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between the door and its frame, Rich saw Chance hurry into the living room. He was still dressed.
    Maybe he slept in his clothes, Rich thought. Maybe he didn’t sleep at all.
    Rich climbed back into bed, his need for the bathroom forgotten. When he woke again it was morning, and the events of the night seemed as vague as a dream.
    Jade appeared in the bedroom door. She was still in her pyjamas and carrying two mugs of tea. “He’s gone,” she said.
    Rich didn’t need to ask who she meant.
    He told her about the night-time phone call while they drank their tea. They went through to the study, where the computer was on. It showed a standardscreensaver and there was a password to get out of it and back to the main screen.
    â€œWho needs a password when he lives alone?” Jade wondered.
    â€œMaybe it’s for our benefit,” Rich said. “Or maybe he takes the laptop to work. Maybe he’s gone to work already.”
    â€œIt’s not seven o’clock yet,” Jade pointed out.
    â€œLong commute?”
    â€œOr a long meeting. I wonder who called him.”
    â€œLet’s find out,” Rich said, lifting the phone. “1471 – gives the number of the last caller.”
    â€œProbably withheld or unavailable,” Jade said.
    Rich tried it anyway. The dial tone was replaced by the beep of the buttons as he pressed them. But then, instead of a voice, he heard an electronic screech. It was so loud and shrill that Rich dropped the phone.
    Jade could hear it too. She picked up the handset to replace it in the cradle. But then she hesitated, pointing at the plastic box attached to the phone. Lights were flashing on the side of it. She hung up and the lights went out.
    â€œI don’t like this,” Jade said quietly.
    Before Rich could reply, they heard the sound of the door to the flat slamming shut. They rushed to the living room.
    Chance looked tired. He was holding a few letters which he dropped unopened into the kitchen bin. He closed up the cupboard where the bin was kept and turned the kettle on.
    â€œLucky we got milk,” Rich said from the doorway.
    â€œI drink my coffee black,” Chance replied, without looking round. “You’re up early.”
    â€œWe all are,” Jade said, pushing past Rich into the kitchen. “Where have you been?”
    â€œCouldn’t sleep. Went for a walk.”
    The kettle was boiling and Chance made his coffee. “I’ve got some work to catch up on. I’ll see you later. Help yourselves to breakfast.”
    â€œI guess he means the beer,” Rich said, when Chance had gone. “Unless there’s some cereal hidden away.” He opened a few cupboards, but found nothing. Having tried all the others, he opened the cupboard under the sink. This was the cupboard with the bin. As the door opened, it raised the lid of the bin inside.
    â€œHang on – look at this.” Rich was staring into the bin.
    Jade joined him and saw what he was looking at – the letters that Chance had just dropped.
    Rich lifted out the letters. “They’re all the same,” he said, showing her. There were five letters – bills and junk mail. The address was the same on them all – Second Floor Flat – and the number and street. And they had all been sent to the same person.
    But that person wasn’t John Chance. It was Henry Lessiter.
    â€œRemind me,” Jade said quietly. “How do we know that this man who says he’s called John Chance but gets someone else’s post, who gets phone calls in the middle of the night and goes to ‘meetings’ until dawn—”
    â€œHow do we know,” Rich finished for her, “that he’s actually our John Chance at all?”
    Chance told them he was working from home that day. He was happy for Jade and Rich to explore the area, and they went to the shops. For lunch they got a sandwich in a little internet café,