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.