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."