed Andrew Christmas. He darted forward, hand outstretched and caught the bottle as Laura let it tumble. She jumped back involuntarily. Now he stood between her and her only escape, the door.
Laura hit the phone stud. "Police," she shouted. The all-too-familiar double-click of a failed connection sounded in her ear. Christmas shrugged apologetically. She launched herself forward, fists flailing as she barked her wordless, incoherent anger and fear.
At first Christmas parried her blows, before spinning her around and pushing her away.
"At least let me put the wine down," he said. "Jesus, you should know better. I could have dropped it, and wasting alcohol is such a crime."
"How did you get in here?" Laura shouted, turning to face him and backing away. "What do you want?"
"Getting in was easy," he said. "Your locks are crap. Seriously, you need to get them changed. A kid could get through them."
Laura backed up against the table. She upturned the chair into the space between the table and couch, providing a makeshift barrier between her and Christmas, then she turned and ran to the kitchen unit. She pulled the drawer clean out from its runners, spilling cutlery over the floor. She grabbed at the carving knife in the mess of metal and turned to face Christmas again.
Christmas held out a hand to appease her and edged towards the table.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment!" screamed Laura. "Get out or I'll gut you, I mean it."
Christmas leant forward and carefully placed the bottle on the table, then edged back to the door. Laura noted, though, he made no attempt to open it.
"Have you looked at the newsfeeds?" he said.
"Help!" she screamed.
Christmas shook his head. "Both your neighbours are out. I checked. Honestly, Laura, I don't want to hurt you. If I did, don't you think you'd be dead by now? I could have broken your neck when you entered. You'd never have known anything about it. I don't want to hurt you."
"Sure. You just broke into my flat to have a friendly chat. Yeah. I do that to my pals all the time when I want to talk."
"Listen, I was in Black Ops for years. I could take that knife off you in any one of two dozen ways. A couple of them would leave you still able to use your arm afterwards. But I'm not going to. You keep hold of the knife, if you want. Just don't cut yourself with it, okay? You need to look up the newsfeeds, though."
He bent down and picked up Laura's dropped notepad. "I'm just going to bring up a newsfeed. That's all. Please unlock your notepad and let me bring up a feed. I don't have a notepad. They're traceable. Okay? Please?"
He put the notepad on the table and backed off. Laura stared at him. She just wanted him gone, but she was trapped. He'd put Ted on the deck that afternoon so easily, she didn't doubt he could disarm her. On the other hand, if he wanted to bring up the newsfeeds, he would have to enable the wi-fi signal, and that would bring her earpiece on line. She edged forward and snatched the notepad. She thumbed the lock, cleared the open windows down and shoved it back across the table.
Christmas took the notepad and punched at the screen with rapid finger strokes. Laura heard the beep as her earpiece lost contact with her notepad. Damn, he had closed the phone app. He took out the jamming device she had seen earlier and hit the button. A few more keystrokes, and he pushed the notepad back towards her.
"Happened an hour ago," he said, thumbing the jammer switch again.
Laura glanced at the screen, then flicked her eyes back at Christmas. He held his hands up and backed up against the door. She looked closer at the feed. It was a traffic report. Some minor road out of the city was closed due to an accident.
"So what?" she asked.
"Read on," he said.
Happened at four ... no witnesses ... fatality ... Edward Parkinson, married ... suspected drunk. With a sudden sickening lurch she sought out the name again. Edward Parkinson. Ted! She grabbed the edge of the table with both hands, the knife dropping to the floor.
"Are you all right?" said Christmas.
"Oh my God! Ted!" She gagged, lunchtime's steak she had bullied from Ted rising in her throat.
Christmas hurried forward, sweeping the fallen chair out of the way.
"Okay, okay, take it easy," he said, taking her arm. "Sit down, here, on the couch." Laura allowed herself to be led. "Put your head between your knees. That's it, right down. Now breathe deeply. There. Okay?"
"You bastard!" said Laura quietly, trying to keep the bile down. "You complete and utter bastard."
"I'm sorry," said Christmas. "I didn't know you were close. I thought you just had a business arrangement."
"That doesn't mean I didn't like the man. He had a wife. He had friends. He was a human being, for Christ's sake. There was no reason to kill him."
"I didn't. I wanted him to work for me. He was meant to keep me alive. Why would I kill him?"
"I don't know. Maybe you're fucked up in your head. Maybe you had no further use for him, once he led you to me. Maybe you just like it. I don't know. Why would you kill Listeners?"
"I don't kill Listeners. God, what do I have to do to prove that? Right!"
Christmas jumped up from the couch and picked up the knife from the floor. Laura gave a squeal and scrambled to her feet. She made a dive towards the door, but Christmas was too quick. He jumped into her path and stopped her with an open-palmed blow high on her chest. As she swung her fists at him again he slipped the knife into his belt behind him. With a casual economy of movement he grabbed her wrist and spun her around into a painful armlock. Laura tried to donkey-kick him in the shins but he shoved her against the wall. Then she felt the cold metal blade press against her neck.
"If I was out to kill you," he said in her ear, "what's to stop me doing it now? I've killed, I admit that, but I told myself it was in the service of my country. It's a hard thing for a patriot to admit, but sometimes there are higher loyalties, you know? I could kill you now. I wouldn't even need the knife. Tell me, Laura Robinson, Certified Listener, if I was out to kill Listeners, could you stop me? Right here, right now, is there anything you can do to stop me?"
By snodlander
Laura screwed her eyes shut and waited. Would it hurt, sting like a thousand paper cuts? Or would it be painless, the life ebbing out of her in numbed torrents?
"You rely on Listening too much, you know that?" said Christmas. "You've forgotten how to trust people. Your humanity is slipping away. Use it or lose it. So, trust me on this. I could kill you, but I won't."
He released his grip on her arm and stepped back. Laura turned, pushing herself into the wall. Christmas flipped the knife over, catching it by the blade. He held it between thumb and finger at the tip and offered it to her.
"Take it," he said, as Laura stared at the handle suspiciously. "Go on, as a symbol of my trust in you. Besides," he said, as Laura gingerly took the knife handle, "I can take it off you any time I want." He smiled, a gentle smile that was almost apologetic.
"What do you want?" asked Laura quietly, the handle of the knife strangely comforting in her hand.
"I need your help."
Laura gave a sharp, humourless snort.
"I mean, I need a Listener," he continued. "Look, shall we sit down?"
He turned and picked up the fallen chair. Laura thought how vulnerable he seemed at that moment, and wondered how easy it would be to plunge the knife into his back. She knew it would be impossible for her to kill, even if the opportunity was there. Ted had been impressed with this man's combat skills, and he'd immobilised her with a casual ease. He probably wasn't vulnerable at all. Maybe it was a test, or an attempt to show how trusting he was, but Laura was willing to bet that any attempt to attack him would result at best in another humiliation for her.
Christmas straightened, walked around the table and sat down, raising his eyebrows in a silent invitation. Cautiously, Laura sat in the chair he had just righted. She placed the knife on the table in front of her, but rested her hand on the handle.
"Why do you need a Listener? We're all evil and part of the great conspiracy to bring down Andrew Christmas, aren't we?"
"It's not paranoia when they really are out to get you, you know," he said, and this time there seemed to be genuine humour behind the brief smile. "Look, it's true what I told you earlier, whether you believe it or not. I'm the living proof of that. Well, partially. The problem is, I'm all the proof I've got. Get rid of me, and my testimony is useless. Sure, I can write it down, but without a Listener to certify it, no court or hearing is going to give it any weight."
"You want me to certify your statement? Are you stupid? What makes you think I would put my career at risk by lying for you?"
He shook his head. "That's not what I'm asking. I was just making the point that, because no one can Listen to me, my testimony is pretty worthless. What I need is something else that can't be refuted. Something that doesn't rely on a Guild-certified Listener."
"Like what?"
Laura tensed as Christmas slipped his hand into a pocket. He pulled out a slim matt black cylinder, the size of his thumb.
"What's that?" she asked.
"A silver bullet. There's very few of them around, and it's a criminal offence to even posses one. The main software companies got together at the government's request. Well, not so much a request, really. Anyway, it's a lock breaker. Hook it up to a machine and it's full of all sorts of goodies to help crack whatever security the server has in place. Very useful for keeping tabs on terrorist cells, organised crime, opposition politicians, kindergarten teachers. You know, all the undesirables in society."
Laura shrugged. "And? I'm not a geekwench. Why would you want a Listener to help you with that?"
"The downside of this is, I need access to the server. The Guild has records, proof that what I'm saying is true. They must have. But I need to get into their network to find it. I was going to slip into their offices and plant it, but that's out of the question now."
"What? You really must be crazy or stupid to think you could break into the Guild head offices. It's a multi-national organisation. You think they don't have alarms? Security?"
"You'd be surprised what skills the government has taught me in defence of this country, but no, I wasn't going to wear my cat burglar costume and cut a hole in a glass window. There are far better ways to get into a building. Do you realise how many times people will let you walk into a high security building if you wear overalls and carry a water barrel? But now I know they have my picture, plus whatever they got from Mr Parkinson, I simply can't just waltz into a building full of Listeners. It would be immediately obvious who I was."
Laura shook her head. "Ted wouldn't have told them anything. You didn't know him. He was an unprincipled bugger, but as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be. He wouldn't tell them anything."
Christmas gave Laura a patronising look that raised her hackles. "Don't be naive, Laura. You think they asked his consent before Listening? I'm sure Ted was everything you say he was, but he wouldn't have a choice."
"No," said Laura firmly, "the Guild is opposed to non-consensual Listening. It's something a Listener just wouldn't do."
"The police do. I know for sure the security forces do. You think the Guild wouldn't? Oh, I don't mean the majority of Listeners," he added, forestalling the protest that rose to Laura's lips. "I mean the organisation. If they had a Listener that wasn't squeamish, someone with whom the Guild conditioning hadn't taken, you think they'd hesitate for a second to use her if they could? I'm sorry, but they know everything he did. Including your involvement."
Laura shrugged. "So? They know about my involvement anyway. It was me that called them, remember? But how did they know about Ted? Your story doesn't make sense. There was nothing to connect him to you. How would they know?"
"They knew about you," said Christmas. "Presumably they interviewed you. Even if you didn't give them his national ID number, they could have tracked him down."
"Uh uh." Said Laura, shaking her head. "I left him out of the story. If it was the Guild that killed him, and I don't believe for a moment it was, then there's only one person I can think of who could have told them. You. And as you are avoiding the Guild, I guess that makes you his killer." Laura felt a strange mixture of triumph and terror as she thought through the evidence.
"You didn't tell them about Parkinson?" said Christmas. Laura shook her head. Christmas leant back and stared pensively at Laura, his fingers drumming a complicated rhythm on the tabletop. Eventually Laura's impatience got the better of her.
"What?" she said.
"The people you talked to, the ones from the Guild. Were they local? Did you know them?"
"Yes. Well, sort of. They've been around for the last few days. Why?"
"Then they know you were hiding his involvement. They Listened to you. They now know you were lying."
"No!" Laura slammed her hand onto the tabletop and enjoyed a glimmer of satisfaction under her anger that Christmas gave a start. "Don't you do that. Don't you dare suggest I got him killed. You're the one to blame for this, not me."
"I'm not blaming you at all. You're right, I brought this down on you, but that's not what's important right now."
"Ted's dead! You think that's not important?"
"Not as important as the fact you're still alive. They know you've met me. They knew Ted met me too, so they killed him."
"Oh, right. So there's this Guild death squad killing off everyone who's ever met you? So why am I not dead?"
Christmas shrugged. "Because they Listened to you and thought you were no threat? You never believed me at the restaurant, did you. Or maybe they're squeamish about killing their own. I don't know, but it means you're not safe. Blame me if it makes you feel better, but right now, you really don't want to make it easy for the Guild to find you."
"No, you're full of shit. A Listener can tell when she's being Listened to. I'd have known."
"Are you sure?" asked Christmas. "Can you be absolutely certain you'd know if a skilled Listener was Listening to you?"
Laura thought back to her Guild training days. They'd performed exercises to heighten their awareness, the instructor making clumsy attempts to Listen, making it obvious, then gradually toning it down. In the end Laura could pick up subtle signals, but sometimes it needed quite a degree of concentration.
"Yes," she said, but even to her own ears it lacked conviction.
"Yeah, right. Okay, we have to leave. Grab what you need, enough for a couple of days. Move."
Laura tightened her grip on the knife handle.
"What makes you think I'd agree to leaving my house with a psycho?" she asked.
Christmas smiled again. "Oh, sorry. Did it sound as though I was asking for your agreement?"
| Author Notes | Last year Microsoft confirmed the existence of a silver bullet device used by law enforcement cracking criminal's PCs. |
By snodlander
They descended to street level, Christmas making no effort to carry Laura's holdall. He remained just behind her, resting a proprietary hand on her shoulder as they walked out into the street.
"Where's your car?" he asked.
"I don't have one."
"What? You're joking."
"What can I say? I'm a city girl. No need for one."
"Okay, this way."
He led her down the street and into a side road that was hardly more than an alley. They walked down the line of cars parked by the kerb.
"This one will do," he said, stopping at an old saloon.
"You're stealing a car?"
"Borrowing. I'm a serial killer, remember? Bad to the bone. What's a little petty borrowing?"
"You could at least boost a decent car."
"Cheap cars have cheap immobilisers. I want you to behave while I'm working on this. Now, I could do this in a number of ways. I could lock you in the boot, I could knock you unconscious, I could handcuff you to a lamppost. Any preferences?"
Laura remained silent.
"Okay, sit down here, back to the car, and be a good girl."
"On the ground?"
Christmas sighed. "Yes, on the ground, Princess. Bum on the kerb, back against the front wheel, and stay there. If you go to get up, I'll assume you're going to escape, and I'll have to consider one of the other options. Please. Just for a second or two"
Laura sat as instructed and glared at her captor. He smiled at her in return.
"Thank you."
Christmas crouched down by the front bumper and reached under the car.
"Seriously, anyone who owns this model deserves to have it stolen. A pro can get into one of these in about fifteen seconds. Might take me a little longer; it's been a while. You have a boyfriend?"
"Excuse me?" Laura left off scanning the street for a heroic passerby and stared at Christmas. "What did you say?"
"Well, there's no evidence of cohabiting back at your flat, you're a decent-looking woman. Just making conversation, that's all."
"Piss off."
"Me, I'm unattached. Used to be married, but the job puts paid to that. Yeah, I know, if we were meant for each other, nothing would have got in the way, but the job makes it harder." He continued as though Laura were interested. She resumed scanning the deserted street. "Too many secrets, see? Frequent trips away at short notice. I expect your job makes it difficult for you too, eh? Plus there's your trust issues."
"Excuse me?" Laura turned to Christmas. He was grinning.
"There, gotchya."
He stood back up and patted his pockets. He took a metal comb from his jacket and slid it into the crack between the door and the front wing.
"There's an impact sensor just about here. Releases the doors in the event of a collision, if the electrics are on. Just hold it there for a mo, will you? Please?"
Laura reluctantly took the comb between forefinger and thumb. Christmas straightened and looked around at the street. Without warning he lashed out with his foot, the kick connecting with the comb before Laura had a chance to react. The car beeped and she heard the locks release.
"Bingo. Now, if you'll just sit behind the driver's wheel, I'd be ever so grateful." He offered her his hand. Laura struggled to her feet unaided. As she walked round to the driver's door, Christmas opened the passenger door. Laura paused at the door, wondering how far she could get if she made a run for it while Christmas sat down, but he waited. She gave up, threw the holdall onto the back seat and sat in the driver's seat. Christmas joined her in the car.
"Don't touch anything, just for the moment," he said. He leant over and gently breathed on the rear-view mirror. "Perfect."
He took out a small wallet and pulled a thin strip the size and shade of a Band-Aid from within. Carefully peeling off the backing he breathed on the surface, and misted the mirror again. He stuck the Band-Aid onto the mirror.
"I could do this for a living. You know, if the whole spy thing doesn't work out. Which I guess is pretty much a given."
"Is there much call for kidnapping and murder?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised. We're always contracting out. It's more cost-effective, and independents aren't so restricted by the paperwork. Okay, let's see if we can get this started."
He peeled the strip from the mirror and carefully stuck it over the thumbprint reader.
"Come on, baby. Start for Daddy." The lights on the dash lit up. "Yay for me. Oh, a breathalyser. Someone's been a naughty boy. Blow into the tube, Laura, show the courts you've not been drinking."
"Blow into that?" Laura screwed up her face in disgust. "Who knows what diseases the owner has in his mouth?"
"Come on, pucker up." To Laura's annoyance, Christmas seemed to be enjoying it. She sat back and folded her arms.
"Fine." He leant over her and blew into the small tube. The engine coughed into life. Christmas sat back.
"Okay, Sweetness, off we go."
"Where to?"
Christmas pointed ahead. "At this point that's not important. Want to know what is important? Sure you do. 'Where from' is the more important question. Sooner or later you're going to get a visit, from the Guild, from the police, it doesn't matter. What is important is that we're far away when they come calling. Just drive. Nicely, mind. I get car sick very easy."
"God, you're annoying."
Christmas sat back and smiled. "It's a gift."
Laura pulled out into the road.
"East," said Christmas, reaching over and retrieving Laura's holdall. "Relax, I'm not after your smalls. I need your notebook." He pulled the notebook onto his lap and tossed the bag back onto the rear seat. "Tricky thing, technology. Did you know that even when you switch off one of these things the signal can still be tracked?" There was a small click, and the battery dropped into his hand.
"You wipe that and I will kill you, I don't care how much kung fu you know," said Laura through gritted teeth.
"You've got a backup, surely."
"It's not that. It's taken me a lifetime to get it laid out just the way I want it. I don't want to have to customize it all over again. Besides ...."
"Yes?"
Laura shrugged. "Me and technology, we sort of have a history. That's the only notebook that's not fried on me. It's sort of lucky."
Christmas chuckled. "Are you kidding me? Lucky?"
"Just leave it alone, okay?" Laura could feel her face turning crimson.
"Okay, okay. All I've done is taken the battery out. Look, I'm putting it down, okay? I've not broken it. I'm pretty sure I haven't jinxed it. Me and technology, we're friends, okay?"
Laura could tell he was smirking, even with her eyes glaring at the road ahead.
"Where east?" she said, to change the subject.
"This is fine, just keep going."
"And then what?"
"That's for me to know."
"Oh, you're just winging it? You kidnapped me on the spur of the moment and now you're making it up as you go along?"
"Well, the kidnap bit was a snap decision. If it's any consolation, I'm beginning to regret it. I suspect as we get to know each other I shall regret it even more. But it's for your own good as much as mine."
"I should thank you?"
"Well, that would be nice, but I can wait. No need to thank me just yet."
"God, you're annoying."
Christmas laughed. "Yes, you said. They had to train the other guys to be annoying, but with me, it's a natural talent. Left up here, onto the main road. Well, city girl, welcome to countryside."
By snodlander
The hotel to which Christmas directed Laura was all but hidden from the road by a petrol station and a line of unkempt trees. There were no other buildings in sight. A two-storey prefab, it looked as though it had not seen a paintbrush in twenty years, nor a window-cleaner in almost as long. Laura parked in the near-deserted car-park and looked at the edifice in disgust.
"Wow, you sure know how to show a girl a good time. Look, they have curtains on the windows and everything."
"Yes, the life of an international spy is a glamorous and exciting life. Before we rent the bridal suite, let's establish the ground rules. I'm fighting for my life here, understand? And even if you don't believe it, you're fighting for yours. The next time you see your Guild buddies, they're not going to be very nice. It's in your interest to cooperate. I didn't mean for you to get mixed up in all this, but you are whether either of us likes it. I need for you to understand the risks."
"You think I don't? You think I feel safe kidnapped by a homicidal rapist?"
"A what? A rapist? Is that what they told you?" Christmas looked through the windscreen at the dingy hotel front. "Oh, and I've brought you here to have my wicked way with you? Does that make any sense? If that's all I wanted, why would I bring you all the way out here? Why not in your apartment? Any one of the hotels we passed? Jesus, I could have raped you a dozen times by now."
"Uh-huh. And that's meant to reassure me, is it?"
Christmas chuckled ruefully. "Okay, maybe that came out wrong. Listen, Laura, you have to trust me. You're in as much danger as I am now, maybe not so much the police, but definitely the Guild. That amount of money, that amount of power, and they don't consider themselves bound by normal laws. Your friend Parkinson is evidence enough of that."
"And I'm just supposed to trust you, is that it?"
"Yes. At least, you should weigh up the evidence. You've got it into your head the Guild is all goodness and light, and you're dismissing anything that says otherwise."
"It wasn't the Guild that kidnapped me."
Christmas turned towards Laura and stared grimly into her eyes.
"But they would have, eventually. They would have to tie up loose ends. You're not the sort of person they could bribe or turn. One day you'd realise the truth, and they couldn't risk the exposure."
"You seem to think you know a lot about me."
"Yeah, well, it's what us normal people do when we can't read minds. We judge people on evidence and gut feelings. You should try it sometime. You've got no choice, when it comes to me. And believe me, there will be many more people like me once the Guild has been exposed at the Nielson hearings."
Laura shrugged. "You think I'm not listening to my gut instinct about you?"
Christmas sighed. "That's it? You're convinced I'm a serial killer that's just out to murder Listeners? You think I murdered your friend? Because, that seems to be the only other explanation. Either your buddies at the Guild are right, and I'm a dangerous psychopath, or I'm right, and the Guild are the ones you've got most to fear."
"I know the Guild," said Laura. "I've been with them since I was twelve. I've known you eight hours, and so far I'm down one friend and I'm held captive in a stolen car."
Christmas stared out the window, as though the brick and tile facade of the building facing them was of great architectural significance. Finally he drummed his hands on the dashboard.
"Fine, have it your way. I can't force you to help me, and I'm too dog-tired to fight you anymore. Just give me a night, okay? We'll doss down here, and tomorrow morning we can go our separate ways."
"Spend the night with you? You think that's going to happen?"
Christmas sighed. "Oh please. Wait until you're asked. Spend the night in the same hotel room, not in each other's arms. I need the sleep, you have no idea. And after our last parting, I'm afraid I don't trust you to keep that pretty little mouth closed if I let you go now. Ten hours. Eight hours, even. Just enough time for me to have a good night's sleep and a head start before you set your Guild dogs on me." He raised his eyebrows at Laura in a silent question. Laura glared back. Eventually Christmas shrugged. "Fine, but that's what's happening anyway, with or without your cooperation. If it comes to it, I'll let you spend the night bound and gagged in the boot of the car. You might as well spend the night in some degree of comfort.
"Now, we're going to book into the hotel like a normal couple, so the frosty stare and angry look is good. It'll make us look married. Please don't make me kill you, the receptionist and everyone else in this flea pit. It was a joke," he added, without any sign of humour. "Sort of. Come on, get your bag."
They exited the car and walked into the reception.
The reception was a tiny vestibule. In the unlikely event of more than a couple of people booking in at the same time, they would have to queue outside. The reception desk had a thick glass screen separating the great unwashed from the inner sanctum. Behind the glass sat a middle-aged woman reading a gossip magazine. She wore an expression that spoke of years of bored disinterest in the human race, with the expectation that the boredom would stretch for an infinity into the future.
After several seconds of studied indifference, the receptionist looked up from her magazine.
Christmas beamed. "Good evening. I wonder if you have a room we can book? I'm afraid we haven't a reservation."
Her look made it clear she considered sarcasm the lowest form of humour.
"How long?"
"Just the one night, I'm afraid."
"Fifty four for a double, en suite."
"Do you have a twin room at all?"
She looked from Christmas to Laura and back again.
