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?"