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?"