"Just doubles. Two rooms are ...," she paused as she calculated the rate in her head, her lips moving slightly, "a hundred and eight."
"No, a double will be fine." He turned to Laura and shrugged. "Sorry Cupcake, you'll just have to suffer with your back for the one night." Laura replied with a sarcastic smile. Christmas turned back to the receptionist. "I'm sorry to be fussy, but do you have a room close to a fire exit? I'm afraid I'm a little phobic like that."
"Fire exits are alarmed."
"Oh, I appreciate that. I'd only use it in the event of a fire, but it just means I can sleep easier." Christmas gave her a charming smile, which slid bounced off the receptionist as though she wore Kevlar.
"Whatever. Card."
"I'd like to pay cash."
She looked at Laura again, suspicion on her face.
"Five dollar surcharge on cash payments, and I need some I.D."
"Of course." Christmas reached into his wallet and dropped a fifty and twenty into the metal tray set in the counter, along with a card.
"Got no change," said the receptionist, studying the card, "Mr ... Johnson."
"Okay. Keep the change."
The receptionist dropped a key-card into the tray along with the I.D. card.
"One-fifteen, down there. Check-out by ten. No smoking in the rooms, front door's locked at midnight. Enjoy your stay at Easy Slumbers, the hotel chain that cares."
"Excellent. Is there anywhere we can eat near here?"
"Petrol station sells sandwiches."
"Thank you."
Christmas stepped aside and invited Laura down the passage with a sweep of his arm. Laura placed a hand in the small of her back.
"Seeing as how I've got a bad back, can you carry my bag, Darling?"
"Of course, Cupcake." He picked up the bag. "Shall we?"
The receptionist watched the pair leave the vestibule. "Perverts!" she muttered to herself, returning to the magazine.
By snodlander
A well-worn path led through a gap in the trees that separated the hotel car-park from the service station. Presumably legions of hungry travellers had been tempted by the promise of stale sandwiches and warm cola over the years. The forecourt was deserted as Laura and Christmas crossed the cracked concrete to the small shop.
"You're not anything weird, like a vegan or anything, are you?" asked Christmas.
"No. I shall eat your heart with relish after I've ripped it from your chest, 'Darling'."
Christmas gave his maddening chuckle again. "Well, fill your boots. Ooh, look, they've got a Cornish pasty. How cosmopolitan."
"I'm not hungry."
"Oh, now don't go all childish on me. Get something to eat. I'm paying. What's the point of starving yourself? You'd better get something to drink, too."
Christmas grabbed a shrink-wrapped baguette and a large bag of crisps. Laura watched surreptitiously as he made his way through the driving accessories shelves. The door was infuriatingly close, but the shop was not big enough to lose him in, and once out the door Laura would have few places to run. There were no hiding places, no other drivers, and he would almost certainly out-run her if she tried to reach the hotel. She thought of the receptionist who'd moved as slow as molasses when they'd arrived. Even if Laura could reach the entrance hall before Christmas stopped her, would she have time to elicit help from the bored woman? Would Christmas make good on his half-joking threat to kill her?
Christmas moved with a casual nonchalance. Was it an act? Would he leap into action if she made a break for it, or was he really nor taking any notice of her? Laura picked a sandwich at random and walked along the aisle of confectionary. She felt gawky, as though her limbs had grown extra joints she wasn't quite sure how to operate. It must look so obvious that she was trying not to look as though she was edging towards the door. Christmas turned, barely glancing at her as he did so. Laura developed a sudden fascination in the chocolate bars. God, she wasn't cut out for this.
Christmas bent down to something on the bottom shelf. Should she run now? Too late. He straightened and gave her a bright smile. "Got everything you want?" he asked.
Laura nodded. Christmas held his arm wide in an invitation for her to approach the checkout. She grabbed a bar of fruit and nut and swept by him.
"Petrol?" asked the young boy behind the counter.
"No, just these, please." Christmas placed the goods on the counter. As Laura placed her bounty next to his, nausea hit her like a punch to stomach. Alongside his food Christmas had placed a packet of plastic electrical ties. The cashier scanned the barcodes and rang the amount up. Christmas paid with cash again and swept the goods into a plastic carrier bag.
When they stepped out Laura stopped in front of the shop front, scowling in the light from the setting sun.
"What?" Christmas turned and looked at her quizzically.
"What are the cable ties for?"
Christmas looked unhappy. Laura experienced a fleeting satisfaction in that. "I have to know you're going to stay put," he said.
"No."
"I'll make sure you're comfortable."
"You may be a bloody kung fu master, but I promise you, there is no way you're going to tie me up."
Christmas stepped forward and made to put his hand on her elbow. Laura clenched her fists and snarled. He changed the gesture into one of appeasement, holding his palm out, patting the air between them before stepping back again.
"Be reasonable, Laura. How am I going to sleep knowing as soon as I do you'll cave my head in or contact the authorities?"
"You're not tying me up."
"What choice have I got? Tell me, what else can I do?"
"I don't give a shit. You're not tying me up."
"Are you still scared of that rapist crap? You'll be safe, I promise you."
"What if I promise to behave?"
"You won't."
"Then let me go now."
"And have you set the dogs on me? Listen, how about this?" Christmas stepped closer, leaning in to speak quietly. Suddenly he grabbed Laura's wrist, twisting it behind her, compelling her to step forward to relieve the pressure. He matched her step, so the two walked briskly back towards the hotel, Laura struggling all the way. Christmas easily sidestepped her kicks and attempts to hit him with her free hand. Christmas shoved her into the wall before they reached the front door.
"Jesus, you're hard work," he hissed. "You think I'm a killer? I'm surprised someone hasn't knocked you off years ago. All I want is a good night's sleep. Is that too much to ask? Listen, you can rant at me all you like when we're in the room, just be nice as we go through reception, okay?"
"Sure, okay."
Christmas sighed. "Oh, that was said with conviction. You're going to cause trouble, aren't you."
Laura clenched her teeth and remained silent.
"Shit. I'm sorry about this. Seriously, I'm so sorry."
A sudden fear gripped her. "What?"
Christmas spun her and slammed his open palm into her face.
She wasn't exactly unconscious. Laura was aware of Christmas supporting her as they walked. She tried to speak, but all she managed was an incoherent mumble. Then she felt the soft resistance of a bed below her.
"God, I'm sorry. How are you feeling?"
"Bastard," she muttered.
"I couldn't think of anything else to do. Nothing's broken, you'll be fine. Your reputation's shattered, though. I told reception you were drunk."
She opened her eyes. Christmas leant over her, concern on his face. "She leave you because you beat her up? Your wife, I mean."
"You need a cold compress."
"Only your apologies sound sort of practiced, you know? Like you're used to saying sorry to women you've beaten up."
Christmas stood up and smiled. "God, you've got some spirit. You always this feisty?"
"Only when some bastard kidnaps me and beats me up."
"I bet they only do that the once though. Wet some tissue, press it on your nose."
"Will you get the tissues?"
Christmas glanced at the door. "Best you do it yourself, I think. Then we can talk."
Laura sat up. He was right, damn him; she was fine. She rose from the bed and entered the bathroom. There was no window. She searched the tiny cubicle for some sort of weapon. The mirror was a polished metal plate screwed to the wall. The toothbrush beaker was flimsy plastic. The cheap hotel didn't even supply tiny bottles of shampoo she might squirt in his eyes. She grabbed some toilet paper and soaked it under the cold tap before pressing it to her nose. Then she leant against the stained sink and studied her blurred reflection in the mirror. What was she going to do now?
There was a gentle tap on the door.
"You all right?"
"Piss off."
"This would all be easier if you just called a truce for twelve hours."
"Fine. You stay there, I'll sleep in here."
"Don't be stupid. You can't sleep in there. There's no room to lie down."
Laura looked around the tiny room. He was right. She could almost touch both walls with her arms outstretched. She slid the flimsy bolt shut. "I'll be fine."
Christmas tried the door handle. "Now you're just being silly. Open the door. We can have a bite to eat, then settle down to sleep. Tomorrow I'll be out of your life."
Laura sat on the toilet seat and rested her head in her hands. It was going to be a long and sleep-free night trapped in this tiny cell.
The handle rattled again, and then the door flew open, the bolt releasing its grip on the frame with token resistance. Christmas stood in the doorway.
"I need to brush my teeth."
Laura leapt up and threw a punch. It lacked any grace or power in the cramped conditions. Christmas casually fended it off. She swung a kick, but he lifted his foot and caught her shin on the edge of his shoe. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her out of the bathroom and pushed her backwards onto the bed. He sat on the edge, his back to her, pulling her arm round towards the bedside. Laura grabbed at the hair on the back of his head with her free hand and pulled.
"Ow, that hurts!" said Christmas, but he still pulled her arm round. She felt the cold plastic tie slide over her wrist. Finally he turned, half stood and prised her fingers from his hair. Laura grinned at the tuft left in her fist.
"That really hurt," he said, rubbing the back of his head.
"As much as a punch to the face?"
"Fair enough, I suppose. So we're even. Listen, it's just one hand, okay?"
Laura looked at her trapped hand. Next to the bed a shelf fixed to the wall served as a bedside table. A cable tie looped around the bracket. Through that another cable tie held her wrist fast.
"That's it. That's all I wanted to do. You can keep the other hand free to fight me off with your kung fu girly slaps. I just don't want you strangling me in my sleep, that's all."
Laura gave it a tug. The plastic cut into her wrist.
"No, don't do that. The tie's are on a ratchet. You can tighten them, but not loosen them. Just stay calm, keep your arm relaxed, and you'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, nature calls."
Christmas retired into the bathroom.
Laura examined the shelf. It was resin with a wood-like grain patterned into it. The bracket seemed secure. She gave a hard tug anyway. The cable tie's loop immediately drew painfully tight around her wrist and would not loosen. She looked back to the bathroom door. It was still closed. She got to her feet and crouched by the shelf. Turning her back to it she jumped back, sitting heavily on the shelf with all her weight as she lifted her feet clear of the floor. The shelf remained immovably solid. Christmas appeared to have chosen the only well-constructed part of the whole room to tie her to. She jiggled up and down just in case, but it didn't so much as shake.
"You need to put some meat on your bones."
Christmas stood in the bathroom doorway, grinning.
"I tested it while you were powdering your nose. If it can take my weight, I'm pretty sure it'll take yours. Oh, what did I tell you about pulling on the tie?"
He pulled another cable tie from the packet. Laura dropped into a fighting stance as he approached her.
"Come on, I'm trying to be nice. That tie's too tight now. I'll have to cut it off. It'll get painful soon, and then it'll go green and drop off. How are you going to kill me one handed? Please. I can't afford to lose any more hair."
He approached Laura cautiously, reaching into his pocket and producing a pocket knife.
"I just need to cut it free, okay? Just relax. I don't want to hurt you."
He slowly slid the blade between the tie and Laura's swollen wrist.
"We lost a kid," he said.
"What?"
"She was pregnant, I was in Saudi on a job, uncontactable. She lost the kid, and it was three weeks before I came home. By that time she had moved out. That's why she left me. I never raised a hand to her." With a swift movement he looped the other tie around her wrist. He sawed at the other tie and Laura felt the blood painfully rush into her hand.
He stepped back out of her reach quickly.
"Don't pull it tight again."
"You bastard. You told me that bullshit just to distract me?"
He shrugged. "You asked, and it's not bullshit. Whatever, it worked. Here." He tossed the food from the service station at her. "I'll bed down over here, in front of the door."
By snodlander
At some point during the night, Laura drifted off into a troubled sleep, where killers wielding hypodermic needles pursued her through a dreamscape. She woke with a start, suddenly guilty that she had fallen asleep at all. Light diffused through the curtains, giving the already dreary room a greyness. She went to turn over, but the sharp tug of her wrist restraint reminded her of why she felt so uncomfortable.
She propped herself on one elbow and peered bleary-eyed at the floor. Christmas was gone, his makeshift bed tidied away somewhere.
"Christmas?" The bathroom door stood ajar slightly, the dark crack revealing the lack of light beyond.
"Christmas? Are you there? Hello? I need to pee."
There was no reply. Perhaps he had skipped out to the service station for breakfast. She hoped so; she could murder a cup of Earl Grey right now. To hell with it, she could even drink a coffee.
He wasn't here! The sudden implication hit Laura. If there was a time to escape, this was it. Suddenly fully awake, she sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. What could she use to escape? Nothing obvious lay within reach, except a Gideon bible. Well, praying couldn't hurt, but she'd prefer something a little more proactive.
Her bag stood by the door. Next to it on a shelf lay her notebook. The standby button winked at her. The battery! He'd reconnected it. She hit the phone stud behind her ear. It double-clicked with the disconnected message. So he hadn't gone. His wi-fi jammer still blocked her signal. But why had he reconnected the battery? Had he been surfing while she slept? Not if they could really track you from the signal.
She searched the room with her eyes again. He was definitely gone, all his gear was missing. Perhaps he had just left the room, the click of the lock waking her from her light sleep. He could be packing the car, ready to come back and retrieve her.
Somewhere outside a car coughed into life.
"Hello?" she called. "Hello? Can you hear me? Help."
The car revved and the engine noise slowly faded into the distance.
Maybe he was coming back with breakfast. Maybe he was coming back for worse. Well, this time she'd be ready for him. She'd at least pay him back for the thump to her nose. She hefted the bible speculatively. It was a paperback, no weight to it at all. She put it back. Just her bare hands, then. She lay back on the bed and adopted a position she hoped would look like sleep, but that would allow a good backhand swing. Just one rake, that's all she asked. God, let her find his eyes. Let her exact at least one small price before it all ended.
Her phone beeped in her ear. She hit the stud, startled.
"Laura? Laura, is that you?"
"Yes. Tony?"
"Oh thank God. Jesus, we've been worried sick. Where have you been? Are you all right?"
"Yes. No. Sort of. Listen, I've been kidnapped."
"Jesus! Are you okay? Where are you?"
"In a hotel. Easy something or other. A couple of hours east of the city."
"What's your GPS say?"
"I don't know. I can't reach my notebook. I'm tied to the wall."
There was a moment's pause on the other end, then she heard Tony speaking to Judy.
"Jude. Laura's being held in a hotel. Get onto the police. Get them to track her signal. No, just do it, woman, quickly. Laura? Listen, love, I'm not going away, okay? I'm going to stay online. Judy's calling the police now. Just be strong, okay? Are you all right? Has he hurt you?"
"No. Well, not really. I think he's gone. His stuff has gone, and he's not jamming my signal any more."
"Christ, we've been so worried. When your takeaway turned up last night, but you didn't, we were worried sick. We got onto the police, the Guild, everyone. Thank God you're all right. Okay, Judy's just got off the phone to the police. I'm going to hand you over to her while I get onto the Guild. Stay tight, we'll come and get you."
Laura felt the tears burn the back of her throat. All the snide thoughts she'd had at their exclusive relationship, and here were Tony and Judy charging to her rescue. The tension of the last day, exhaustion and relief flooded through her body, but she would not cry. She wouldn't. She would not burden her friends like that or give Christmas the satisfaction, even if he wasn't here.
Judy came on the line, gushing questions and sympathy. Laura lay on the bed and murmured responses, wishing it were all over. A minute or two into the conversation her ear stud beeped.
"Hang on, Judy, I have another call. Hello?"
"Laura Robinson?" The voice was male, full of authority.
"Yes."
"Sergeant Winston here. Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm tied up, though."
"Okay. We've got you at Easy Slumbers hotel. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"I've got a car on the way. We'll be there in just a few minutes. Is your kidnapper there?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Good. Just stay calm. If he does show up, just cooperate with him till we get there, but we're literally minutes away, okay? What's your room number?"
"I can't remember. It's on the ground floor, by the fire exit."
"Not a problem. When did your kidnapper leave?"
"I don't know. Just a little while ago, though, I think. He was jamming my phone, but it's unjammed now, so just a few minutes, maybe. Oh, I heard a car leave about ten minutes ago. I don't know, maybe that was him."
"Let's hope so. We'll be there soon. Stay calm."
"Thank you. Listen, I have a friend on the other line. Let me just let her know what's happening."
Laura switched lines.
"Judy? That was the police. They're on their way."
"Thank God." Judy's voice had an echo, and she was slightly breathless. "We're on our way. Me and Tony are meeting someone else from the Guild and then we'll be right there to pick you up. You poor baby, what you must have gone through."
"Thanks, Judy, I appreciate it. Okay, I'm going to hang up. The police are still on the other line."
"Okay. Be brave."
Laura hung up. Much as she was filled with gratitude and relief for friends like them, Judy's mother hen act would grate after a while. She didn't want sympathy at the moment. Well, not that much, anyway. What she most wanted was a release for her anger. He had better watch out, the bastard, if they ever met again.
Sergeant Winston chatted to her, voicing platitudes and counting down the arrival of his colleagues until the door burst open and two police officers fell into the room. They made a swift reconnoitre of the bedroom and bathroom, then concentrated on Laura.
One of the men sawed through the cable tie with a knife. "Are you injured?"
"No."
"Did he attack you?" He indicated his nose. Laura reached up and felt her nose. It was a little sore, but nothing was broken.
"Just the once."
"Did he ... assault you in any other way?"
"No. God, no. One of us would be dead for sure if he tried anything like that."
"Good." He looked at his colleague, who gave a slight shake of his head. "Well, he's long gone now, for sure. Can you stand? Yes? Okay, nice and easy then, and we'll take you down to the police station."
"I've got friends coming to collect me."
"That's fine, they can collect you from the police station, but this is a crime scene now. We have to leave. Besides, a detective will want to ask you about what happened. It'll be easier there. I dare say you can use a coffee too."
"Tea," responded Laura, out of habit. She rose, willing her knees to have the strength to support her. She reached for her notebook, but the officer stopped her.
"Forensics will need to have a look at that first," he said. "No knowing what they might pick up from it, if he's used it at all. You can have it back when they've finished." He place a proprietary hand on her elbow and led her towards the corridor.
They led her towards the entrance. Two more officers met them in the tiny reception area.
"Room one-fifteen," said the officer at her side. "Seal it for forensics. What sort of car did you arrive in?" he asked Laura.
"That one," said Laura nodding at the old saloon parked in the car park.
"Get everyone up," he continued to his colleague. "If he's left that one, someone else is missing a car. Come on," he said to Laura, "the station restaurant opens in ten minutes. I expect we can rustle up something to eat with your coffee too."
By snodlander
The room was tiny and bare, except for a basic table and two chairs. Laura sipped her mug of tea and grimaced. It had to be tea, because it wasn't coffee, but that was the only saving grace Laura could think of to describe the brew.
The door opened and a suited man in his forties entered.
"Laura? Hello, my name is Mendes. I'm in charge of this investigation. I need to ask you a few questions about your abduction."
Listeners had lessons in basic psychology as part of their education. They tended to be poorer at intuitive psychology. Why try and read the subtle signs when you could Listen to them? He'd used Laura's first name, but his last name. He was 'in charge'. His phrases were short and to the point. He was still standing, looking down from the other side of the desk at her. He wanted Laura to know he was in authority, a natural alpha male.
"The other officer mentioned breakfast?"
"I expect we can sort that out later, but we have to do this now, while it's still fresh in your mind."
Like she could ever forget it.
He sat down.
"Just relax. I'm going to ask you a few questions about Andrew Christmas. Hopefully, that can help us to track him down."
"You know his name?"
"We've been after him for a little while. Anti-terrorism. You can do your country a service."
"How many people has he killed?"
Mendes raised his eyebrows. "Did he tell you he's killed somebody?"
"No. It's just ...." They didn't know about the Listeners he'd killed? How was that possible? Had the Guild covered that up? "You said terrorist, and I just assumed."
"There are other forms of terrorism. He's a traitor, we want to find him before he manages to cause any more harm. Now, just relax, and we'll get started. Okay?"
Laura nodded. Suddenly, unbidden, there was another presence in her mind. It was not the gentle sharing she'd experienced at the party, nor the subtle probing of the academy training exercises. This was rough and brutish, someone jumping into her thoughts roughshod.
"Get out!" she screamed, throwing up barriers and thinking the most obscene visions she could.
"What's up?" asked Mendes, sudden concern in his voice.
The unseen assailant was strong, maybe a level three. Laura threw all her concentration into blocking her.
"Get her out of my head!"
"What? Who?"
"I'm a Guild Listener. Get her the hell out of my head."
"A Listener? Shit. Why didn't you say? Linda, enough."
The unseen intruder left. Laura continued throwing up barriers, locking away all but the forefront of her mind, checking and rechecking for any lingering presence. Finally she opened her eyes. Tea drenched the desk, the shattered cup lying on the floor. Mendes stood several paces from the table, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on Laura's face.
"You bastard!" she said, through gritted teeth.
"Why didn't you say you were a Listener? We didn't know."
"What, so it would be all right to mind-rape me if I wasn't one? What the hell are you playing at?"
"It helps sometimes, that's all. Witnesses can be confused."
"So you Listen? Without them knowing? Without their consent? That's illegal, and you know it. Doesn't matter that I'm a Listener. Do you people not read the newsfeeds? Haven't you heard of The Nielson committee?"
"Okay, okay, we made a mistake. I'm sorry, but you don't understand how dangerous this man is, how vital it is we find him as soon as possible. Let's start again, shall we? A fresh start."
Laura replayed the memory of that unexpected presence in her mind, barging into private thoughts, rummaging through places she had no right to be near.
"I'm leaving," she said, quietly.
"Don't be silly. You want us to catch this guy, don't you?"
Laura ran her thumbs down the seams of her trousers to occupy her hands, otherwise they would shake too much. She couldn't remember ever having been this angry.
"I said, I'm leaving," she repeated, carefully enunciating the words to remove any tremor of anger from her voice. She stood, jutting her chin out at Mendes, daring him to deny her egress.
"We can keep you here, you know. Prevention of Terrorism Act."
"You instigated non-consensual Listening on a witness. Go on, arrest me. Let's see who the court has more sympathy with. You think you could keep your job after that? You think you could stop them locking you up? Tell me, what's it like for a copper inside?"
"Look, I said I was sorry. You're one of them anyway. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal? The big deal?" Laura was screaming now, all attempt to control her rage gone. "Tell me, arsehole, how'd you like me to rip your thoughts out of you? You got any dirty little secrets? You want I should share with the rest of the station about every time you couldn't get it up unless you thought about little boys? You want me to shout about every self-doubt and insecurity you have? Does that sound like a big deal?"
Mendes took a step back under the barrage.
"Okay, okay, calm down. I said I'm sorry. What?" he demanded of the uniformed officer who opened the door. The newcomer stepped up to Mendes and whispered in his ear.
"So? Let them wait." More whispering. "Fine, fine, put them, oh, just put them outside my office. She'll be out in a minute."
When they were alone again Mendes, shook his head.
"Okay, you're free to go. Someone in your Guild knows someone high up in the Force. Apparently, I can't do anything to keep you here, but you might want to consider exactly who your friends are in the Guild."
"I know who my friends aren't."
"Don't be so sure, Miss Robinson. You might just prefer the frying pan, if you get my drift. All we wanted was information from you. Your Guild friends are waiting for you outside. You can still stay here if you want. Once the Guild has you, I can't help you."
"Aw, and you've been such a big help so far."
Mendes shrugged and opened the door. "Your choice," he said.
Laura lifted her head high and strode out of the interview room. Mendes led her through the corridors until she spotted a familiar group. Tony and Judy sat in an open-plan office. Peter and Abby from the Guild stood by them. Judy spotted her and gave a squeal, waving at her and trotting over.
"Oh my God! Laura! You poor lamb. God, it must have been awful. You must be ...." Laura's furious expression finally registered on her. "... terrified," she ended, unsure.
Peter faced up to Mendes, two alpha males testing each other out with stares.
