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."