"Your Commander had assured me that Miss Robinson will be released into Guild care immediately."
Mendes shrugged, as though it were of no consequence. "Sure. She was a victim of a crime, but if she doesn't want to press charges, that's her call. Do you want to make a witness statement, Miss Robinson? You don't have to go with them if you don't want to."
"Of course she wants to," said Judy, grabbing Laura's arm and hugging it close. "We're her friends."
Mendes stared at Laura for a few moments longer, as though he thought she might actually change her mind. Finally he turned, waving his hand dismissively. "Fine. Go."
"I want my notebook. And my other stuff," Laura said.
"No." Mendes faced her again. "That's material evidence in the pursuit of a criminal. You'll get it back when we're done with it."
"Give her the notebook," said Peter Lee.
Mendes shook his head. "No."
"You think you can keep it? I just need to make a few requests with my superiors and you'll be forced to hand it over anyway."
"Fine. You fill in your forms, I'll fill in mine, and we'll see who wins. In the mean time, my IT forensics people will scour it for evidence. We'll try and preserve any personal data on it."
The two men stared at each other. Finally Peter gave a curt nod.
"Have it your way, but your career will end if there's any unnecessary delay or damage. Come on."
The five Listeners turned and started back through the office. Laura caught the eye of a plain-clothed woman sitting at a desk. The woman rapidly looked away, and in that instant Laura knew.
"Bitch!" Laura said, loud enough for half the office to hear.
The woman glared back. "Get over yourself, Princess. Worse things happen."
"Yeah? Get over this!" Laura launched herself forward. Peter grabbed her and her friends gathered around.
"What's all this about?" asked Peter.
"She mind-raped me! She stuck her filthy mind in mine, thinking I wouldn't notice the stink. Whore!"
"I'm the whore? Want me to tell them what I heard in there?" The police Listener stood, fists clenched. "Bring it on, Flower."
"Enough!" Peter turned to Mendes. "You will be hearing from the Guild. Trust me on that. Even police Listeners are meant to have rules. Come on, let's get out of here." Guiding a protesting Laura, they made their way out of the building.
| Author Notes | Not too happy with this chapter. It seems rushed and lacking in impact. I don't know, I think if I get to the submission stage with this, it will need a pretty drastic re-write |
By snodlander
The two men sat in the front of the car, Tony driving, Laura in the back between Babs and Judy. Laura closed her eyes; every muscle clenched through the hot fire of her anger and humiliation.
"Are you all right?" Judy's voice was full of concern. Laura nodded.
"It's the police Listeners the Nielson Committee should be concerning itself with," said Babs. "Animals. They think they're a law unto themselves."
"Did she, you know, get far?" Judy asked.
Laura shook her head. "No. They didn't know I was a Listener. She just jumped in. I felt her straight away, so I blocked her. Bang! and she was there."
"Poor you. Was it awful? It must have been."
Judy had no idea. Laura could recall the intrusion as though it was still happening. She was still blocking, she realised, throwing up barriers, locking down thoughts. She clenched her fists till her nails hurt her palms. She wanted to fly off to the most deserted spot on Earth and curl into a ball for ever. That bitch's persona was still there, the smell, the feel of her on the edge of her memory. It was almost as if she were in the car, Listening still.
"Stop!" she screamed. There was a sudden frightened silence in the car. Laura beat the back of the seat in front of her. "Stop! Stop-stop-stop!"
She felt Tony bring the car to a rapid halt. She opened tear-blurred eyes and rained a flurry of slaps down on Peter's head.
"Stop it! Stop it now, you bastard. You utter, utter bastard." Her words distorted through the sobs, becoming animal sounds of fury. Babs tried to hold Laura's arms down, until Laura slammed an elbow into her ribs. Then she sat back, shaking, angrily smearing the tears from her eyes.
"What's going on?" asked Tony, turning wide-eyed and looking to and fro between Peter and Laura like a tennis spectator.
"He was Listening to me!" Laura pointed a shaking finger at the Guild man.
"No, you're mistaken," Peter protested. "Are you sure you're not just reacting to that police Listener?"
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare lie to a Listener! I felt you. You think I didn't recognise you from my audit? You were Listening!"
Peter looked down. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. You're right to be angry, you're right."
"Angry? You have no idea, you bastard. You complete and utter bastard."
"But you have to understand. We have to capture Christmas, it's the Guild's number one priority. I just thought it would be less traumatic to Listen than to make you live through the whole thing again."
"She's just been mind-raped." Judy's voice was full of outrage. "So you thought you'd do the same?"
"Peter was wrong," said Babs. "I'm sure it was well intentioned, but ..."
"Shut up!" Laura whirled on the woman, who sat back into the corner of the car. "You're his partner, so just you shut up."
"We'll sort this out back at the office," said Peter. "Tony, drive on."
"No," said Laura. "I'm getting out."
"Don't be silly. Tony, drive," said Peter. Tony looked back over his shoulder and back to Peter, hesitation all over his face. "Tony, we talked about this. The Guild is under attack. We have to make sacrifices sometimes, for the good of Listeners everywhere. You agreed to that. Just drive to Guild Headquarters and we'll sort it out there."
"Anthony Galbraith!" Laura had always thought of Judy as fluffy, her voice, especially when talking to the love of her life, wrapped in candy floss. The candy floss was gone now, her voice revealing an edge that could scratch diamond. Judy poked him on the shoulder. Tony flinched worse than ever he had when she had playfully slapped him in mock outrage. He turned eyes that were filled with apprehension towards his soulmate. "Don't you dare turn your back on your friends. If you start this car, just guess the misery I will rain down on you."
Tony looked back at Peter for a moment, shrugged, and switched off the engine. Judy gave a satisfied grunt and opened the door. Stepping out onto the hard shoulder she grabbed Laura's arm and hauled her out, slamming the door behind her.
"My God, Laura, I can't believe that bastard did that. What do you want to do? It's our car. We'll kick those two creeps out and take you home."
"No, no, I'll leave. Seriously. Thank you for the offer, but I want to be on my own. I mean, I can't thank you enough, but really, I just want to be on my own right now."
"But we're in the middle of nowhere."
Laura looked around. They were on the main dual carriageway. A mile back she could make out the on ramp.
"No, I'll be fine. I'll walk back into town, clear my head."
"Do you need anything? You got money?"
Laura patted her pocket and felt the reassuring bulk of her wallet.
"No, I've got my cards. I'll be fine."
Judy looked dubious. "Well, okay, if you're sure. But phone me later, okay? Me, not my idiot other half. Oh, he and I are going to have words when we get back, then we're going to lay official complaints against that pair. There's something going on there, I can smell it. And anything you need, anything at all, you ask, okay? I mean it."
Laura held Judy close and hugged her tight. She felt so guilty; she'd found Judy irritating, especially when she was spooning over Tony. She was embarrassed by this display of fierce friendship.
"Thanks," she said, releasing her grip. "I'll be fine, honestly I will. And thanks. Really, thank you so much."
Judy waved it away. "Look after yourself, okay? Now, we'll drive those two creeps away and hopefully you'll never see them again."
She jumped back into the car. Even through the closed door Laura heard Judy shout, "Well, what are you waiting for? Move it." The car coughed into life and sped off in a squeal of tyres.
By snodlander
Fifteen minutes later, and Laura was already regretting Judy's offer. Though the car had been on the dual carriageway for only a minute or two, a mile was a long way to walk when there was no footpath. The aftermath of the anger and lack of breakfast had turned her muscles weak, and the constant thunder of speeding vehicles a metre or two away gave her a headache. She was still angry; angry with Christmas for dragging her into all this, angry at the police for the intrusion, at the traffic, at the rutted soft shoulder of the road that made progress so difficult, at life in all its generalities and specifics. But most of all she was angry at the betrayal the Guild had perpetrated on her. The Guild, whose specific duty was her care, who knew how obscene intrusive Listening was, and yet had still forced it on her. She stumbled and cursed the authorities that had allowed a road to be built without a hard shoulder.
Up ahead a car slowed, indicated and pulled over onto the shoulder. Some kind Samaritan, offering her a lift? Probably some married, middle-aged pervert who thought himself God's gift. Or a plain-clothes police officer. Oh, please, let it be a police officer. She was just in the mood. She would show them how unwise it was to piss off Laura A. Robinson.
A gap in the early-morning traffic approached, and the driver's door opened. Andrew Christmas jumped out, ran around the back of the car and opened the passenger door. He stood behind the door, blocking Laura's path. She stopped for a moment, then stormed on.
"Hello. Fancy meeting you here." Christmas grinned and leant on the top of the door.
"Piss off. I'm not in the mood."
"Well, I can see that."
"Get the fuck out my way." She aimed a kick at the door.
Christmas stood straight, but still held the door open. "Whoa, steady. I've only just stolen this car. It wouldn't be fair to return it with a dent in."
"What the hell do you want? Haven't you done enough? What, I'm still breathing, is that it? You're going to torment me to my grave?"
"Shit. In all my life I've never seen someone so angry, and let me tell you, I have a talent for making people angry. What's up?"
"Just piss off, okay? Just let me pass."
The grin disappeared. "No, seriously, what's happened? "
"You!" Laura stabbed a finger at his face. "You, you're what's happened. You've ruined my life, you know that?"
"Oh, I think that's a bit much. I might have ruined your day, but your life?"
"You have no idea, no bloody idea whatsoever, you arsehole."
"You have a falling out with the friends who picked you up from the police? Christ, you didn't kill them, did you?"
"Don't be so ... wait, you've been stalking me?"
"No. Well, not stalking, exactly. But I had to make sure you got home safely, didn't I? And when I saw the car pull over I couldn't exactly park up, not here, not without blowing my cover. What, you thought it was just some bizarre coincidence I happened to turn up? I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so I turned off at the next exit and doubled back."
"Okay? Okay? After ... and ...." Laura searched for words, but nothing could come close to expressing what she felt.
"What did they do, the police?" He appeared to show genuine concern.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Well, I won't if you don't tell me."
"They Listened to me, okay? Happy now? They Listened to me, no warning, no please, just tried to rip stuff out of me."
"They Listened to you?"
"Don't! You have no idea. Then that bastard of a Guild creep did the same thing."
"And they let you go?"
"No. Yes. I mean, they didn't 'let' me go. I just left. What, you think they'd hold me prisoner?" Drive on, he'd told Tony. We have to make sacrifices. Would he have held her prisoner? If he'd got her into the headquarters would she have been able to leave?
"Look, if we stay here we'll be picked up by the traffic police. Get in the car and I'll drive you somewhere. Get you breakfast at least."
"I've been abducted three times in the last twenty-four hours. You think I'll jump in a car with you?"
Christmas leant back on the top of the open door. "You know, I used to work closely with the police. Made some friends there. Now they'll shoot me on sight. Your friends in the Guild Listened to you. You're right, I'm not sure I do understand, but I can see how it affected you. So my friends are dead to me, yours are too. Seems to me neither of us can afford to throw away allies. And we're made for each other. You can't Listen to me, and it's not like I can Listen to anyone. But it's your choice."
He pulled the door half-closed, allowing Laura passage. She stomped past, deliberately shoving Christmas with her shoulder as she did so. As she reached the back of the car she stopped. After a few seconds she whirled round to face Christmas.
"Just breakfast," she said.
Christmas smiled and opened the door wide.
By snodlander
"So what's your great plan?" Laura attacked the food on the plate in front of her. It was only when they entered the roadside diner that she realised how hungry she was. "You have a plan, right?" she said, around a mouthful of scrambled egg.
Christmas tore his eyes from her plate. "What? Plan? Oh sure. I'm the man with a plan, right enough. What's it to you?"
Laura shrugged. "Just wondered."
"Still cocksure of the beneficence of the Guild?"
"Shut up."
"You still think I'm a psycho killer?"
Laura put down her cutlery and stared at the debris the same way a shaman stared at the entrails of a chicken. Finally she picked up her fork and stabbed the remains of a sausage.
"Police didn't seem to think so. Mendes, the guy that interviewed me, he seemed surprised when I mentioned it. Which either means the Guild are covering the murders up, and I don't see how they'd do it, or why, or ...." Laura looked at Christmas across the table as she stuffed the sausage into her mouth.
"Or they lied?" prompted Christmas.
"Maybe. Anyway, I think if you really are a killer, you're such a devious one no one knows about the bodies you've buried."
"Gosh, such praise. I'm touched by your belief in me."
"Shut up. You want that toast?"
Christmas pushed his plate towards her.
"That is amazing. I have never seen anyone tuck so much away in such a short time. Seriously, you could join a freak show. I know, 'shut up'," he added as Laura poked her fork in his direction, manipulating the food in her mouth.
She swallowed. "Should have fed me properly yesterday, then. I was psyched up for a Thai blow-out. So, what now, Plan Man? What are you going to do?"
"That really depends on you. Are you going to help me?"
"So far I've had a friend killed, been kidnapped once, almost kidnapped a second time, been arrested and mind-screwed twice. Gee, why do you suppose I might be a little reluctant to have anything to do with you?"
"To be fair, only one of those was me. On balance, I'm scoring better than the Guild or the police."
"Oh, good argument. 'I've only kidnapped you once.' Wow, you saint."
"Okay, how about this as an argument? Help me, and you'll know for sure one way or the other whether the Guild are the good guys."
"What makes you think I don't know already?"
"Because you're eating my breakfast."
Laura held her tea cup in both hands, resting her elbows on the table, staring at Christmas through the steam. "I was hungry."
"No. If you knew for sure, you'd have turned me over to them by now."
"Maybe I have. Maybe they're on their way already."
"No, you haven't. Want to know why? Because you're not sure about me either. That must bug you, doesn't it? Not being able to Listen to me, I mean. Not being able to tell whether I'm telling the truth. Unsure whether I'm one of the good guys or the bad guys."
Laura slurped her tea, grimaced, and placed it back on the saucer. "And are you? One of the good guys, I mean."
Christmas massaged his temples. He suddenly looked very tired. Maybe the night's sleep he was so keen on hadn't been as restful as he'd hoped. "You know, I'm not sure I can tell the difference anymore. I'm not trying to kill anyone, I'm only trying to tell the truth, so yeah, I think I'm one of the good guys. Then again, I've always thought that, even when ... well, even when maybe I wasn't. Look, all I want to do is tell people what's going on. What the Guild do, what some of the things the government do, they're wrong. All the time they're done in secret, they'll keep on doing wrong." He shook his head. "God, listen to me. I sound like some first year political student. I tell you, the first thing I'm going to do after the Nielson committee is dig myself a hole and hide in it for a year. So?"
"So?"
"So are you going to help me?"
Laura looked over the diner. The occupants were all suited salespeople or truck drivers, almost all seated on their own. One would occasionally glance in her direction. It was because she was the only female customer, she rationalised. People were curious as to their relationship, entertainment in the cheap interior being in such short supply. Still there was that irrational suspicion that they knew. Look at the Listener. I wonder if she's digging into my dirty little secrets.
What if he was right all along? What if she was a freak engineered by the Guild. If people had the choice, would they choose the obvious business advantages Listening offered, coupled with immunity from Parkinson's? Or would they reclaim their privacy to think their own dark thoughts untroubled by the fear of discovery? She had a strong suspicion of which way the occupants of the diner would vote, especially if they suspected who she was. What she was. Would she be better off as a Normal in a world of Christmases?
"Well?" asked Christmas.
"It depends. What do you want me to do?"
He grinned. "That's my girl. I just need you to enter the Guild buildings, find the servers and plug in my magic bullet."
"That's all, huh?"
"Yep. I have to do all the really hard work, like, oh, stay alive and press a couple of buttons and stuff."
"And I have to do this because ...?"
"Because I might as well have a flashing sign over my head saying 'Listener-proof'. As soon as I come with a few metres of that place they're going to know who I am. You, you're a Listener. What's more natural than a Listener in the Listener's headquarters? It's a perfect plan."
"Apart from that last little bit, the bit after, 'I want you to'. How do you expect me to get into the server room? Never mind plugging the little so-and-so into the system. I'll warn you now, technology and me have a history. Electronics tend to fizzle and fry in my presence."
Christmas waved his hand airily. "Details. We can work them out later."
"This is your great plan?"
"In summary, yes."
"Well, that ranks along with, 'We'll just sit in Fort Alamo and let off a few rounds at the Mexicans' for all time plans that suck."
"Oh, you'll have fun. Sure you will. Besides, every plan needs a little wiggle room for the unforeseen."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you. I mean, this is really getting your rocks off."
Christmas waved at the waitress. "Would it make me a bad man if I said, yes, actually I do find this a little bit exciting? I wonder," he squinted at the waitress's badge," Betty, if we could have a coffee refill and a fresh pot of tea? Oh, you don't want anything else to eat, do you, my sweet?"
Laura pulled a face. Christmas grinned.
"No, I think that'll just be the coffee and tea, thanks."
By snodlander
"What's wrong with the car we have?"
Laura and Christmas stood to the side of the diner, where no windows overlooked the car park.
"It's stolen."
"Well? So will this one be in a minute."
"The police know about that one. They'll not know about this one for a little while yet."
"Jesus, now I'm a car thief. Wonderful. You make my life complete, you know that?"
"Just keep an eye out for the owner."
Christmas worked underneath the front of a ten-year-old heap in the car park.
"It just doesn't seem fair. I mean, a decent car would be owned by someone who could maybe afford to lose it. This is owned by someone who can't afford anything better."
"Decent cars have decent security. Decent cars have tracking systems. Decent cars have owners who can shout loud enough for police chiefs to hear."
"God, what if it's somebody who desperately needs it?"
Christmas picked himself off the ground and gave the driver's door an experimental tug.
"What if she's going to ferry orphans to their new homes after her eighteen hour shift? All this after her radiotherapy too."
Laura scowled at him. "Oh, ha ha. Yes, very funny, but it still doesn't make it any better."
"Look, I won't damage it and I'll leave it with a full tank afterwards, okay?"
He shoulder-barged the door and wrenched at the handle on the recoil. It flew open.
"Yes, I can see you're being so careful with it," said Laura, walking around towards the passenger door.
"What? It worked." Christmas jumped in and repeated his trick with the driving mirror.
"So what? We're going to run from car park to car park, leaving a trail of stranded invalids in our wake?"
"No. This is the last time. Probably, anyway," he amended. "You're right, do it too many times and we leave a trail. They'll see a pattern. No, we'll trade this in, stick with one vehicle for the next couple of days. By that time we should have what we want." He peeled the sticker off the mirror and placed it over the thumbprint reader.
"Trade it in? How? We've got no documents."
"Oh, you sweet innocent girl," grinned Christmas as the car coughed into life. "You just need to find the right dealer. I can flim-flam anyone if they're greedy enough."
"They'll check to see if it's stolen."
"With a bit of luck, it'll be a few more hours before anyone notices it's gone. Three o'clock at least."
"Why do you say that?"
Christmas slipped the car into gear and pulled onto the road.
"I chatted Betty up while you powdered your nose. She's under the impression she's in for a little afternoon delight before her husband gets home."
"Who's Betty? Oh, wait. The waitress? Oh, gross. You propositioned her?"
"I can't help being irresistible to women, you should know that."
"But why?"
"Well, she told me her shift doesn't end till three, so I'd have to cool my ardour."
"And?"
"And this is her car. There, doesn't that make you feel better? We've stolen the car of an adulteress, and not an orphan-ferrying invalid."
"Strangely, no, it doesn't. It's made me feel a little sick, if anything. What if she'd been about to finish her shift? How far would you have gone?"
"Well, that would depend on you. She was up for a threesome."
"What?"
Christmas laughed at Laura's outraged scream.
"Oh, relax. It was just my body she was after. Anyway, what's it to you? Surely you're not jealous."
"No, but if I'm putting my life on the line, I want to know how low the idiot I'm doing it for will stoop."
"Oh, lower than you can possibly imagine."
Christmas turned off onto a side road.
"Where are we going?" asked Laura.
"I'm looking for the right town. Besides, best to stay off the main road."
"What town?"
Christmas shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll know it when I see it."
"What are we looking for?"
"Somewhere small enough it's off the beaten track, but large enough to have a car dealership open on a Sunday."
"You're buying a car? That's not like you."
Christmas see-sawed his hand. "Not buy, exactly."
Christmas strode out of the portacabin office of the used car lot with the owner. They paused as Christmas pumped the salesman's hand, then they made their way to the car in which Laura sat impatiently.
"Good news, sweetness. Mr Jenson here has made us a sweet deal." Christmas opened the door and held out his hand for Laura. Ignoring it, Laura stepped out of the car.
"A sweet deal, huh?"
"He sure has. A pickup. Now we can start making some real money."
Mr Jenson looked embarrassed. "Well, it was the least I could do, after Mr Smith explained it all. Nearly had me in tears, he did. You're both lucky people. I wish you every success. Especially you, darling. My, but you're looking good."
"Isn't she?" enthused Christmas, placing a proprietary arm around her shoulders. "She positively glows. Come on, honey, come see the truck Mr Jenson has given us."
"Call me John, please. No one but the taxman calls me Mr Jenson. Come on." Call-Me-John led the way through the lot to an ancient pickup in two-tone white and rust.
"You've bought this?" asked Laura.
"Oh, I know it needs a lick of paint, but Mr Jenson says it's the best little runner on the lot, isn't that right, Mr Jenson?"
"It sure is. Runs like a dream." He held up the keys. "And it's all yours."
"Cool!" Christmas made a grab for the keys. "My first pickup. How great is that? You watch, this will be the first of a whole fleet of trucks, all with our name on: Smith and Son."
"Right." Laura looked at the old pickup dubiously. What scam had he pulled this time?
"Well, hop in, sweetness. Let's take a spin. We'll swing by home and pick up the documents for Mr Jenson." Christmas opened the passenger door and bowed.
"Careful, darling," said Call-Me-John. He took her elbow before she could protest and guided her into the seat. "Be sure to buckle up. Safety first, eh?"
Christmas bounded into the driver's seat, turned the motor over and pulled away.
"Wave to Mr Jenson, the thieving little bastard," he said through a rictus grin.
Laura waved.
"Keys? No thumb reader? How old is this heap?"
"No thumb reader means no fingerprint registration. And Honest John back there must have thought his prayers were answered when I showed an interest in it, so he was happy to bend the rules a tad, especially when I told him about you."
"What about me?"
"Well, would you believe it, but he fancied a threesome too. What is it about this county?"
"Shut up! What did you really tell him?"
Christmas looked innocent. "What? I just exaggerated a little." He broke into a grin. "Oh, all right. I told him I was starting up my own business, what with being out of work for a while and you being pregnant."
"What?"
"Well, you do glow, you know. And he took us for a couple of schmucks and foisted this aberration on us. With luck, he'll not even report it stolen when we don't return. He robbed us blind, exchanging this for that car. With luck, it won't show up on anyone's radar for a couple of days, maybe even longer. In the mean time, we have a legitimate vehicle and our trail's gone cold."
"And he believed I'd let you lay a finger on me, let alone let you get me pregnant?"
"Hey, stranger things have happened. Even Frankenstein's monster had a bride. Now, don't excite yourself, it's not good for the baby."
Giggling, he headed the pickup out of town.
By snodlander
Andrew Christmas followed the car onto the driveway and stopped outside the house.
"We're going to steal a house now?" asked Laura, leaning forward and appraising the front of the house critically.
"Oh, I don't steal anything, you know that. I merely borrow without authorisation. Come on, my sweetness, let's have a look at our new love nest."
"I'm not being pregnant this time, though," she grumbled as she exited.
The young woman in the smart business suit left the car in front and stood at the porch, clipboard in hand and professional smile on her face.
"This is it, Mr Warrington. As you can see, it has a large front garden with a hedge. You'd hardly know there was a road the other side. Isn't this a lovely front porch? It catches the afternoon sun, perfect for sitting out with a gin and tonic of a summer evening."
"I can see," said Christmas, AKA Warrington for this afternoon. "As I said, Ms Pilkington, privacy is very important to us. What are the neighbours like?"
"You won't know they're there," she replied. "The houses on this street are all bungalows; you've got hedges both sides. Seriously, you could sunbathe nude and no one would know."
"Hear that honey?" Christmas grinned at Laura.
"Shut up," she responded, all most automatically.
"Can we see inside?" asked Christmas.
"Of course." Ms Pilkington fumbled with the bunch of keys in her hand and jiggled one in the lock. "What is it you do, Mr Warrington?"
"I'm a writer."
"No! Really? How exciting. What do you write about?"
"Mainly white goods instruction manuals. I wrote nearly the entire Toshiba XK475 refrigerator user guide."
"Oh, how interesting." Her voice suggested she had a unique definition of the word 'interesting'. She pushed the door open and invited the others in.
"Yes. I have a vehicle owner's manual to finish, very tight deadlines. Can't tell you which vehicle, of course, all hush-hush, but it's big." Christmas stepped inside and looked around. "That's why it's important we find the right place."
The front door opened directly into the main living room. Dust sheets covered the furniture. One window looked out over the driveway they had just parked in. On the opposite wall a window overlooked an overgrown garden. Christmas looked out over the back of the property.
"How long has it been like this? Empty, I mean."
"The owner's been for an extended stay over on the east coast. Work, I think. Probably about three months, I guess. Don't worry, we'll get a cleaner in before you move in."
"And it's available for how long?"
"At least for four weeks. Shall I pull these covers off, let you see the furniture?"
"No, that's fine. What's out there, beyond the garden?"
Ms Pilkington stood beside Christmas and looked out.
"I'm not sure. Just fields, I think. A wood, maybe. No neighbours, if that's what you're worried about. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the house."
"No, please don't bother." Christmas shrugged at Laura. "Sorry, sweetness."
"Is there a problem?" Ms Pilkington looked anxiously between the pair.
"Sorry," said Christmas. "Oh, nothing terrible, it's just, well, it's the ambience."
"The ambience?"
"Yes, the ambience. It just doesn't do it for me, I'm afraid. It's a shy creature, my muse, and I simply can't be creative in the wrong atmosphere. Not your fault, entirely mine, but this just doesn't have the ambience."
The woman from the rental agency looked around the room perplexed. "The ambience? But you haven't see it properly yet. Wait till it's been cleaned up."
"No, it's not that, it's just ... well, how can I describe it? You know how it is."
Ms Pilkington clearly had no idea how it was, but she shrugged anyway. "Of course. We have a property over in Meadowlands, not quite as secluded, but very nice."
Christmas looked at his watch. "We could give it a try, I suppose, but not this afternoon, I'm afraid. I have to get back for my nap. You know how I get if I don't have my nap," he told Laura.
"Cranky," agreed Laura.
"What about tomorrow?" asked Ms Pilkington.
Christmas grimaced. "I'll tell you what, how about I call you, when I know when I'm going to be free?"
"Sure, whatever." Laura could see the dollar signs falling from Ms Pilkington's eyes. She obviously had now moved them from prospective revenue to waste of time.
"Thank you so much for your trouble, though," said Christmas, as they were shepherded towards the door. "It's such a shame about the ambience."
They returned to their car.
"Ambience?" asked Laura, strapping into the passenger seat.
"Very important to us writers," said Christmas.
"We writers. And what was wrong with the place? I'm not going back to somewhere like that no-frills dump we stayed in last night."
"Nor shall we, sweetness." Christmas looked over his shoulder as he backed the car out of the drive.
"So what was wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing at all. It's isolated, it's within an hour's drive of the Guild, good access, even at the back in case of an emergency. It even had a desk console, did you see that? No, it's pretty much perfect."
He drove off down the road.
"So why not rent it?" Laura asked.
"Because to rent it would mean using a card, leaving details that could be checked, raising our head above the parapet."
He took the first turning on the left and pulled over against the kerb.
"So what are we going to do?" she persisted. Christmas turned and grinned at her. "What, we're going to break in?"
Christmas looked shocked. "No! We're merely going to ... unofficially inhabit."
"That's stupid! What if the owner comes back? What if the rental company bring someone else round?"
"The owner will be away for at least four weeks. And look at the place. Dust sheets, overgrown garden. No one's been there for at least a month. She must have thought her holidays had all come at once when we expressed an interest. I bet we were the first people to view it since it went on their books. The neighbours don't overlook it. If we're careful, no one will know. Even if someone does notice, well, we're renting it. You worry too much, you know that?"
"Oh great. Now I'm a squatter."
"There you go. You're beginning to look on the bright side already." Christmas pulled away again and executed a three point turn. "We need a base of operations, somewhere no one will bother us. That place is as good as we're going to find. Besides, they were asking far too much for it. They're the criminals, if you ask me."
"And if I ask the police?"
"Well, okay, if you look at it in strictly narrow terms like that, but you've got to admit, it's an adventure, being married to the author of refrigerator manuals like me, isn't it?"
"Hey, you missed the drive."
"Let's explore the pretty way, shall we?"
By snodlander
"Was all that really necessary?" Laura wiped the sweat from her brow. The afternoon was warm, and the uneven path on the edge of the wheat field made walking an effort.
"You're the one that was afraid of the neighbours seeing us," said Christmas. "No point in advertising our presence. Besides, I wanted to see what was out back here, just in case."
Laura surveyed what was back there. The field stretched half a kilometre or more to the east. A hedgerow blocked the view of what lay beyond , probably another field. A hundred metres to the north stood a small copse, looking invitingly dark and chill. Running the border of the field stood a collection of mismatched fence panels, each change of style or colour marking a new property boundary. The panels they stood by now were six feet high.
"You sure this is our house?"
Christmas nodded. "Shame there's no gate, though. Oh well. Want a leg up?"
"We're climbing over the fence? Perfect. No, I'll manage, thank you."
"Okay. I offered."
Christmas stepped back then launched himself forward. Despite herself Laura had to admit it was a graceful ingress. He vaulted onto the fence, lifting himself easily up until his waist was level with the top of the fence, arms locked straight, then he swung forward, pivoting on the fence top, swinging his legs over and disappearing. The whole manoeuvre took no more than three seconds.
Laura stepped back as far as the wheat allowed her, then sprinted forward. She managed to get partway up the fence on her first jump, arms folded across the top of the fence, the wood digging sharply into her armpits. Christmas appeared, impossibly tall on the other side. He reached over, grabbed her belt at her back and heaved. Laura tried to straighten her arms to help hoist herself over. Once balanced, arms straight, supporting her weight, she leant her weight onto her right arm and attempted a swipe at Christmas with her left to force him to let go. Instead she fell forward, Christmas still hauling on her belt, and she fell in a heap on the other side. Only his grip on her belt prevented her landing on her face.
She turned, striking his hand away as she did so. He was standing on the cross-support of the fence, one hand gripping the top of the fence, his infuriating grin plastered over his face.
"I said I could manage."
"You're welcome," said Christmas, dropping to the lawn. "Come on."
He jogged over to the back of the bungalow, Laura stalking after him. The single story building was brick-built. On this side of the building windows flanked a uPVC door. Christmas examined the lock.
"You're an experienced burglar as well as a car thief?" asked Laura.
"Mm-hmm. Every crime in the book. In fact, I co-authored it. Damn, I was hoping for something a little simpler."
"Maybe we should phone the other guy."
"What other guy?" Christmas spoke with a distracted tone as he gave the door handle a pessimistic twist.
"The other guy that wrote the book."
Christmas moved onto the window to the right of the door. "Yeah, except I killed him researching the murder chapter." The window didn't seem to make him happy.
"Not funny, Christmas. Not even close."
He stepped back and took in the whole building. "Hmm? Oh, your detective friend? Yeah, sorry, you're right. Looks like we might have to smash a window. The front door's double deadlocked, a decent lock, not like yours. This one too, and the windows are all double glazed. Shit, that's going to make some noise, and I was rather hoping to avoid that. Let's see if any of the other windows are insecure."
They did a circuit of the house. It was all locked down.
"Damn. Okay, I'm going to kidnap Norman the Gnome from the front garden and put his pointy little head through a window. Nip over the back fence and be ready to run if a neighbour calls the police."
"What if I can get us in?" said Laura.
"You?"
"Yes, me. What, do you think I can't, just because I haven't been to spy school?"
"I checked under the mat and stuff. There's no spare key."
"I saw."
"So how are you going to get us in?"
Laura smiled. "Oh, you're all smug and look-at-me when you've got a secret plan. You can dish it out, but you can't take it, can you. Watch and learn, and when we're in, you can thank me."
Laura led him to the front of the house and down the drive. She felt exposed as she reached the front gate, expecting a neighbour to run screaming for the police, but the street was empty as she opened the mail box and brought the letters back out of sight from the road. She quickly sifted through them, opened one and grunted with satisfaction.
"You've got a lot of IDs, Mr. 'Warrington'. Where'd you get them?"
"It's not difficult, if people don't check too closely. Kept a couple from when I was in the firm, but I don't want to use them if I can help it. They'd show up. Pretty much any laminated card with what looks like a chip in it will convince people. I have a mini cold laminator in my bag, with some blanks. Why?"
"You look like an Ethan Schroeder to me, that's all. Think you can knock up a photo ID, I don't know, a gym membership card, a works ID, something like that? Something with a picture that says you're Ethan Schroeder?"
"I expect so."
"Well, chop-chop. Go do it. You've got twenty minutes."
"It's in the car."
"Well, you'd better hurry, then. Oh, and leave your phone. I saw you buy a throw-away at the petrol station."
"Who are you going to call?" he said as he reached into his jacket. Laura smiled enigmatically and tapped the side of her nose.
"That's for me to know. Now run along. You've got your errand to do. And you'd better bring the truck round to the front, for the look of things. Yes, that would be best."
Fifteen minutes later Christmas returned to find Laura sitting on the porch. He showed her a small card with a flourish.
"That do?"
Laura peered at it. "I expect so. You work for Mutual Life?"
"No one wants to talk to a life insurance salesman. It helps prevent questions." Christmas hitched his trousers at the knees and made to sit next to Laura.
"No, not here. Over there, on the other side of the steps."
"What?"
"You heard me. I'm not speaking to you. Go sit over there, where I don't have to bear your presence."
"Really?"
"Really! Go! Just sit over there where I won't be tempted to knock you upside your head."
"Okay." Christmas walked over to the opposite side of the steps and sat, a puzzled frown on his face. "And this is going to get us inside how?"
"I said I'm not speaking to you. Just sit there like a good boy and try not to screw anything up."
"But ..."
"Ah! I'm not listening to you either. Just for once in your life shut up, there's a good little chap."
Minutes later Christmas jumped to his feet as a van drew into the driveway. He looked at Laura, who remained sitting on the porch, a furious expression on her face. A young man jumped down from the cab and made his way over to them, his notebook in his hand. Laura rose and greeted him with an empty smile.
"Hello. Jackson's Locks?"
"Yes. You called us? What's the problem?"
"The problem?" asked Laura, as though the problem should have been obvious. "The problem is my idiot boyfriend. The problem is I've got myself saddled with the biggest moron in creation. My problem is he," Laura jabbed a finger at Christmas, "he was so stupid, so monumentally dim-witted, he went and left our keys in the bedside table in Cancun, along with his engagement ring, which I spent months, I mean literally months, picking out for him."
Christmas took a step forward. "Look ..."
"Shut up! I told you, I don't want to hear a word from you. You've completely ruined the holiday, you know that? And what were you doing taking off the ring in the first place? No, quiet, I don't want to hear. Of course, we wouldn't need to call a locksmith out if I had a key to the house, but oh no, you need your space, space to lock me out of your house, space to take off your engagement ring. Well, I hope you're enjoying the space out in the garden, idiot!"
"So ... you're locked out?" asked the locksmith, tentatively.
"Yes, we're locked out. We've been flying all day, then cooped up in that wreck of a vehicle sawdust-for-brains thought was such a great investment, and I would kill right now for a long bath and a long drink. You hear that, Ethan? I'm fit to kill, right now."
"Okay, well, first I have to ask for some proof of ID."
"Sure, what do you want?" Laura opened her shoulder bag and started rifling through the contents.
"Something with a photo and proof of residence."
"Oh, well, best talk to let's-not-rush-into-living-together over there, then, because apparently, I don't live here enough to have my own set of keys, I just stay most nights and pay half the bloody bills."
"I ... um ... will this do?" Christmas held out his fake work ID.
"Fine," said the locksmith, punching keys on his notebook. "Just something official with your name and address on now, like a utility bill or something."
"Here," said Laura, waving the recently purloined letter. "The electricity bill. Oh, and I see it's gone up again. How the hell do you use so much in such a tiny house? If I find you've left your study light on again, all the time we've been in Mexico, I shall stuff that bill where even you don't leave a light on."
"That's fine, fine," said the locksmith, gingerly handing the bill back after barely glancing at it. "It'll be fifty for the call-out, another fifty for opening the lock."
"Well don't look at me," fumed Laura. "I'm not so stupid as to forget my keys."
"Sure," said Christmas, reaching into his wallet. "We've got cash left over from the holiday. Cash still goes further than plastic in Mexico. Is that okay? Can you take cash?"
"Not a problem." He pocketed the money and smiled sympathetically. Christmas looked sheepish in return. The locksmith turned and approached the door.
Christmas walked up to Laura. "Not bad, as plans go," he murmured.
"I said I'm not talking to you," shouted Laura pushing him. "Get away from me. Go sit in your precious pick-up. I mean it, I'm just too angry and tired to deal with you right now. Go." Christmas went.
Laura stalked up and down the overgrown lawn, making a show of scowling and muttering to herself. The locksmith bent over the lock, tools in hand, not daring to look up. After fifteen minutes he straightened and gave the door a gentle push.
"There you go. Thought I was going to have to drill it out for a moment there. That's a tough lock. Do you have spare keys?"
"Yes, he has, or at least he had, if he hasn't lost them too. Thank you. Did you want a coffee or something?"
"No, no, thanks for the offer. I, um, I have other calls."
As the locksmith returned to his van, Laura motioned Christmas with a sweep of her arm to get in the house. Christmas left the pick-up, gave the locksmith a wave and scurried inside.
"Well?" asked Laura triumphantly, when they were both safely inside and the door closed. "Do you have something to say?"
"Not bad. Was all the scowling and ranting necessary?"
"I thought it encouraged him to finish the job quickly and not to take too long over examining your handiwork, don't you?"
"I guess it might at that."
"And do you have something else to say? A thank you, perhaps?"
"You're going to gloat over this for days, aren't you."
"Well, now you know what it's like."
"I'll tell you what, though. After that display, I'm reconsidering our life together. That act came a little too easily for my liking."
"Shut up and look for a spare set of keys."
By snodlander
"Anything?" asked Laura, as Christmas rejoined her in the lounge.
"No keys," said Christmas. "Front and back doors are deadlocks, so no emergency exit out the back door, and no locking the front. Not an ideal safe house. Did you turn the lights on, or did they come on automatically?"
"I turned them on. It's getting late."
Christmas hit the light switch.
"Best not to alert the neighbours, nor run up a noticeable power bill."
"So what? We're just going to sit here in the dark?"
"Pretty much. Look, I found a flashlight. We can hide under the sheets and pretend we're camping, like we did when we were kids."
"Uh huh," said Laura. "That's going to happen. So if we're in the dark, are we eating out or ordering in?"
"How is it someone can be as skinny as you but eat all the time?"
"I don't eat all the time; that's why I'm hungry now. And less of the skinny."
"Oh, don't worry, I like fat girls. Always so grateful."
"God, you're offensive. And I'm not fat either."
"No, but I didn't say I liked you, did I?"
"How many times have you used that childish joke?"
"What comes after four?"
"A fat lip? Seriously, I get cranky when I'm hungry and we've not eaten since breakfast."
"Technically it was brunch, but okay. There was a grocery store a couple of blocks down the street. I'll get us something for now. Seeing you like this, I really don't want to see you cranky. Best not take the truck. I'll walk down, get the lie of the land while I'm at it. Don't go switching all the lights on, and don't answer the door to strangers."
"My life would be so much simpler now if I'd thought of that yesterday."
"There you go. That just proves my point." Christmas walked over to the front door. "I'm just grateful you're not a vegetarian. Missing you already."
And then he was gone. Laura looked around the gloomy room. It suddenly seemed so much bigger. She tugged at a dustcover, revealing a couch. Well, at least she could occupy her time while Christmas was gone.
Laura, standing in the shadows of the gloomy room, saw Christmas enter the driveway, a shopping bag in each hand. She walked over to the door and opened it for him.
"The steak had better be fillet," she said, as he entered the house. "I'm not settling for stringy rump."
"Oh, I definitely didn't get any rump steak," said Christmas, heading towards the kitchen.
"But you got steak, right?" said Laura, following him.
"Oh, if I got a stake, it would be for your heart, if I could find a target that small."
"Said the kidnapper. What did you get for dinner, then?"
Christmas placed the bags on the kitchen counter and started unloading them.
"Well, we have a loaf of bread, butter, the finest cheese any chemical plant has ever produced, apples, energy bars, bottles of drink, non-alcoholic of course. I bet you make a nasty drunk. Milk, cereals, and bathroom products for me. I assumed you packed your own."
"That's not dinner, that's a snack."
"We can't afford to give out any clues we might be here. That includes switching the power on if we don't have to. It'll be fun, like having a midnight feast."
"What are you, twelve?" Laura grabbed an apple. "What's the point of stealing a house if we have to lurk in the dark?"
"At least we have somewhere comfy to sleep tonight."
"Oh, on that note, I've bagged the master bedroom. You can have the guest bedroom."
"Nope."
"What do you mean, 'nope'?"
"The master bedroom can be seen from the front. Less chance of being seen if you use the guest bedroom. Plus there's a lean-to under the guest bedroom's window. Makes for easy egress if we have any uninvited guests. Out the back, over the fence then into those woods we saw. You wait in there five minutes. If you don't see me running across the field towards you in that time, you're on your own. Run, and don't stop."
"Ooh, spy stuff. How exciting. Of course, this wouldn't have anything to do with you wanting the biggest bedroom, would it?"
"We can't lock the front door, so I'm pushing the couch across it and sleeping there."
"Really?"
"Really. This isn't a game, Laura. I'm pretty sure they've lost us, but I can't be certain. They catch us, we disappear. Permanently. You sleep in the spare room, and if you hear anything during the night, you do exactly what I just said. You don't wander downstairs in your jim-jams clutching a golf club, you hear? You don't call out. You just run."
"Where to? I mean, if you don't run after me."
Christmas shook his head. "Don't think about 'to', just think of what you're running from. Your best bet would be to try and get to somewhere like New Zealand, somewhere with no Guild, but the important thing is not to get anywhere in particular, just concentrate on not getting caught. And while we're on the subject of jim-jams, I'd sleep in something you'd be happy wandering around the woods in. You know, a sheer negligee, a smile, something like that."
"In your dreams."
"Every night. Here." Christmas pulled out his wallet and grabbed a wad of notes. "Sleep with this, just in case. A cash trail is harder to follow than cards. If we had time I'd set up safe points, but time is against us now. We'll just have to wing it."
"So what do we do now?"
"Well, I'm going to make myself the mother of all cheese sandwiches, and then you're going to tell me how you're going to break into the Guild and plant my little friend on the server."
"You were serious about that? You really want me to break into the Guild headquarters."
"Yes, really. Tell me about it. How big is it?"
"Big. Massive. It's a small town all by itself. There's the admin buildings, but there's also the school, residential blocks, library, recreation areas, shops. It is seriously huge."
"Which means security is weak."
"I guess. Well, it depends. Parts of it, like the residential areas, are open. You could just walk in. The buildings, now they're different. You need passes and the like to enter most of the admin and the school. They have their own security. I suppose they could stop and challenge you anywhere on the site, it being private property. I was never challenged though. I don't have any super-spy skills like lock picking or anything."
"No, no, you don't want them. Forget the movies. Most security breaches are internal, or by people with enough nerve to walk straight in. What we need is some sort of excuse to get you onto the campus."
"I don't need one. I'm a Listener."
"Sure, but you can't just turn up and say, 'I was in the neighbourhood and I just thought I'd drop in'."
"Actually, yes I can. It's my alma mater. It's more than just a corporate headquarters. It's a research centre, a retreat, a place you can hide from the Nor - from the rest of the world. Listeners can just turn up unannounced, even stay a few nights, weeks even. Even if you don't book. That's sort of the point. It's not always easy, being a Listener, and sometimes you need to get away, get some counselling, be with your own kind."
"You been there before?"
"Not since I graduated."
"What do you do when it gets too much for you then?"
"I beat the hell out of my bedding. My pillow winces every time it sees me."
"Your bedding?" Christmas grinned.
"Well, that was before I met you."
"I'm going to interpret that as meaning since you met me, you've not had any violent urges. If you turned up, what sort of access would you have?"
"Well, as I said, the campus is open. If I wanted to enter any building I'd need a pass though, so the normal drill is to turn up in the reception building and register. They issue you with a card that's tagged to allow you appropriate access."
"It's all electronic?"
"Yes, you wave the pass at the turnstile and it lets you in."
"Okay, so you turn up at the centre, register, and immediately all the alarm bells sound and the Guild heavies jump on you. If you register and they don't realise you're the Guild's most wanted, then you only get access to non-sensitive areas. If they give you an access all areas pass you can still be tracked wherever you go on the campus. Not looking good so far."
"Well, don't blame me. This is your plan."
"When you register, what ID do you have? Maybe I can fake it."
"Duh! Listener, remember? I tell them who I am, and a level one scan tells them whether I'm lying. Besides, I'll be in a whole bunch of Listeners. Someone who wasn't a Listener would be pretty obvious."
"So you're scanned all the time?"
"No, of course not. And it's just a cursory scan. It's not like a Normal could get away with faking it."
"Could you lie about who you were and get away with it?"
"Not possible. Not even with trivial lies, but a fundamental one about being someone else? Not a chance."
"Okay, so you turn up at the door, say, 'Hi, I'm Laura Listener, gimme a room for a few days.' Let's just suppose you get away with that. So they issue you with a pass to the convent and library and whatever. Next obstacle is to get you into the server rooms. The only way we're going to do that is to get a geek's pass. Do Normal's work there?"
"Of course. Like I said, it's a small town. All of the service employees are going to be differently gifted. And we don't use the term 'Normals'. It's offensive."
"You used it just now."
"I did?" Laura tried to replay the conversation back. Had she really used that term? Was she becoming like Peter? "Sorry. No offense meant."
"None taken. After all, I'm not a Normal, remember? I'm sub-normal."
"So, what's plan B?" said Laura, to cover her sudden embarrassment.
"Plan B? We haven't finished Plan A yet."
"But I thought we'd established it wouldn't work."
"No, just that it's going to be difficult, that's all. Come on, you don't strike me as a quitter."
"So what do we do?"
"Eat our dinner, get some sleep and let me think on it. Tomorrow we'll find an anonymous Internet cafe and do some research." He grinned at Laura's dubious expression. "Oh, come on. If it was easy, everyone would be super-spies."
By snodlander
"The cafe has a car park, you know," said Laura, as they made their way along the footpath.
"True enough, but the truck is a little less than honest, remember? I'd rather it wasn't outside the building we were hiding in if it gets discovered. And pull your cap further down."
"I heart truckers. That's your idea of a joke?"
Christmas grinned. "You could have had the cap that featured a near-naked girl on the front, but I didn't think that was your style. Seriously, I don't know if they'll have remotely monitored CCTV. Keep it pulled low at least until we know if the cafe has cameras."
Christmas glanced around the car park, then led Laura to the cafe. It was a modern glass and steel prefabricated affair set back from the road. Posters of unfeasibly attractive cakes and coffees were blutacked to the windows. Most of the tables visible were unoccupied. They entered. A middle-aged woman looked up from the screen at the counter and smiled.
"Howdy. What can I get you folks?"
"Two coffees, please," said Christmas.
"No, a tea for me," said Laura. "An Earl Grey if you have one."
"Don't you ever drink coffee? Go on, do something conventional for once," said Christmas.
"The lady knows what the lady wants," said the woman behind the counter. "Of course we have Earl Grey, sweetie. Anything to eat? I got some banana muffins still warm from the oven."
Christmas turned to Laura and grinned. "Does the lady want muffins?"
"Does the gentleman want a kick in the shins?" replied Laura, smiling sweetly.
"That'll be just the coffee and the tea. Oh, and an hour on-line too, please."
"Sure. You just swipe your card on the terminal at the table and it'll debit it at the end of the session."
"Ah, is there any way we can pay cash?"
The waitress frowned. "Cash? Why?"
Christmas leant closer and dropped his voice.
"Well, I really would appreciate this not appearing on my statement, you know what I mean?" He reached out and took Laura's hand. "We're not really supposed to be here."
She looked from Christmas to Laura, dropping her eyes to take in the hand-holding, and she smiled.
"Oh, I see. Well, sorry, that's just the way it's set up. The terminal won't start up without a credit card."
"How much would an hour's session cost?"
"Twenty."
Christmas reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He peeled a fifty from inside.
"That's a shame, because an hour on the terminal and the drinks would have been worth fifty to me, easily."
Christmas and the woman locked eyes. A moment later she took the fifty from Christmas. "Where'd you want to sit?" she said.
"There would be good," said Christmas, indicating a table towards the back of the cafe.
She walked briskly to the table, produced a purse from her pinafore and swiped the card reader with her own card.
"An hour," she said.
"At the most," said Christmas. "You're very kind. Thank you."
After she left, Laura shook her head in disbelief.
"Amazing. Yesterday you were having affairs with waitresses, now you're having them believe I'm having an affair with you."
"Waitress. It was only one waitress, and to be fair, I only promised an affair. I never actually had one. And I never actually said we were an item either."
"How did you know she would go for it? I mean, she could have been a God-fearing puritan."
"She doesn't own the place. If she did, she wouldn't be wearing such an awful uniform. Which means she's staff, and the food industry is low paid. She smirked when I held your hand, rather than looking judgemental. She'd have done it for less. See, that's what us Normals have to do, when we can't just jump in and read someone's mind."
"I told you, we don't just - ," She stopped as Christmas grinned at her. "Oh, very funny. Does making snide remarks come as part of spy-school training?"
"Yes, but I skipped that class. They said I already had a God-given talent in that area. Okay, to work." He brought up the site of a cheap hotel chain. "Where are we going to have our next affair? No? Okay, let's bring up a map of the Guild, then." He went to a mapping site, called up the Guild's address and zoomed out the satellite photo to show the whole campus. Then he flicked back to the hotel site.
He looked up and smiled as the waitress brought over a tray.
"Your Earl Grey is still brewing, sweetie," she said, placing the cups and teapot onto the table. Christmas had been right, Laura thought to herself. As the waitress glanced at the hotel screen her smile had more than a touch of smirk about it.
When she'd gone Christmas flicked back to the aerial shot of the Guild campus.
"You weren't lying by much when you said it was big. Okay, so give me the guided tour, what's what here?"
Laura peered at the screen.
"This area is the school," she said. "You can just make out the fence, see? Definitely not a stroll-in area. I say school, but it's much more than that. It's almost a town within a town. This is the main school itself, but there's a library here, these buildings are dorms. This area I think is the retreat. It has its own dorms and living areas, but I've never been there. That's where they'll put me if I stroll in off the street. But as you can see, it's all in the centre of the campus. There's a security fence all around,"
"That must be half the campus."
"Pretty much. These buildings are residential areas, mainly for staff. This tower here, that's the main admin building. That's where I'd register. As for the rest, I don't really know."
"Why the security fence?"
"Some people are hostile. Others just curious. Either way, when you have kids in training, or Listeners burnt-out or world weary, you don't want the world and its dog gawping at you."
"In the residential are, do you have additional security? Cameras, swipe cards, that sort of thing?"
"Do you know, as a young girl, that was my over-riding concern, to do a security sweep of my home."
"I'll take that as a don't know."
"I was never that aware of any. The retreat might be gated. I shouldn't think they'll want awe-struck teenagers running amuck in there. Why? Is it important?"
Christmas shrugged. "I don't know. You can never have enough intel. What about the server room? Where's that?"
"Beats me, pal. The main admin building, maybe?"
"Maybe. Or the library. Or one of the anonymous buildings. Or Mars, come to that. But, yeah, maybe the main admin building. So outside the prison camp - excuse me - outside the school, is there any other security?"
"It wasn't a prison. I told you, the fence was to keep people out, not in. But no, outside the school the area is pretty open. You see security cars around, but you also get, oh, utility workmen, sandwich trucks, that sort of thing driving in. You just have security as you go into the buildings."
Christmas zoomed out further. The Guild campus was in a mainly wooded area. To the west lay a lake.
"These buildings here. Are they Guild?"
"A couple, maybe, but mostly no. They're mainly just restaurants, stores, residential areas, mostly nothing to do with the Guild. It's a nice place, after all, and there's spin-off jobs the Guild generates."
Christmas stared at the screen, taking occasional sips of his coffee. Laura waited, looking at him through the fragrant steam of her tea. It was unsettling, being able to see Christmas but unable to sense his mind. Not that she would ever Listen, but she had never really been conscious of the background hum of people before. Their presence was like the air conditioning. You never really noticed the noise until it wasn't there.
"Well?" she said at last, as she reached the bottom of her cup.
"Well what?"
"Well, what's the great master plan, Mister Bond."
Christmas smiled at the joke.
"Okay, here's the situation. You have to get on the campus without getting yourself arrested. Then you have to get through security gates with a pass that won't authorise you without alerting security. You need to get into the server room, the location of which we have no idea. Finally you have to escape undetected. Well, actually, for the plan to work, that last step is optional, but I'm trying to be nice. All of this, and we have no intel about the place, and no time to gather it. You know what we need?"
"A miracle?"
"An inside man."
Laura shook her head as if to clear it. "Excuse me? You want to stroll up to a Guild Listener and ask her to betray the Guild?"
"Well, it worked once. But no, not a Listener. I was thinking more of a Guild employee."
"What makes you think you can get an employee to put his job at risk? I mean, why should he?"
"Everyone has a price, Laura."
"Do you have that much money?"
"Oh, the price is hardly ever money. You just need to find the right person, and find out what he wants more than money."
"How do we do that?"
Christmas interlocked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "Watch and learn, my young apprentice." He poised with his fingers over the keyboard for a moment, then started typing.
By snodlander
Inga Robinson opened her email. Her eyes caught on the third entry down.
Hi - Laura
That was odd. Laura and she rarely emailed each other more than once a month. To get two in as many days was unique. Was she in trouble? What sort of trouble could her daughter be in, that she was reduced to asking her for help? She took a deep breath to brace herself and opened the email.
Hi Mum,
Just a note to let you know I'm going off radar for a couple of days. I've finally decided to take a break. All work and no play, and all that. I've been working solidly for eighteen months, and I decided I need a little me time. So I've booked into a hotel out in the back of beyond, somewhere near Firham, where I can just relax and be myself for a while. No phone, no Net, just me, the countryside and a TV. Who knows, maybe I'll meet a young farmer and finally get round to making you a grandma. :)
Anyway, I thought I'd let you know, just in case you tried to get in contact. I'll drop you a line when I get back.
Laura
Inga frowned. There was something not quite right about the message. She and Laura weren't the closest of family, but then she'd lived her teens in the Guild school. That was bound to introduce a barrier of some sort. So why the cryptic message? She could have gone away for two weeks and Inga would not have noticed. And why hadn't she mentioned her plans in Saturday's mail? She read it again, scanning for clues.
Then she smiled. Of course. It wasn't to recharge her batteries at all. Expend a little, maybe. She wondered who the young farmer was, and how she'd met him. Did he know yet that she was a Listener? Possibly not. That tended to put men off, poor girl.
She hit the reply button.
Hi Laura,
Just let me meet him before you marry him.
She smiled, imagining Laura's frustration at not being able to keep it secret.
Abby's message window flashed. It was Laura. She opened the window.
Laura: Hi Abby
Abby: Hi, gf. What's up?
Laura: Nothing. Just saying thanks for the party the other night
Abby: LOL I got wasted. Good job it was Sat after. U have fun?
Laura: Yeah. Sorry I left early.
Abby: NP. Hey, what's all this about you and some psycho?
Laura: Yeah, scary. That's why I'm hiding out.
Abby: No way! Where?
Laura: Firham.
Abby: What's there?
Laura: Nothing. That's the point. I'm going off piste for a few days. See you next week.
Abby: OK. Later
Abigail turned to her neighbour in the Listening Post.
"Oh my God, you know I was telling you about Laura? She's just messaged me. How spooky is that?"
Tony didn't recognise the incoming number on his personal line, but he would have to get used to that. As Guild rep his circle of Listener acquaintances was bound to grow. He hit the answer stud.
"Tony Galbraith."
"Tony? Hello?"
"Hi. Who's calling?"
"It's Laura. Can you talk?"
"Laura?" Tony sat upright. A couple of the other Listeners in the Listening Post turned at his exclamation. "Laura," he said, quieter. "Hell's bells, do you have any idea what you've put us through? Where are you? What's going on? Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine."
"Jesus, I don't know whether I'm going to hug you or slap you. You don't know the grief we've been going through. Judy is worried sick, I mean literally sick. We had no idea what happened to you after we dropped you off by the side of the road. She's had me go round to your apartment half a dozen times. You're not picking up your mail, your phone's off line. You're going to have to spend hours deleting all the messages Judy left for you."
"Yeah, sorry, but the police still have my notebook, so I'm operating in the stone age at the moment. Is Judy there?"
"No, but wait, wait, I'll patch her in. She'll murder me if I don't. Don't you dare hang up, I'm just putting you on hold."
Tony paused the line and hit Judy's speed dial. Judy answered it on the first ring.
"Judy? I've got Laura on the line."
"What? Is she okay?"
"Hang on." He thumbed the button on his notebook. "Laura? You still there?"
"Hi guys."
"Oh my God, Laura!" Tony slid the volume on his earpiece down as Judy screamed into the phone. "Laura, what's up? Are you okay? Where are you? We're coming to pick you up."
"No, no, I'm fine, honest. I just wanted you guys to know, that's all."
"No you're not fine. What's happened?" said Judy.
"Honestly, nothing. After the weekend's adventures, I just want to hide away and gather my wits, that's all. I'm going to spend a few days watching movies and eating chocolates. I just didn't want you to worry. Listen, I really appreciate what you did for me, coming to the rescue like that. And I still owe you a dinner. When I've got my head screwed on again we'll sort that out, okay?"
"Laura, listen to me," said Tony. "You don't need to be on your own, you know. That's what we're here for."
"Yes," said Judy. "Any time you want, you know you can always come round."
"Well, sure, that's true enough, but I meant the Guild, Laura. We have facilities you won't get anywhere else. You needn't do this on your own."
"I'm not sure about that, Tony," said Laura.
"Of course she's not, Tony, not after what your friend did in the car."
"Look, that was unacceptable. We all agree on that, but he was acting on the best of motives."
"Anthony," said Judy. Tony sighed. His formal name never meant anything good.
"Judy?"
"Don't you dare, just don't you dare try and justify what he did."
"No, I'm not justifying it, I just -"
"Of course she's wary about going to the Guild after your friend betrayed her."
"Look, he's not my friend, and I already said he was in the wrong, but he's one person, Laura. He works for the Guild, but he's just one man. The Guild is us, every one of us. We can help. We want to help. Where are you? I can get the local rep to drop you a note. Just a friendly hello, nothing more"
"I'm slobbing out in a motel near Firham, but I don't want to chat to anyone, especially strangers, not at the moment. I've not had a holiday since I left the academy. I'm just going to pamper myself on my own for a day or two. I'm fine, honest."
"What?" Judy's voice sounded muffled. "Right, right, two seconds. I'll be there . Look, Laura, I have to go. I'm on a contract. You just do what you need to, honey, and don't let Tony bully you into anything. You hear that Tony? Leave the poor girl alone."
"Yes, dear." Tony waited until Judy cleared the line.
"Laura? Look, I appreciate the Guild's not your favourite organisation at the moment, but just think about it, okay? And remember Judy and I are your friends, regardless. Let us know if you need anything."
"I appreciate that, Tony, but I'm fine. I just wanted you to know I'm okay."
"That's good to know. Keep in touch."
"I will. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Tony looked around the Post. It was always busiest on a Monday. He rose and stepped outside into the square. He looked around, almost expecting to see Judy bearing down on him. He hit the dial button on his phone.
"Hi, Babs? It's Tony."
"Tony, darling. What can I do for you?"
Tony sighed. It was hard, but it was the right thing to do. He just hoped Judy would see it that way when she found out.
"You know you said you wanted to know if I heard anything from Laura?"
Laura hung up the phone and stared at the screen in front of her.
"Are you all right?" said Christmas.
"No," said Laura. "I feel dirty. I don't have a huge number of friends, and those I've got I'm using like, like pawns in a chess game. Is that what you do? How can you live with that?"
Christmas put his hand on hers. She pulled it away.
"Look," said Christmas, "your friends, the real ones, would they help you if you asked? I mean, isn't that what friends are for? And if they wouldn't help you when you're in danger, what sort of friends are they?"
"But if the Guild is as dangerous as you say they are, I've just put them in danger. My god, my mum too."
"No, trust me on this. The Guild want to keep this all quiet. Your friends and family know nothing. Even if they were deep scanned, they know nothing. What would be the point of the Guild or anyone else bringing attention to themselves by harming your friends? It would be counter-productive."
"But they're monitoring them, you think?"
"It's what I'd do. You're a loose end. At the very least your friend Peter wants to find out what happened, how much you know or believe about me. You said he tried to scan you in the car, with your friends there? That's a sign of how desperate he is. No, he'll have caught at least one of those trails. Good job."
"Where is Firham anyway?"
"Miles away. Miles and miles. Which means they'll need to stay there overnight, and spend a day or two trying to cover the area. We're safe, for the moment."
By snodlander
Laura hitched her small bag higher onto her shoulder and regarded the tall glass-and-steel building in front of her. The fear squeezed at her stomach. This wasn't right. The Guild was her protector. It had been her guardian and her home since she was twelve. All her loyalty and commitment should be towards the Guild, even more than her country, even more than her family. But the Guild had tried to mind-rape her, well, one of their officials, anyway. And Christmas had at least some evidence that he was telling the truth. There was only one way to be sure, though, and that meant walking through the doors across the road.
Still her feet remained stationary, her legs suddenly robbed of the ability to walk. At least he'd been honest about the risks. They might pounce on her the moment she walked in through the doors. They could just make her disappear, and if they did, there was nothing he could do to help her.
On the other hand, to keep a secret this big, they had to keep the number of conspirators low. They couldn't publicise her status, nor mobilise the whole Guild against her. Probably Peter and Babs were the only Guild members looking for her. Probably they were now in Firham, following a false scent. And the Guild headquarters was probably the last place on Earth they'd look for her.
Probably.
But what choice did she have? Now she suspected, she had to know the truth, and she was damned if she was going to run for the rest of her life. She hitched the bag again, ran through her mantra as she raised her mental blocks, then strode into the road. Now she was walking, she wouldn't stop. She couldn't. If she did, even for a moment, she knew her resolve would disappear.
The foyer was large, and this late into the afternoon sparsely populated. It had been so long since she'd been here. Suddenly she was twelve again, gripping her mother's hand, unable to say a word unless the tears behind her eyes broke the dams. Her father put the huge case down on the marble floor, weak with what she'd later learn was cancer, but still insisting on pulling the luggage. Her memories of the school were happy. She must have been miserable and scared the first few weeks, but she didn't remember that. But this hall held only the pain of parting for her, like a mausoleum.
"Can I help you?"
"Sorry." Laura shook the maudlin reverie from her and looked at the polite, disinterested official in front of her. "Wool gathering. Last time I was here was for my induction. I'm looking to book in for a couple of days?"
"Of course. Listener Reception is over there."
Laura followed his pointing finger, smiled a thank you and walked over to the desk. It was deserted except for the young girl behind the counter. She wore a badge that proclaimed her to be Trudy. She smiled brightly as Laura approached.
"Hello. May I help you?"
"Yes. I'm hoping I could stay in the retreat for a day or two?"
"Certainly. May I have your Listener passport, please."
"Oh, I don't have it, I'm afraid. A bit of an impulse decision."
The girl smiled even more brightly. "Not a problem. I'll just need to perform a level one scan." She cleared her voice and recited the stock permission pro-forma in a sing-song voice, then turned the screen to face Laura.
"If you could just thumb your agreement for me."
Laura closed her eyes, concentrating on the barriers, then nodded and thumbed the screen. Trudy gave a nervous smile, took a deep breath, and then she was there in Laura's mind. It wasn't the brutal uncaring presence Laura had felt in the police station, but it still lacked a little finesse.
"May I have your name, please?" said the receptionist.
"Laura A. Robinson."
"And are you currently a licensed Guild Listener."
"Yes, I am."
The receptionist tapped away at a keyboard hidden behind the counter.
"Wonderful. Found you on the system. Welcome to the Guild, Ms Robinson. How many days do you want to stay?" Laura felt the presence leave.
"Oh, just a couple, I think. Is that okay?"
"No problem at all. We have plenty of room. Will you need access to anywhere else?"
"Um, I'm not sure. The commissary, probably, and maybe the library."
"No problem. I'll give you general access to Listener areas. The retreat is in the - oh, you probably know already."
"Yes, I'll find my way, thanks."
"I'll just print out your card. You're in room D15, which is just here." She drew a circle on a printed map and slid it across the counter.
"When do you graduate?" said Laura.
Trudy's face fell.
"Oh. You can tell?"
"It was the way you're still excited when you get to do a scan."
The young girl leant forward and dropped her voice. "Was it okay? Only I graduate in six months, if I can keep my scores up. That's why I volunteer for desk duty. You know, practice."
"No, it was fine. You need to rein back a little, that's all. A level one only needs a gentle touch. I expect it was just nerves. What technique do you use?"
"The lighthouse. What about you?"
"The net."
"Oh, I tried that, but I just couldn't get on with it. I have to focus on one mind, you know? So, who are you indentured to? If you don't mind me asking."
"I'm freelance."
"Wow, really? I thought you had to be ancient to do that. I mean ..." She faltered, blushing. Laura laughed.
"Yeah, a lot of Listeners put in ten years of indentured service. I'm so glad I don't look in my thirties yet. Thank you."
Laura took the proffered cards, turned, then turned back.
"Hey, can I ask a question? Is the Lion still where everyone hangs out off-campus?"
Trudy screwed up her face. "No, it's full of plebs." Her hand flew to her mouth and she coloured again. "I mean, it's mostly service staff, not Listeners. We normally go to Old Bill's, over towards the lake. Well, the Listeners do, not us students."
"Yeah sure," said Laura, winking. "Good job I wasn't scanning you, right? Good luck in your finals."
"Thank you."
Laura turned and walked back towards the main doors. Trudy could have been her two years ago. Was she really that gawky? So eager and excited, anxious to try out her talents. Surely she was never quite that obnoxious. Oh God, was she ever that young? She might as well be eighteen years older than eighteen months.
The weather was still pleasant. She glanced at her watch. Four o'clock. Time to walk to her room and grab a quick shower before the offices started to turn the hordes out onto the streets. She strolled down the wide avenue towards the school. The occasional passing pedestrian gave her a nod of greeting. Laura nodded back. Hi. Yes, we belong to the same club. We're all Guild members or Guild employees. She raised the barriers every time someone approached, but her mind remained clear of any presence.
The gate into the retreat was manned by a security guard. He smiled and nodded a greeting as Laura swiped her card.
"Good evening. First night? Do you know where you're going?"
Laura waved her map. "I'm good thanks. Do these gates get locked any time?"
"No, there's no curfew. You can come and go whenever, there's always someone here. Same with the other gates."
"Okay, thanks."
The retreat was a patchwork of small single-storey buildings. It reminded Laura of a gated retirement community. Scattered here and there between the accommodation blocks were communal buildings: a library, a gym, lecture rooms. Laura wondered how burnt out you had to be to want to lock yourself away from the world.
Accommodation block D was a motel-like structure, albeit an upper class motel. The doors to the rooms led straight out onto a footpath. She found room fifteen and slid her pass card into the slot. The room was pleasant enough, if a little basic. She dropped her overnight case on the bed, grabbed her toiletry bag and hit the shower.
By snodlander
The prepaid phone Christmas had given her was ringing when Laura came out of the shower. She checked the caller id then answered it.
"Is that you, Mum?" she said, knowing it wasn't.
"No, it's not. Is Shirley there?"
"No, she's at the cinema, and do we have to go through this every time?"
"Absolutely," said Christmas. "It's the only way to be sure neither of us are under duress. It may seem stupid, but it can be a life saver. Why did you take so long to answer the phone? You have to keep it with you."
"I was in the shower. If you wanted me to take it in there you should have bought a waterproof one and not the cheapest in the shop... Hello? Christmas, are you there?"
"You're naked?"
"Oh, ha ha." Laura hitched the towel up an inch, as though he could see her. "What's up?"
"So you're safely in the lion's den?"
"Yes, no problems. I guess you were right. They're too focussed on Firham."
"Well, don't get too settled. I've got you a date tonight."
"Tonight? I thought you said it would take at least a day to set it all up. I'm not ready."
"Yes you are. You're wet and naked. That's how I want my dates to start. This is a good thing, honestly. The shorter time you're in there, the less chance you have of being discovered."
"But I've not done anything. I have no idea where the server room is, even."
"But you'll find out tonight. You've got a date with, um, a senior archival strategist. Ooh, doesn't that sound grand? It means he does the database backups. He'll know where the server room is, he'll have access to the servers and what's more, he's hot. What more could you ask for?"
"Hot?"
"Seriously, he is mega totty. You need to snap him up before someone else comes along. Forgive me, I was brought up with the metric system. Two hundred and fifty pounds is buff, isn't it?"
"If you're eight feet tall. How did you arrange that so fast?"
"Ninety-nine percent of espionage is hacking the Net. He's on a dating site, Made In Heaven. Oh, I could feel the diabetes coming on, it was such a sweet site. Anyway, I shall send his profile to your phone, along with his photo. Only promise me you won't look at him till you've got dressed. I'm a very jealous man."
"But what am I meant to do?"
"Well, it's a first date, so no tongue, and only let him hold your hand after he's paid for the drinks."
"Just shut up. I'm being serious. Tonight? I have no idea what I'm meant to do. I haven't planned anything. What do I say?"
"Just treat it like a normal date. Panicking about what impression you're going to make sounds like a good start. Just phone him, arrange a meet, then charm the pants off him. Not literally, of course. I'm hoping to do that. Your pants, I mean, not his. What do you normally do on a date?"
"I don't know. Just, I don't know, just flirt?"
"My God, when was the last time you went on a date?"
"Shut up."
"Never? Oh my God, you've never been on a date."
"Of course I've been on a date, hundreds."
"Hundreds? What sort of a girl are you?"
Laura felt the blush rise.
"Just shut up. You're not helping. I can't do this, Andrew. I just can't. Not tonight. Not with a stranger. Especially if he's just, if we're going to, you know, disappoint him."
"Just relax for a moment, okay? I was pulling your leg. I didn't mean to throw you into a funk about it. Look, you meet up somewhere, have a drink or two, chat about what you do, what your interests are. Seriously, you are going to be the hottest girl he has ever spent thirty minutes with. He won't care if you dump him afterwards, just to see the jealous looks on the other guys' faces, that will make his night. Hell, it'll make his year. You don't even have to say that much. Just smile every time he says something, laugh at every joke he makes, and whenever his mouth runs down, just ask him an open question. Why did he choose IT? What's his favourite film? What does he think of Listeners, seeing as he works for them? Just ask a question he can't answer yes or no to, then look into his eyes and say nothing. He'll carry on answering the question all the time you look as though you're interested. That'll give you time to think of the next question. Try to steer the conversation round to what he does for a living, and he'll beg to tell you where the servers are, what their spec is, what colour their motherboards are, anything to keep a beautiful woman hanging on all he says. Seriously, all the preparation you need this evening is to smell nice and look interested. His brain will switch off and give control to another organ entirely."
"So it's come to this? You're pimping me out now?"
"I promise you, if he touches you inappropriately, I shall kill him slowly. Seriously, it's nothing."
"Forgive me. I don't lie for a living. Quite the opposite."
"Ouch. Fair enough, but you're not lying, not by much. It's just two lonely people having a drink. No spark, no foul. Where's the harm? Where's the deception?"
"Wonderful. I've gone from whore to lonely old maid in one breath."
"If you're feeling guilty on his behalf, don't. He'll live off this story for weeks."
"I still don't feel like I'm doing him a favour. God, how do you do this, lie, day in, day out?"
"Good question. Well, there's little chance I'll be doing it for long, however this pans out. Listen, I've emailed him on your behalf. You sounded interested but not overly keen. I'll copy your email to him. I didn't give him too many details about yourself so you don't have to memorise a lot. Just be yourself. Don't lie unnecessarily, it's easier to keep track that way. If you can, find out where the servers are, what security there is, but make it casual. Don't let him suspect you're after that intel."
"Oh, sure, that'll be easy. I'll just casually drop it into the conversation."
"That's my girl. I have every confidence in you."
"I was being sarcastic, Andrew."
"So was I. Where's good to meet?"
"The Lion. It's just off campus and there's no Listeners. Safer for both of us."
"Good girl. Sounds perfect. I'll find it. Relax. I'll be watching over you."
"Oh, a pimp and a stalker. How wonderful."
"My talents are endless. Look, I don't want to teach you to suck eggs, but this evening, it's probably not best to mention you're a Listener."
"You think he'll pass that information back?"
"No, not as such. It's just, well, guys can be a bit funny about that, you know? Nervous, sort of thing."
"Andrew, he works at Guild headquarters. Do you really think he'll prejudiced against us?"
"No, no, not prejudiced exactly. But nervous. Guys brains, well, they're pretty unsophisticated when presented with the sight of a pretty girl. He works at the Guild, but he doesn't date them. Best not to let him think you know what he's thinking."
"That's twice you've complimented my looks."
"Yeah? Like you said, my job is habitual liar. Look, I'll leave it to your discretion. Play it by ear. Just don't tell him you're a spy. That's pretty much the first thing they teach us in spy school."
"I'm not happy with this, Andrew."
"Noted. But you'll be fine. Just one thing more I need to know."
"Yes?"
"Are you really naked?"
By snodlander
Laura stepped out of the cab and regarded the pub. It was the best part of a mile from the campus, close enough to be convenient, too far to be the school's local. It was a new building, masquerading as an old world pub. The car park was half full. She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. The cross-over period; a mix of people stopping off on the way home from work and people coming from home for an evening drink. She wondered which camp Allen fell into. She hoped he'd gone home for a shower first. From his photo Christmas had sent, he was less than the threatened two hundred and fifty pounds, but she had no idea how old the photo was, nor whether it had been touched up.
Would turning up a few minutes early reek of desperation? Would waiting until seven on the dot make her seem like an anally-retentive weirdo? She shook her head and made for the door. She subscribed to a dating site called Made In Heaven. Best seem desperate, then.
Inside, the pub was dark. The low background hubbub of conversation merged with the piped music to mask any individual voice. The large interior was divided into booths and cubicles in an effort to maximise floor space and still give an impression of intimacy.
How did you find an individual you'd never met in this space? What was the etiquette for blind dates? Would it be rude to hold your phone and compare the photos with the customers? Should she shout out his name until he appeared? She smiled to herself at the image.
"Laura?"
Laura turned. At least he hadn't posted a photo of someone else. Alan stood before her, a nervous smile on his lips, his brow furrowed in polite enquiry. He was perhaps a couple of years older than his photo, but she couldn't mark him down for that. Who wouldn't post their best photo? He was an inch shorter than her, not overweight enough to comment on. He was dressed casually, which either meant he wasn't so desperate he dressed to impress, or more likely that he'd come straight from work.
"Allen. Hi."
She held out her hand. Even on a date, a hug seemed too intimate to start off an encounter. He shook it.
"Hi. Gosh, you look nice."
"Thank you." Laura tried to think of a way to return the compliment without sounding sarcastic. However, Allen pre-empted her.
"Sorry, I've come straight from work. You know, what with the short notice." Was that a note of reproach in his voice? How much notice was normally required? "I'd have dressed up if I'd known you were, um, well, anyway, how about a drink? Um, you do drink, don't you?"
"Like a fish," said Laura. "I'm going into rehab tomorrow. Relax," she added, as a look of panic momentarily flashed across his face. "I'm joking. Nervous, I guess."
"Oh, right. Ha. Nervous? Really? I thought it was just us guys got nervous. Anyway, you've no reason to be nervous, not a, not um, not someone like you. Drink?"
No wonder he was single, if he was like this on every date. It was just nerves, she knew, but he was too terrified even to pay her a compliment. Implying she was pretty was not a substitute for actually telling her. A touch of terror was endearing, but if he didn't calm down soon, Laura would start to find it irritating. How long were you supposed to wait on a first date before you were allowed to be sarcastic?
"A glass of red wine would be nice."
"Wine. Red. Okay. Um, I was sitting over there. Is that okay?"
She looked at the booth he indicated.
"Sure."
"Right. Drinks. Um, I'll bring them over."
Laura made herself comfortable in the booth. As casually as she could she scanned the bar. She couldn't see Christmas. Well, he was a spy. He was trained to be inconspicuous. Unless he wasn't here at all. What if he couldn't find the pub? What if he'd been in an accident, or been caught? Had the truck been in the car park? She couldn't remember. She hadn't seen it, but he'd probably parked it up the road. Unless he wasn't here at all. She'd make him suffer later if he was here all the time, letting her worry like this.
"A red wine," said Allen.
Laura smiled her thanks and took it. He sat opposite, a bottle of beer in his hand.
"Well, I'm Allen, obviously. Haven't changed my name since going to the bar." He laughed nervously. "Um, where do we start? You want to know about me, I guess?"
Laura took a sip of her wine. And she thought she hadn't had many dates.
"Sure," she said. "Why not?" Because, obviously, no girl wants to talk about herself on a date. "What do you do?"
"I'm a senior archival strategist."
"Wow. Have you designed any buildings I might have seen?"
"What?"
"Don't you design buildings?"
"What? No. Oh, wait, that's an architect. No, an archival strategist works in I.T."
Laura marked him down for sense of humour. "Oh, okay. Where do you work?"
"The Guild."
"Oh my God, you're a Listener? Should I be wearing a tin foil hat?"
"Oh, no. Most of the people there aren't Listeners. Proper jobs are way below them. They just employ us Normals to do the menial tasks, like, oh, everything. Besides, you can't stop telepathy with tin foil."
"You don't like Listeners?"
Allen shrugged. "Oh, they're okay, I guess, but they're just so supercilious, you know? Like being born with some accidental gene means they're better than everyone else. But without us, the place would just fall apart."
"So why work for them then?"
"Are you kidding?" He ticked off the points on his fingers. "They're the biggest employer for miles around. They pay top dollar. There's no other employer within commuting distance that has their hardware or software, and the benefits package is pretty good too." He leant forward and dropped his voice. "So I can work with the freaks for that sort of money."
"Jeez, don't let them catch you thinking that."
"No chance. For a start, they're not allowed to, not without your consent. Anyway, I only get to see one once in a blue moon."
"Don't you work on the Guild campus then?"
"Oh sure, but our building is tucked away in the corner, out of the way from any of the freaks. No need for them to come bother us, see? We have our own cafeteria, our own building, even our own gate into the compound."
"The compound? You make it sound like a prison camp."
"Well, the school, it sort of is. You have no idea what they do to the little freaks in there. I mean, it must screw with their mind, right? No, that's the real prison camp. We're in the outer circle, where all the grown-up freaks come to vacation. It's like a convent. I mean it's seriously freaky, but they tuck us away in the corner, so we don't get to see them."
"Why would they do that? Tuck you away with the, the freaks, I mean. You'd think they'd put you in with the rest of the admin."
Allen shrugged. "I don't know. Security, perhaps? Some of their databases, they're encrypted so even I can't see what's in there." He winked at Laura. "Makes you wonder what sort of secrets they got locked up in there, doesn't it? Maybe all the dirty fantasies of world leaders. Wouldn't surprise me. Why?"
Because I'm breaking in there? Because I'm going to help their number one enemy hack it? It was all very well for Christmas to say keep your lies to the minimum, but the whole date was one big lie.
"Oh, I just find IT fascinating. I'm jinxed with electronics. That's why I've not brought my notebook. It fritzed on me. Again. I guess I'm just a little bit jealous of anyone that can make it work."
"Yeah?" Allen looked surprised. Was it the surprise of a technician that anyone could be technically incompetent, or just the novelty of someone saying their job was fascinating? "I can take a look at it if you want, later. You know, I can't make any guarantee, but maybe I can fix it. You never know."
Laura could detect the eagerness in his voice to get his hands on her software.
"Thanks, but it's back in the shop now. So, senior thingie? So you're like a manager or something?"
"Yeah. I got a team under me. It means I don't have to work nights, so I can get to date beautiful women like you."
Laura smiled, as if the line wasn't cheesy.
"And how many beautiful women do you get to date?"
"None. Beautiful, I mean. Except you, obviously. I mean, I've got a couple of dates from the site, but, well, I'm the shy type, you know? Besides, I've not long been registered there."
Laura let him flounder. Was it supercilious of her? But then, what else would he expect from a freak? Her phone rang. Only one person knew the number.
"Excuse me," she said. "Hello?"
Christmas stayed silent on the other end. She sighed.
"Is that you, Mum?"
"No, it's not. Is Shirley there?"
"No, she's at the cinema."
"How is loverboy? Has he stolen your heart yet? Your purse? Your will to live?"
"What do you want?" She smiled apologetically at Allen, who smiled back.
"Have you found out where the server room is?"
"Yes."
"Way to go. Okay, time to leave, then. Unless you're faking that bored look. Ask loverboy for a lift home. Make some excuse."
"What?"
"Tell him, oh, tell him your flatmate has locked herself out. Hey, yeah, tell him she's an exotic dancer, and the pair of you would be just so grateful, well, you might just put on a show for him, and then -"
"Fine, fine. I'll see you later." She snapped the phone shut.
"Your emergency escape phone call?" said Allen.
"Sorry?"
"You know, where you get your friend to pretend your granny's died if you don't like me."
"Oh, no, nothing like that. My flatmate's locked herself out of the apartment."
"Right." He looked as though he ranked that along with mortal grannies in the believable excuses league.
"Look, this is a bit naughty, but I wonder. I caught a taxi here. I don't suppose you could give me a lift, could you?"
"A lift? Now?"
"Yes. My flatmate, she's an - she's an idiot, and I'll never hear the end of it if I don't rescue her. Look, I've got a bottle of Merlot in the kitchen. We could, you know, chat there. She's in a state because she's got some hot date tonight, so we'll have the place to ourselves after she's gone."
"Oh. Your place? Well, okay. I mean, if it means that much to your friend." Suddenly it didn't seem to be an imposition anymore.
"Oh, you're so understanding," said Laura, draining her glass. "This is great. I really appreciate it."
"No problem."
They rose and made their way to the door. In the car park Allen placed a proprietary hand around her waist and guided her across the car park.
"That one's mine," he said, nodding ahead. "The black saloon. It's a bit beat up, but it does the job. He stopped and hit the thumb lock. Suddenly Laura was shoved to one side as a figure darted forward.
"What?" said Allen, before he staggered back from a blow to the face
By snodlander
Andrew Christmas spun the dazed Allen around by his shoulder and locked an arm around his neck. Laura stared open-mouthed for a moment, then launched herself forward, slapping at Christmas' back and shoulder.
"Let him go!" she screamed. "What are you doing? Let him go. You're killing him."
Allen's struggles became weaker, and finally stopped.
"Jesus, you psycho. Let him go!" She clenched her fist and tried to put more power into her blows. Christmas grunted and turned his back. Finally he released his hold and let the man down carefully onto the ground.
"Relax. You can stop it now. He's out."
Laura aimed a punch at his face, but Christmas parried it easily, then spun her round, pinning her arms to her side.
"I said calm down. He's fine. I've just put him to sleep, that's all."
He relaxed his hold, and Laura angrily shrugged herself free.
"What are you doing? This was never part of the plan."
"Well, yes, it was always part of the plan. I just didn't let you know about it, that's all."
"We can't go around killing people. That'll just make you what they say you are."
"He's not dead. He's unconscious, and I did it as gently as I could. Would you have preferred I beat him unconscious?" Christmas turned and started to rifle through the man's pockets. "Actually, it might work out rather better than I thought. The last words he heard were you fighting for his honour."
"What are you doing?"
"We need his pass."
"I thought you were going to pick his pocket."
Christmas turned his head to look up at her. He gave her a look as if to say that was the most naive thing he'd heard, then he returned to his search. "No, he'd miss it. We don't want it cancelled. Hello, what's this?" He straightened and held up a ring between his finger and thumb. "Wow, you must have made an impression. He was carrying a wedding ring, just for you." He tossed it towards her and she caught it instinctively. "Be a darling and keep an eye out for local heroes, will you?"
Laura looked around. Christmas had laid Allen out between two cars, hidden from most angles. No-one could see them. She aimed a kick at Allen's leg.
"Whoa. What that was for?"
"He was married. What sort of girl did he think I am?"
Christmas grinned and resumed his search. A moment later he pulled a wallet free. He opened it up and pulled out a pass card.
"Okay. Magnetic swipe with biometrics. Could be worse. That's doable." He took a slender card reader from his pocket and swiped the card. He carefully replaced it in Allen's wallet, bent down and checked Allen's pulse, then took a strip of the tape he'd used to start the cars and wrapped it around Allen's index finger.
"Okay, when he comes round, dump him. I'm parked up about four hundred metres towards town. Come find me."
He pulled a slim wad of folding money from the wallet, then tossed the wallet to one side.
"Not much. He obviously thought you were going to be a cheap date. Oh, don't judge me. I'm just trying to make it look like a mugging. I grabbed his wallet, took his money and ran off, okay? Just like this."
Before Laura could say anything else he turned and sprinted off through the parked cars. Laura knelt down beside the prone Allen. Some colour was returning to his cheeks. What did you do to revive an unconscious patient? She recalled something about the recovery position. She settled for poking him awkwardly in the shoulder.
"Allen?"
He answered with an undecipherable mumble.
"Allen?" She shook his shoulder.
"Wha'?"
"Allen, Allen, are you okay?"
He opened his eyes and focussed with difficulty.
"Yeah," he said, in the face of all the evidence. He smacked his lips and screwed up his face. Then he winced and brought his hand to his nose. "What happened?"
"You were mugged. Don't you remember."
"Yeah. Yeah, I remember now. Hit me. Bastard. Wait." He slapped his pockets.
"He took your money. Left everything else though." She nodded towards the discarded wallet. Allen rolled over and pulled himself to his knees. He picked up his wallet and flicked through it.
"He didn't take any cards?"
"Well, you'd put a stop on them, right? I guess the money was the easiest."
"Yeah, I guess. Wait, wait. What about you?"
"No, I just screamed at him and he ran off. I'm fine. Thanks for asking." Eventually.
He nodded, reached out to his car for support and pulled himself upright.
"Jesus. Mugged. Never been mugged before. Out here, in broad daylight too. Um, not the best way to start a date. Look, give me a minute, just to collect my thoughts, yeah? Then we'll sort your flatmate out."
"Wouldn't you rather go home to your wife?"
"My wife?"
Laura treated him to the 'you're so naive' look that Christmas had directed at her a minute ago. Then she held up the wedding ring.
"It fell out your pocket after he ran off."
Allen looked at the ring, then at her, then back to the ring. He opened his mouth to speak, but Laura interrupted him.
"Oh, don't you dare. Don't you even try to tell me you have an arrangement. Don't tell me she doesn't mind, or I'll phone her myself and confirm it."
"It's not like how it seems," he said.
"Uh huh." Laura tossed the ring to him in an imitation of Christmas. "But it's close enough. I think it's best if we just cut our losses on this one. I don't want to spend the rest of the evening talking to police, and I don't want to have an enraged wife tearing at my hair, so I'll just go home now. Goodbye, Allen."
"I could give you a lift home, at least," said Allen.
"Goodbye, Allen," she said, more forcibly, turned and strode away, the indignant victim of a wannabe adulterer.
Five minutes later Laura found Christmas in the pickup. She flung open the passenger door, slammed it shut behind her and glared at him.
"What?" he said, looking up from a small machine in his lap.
"You know what."
"No. You're the Listener, not me. What's up?"
"That. Back there. The mugging. That's what."
"I was as gentle as I could be, even though he wasn't a very nice person, leading you on like that. Besides, it was you that kicked him, not me."
"You lied to me."
"No. I was merely economical with the truth."
"It's the same thing. You deliberately kept that part of the plan from me. I thought you were just going to lift his wallet or something."
"Wouldn't have worked. I told you. This way he's not aware his card has been cloned, which is safer for you."
"But you could have told me."
"And you could have been Listened to. Or given it away, or flinched when I turned up. No, it was better this way."
She thumped him hard on his shoulder.
"No! No, you don't lie to me. You don't dupe me like everyone else. I'm not some mark you're setting up. Don't you dare, don't you dare use me, Andrew Christmas, or I will march into the Guild and give you up."
"No you won't. That's suicide, and you know it."
"Look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me I won't do it."
Christmas looked into her eyes. After a second or two he nodded slowly.
"Fair enough. No more secrets. I'm sorry."
"Well... well, so you should be," said Laura. She felt as though she'd just stepped on the top stair that wasn't there. "What else have you missed out?"
"Nothing." He paused, staring out of the windscreen for a moment. "No, nothing. The rest is simply as we discussed. The good news is, we can move everything up to tonight. We have his card. We have his fingerprint. I've finished laminating the card." He pulled out the card from the machine on his lap. "I've cloned his fingerprint onto this strip here. All you need do to gain access is to swipe the card and place the strip on the fingerprint reader. Best to try and be surreptitious when you do. Find the server room, plug in the silver bullet, and Bob's your uncle. Then we hide away, get to the Nielson hearings, and we all live happily ever after. Simple."
"That's your plan?"
"Broadly, yes. I'll fully admit you've got the most exciting role, but we that only sit and hack also play our part. I can't go into the Guild. I'll stand out like a sore thumb. Believe me, I'd much rather do this myself."
"You know, I think you would. You get off on all this spy stuff, don't you."
Christmas laughed. "Well, tell me honestly, hand on heart. Haven't you felt more alive in the last few days than ever you have before?"
"Shut up," said Laura. Then she stared out of the passenger window to hide the blush that would tell Christmas he was right.
By snodlander
Christmas dropped Laura off a block from the campus. The roads were quieter as she walked back towards the retreat. Some office lights were still on; the sun never set on the Guild. A global organisation worth more than the GDP of many countries. Would they really hide the sort of secret Christmas accused them of, just to preserve their profit margin? Well, of course they would. Which corporation wouldn't? But to murder? To flout the Listening ethics so casually?
Well, they'd know soon enough. A couple of hours more and it would all be over, bar the shouting. Once Christmas had his evidence, she could lie low somewhere until he had given his evidence to the Nielson committee. Then, according to him, any motive for silencing her would disappear.
Except for revenge, maybe.
Laura quickened her pace, striding out forcefully. No, she had to know. Now that Christmas had introduced doubt. Now the Guild had, come to that. One way or another, she'd find out.
One way or another.
What if it turned out Christmas was all the Guild said he was? He was right about one thing; she couldn't rely on her talent. She had no way of knowing if he was just very good at lying, or was totally honest with her. How did the world cope, before Listeners? How could one business trust another? How could one person trust another?
They just did. The firmness of a handshake, the set of the eyes. Body signals too subtle to consciously read, but a language people were innately born with. And which, if you were a Listener, atrophied. All the people she'd met were either Listeners, and bodily language was irrelevant, or Normals, and they were only ever suspicious of her.
Except Christmas, but then he had nothing to fear from her.
The gate to the retreat loomed. She waved the pass and nodded to the guard. The shift had changed. This one was older, maybe a retired cop coasting towards retirement.
"Excuse me," she said. "Can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Is this the only entrance? To the retreat, I mean."
"No. You got a map on you?"
"Oh, no, sorry. It's in my room."
"No problem."
He tapped his fingers methodically over the keys, squinting regularly at the screen to check his typing. Then he swivelled his screen round so she could see.
"Okay-dokey. This here line is the retreat perimeter, check? Now we're at the south gate, just hereabouts. There's a gate here, on the east, and one here, to the north. This one here's to the school, but of course you can't get to it lessen you go though the school first. But I expect you had enough of that place."
"What about that one? There to the bottom right?"
"Oh, you don't want that one. It don't lead anywhere into the retreat, just some buildings fenced off from here. No, these three, them's the ones you want. Specially the north gate, if you're looking for a party."
"Excuse me?"
"Old Bill's, towards the lake." He winked. "No bar in here, see?"
"Thank you." She flashed a smile and walked on.
Her room was as she had left it. The obnoxious Allen hadn't stood a chance, even if it had been a genuine date, but something had prompted her to ensure her room was immaculate before she'd left. Not that she'd stood a chance with him either, once he found out she was a Listener. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to get inside the perimeter. She smiled at herself. Were all women as neurotic on a blind date? She perched on the edge of her bed and tapped her knees absently. She had a couple of hours yet before Andrew's plan swung into effect.
She stood and walked towards the bathroom. Her encounter with Allen had left her feeling grimy. As she passed the dresser she scooped up her phone, just in case.
It was half past ten when her phone rang. It startled her, despite having been the focus of her attention for the previous fifteen minutes. She answered it.
"Is that you, Mum?"
"No, it's not. Is Shirley there?"
"No, she's at the cinema."
"Go." The line went dead. No 'Everything will be all right'. No 'Good Luck'. Laura squared her shoulders. Well, that obviously meant he had every confidence in her. She was now a peer.
Sure.
That's what that meant.
She felt the reassuring outline of the tiny cylinder in her pocket. The end was minutes away. Minutes, and the nightmare would be over. She stepped out into the night.
She walked through the deserted grounds towards the east gate. She didn't want to arouse the suspicions of the guard who had let her in. The night was mild, and the carefully tended flower beds gave the air a freshness. She was a city girl, but on evenings like this she could appreciate the attraction of the countryside. She passed only one other figure, a Listener outside her rooms practicing yoga. They smiled a greeting at each other, but Laura hurried on.
The guard ignored her as she passed through the gate. She turned right and made her way towards the corner. Ahead, inside the fence, loomed a building. Unlike the surrounding ones, this was - she counted the windows - eight storeys tall. Where would they put the servers? In the basement, out of sight? On the top floor, so the air-con units could vent easily? In the films the heroes would have found a floor plan on the Net, but this was real life.
She rounded the corner. Some one hundred metres ahead stood the gate. It too was manned. Confidence, that's what Christmas had told her. It's amazing what you can get away with if you just had the confidence. She set her shoulders and strode forward purposefully.
She held both ID cards in her hand, hers and Allen's. She approached the gate and swiped his card, trying to make it look natural as she palmed her own. The gate opened without the flashing lights and sirens she half-expected.
"Excuse me," called the security guard as she walked through. Laura turned. The guard rose to his feet and leant on the windowsill. "You're new. Not seen you before."
"What?" He wasn't meant to stop her. He wasn't even meant to look at her. What if he looked up the ID she'd just swiped to enter. Did she really look like an Allen?
"I've not seen you before. First shift?"
What had Allen said about Listeners? Arrogant? Was his view commonplace amongst Guild employees? Was in commonplace everywhere? Laura held up her card, her real one.
"I'm Listener Robinson. Is there a problem," - She made a show of looking at his badge - "Mendez?"
"No. I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were a Listener. We don't get many here. Is there a problem?"
"Do you want there to be? Do you want me to be able to do my job, or would you rather we chat? What's on your mind?"
"Nothing," he stuttered. "Sorry, I was just, you know, passing the time of day."
Laura looked at his badge again, nodded, then spun on her heel. Oh, that was cruel. She'd long ago learnt to avoid innocent phrases that reminded people unconsciously of her talent. What are your thoughts on this? Are you thinking what I'm thinking? What's on your mind? Laura almost felt a guilty joy. It felt like swearing in church.
The door into the building also had a lock, but no guard. Laura swiped Allen's card and entered into the lobby. There were no signs. It would have been nice to have a board stating Super Secret Servers - 3rd Floor. She couldn't stand here, just gawping, wondering what to do. Her back itched. What if the guard was watching?
She hit the elevator button, just for something to do. The doors immediately slid open. Laura was a little disappointed. Waiting for the elevator would have given her an excuse to think about her next action.
She stepped into the cabin. The floor buttons gave no clue; they just told her the floor numbers. If she were a computer, where would she like to live? Not on the ground floor. Too vulnerable, to easy for a break-in. The top floor, out of the way? Or would that be reserved for management who enjoyed a panoramic view? The basement? After all, what did servers need windows for anyway?
She'd start in the basement and work her way upwards. It seemed a lot easier when Christmas explained it in the cafe. She hit the basement button. It beeped at her but the cab remained unmoved. Next to the bank of buttons a card reader and black plastic facia flashed. She took out Allen's pass and held it to the reader. The facia flashed. She held the strip Christmas had imprinted with Allen's finger against it. She suddenly felt vulnerable. If this didn't work, all they had to do was lock the elevator down and collect her at their leisure. For the first time in her life she experienced a wave of claustrophobia.
The basement button illuminated. With a wave of relief that felt close to nausea she hit the button. The elevator jerked into life and the sinking feeling in her stomach finally had an excuse.
By snodlander
The elevator opened out into a non-descript corridor. The floor was devoid of carpet; some sort of vinyl surface sent her heel taps echoing down the hall. There were no helpful signs down here either. The fact she had been required to swipe a card and give a fingerprint was encouraging, though. How much security would a janitor have to pass to get to the supply cupboard?
Laura glanced both ways along the corridor. There were no obvious signs of CCTV cameras. Where could she start? What would she say if she were discovered? She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She should start in the most deserted parts of the building, and maybe she could avoid any unnecessary encounters. She cast the Net, gently sending it out from her. If there were any Listeners down here, she didn't want to alert them.
To her left a group of four minds huddled together. A coffee room, perhaps, or an office they all worked in? To the right it seemed clear. She didn't want to cast too far. It was unlikely a Listener would be around at this time of night, but she felt vulnerable enough as it was. She decided to go to her right first.
She tried the doors as she walked down the corridor, guiltily looking both ways before she turned each handle. Most were locked with traditional keys. A couple had fingerprint readers on them, but she was loathe to try those if she didn't have to. Who knew what alarms she might set off if she tried an unauthorised lock?
She reached the end of the corridor without finding a single door that opened to her. It angled left to reveal an identical corridor running at right-angles. So the building was built around a square, the corridor eventually turning back to the elevator. That meant she would have to eventually confront the knot of employees, but not just yet. She cast the Net again, trying to establish if anyone inhabited this end of the building. It came up empty. Without enthusiasm, Laura started down this leg of the corridor, softly trying door handles as she went.
Some burglar she turned out to be. Gaining egress into the building had been relatively straightforward, but now she was here she was as useful as a hose in the desert. She couldn't pick locks and she was too scared to try the fingerprint readers. Wonderful. What if every floor was like this? What could she do? How could she face Christmas afterwards?
Something wasn't right. She stopped, turned, and regarded the section of passage she had just walked along. What was it her subconscious had kicked her about? She backtracked to the last door she had passed. It was locked, of course, and a fingerprint reader kept it locked. What was different about this door? Nothing. It was identical to all the others, anonymous and immovable. She looked up. There!
A thick duct ran across the ceiling of the corridor and disappeared through the wall above the door. Was that significant? It wasn't air conditioning; that was tucked away in the plenum above the ceiling, regular grilles marking its position. Power cables then? Why would that be significant? Because you'd need a lot of power to justify having your own power duct, separate from the main building power. What would need a lot of power?
Laura wiped her hands on her thighs. This had to be the server room. Why else would they need extra power cables? Well, for any number of reasons, but it was the likeliest proposition so far. What alternative was there? Wander around the building until daybreak, finding nothing but locked doors? Asking the nerds on the other side of the building? 'Excuse me, I'm a hacker. Could you point me to your server room, please?'
But suppose Allen hadn't access to this particular room? Would that ring alarm bells in the system? Would the building be locked down until she could be delivered into the hands of Lee and Jones? She felt sick at the prospect. She shouldn't do. After all, they were the Guild, they were there for her, but after Lee's behaviour in the car she loathed the thought of ever seeing them again.
She took closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No, she had to do this. What else could she do? She wiped her hands again, fighting the nausea rising in her. She took Allen's card, braced herself and swiped it over the card reader. The corridor failed to fill with alarm sirens. Instead, the fingerprint reader flashed. She held the fake print over the reader. How long would it take her to sprint to the elevator? Would it even work by the time she got there?
The lock clicked. Laura took the handle in a shaky hand and pushed. The door opened.
She slipped inside and pushed the door closed behind her. The room was lit by muted sodium lights, giving the whole place a yellow monochrome feel. Cabinets of winking lights and multi-coloured cables filled the room. If this wasn't the server room, she couldn't imagine what else it might be. She moved quickly along the cabinets, searching for any clue as to their function. They were a world removed from her notebook, completely alien to her. They didn't have keyboards or screen, and nothing that looked like a universal port. She moved to the next row. These were even more unlikely, wardrobe-like cabinets with a handful of lights on the facia and nothing else. Supposing this wasn't the server room. Suppose this was some other IT function, and the server rooms were somewhere remote? Laura pushed the thought away and pressed on, scanning each cabinet in turn for anything that looked familiar.
Against the far wall stood a rack of machines, stacked to the ceiling behind glass panels. Laura opened a panel. A blast of frozen air hit her. She studied the rack. There, a keyboard on a sliding tray tucked neatly into the maze of circuit boards. She pulled it out. That at least looked familiar. She pushed it back and studied the other closely-packed tiers of electronics. Another tray seemed to be on sliders. She tugged that, and out slid a screen, hinging down at chest height. So these were the servers, they had to be.
She shoved the screen back and looked for a universal port. There were none. The other shelves seemed to be designed to slide out as well, but they remained fast as Laura tugged at them. Were there retaining screws, or some sort of catch? She couldn't find them, and didn't want to force anything. She'd sent so many notebooks to electronic heaven, who knew what damage she could do to a sophisticated piece of equipment like this?
She closed the glass door and walked down the row. Each rack appeared identical to its neighbour. She felt a wave of frustration. She had come so far, got so close. To fail now over something so simple was infuriating.
One of the glass panels fronted an empty rack, the shelving bare, ports and cables unconnected against the wall. Laura opened the door and poked her head in. There was a gap between the neighbouring server and the wall. She leant forward, squeezing her head into the confined space, trying to see behind the rack. Cables ran from the rack into the rear. How did they do that? The unit must slide out somehow, but she was damned if she could work out how. From the acute angle she had it appeared to have a couple of free ports in the back. Were they universal ports? They could be. She pulled out the silver bullet Christmas had given her and reached around. There wasn't enough room for her head and her arm, so she tried to find a port by touch. The small fob caught on the lip of a port and slipped to one side. Laura was almost sick with the sudden fear of dropping the thing behind the rack and never being able to rescue it. Slowly, carefully, she withdrew her arm and wiped her hands free of sweat yet again.
Come on, she thought. She could do this. So close. Stop being such a klutz.
She tried again, searching for an opening with her fingertips, manoeuvring the tiny device into position. Finally it slid home. Was that it? Laura withdrew her arm and pushed her head through. A tiny green LED winked at her from behind the server. Success! Now all she had to do was hope that it was on the same system Christmas needed access to.
She closed the class panel and stepped back, weak and trembling with relief. It was done.
"Can I help you?"
Laura whirled in surprise at the sudden query from behind her.
By snodlander
A man in his early twenties, dressed in dirty jeans and a T-Shirt with the logo 'THE GEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH' optimistically emblazoned on it, stood across the room, a nervous look of enquiry on his face.
"What?" Laura desperately tried to maintain a poker face as the emotions ran rampant through her.
"Can I help you? This is a restricted area. How did you get in?"
Laura jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
"Why is this empty?" she said. Attack was the best defence, and it had worked before.
"Sorry?"
"Here." Laura turned and rapped on the glass panel. "Why is this empty?"
The technician shrugged. "It just is. Look, sorry, but who are you?"
"Listener Robinson." She flashed her own card. "You got the email?"
"Email?"
"Yes. You are in I.T. aren't you? Do you have ID?"
"Um, yeah, sure." He waved the card hanging on a lanyard round his neck. "Teddy Dupont. What email?"
"That would be Edward Dupont?" Laura tried to look as though she were memorising the name for a future blistering email. "The email about the Intelligence Collation team. Last week," she added as Dupont looked at her with a mixture of confusion and panic. "You do read your emails, the ones that don't come from dating web sites, I mean."
"That's not me. I mean, I don't - I didn't get the email."
Laura sighed. "The Intelligence Collation team was formed, well, never mind why. The point is, we need a dedicated server. This gap, it's not being used? It's not earmarked for anything?"
"No. I mean, I don't think so. Not as far as I know, anyway."
"Who would know?"
"Bert. I mean Albert Rose. He's the systems manager."
"Is he here?"
"No. Well, not at this time of night. He works days."
Laura looked at her watch as if to query why this time of night wasn't considered days.
"Should I phone him? At home, I mean," asked Dupont, eager to spread the blame.
Laura sighed and shook her head.
"No, never mind. I'll catch him during the day when he is here. What was your name again?"
"Edward Dupont," he said, misery written all over his face.
"Okay. Your job tonight, Edward, is to find out where the hell my email got to, okay?"
"Um, email isn't my - I'm OS and networks." He looked up at Laura's face. "But yeah, okay, I'll get on to it."
Laura nodded, then strode past him towards the door. She held her head high and back straight all the way to the elevator. She wondered what Dupont would be doing now. Bitching about Listeners and their holier-than-thou attitudes with his geek friends, probably. Let him. By the time they established her unit was bogus she would be gone. The nightmare would have all but ended and she would be free.
She tried to keep an air of aloof determination as she strode out of the building and past the security guard at the gate. He pointedly ignored her as she swiped Allen's card to leave the enclosure. Good. She dropped the card on the floor in the grass by the fence. If Allen had already noticed the loss of his card he might just possibly believe it fell out of his wallet when he left. Anyway, it might buy her a little more time. All she needed was a few more minutes. It was so close.
She forced herself to walk along the footpath by the perimeter fence. When she rounded the corner she could see the east gate into the retreat. She was sick with fear and elation. She wanted to run, the compulsion almost making her stumble, but she willed herself to walk at a normal pace. Just a few minutes, that was all. Into the retreat, grab her bag and walk back out. Christmas would meet her outside the campus, and that would be the end of it all. She screwed up the fingerprint strip and dropped it into a drain.
She walked through the gate, nodding a greeting to the guard. That's right, she was just an ordinary innocent Listener on the run, nothing to be suspicious of. The retreat was deserted as she made her way through the housing blocks and neat gardens. Christmas would drop her off somewhere, and then she would hide. Grab a room in some anonymous motel and hibernate until Christmas appeared in front of the Neilson Committee. That had to be the end of it. Then she could resume her life.
As what, though? Would she still be able to be a Listener after the truth was exposed? Well, of course, on one level she would always be a Listener. You couldn't just make yourself deaf to people's minds. But what sort of world would it be afterwards?
Could it be any worse than this, being sought by the police, the Guild and God knew who else?
There was her apartment. She gave in to the urge and ran the last few yards. She fumbled the latch and fell in, slamming the door closed behind her. She switched on the lights.
"Hello dear," said Babs Jones, looking up from an armchair. "You know, we really didn't expect to find you here, of all places. We were so worried when you left the car. I'm a little hurt you didn't get in touch when you arrived, though." She gave Laura a mock stern expression.
Laura froze, desperately trying to think of what to do now. Her mind betrayed her. After everything that she'd done, everything she had gone through, to be caught at the very last turned her brain to jelly.
"Are you all right?" asked Babs. "You look a little pale. Come on, have a seat here. I'll make us a nice cup of coffee and we can have a little chat."
"Tea," said Laura automatically.
"Tea then. Shall I be mother?" She stood and crossed to the kitchen area. Laura waited until she had her back turned, then whirled round and flung open the door.
"Hi," said Peter Lee, a hand on each door jamb, smiling coolly. "Not going anywhere, surely. Not when you've just got here." He stopped leaning on the frame and grasped one of Laura's elbows firmly, guiding her back into the apartment.
"Isn't this cosy?" said Babs from the kitchen area. "Now we can all have a nice chat about this whole sorry affair."
By snodlander
Laura sat in an armchair. Babs sat in the other, facing her across the coffee table. Peter lounged against the wall, arms folded, his eyes fixed on Laura. Babs fussed over the mugs of tea, then sat back, looking over her mug at Laura. Laura ignored her tea. Instead she tried to keep a poker face as she threw up mental barriers. She couldn't feel any presence, but then she hadn't when Peter had spoken to her a lifetime ago at the restaurant, and look at what had happened to poor Ted as a result.
"Please excuse the intrusion," said Babs. "I know, I know. You're on retreat, and normally that would be absolutely sacrosanct, but we are in such desperate need. You understand, don't you?"
Laura wondered how long the charade would continue. Peter had given her no doubt that this wasn't a voluntary chat, but Babs continued to smile anxiously like a housewife suddenly confronted by a visit from the President.
"We really must catch this dreadful man Christmas, and you are our best lead. It must have been awful for you, to be kidnapped by him like that. He didn't hurt you or, you know, anything like that, did he?"
Laura shook her head.
"So Laura dear, look, this is the situation. We need to get every iota of information about him that we possibly can. Any detail, no matter how trivial, could help us catch him, you see? Now, I know the last time we met, Peter here acted unforgivably. He did it with the best of intentions, but even so, he should never have tried to Listen to you without consent. He is very sorry about that, aren't you, Peter."
"Yes," said Peter, with no hint of contrition.
"But really, the only way we can be sure of getting every piece of information is for us to Listen to you. "
"No," said Laura through gritted teeth.
"I understand, really I do, but we can't allow this murderer to remain free, you understand? If you rather, I can Listen. I will understand if you don't want Peter to."
"No."
Babs sighed and looked at Peter, a question on her face. Peter shrugged himself off the wall and walked over to Babs. The pair of them stared at Laura.
"That's a pity," said Peter. "I was honestly hoping you still believed Christmas was just a psychopath, but you obviously don't."
Babs looked at Laura with hurt reproach, as though her failure to believe them was somehow a personal attack.
"I think I can recognise a psychopath when I see one," said Laura, pointedly looking into Peter's eyes. He smiled coldly.
"If you want to cast me in the role of the bad guy, I can play it," he said. "We're going to Listen to you. You think you have a choice, but you don't. We're going to extract every little secret you have, every suspicion, every hunch. And then you'll have served your purpose."
"The others won't stand for it. You think you can do that and get away with it?"
Peter shrugged. "We have done up till now. You have no idea. We have carte blanche. We are simply protecting the Guild, and if we have to we can take whatever measures are necessary. You think your friends will rush to your aid? They'll never know. Something will happen. I don't know yet. Maybe you'll have a heart attack." He raised a finger suddenly. "Or maybe that psychopath Christmas will finally have his wicked way with you. Yes, that would work out very well. Such a shame, you so young, to be raped and murdered by a madman."
Babs clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Such a shame," she said.
Laura felt sick with fear. They were right. Eventually she would buckle. It was exhausting to keep the barriers up for any length of time, and at some point she'd need some sleep. But she had to hold on, at least for a few hours.
She threw her head back and screamed. "Help me! Someone, help!"
Babs and Peter remained unmoved.
"We took the liberty of moving your neighbours to other apartments in the refuge," said Peter. "Apparently there was problem with, what was it?"
"Chemicals in the drains," said Babs.
"That's right. So scream all you like. This block is empty. We thought we'd conduct the interview here anyway. It's easier than ferrying you to our basement office. I'll warn you, though. A little screaming is fun, but too much sets off my migraine, so keep it up and eventually I will gag you."
He reached behind Babs' chair and pulled out a small case. He smiled as he opened it and laid the contents out on the coffee table in a neat line: a pair of handcuffs, a plastic gag, a small plastic box and a hypodermic syringe. He snapped the seal on the box and opened it to reveal a line of small phials.
"Forcing a trained Listener is always a challenge," he said. "I've looked up your records. You really are quite gifted. Oh, you lack the confidence, the report said, but you scored high in your class. I think, all things being equal, it would be quite possible for you to block me for a little time. You know, I'm rather looking forward to that. It will be a workout for me. I don't often get to flex my mental muscles, so to speak."
He picked up a phial of the clear liquid. "Of course, all things aren't going to be equal, are they. No indeed. You recognise this? Yes? Empathol? This is going to be a bit of a judgement call, I'm afraid. I hardly think the sort of dose we'd give a norm would suffice, but too much, well, I'm sure you know what that will do. Scramble your brains for good. Maybe that would be better than Mr Christmas killing you. Trapping you inside the mind of an imbecile. Hmm. I don't know. We'll see."
He picked up the syringe. "It's good you have a nice head of hair. Easier to hide the -"
He stopped as a sudden trilling filled the air. He reached into Laura's pocket and pulled out the throw-away phone. He looked at the number, then held it out for Laura to see.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
He held the syringe millimetres from her eye. "Find out then, and be a good girl."
He hit the answer button and switched on the loudspeaker.
"Hello?" said Laura. The caller remained silent. Peter raised his eyebrows and pushed the phone closer to her.
"Hello?" she repeated. "Who's this? Hello?"
The loudspeaker clicked and the line went dead.
"Must have been a wrong number," she said.
"Must have been," said Peter, flicking buttons on the phone. "A persistent wrong number though. He's called you several times. In fact, it's the only number that's called you."
He hit the stud behind his own ear.
"Yes, this is Lee. I'm going to read you a phone number." He recited the number, then listened as the person at the other end presumably read it back. "I want to know everything about it. Who it's registered to, where it was bought, the call log, where it was last used, everything, to my notebook, ASAP."
He looked down at Laura and shook his head.
"That was stupid. You should have cooperated. Now we're going to add that to the list of questions we're going to ask you."
"Was it him?" asked Babs.
"Of course it was him. Why didn't he speak? Some kind of password? It doesn't matter. We'll have all the answers soon enough."
He put the phial and syringe back and picked up the handcuffs. "Just so we can keep you comfortable," he said.
Laura jumped up, overturning the chair, and dove for the door. As she reached for the handle Peter barged into her, slamming her into the door, before throwing her onto the floor. He dropped on her, knee painfully in her kidney, and grabbed her wrist. Laura screamed obscenities and scrabbled with her free hand for any purchase she could get on her assailant. She felt the cold steel snap around her wrist. She threw her free hand forward, stretching it as far as she could from Peter.
"Ms Jones, a little help?" grunted Peter, keeping her writhing body pinned to the ground. Babs rose from her chair and dropped to her knees by Laura's head. She grabbed Laura's arm in both hands.
"Please, no. No. Don't let him do this," she pleaded. Babs shushed her gently, like a mother comforting a sick child, but continued to pull Laura's hand towards the handcuffs.
"Leave me alone, you bitch!" screamed Laura, giving up on the sisterhood gambit.
The cuff tightened on her other wrist. They rose, and pulled Laura to her feet. Without warning Babs swung a vicious slap into Laura's face.
"Don't call me names, dear," she said in a gentle voice. "I'm only doing my job."
She turned and righted the chair. Peter pushed Laura back into it. Laura jumped up again, but Peter landed a punch to her midriff that folded her over. He pushed her back into the chair, and this time she didn't have the strength or breath to stand again.
"Look," said Peter with a sigh. "If it makes you feel better, we can tie you to the bed. Actually, it would make me feel better. If Ms Jones wasn't here to chaperone.... Anyway, you can make it hard on yourself, or really, really hard. Your choice. I think we'll start with a ten mill dose, just to give you a buzz. Then we'll have our little chat."
He dropped the phone on the coffee table and picked up a phial. "Did I say ten mill? I think fifteen instead. I have a feeling you're going to be a wilful little minx."
By snodlander
Laura's phone trilled again. Leeson frowned and stared at Laura for a moment, lips pursed. Then he placed the syringe and phial on the table and hit the answer button on the phone.
"Hello?" Even distorted by the phone Laura could recognise Christmas' voice. "Leeson? I know you're there."
"I think you must have the wrong number," said Leeson.
"Whatever. It's over, Leeson. I've got the files off your mainframe."
"Really?" He looked up at Laura. "I wonder why you have your friend lurking here, if that were the case."
"She's served her purpose. The data's too important for me to risk extracting her."
"Oh, that's cold, even for you. No, I don't think so. You can't access the system, and then there's the uploading. And even if the files existed, I'm sure they'd be encrypted. No, Mister Wrong Number, I don't think you have anything at all. And even if you did, I think there's something more you'd like than some old boring files."
"Andrew!" shouted Laura. "Do it! Get those files to the committee."
"Excuse me one moment." Leeson hit the mute button and smiled nastily. "Babs, use the gag, would -- " He stopped and glanced at his phone. "Belay that. Take the call on my number. That'll be tech with Christmas's location. Get someone there now."
He hit the mute button on Laura's phone again.
"I'm so sorry about that, Mister Wrong Number. Our friend here has quite a healthy mouth on her. I know, would you like to meet her? I'm sure we could arrange a little soiree, exchange gifts. Are you close by? Yes, I think you must be."
Jones had risen from her chair, turned and placed a finger in one ear as she muttered into the phone.
"Let's set a date, shall we?" continued Leeson. "Soon, I think, because you never know what might happen. Shall we say sometime in the next fifteen minutes?"
Babs' muttering grew more exasperated in the background.
"What guarantees do I have?" asked Andrew.
"None. We're just going to have a short, friendly chat. I'm sure our friend has things to do, places to go. She's just waiting to see you and then she can be off on her merry way. Do excuse me one more time." He muted the phone and screamed, "What is it?"
"I assure you, Judy, I have no idea where she is," Jones told the caller on the other phone.
"Judy!" shouted Laura.
Leeson stepped forward and slammed his open hand over her mouth so violently the chair tipped back and Laura thought for a moment she would topple over. Leeson's thumb and forefinger closed her nostrils and he stepped behind her, pulling the back of her head into his stomach. His finger applied painful pressure onto her septum. Laura tried to scream, and then she tried to take a breath. She slammed her head from side to side, but his grip was too strong.
"No, she's not here," said Jones. "Sorry, I have another call." She hung up and hit the stud behind her ear.
"Yes?"
Laura's lungs burnt and her whole world shrunk to taking another breath. Suddenly Leeson released her. As she gasped for breath he stepped in front of her then landed a vicious punch to her stomach. She doubled up and fought for breath. Somewhere a million miles away she heard Leeson saying, "Fifteen minutes, and then we play rough."
Jones was holding a conversation that seemed to consist entirely of conjunctions. "But.. yes, though... but if..."
Leeson grabbed Laura's hair and jerked her head back. As she gasped in pain he stuffed a plastic ball into her mouth and tugged straps behind her head. She scraped her instep down the inside of his ankle and was rewarded by his wince.
Her phone rang again. Leeson hit the button.
"Laura? Laura, honey? It's Mom. Are you there? What's going on? Who's Mr. Christmas? Is that a real name? Why have you changed --"
Leeson cut the conversation off.
"Sir?" Jones held out the phone. "It's the VP of the council."
Leeson looked down at Laura with a look of hatred on his face. The he treated her to a humourless smile. "Forgive me for a minute," he said, then smashed a fist into her face.
By snodlander
Somewhere Laura could hear voices and the whine of air conditioning. Her nose was blocked and she had problems breathing through her mouth. Her nose hurt. She wanted to throw up, but her mouth was full of something.
She opened her eyes and immediately screwed them shut again. The room was too bright. She tried to shield her eyes with her hand, but she couldn’t. Handcuffs. Leeson! She forced her eyes open again.
She lay on her side on the floor. Jones and Leeson stood huddled on the other side of the room, heads close, arguing inaudibly. Several other men stood around, calf high boots and black uniforms. She tried to scream an obscenity at Leeson, but her mouth was full of plastic. Her rage came out muffled and undecipherable. Leeson glanced at her.
“Get her out. Next door.”
Two men grabbed her under her armpits and hauled her to her feet. She kicked at their shins but they ignored her, dragging her towards the door. She let her legs go limp, trying to maximise her dead weight, but they dragged her forward anyway.
Outside she was as blinded by the dark as she was by the light inside the apartment, but the cold air helped clear the last cobwebs from her mind. He’d hit her. The bastard had hit her! She could taste the blood in her mouth. Her sinuses screamed at her. Had he broken her nose? The complete and utter –
The two men shoved her through a door. She staggered and fell, managing to twist onto her back before she hit the floor. One of the security guys hit the light switch. She coughed, her mouth filling with saliva and she gagged. She coughed again, which just made it worse. She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes watered. She was going to die.
She kicked out and felt her toe connect with a boot. She took a long, laboured breath around the plastic gag, her saliva filling her oesophagus. She choked again.
She felt a hand on the back of her head and her mouth was free. She rolled onto her side and coughed until lights flashed in front of her eyes. Then saliva rushed into her mouth and she vomited onto the carpet.
“You all right?”
“Fuck you,” she gasped. She spat the acrid taste onto the carpet. Blood from her broken nose mingled with the mess on the floor. She was going to kill him. Somehow she was going to get the cuffs off and then she was going to kill him.
One of the guards stepped out of the bathroom, a glass of water in his hand.
“Here,” he said, lifting her into a sitting position. She glared at him, but took the water anyway.
“I bet your mother’s proud of you,” she rasped.
He waggled the empty glass. “More?”
Before Laura could answer the door burst open and Leeson stormed into the room.
“You bitch!” he screamed. “I am going to fuck you up!”
Jones followed him into the room.
“Sir?” she said, laying a hand on his arm.
Leeson shoved her hand free and waved a finger at Laura. “You think you’ve won? You think you’re fireproof now?”
“Sir?” Jones held up a phone. “I have the police on hold.”
“Screw them!”
“They’re at the gate. They’ve got the signal from her phone. Christmas told them it was his. They’re coming regardless.”
Leeson pointed a finger at Laura, his face twisted in rage. “Jesus!” he screamed, turned and snatched the phone from Jones’ hand, storming out of the apartment.
Jones held the door open, then jerked her head at the two guards.
“You too. Wait outside.”
They left without a word. Jones closed the door on them turned and leant against the door. She stared at Laura for a moment. Laura glared back.
“Cards on the table,” Jones said. “We’re all up shit creek, dear.” She grunted as she knelt beside Laura. “You’ve got – “ She indicated the side of her mouth. She pulled a tissue from her pocket. “Let me –“ She dabbed at Laura’s face.
“When I say we, I mean all of us. You, me, the Guild, governments, economies. The world’s going to burn, dear, and people are going to be burnt.” She dabbed at Laura’s upper lip. “Peter’s quite cross. With you, of course, but cross generally too. He shouldn’t have hit you, though, but he’s stressed. And he’s not quite come to terms with the way the world is about to change.” She stopped dabbing and looked into her eyes. “It is going to change, isn’t it? Your friend got access to the files somehow, didn’t he.”
“Too right,” growled Laura. “And it was down to me.” She lifted her chin, daring Jones to do something about it.
Jones nodded. “Your friends are quite loyal, you know. Your friend Judy has arranged a campaign. Our switchboards are flooded, apparently. All Guild members, too. I dread to think what my inbox looks like. Peter and I have a pretty broad remit, but even he has a boss. No one is so high up that a stink can’t reach them, if the stink is strong enough. Do you want to clean up, by the way?” She nodded at the bathroom. “I’ve done my best, but to be honest no amount of washing is going to do anything for the swelling. He shouldn’t have hit you, but my hands were tied, I’m afraid. He’s my manager.” She shrugged. “Well, at least for now.”
Laura said nothing but maintained her stare.
“Anyway, it is what it is. We can’t do anything about what’s passed. Here, let me help you up.” Jones hauled herself to her feet and hooked a hand under Laura’s arm. “Let’s sit you down on a chair, shall we?”
For a moment Laura resisted, but the floor was uncomfortable and she was too close to the damp stain on the carpet. Jones turned the chair to face the bed and steered Laura into it. She sat on the bed and heaved a sigh.
“You’re a problem, dear, and I’m really at a loss with what to do with you. Peter, bless him, is very good at the tactical, but strategically he’s a little short sighted. He’s as likely to go down in flames and take you with him as anything else. And he is going to crash and burn, there’s no way out for him. Maybe we all will, but I don’t think so. I think the Guild will survive, but obviously in a very different world. Heads will roll, but not the whole body. Exciting times, one way or the other. Opportunities for some, if they can ride the storm out.”
She rose and moved to the window. She tweaked the curtain.
“The police will be here in a moment. They’ll need to see your phone, of course. We’ll huff and puff, but we’ll have to let them into the room. Peter will supervise that.” She turned and stared at Laura. “As they go in everyone will be focused on that. Them, Peter, everyone. And the police will be looking for Christmas. A man, not two women. Unless you screw things up, which, no offense, dear, seems to be your special talent. So, if I let you go, are you going to screw things up? Remember, the police are looking for your boyfriend too. It’s not in your interests to alert them to who you are.”
“Why?” asked Laura.
“Hm? Why am I letting you go? To be honest, it’s in my self-interest. Christmas doesn’t seem the sort that would be intimidated into not giving evidence, especially if you were out of the picture. And in his current mood, I don’t think Peter has your health at the top of his priorities. Quite the opposite, in fact. So keeping you doesn’t offer any advantage, and letting you go can only help me when hard questions are asked.” She shrugged. “Or you can just put it down to my good nature.”
She glanced around the curtain again. “They’re here. Now, sweetheart, are you going to be a good girl and let me take those cuffs off you?”
By snodlander
Jones opened the door. A man in security garb stood outside.
“There’s… biological evidence on the carpet. Bleach in the kitchenette. Deal with it.”
He glanced at Laura, hesitating for a moment.
“Now!” Her den mother persona just a memory, she seemed like a different person.
“Mr. Leeson said –“
“Mr. Leeson is dealing with the police so I can deal with her. Now!”
Jones grabbed Laura’s arm and marched her into the night, not bothering to look back to see if her orders were being obeyed. Of course he’d obey. Who could resist that imperial tone? Did all Listeners act like that with Normals, Laura wondered. No, not her. Not her friends. Did they? Did she?
“Where are we going to?” she asked.
“From, dear,” Jones replied. “We’re going from Peter, and that’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
They strode between the cabins, Jones keeping up a pace that belied her stature.
“Do you have a car?” Jones asked. “We’re turning right here.”
“No, no car. Isn’t the entrance over there?”
“Yes, dear. So are the cameras. Do keep up.”
They wound between cabins, sometimes on paving stones, sometimes across grass now wet with dew. Then they angled left, approaching the exit from the side. Jones stopped in the shadow of a cabin and turned to face Laura. She stared into her face for a moment, then held out a phone.
“Call him, dear. Get him to pick you up. Sooner would be better. Peter is going to be in a mood when he finds out you’re gone.”
Laura hesitated, unsure. Jones sighed.
“Peter still has your phone. We have Christmas’ number. He already has the data, right? He won’t be stupid enough to bring the sole copy with him. We’ve lost and now all I can do is limit the damage. Peter won’t see it that way, so you have to go. You can try hitch-hiking down the road or call a cab, but you need to get away as soon as possible and dig a hole Peter can’t find until Christmas has given evidence. Pick a direction.”
“Sorry?”
“Left or right. Pick one, and I’ll try and send them the other way.” She sighed when Laura hesitated. “I consent to a level one scan. Tell me I’m lying. The police crawling all over us changes things. The best thing for the Guild is for us to cut our losses. Go on, dear. Scan me.”
Laura cast her net. Jones mind was a mess of emotion, despite her having erected deeper blocks, but there was no sign of a lie.
“You won’t try to find us or trap Andrew?”
“I won’t, dear. I can’t talk for Peter or anyone else, but I’ll do what I can. You and I are both still Listeners, and the Guild is still here for you. I know you don’t believe that at the moment, but we’ll still be here, even after you’ve put the rest of the world to flames. Now, do you want to hitchhike or use my phone?”
Laura stared at the older woman, mouth open. She wasn’t lying. She actually believed it.
“When this is over, call me any time,” said Jones. “But I don’t suppose you will. Talk to your friends then. I don’t think many people will want to know you after what you’ve done, but I’ve a feeling Judy will. Tony too. Don’t throw your talent away.” She proffered her phone. Laura shook her head in disbelief and snatched it from her. She dialled Andrew’s number. It was answered on the second ring with silence.
“Is that you, Mum?”
A long pause, then, "No, it's not. Is Shirley there?"
"No, she's at the cinema. I’m out. Pick me up.”
“How? Why?”
“Just do it. I’ll explain later. Clock’s ticking.”
“Can you get to where we last met?”
“I guess.”
“On my way.”
Christmas hung up. Laura browsed for a local cab firm and booked a cab for the end of the retreat driveway. Then, as an afterthought, she cleared the browser and phone histories. She handed the phone back.
“Right,” she said, nodding in the direction of The Lion.
“I’ll tell them you said something about – “ Jones looked to her left “ – Beechford. But you need to disappear as soon as you can. I can’t stall Peter forever. I won’t go any further.” She nodded at the gate. “Cameras. Staff. You understand.” Suddenly she stepped forward and gave Laura a hug. It lasted less than a couple of seconds, then she stood back. “I can’t say you’re my favourite person. You’ve set us back years and it’s going to be years more of torches and pitchforks before it settles down. Still, it was going to come out sometime. I expect we’ve got a strategy. And between you and me, Peter deserves what’s coming to him. Good luck.”
And with that she turned on her heel and strode off into the night.
L
By snodlander
The Lion’s forecourt was empty, save for an older model saloon car. Andrew leapt from the car and jogged over to her before the cab had even stopped. He waved a card at the cab’s reader, grabbed Laura’s elbow and steered her towards his car.
“Who did you steal that from?” she asked.
“Shut up. Get in.” He jumped into the driver’s seat and waited as Laura took her place next to him.
“Are we going?” she said, as Andrew stared out of the windscreen.
“Wait.” He stared at the cab that had dropped her off. After a moment it turned in a tight circle and drove back in the direction of The Sanctuary.
“We need to wait till the cab is clear. Did you call it or did they?” he asked
“Me.”
“Were you followed?”
“No.”
“How’d you know?” Andrew put the car in gear and pulled away, steering the car in the opposite direction to the cab.
“Oh, we’re going now?”
“How’d you know?”
“The woman who let me go. I scanned her. She wasn’t lying.”
“You sure?”
Laura sighed. “Listener, remember?”
“She couldn’t have faked it?”
“No, she couldn’t have faked it. I do know my job, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He turned down a side road. He seemed to be using his mirror a lot more than usual. “Why’d they let you go?”
Laura shrugged. “The police were there. Judy organised a phone campaign. Even my mum – but you know that. You set all that up, didn’t you.”
“I didn’t want them making you disappear. Didn’t expect them to let you go, though.”
“Politics.”
Andrew glanced at her. “Politics?”
“Someone decided the cat was out the bag and it was in her best interests to cut their losses. Doesn’t mean we can relax, though. I don’t think she’s got the power base.” Laura looked at the trees flashing past, silhouetted against the greying sky in the east. “Not yet, anyway. You got the data, right? I hooked you up okay?”
“Yeah. Give me a couple of hours with a cloud AI and I’ll have it decrypted.”
“You sure?”
Andrew grinned. “Spy, remember? I know my job.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours Laura smiled. “Fair enough.” She looked out the window again as Andrew took another turn. “Where are we going?”
“Far away.”
Laura turned and looked at his grim face as he drove through the twilight. “You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know myself. We’ll just drive for a few hours. Harder for them to chase us if we don’t know where we’re going. Then we’ll dig a deep hole and hide in it for four days until the hearings. Easier to remain hidden if we don’t actually have to do anything.”
“Four days? With you?”
“Me, or them. Your choice.” He spared a moment from the road to glance at her. “Well?”
“I’m thinking.” Despite everything, she turned towards the countryside and grinned at the scenery.
By snodlander
They didn’t look like Secret Service. Maybe that was the point. Maybe they weren’t even official Secret Service, but they were certainly close cousins. One looked like a bouncer crossed with a wrestler. His suit had to be a custom job. No store in the world would carry that amount of material off the peg. The other looked like someone’s grandpa. Laura could picture him producing coins from children’s ears at Christmas. It had worried her at first, but to get that old in that job you would have to be good. They stood with all the patience of statues, the wrestler beside the door of the apartment, the other beside the window.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?” she asked.
The wrestler shrugged, an act that moved enough flesh to feed a family for a month.
“The committee room is the safest place in the city,” said the older man. “Besides, every major network has a camera in there.”
“So why am I stuck here with you? Wouldn’t I be safer there? No offence meant.”
The older man smiled. “He needs to be there. You don’t. In fact, the fewer people who know about you, the safer you are. And no offence taken.”
On the TV the committee filed into the room. Laura switched on the sound. The two bodyguards ignored the picture, as though the end of the world as everyone knew it wasn’t about to fall tumbling around Laura’s ears.
Andrew looked different in a suit. Though the few days in a budget hotel had helped to unknot her stomach, he looked more uneasy in the committee room than she’d ever seen him.
The chairperson adjusted her mic and leant forward.
“Mr. Christmas? I understand you have some information relevant to this hearing?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “I do indeed. But first may I just say that I have been helped by various people and agencies to gather this data. One person in particular. I’d like to make it clear to this committee and anyone who may be watching this; I have information that is not relevant to this hearing, information that can be very damaging to individuals and organisations. I have every intention of protecting that information. However, if anything happens to those people, that information will become very public very quickly.”
“Mr. Christmas, I don’t respond well to threats.”
“I understand that. I don’t mean any disrespect to you or the committee, and I don’t wish to threaten anyone. I have been informed that my testimony today may well result in criminal proceedings against me, both here and elsewhere. If that’s the price I have to pay, so be it. But any attempt to punish innocent people will not be without a price. It’s not a threat to you, but a warning to others to respect the findings of this committee.”
“He must like you,” said the wrestler.
“Sorry?” Laura’s eyes were fixed on Christmas. He looked so ill at ease, like a Doberman caring for kittens.
“Him. He must really like you.”
Laura tore her eyes away from the TV to look at the bouncer. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t make threats like that in public. You tell that to people in rooms with no windows. You tell people that to stop them breaking your – “ He stopped and coughed, embarrassed. “You tell people that to protect yourself in secret, is what I mean. If he’s playing that card for you, he must really like you.”
Laura snorted. “No. We were – I mean, he pretty much kidnapped me. Well, at first. No. No, he’s just being a decent human being. Isn’t he?”
She looked at the older man for confirmation. He broke away from his surveillance of the street outside and shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’ve been divorced three times.”
Laura returned to the screen. No, it was stupid. They made a good team, sure, when he wasn’t being a complete asshole, but as to liking her? No, it had all been about this moment, all about getting to the committee, all about the job. Okay, he’d got her out of the Guild, but who wouldn’t, right? He was just protecting an asset. Not that she was much of an asset once she’d hacked the Guild. No, that was stupid. What would a wrestler and a three-time divorcee know?
Besides, he was a Normal. Normals never felt comfortable around a Listener, right?
By snodlander
Awareness dribbled back into Laura’s mind. At first it was noise. The whine of a cheap fluorescent light, strangely pushing itself to the fore before the drone of a vehicle engine called for attention. The rough blanket vibrating against the back of her skull. The dull pain in her back. Then the wool evaporated from her mind and consciousness came flooding back.
“Andrew!” She sat up. There was a nasty metallic taste in her mouth. She needed a glass of water. Then a glass of wine. Make that a bottle.
“Steady.” The grandpa security guy put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back. “Let the shot do its work.”
She was in a truck. No, an ambulance, lying on the gurney. The two security men stood before her, hanging onto ceiling straps as the vehicle sped to whichever hospital would declare Andrew dead.
“Andrew?” she repeated.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Grandpa stood aside and she saw him, lying on the gurney on the opposite side of the ambulance. Blood covered Andrew’s once-white shirt. He screwed his eyes up and shook his head.
“God, it’s been a while since I had a hangover like this.” He rubbed his chest and winced.
“Oh my God!” Laura sat up again and swung her legs over the side of the stretcher. “Andrew! Help him!”
“Relax,” said Grandpa. “He’s fine.”
“Fine? Fine? He’s been shot!”
“I have, I have,” moaned Andrew. “I just have one request before I die. Don’t let me die a virgin.”
The wrestler sniggered.
“What?” Laura looked from guard to guard to Andrew. “What?”
“It was a stun round,” said Grandpa. “Non-lethal, high voltage to put you down and a tranq to keep you there. That and a corn syrup blood capsule. He’s fine. You too.”
“Me?”
Grandpa shrugged. “Sorry. We decided not to tell you. We wanted it to look authentic. If it’s any consolation, I felt bad about it. I was convinced you’d read my mind and spoil it.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said the wrestler. “They can’t read your mind unless you let them.” He frowned. “Right?” he asked, looking at Laura.
“Something like that. You’re not dead?” she asked, turning to Andrew.
“Um, no? I guess not.”
“And you planned all this?”
“Well, me and the boys.”
“You bastard!” Laura launched herself across the narrow gap between them, swinging her fists at his face. Andrew raised his arms instinctively. The wrestler wrapped an arm around her waist and tried to drag her off. She jabbed elbows at his stomach and face and glared at Grandpa, who raised his hands.
“Divorced, remember? I know when to back off.”
Laura swung at Andrew again, but the wrestler held her out of reach. She struggled for a moment, then held her arms up.
“Okay, okay. I give in. I’ve stopped, okay?”
Andrew nodded at the wrestler, who slowly released his grip on her waist.
“I thought you were dead!” said Laura, trying to get as much ice into it as she could, but painfully aware of the tremble in her voice. “I saw you shot, you bastard. You utter bastard!”
“We had to make it believable,” said Andrew. “Sorry, but it was the best way. You were believable, by the way. Genuine beyond suspicion.”
“That’s because I didn’t know you and Laurel and Hardy here were playing cops and robbers. I saw you shot!”
“Sorry.” Andrew looked contrite. “They could shoot me for real, if you want.”
“Arsehole! But why?”
“Why?”
“Why this charade? Why the shooting? Why the bloody hell have your new best friend shoot me in the back?”
He shrugged. “It seemed a good idea at the time.” He raised his hands in surrender as Laura clenched her fists and stepped forward.
“What I mean to say is, we have shit in an awful lot of people’s cornflakes. The guild, the police, the security agencies. And not just in this country. Laura, you have no idea the number of people we have pissed off. Important people. Violent people. People with long memories and no morals.”
“I knew what I was getting into.”
“No. With respect, no you didn’t. You still don’t. All the time we’re breathing there will be any number of people who will try and rectify that. If I didn’t have you killed you’d be dead before dinner.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean.” He sat up slowly, wincing. “God, those things hurt.” He rubbed his chest then looked at the fake blood on his hand. He glanced around, then failing to find anything better he wiped it on a relatively clean portion of his jacket. “Listen. Just listen for a minute. You saw me on TV? The little speech I gave? It was all bullshit. They don’t care. If there was a cache of dirty secrets they’d be able to extract it in a minute, despite what you say about Listeners high moral pathway. Even the old-fashioned way, eventually. This is the only way. Trust me, it’s tried and tested.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean not everyone who’s been reported dead actually dies.”
“But how? I mean, they’ll expect bodies.” Laura’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh God. You killed someone?”
“No. Leastways, not today. Besides, DNA, dental, bone structure. The days of dressing up some homeless corpse in a suit are long gone. But it’ll take a while. The Senator has a legal team you wouldn’t believe. It’ll be a few days, two at worst, before anyone can prove any two bodies we might point them at aren’t us. And in two days we can be anywhere. Well, relatively. And if it’s a country that hasn’t signed up to the Guild’s inoculation program…”
“You’re telling me we’re going to some backwater third-world country for the rest of our lives?”
“What do you mean, ‘we’?” Andrew laughed at her look of fury. He raised his hands in surrender. “Well, you could retire to Zimbabwe if you want. Me, I was thinking of maybe retiring to a little island somewhere.”
Laura frowned. “Haiti? Really?”
“Well, I was thinking further south.”
Laura screwed her face up in concentration as she tried to picture the Caribbean. Then she saw his smirk and the penny dropped.
“The Falklands? Seriously? Penguins and icebergs?”
Andrew shrugged. “Trust me. After all, I think in the near future we’re all going to have to trust each other the old-fashioned way. You might as well start now.”
Laura stared at him, trying to work through options as though she had any experience with a covert life on the run. And then she sighed. He was right. Every country in the world would now reconsider its Tridenazol programme. It might not be the end for Listeners, but it was certainly going to see many more Andrew Christmases arrive in the world. Maybe it was the right time to retire. Maybe she should start to learn body language and all the other tiny inaccurate ways Normals learned to divine what other human beings were thinking.
She leant forward until her face was inches from Christmas. “Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation.
“Then trust me on this. You ever scare me like this again, you ever lie to my face, and I will make your life a misery.”
“And if I don’t?”
She closed the remaining gap and kissed him.
“Oh God,” said thrice-divorced Grandpa, behind her. “She’s going to make his life a misery anyway.”
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