Fangmeyer chose a chair that afforded her a decent view of the door and the long window, and sat down, resting the board provided across her knees, and her own paper and pencils atop that. Twenty of them, all sized for large mammals, surrounded a wide, padded platform, and another waited in a corner with a small bottle of water for company, obviously intended for the model's use. To the right of it, as the tigress looked, was a door, from which she guessed Fabienne Growley would emerge when the time came.

Through the main door other mammals were filtering, choosing seats and quietly chatting, until only two were left empty. A tall and elegant coyote whose muzzle was greying slightly moved to stand in the centre of the room, by the platform, and cleared his throat. A hush soon fell, and he nodded thanks.

"My name is Ralph Wiley," he informed everyone, his voice quiet and smooth and somehow managing to carry very well. "I'll be leading the class this evening. I thank you all for coming, and I hope this session will prove instructive and enjoyable. It's scheduled to last roughly two hours, with twenty minutes allotted to each pose. I will be circulating throughout, freely dispensing advice and suggestions; do not be afraid to ask me things, but please respect others.

"On that note, I must stress: respect the model. Don't stare too long, don't distract them, don't even approach them until class is over, and then only if allowed by the model, and if anybody is found to be taking photos they will be required to delete those images, then security will escort them out. Is everyone clear on this?"

Nods of assent.

"Wonderful!" He smiled and lightly clapped his paws. "In which case, please welcome our model for the evening: Ms Fabienne Growley."

Hushed gasps and exclamations bubbled throughout the room as the door in the corner opened, and the snow leopard stepped out. Clad in a long, dark blue robe she moved gracefully to the middle of the room and up onto the platform; she waited for the chatter to die down then revolved fluidly on the spot, politely acknowledging everyone. When her eyes lit on Fangmeyer, whose stomach was now home to a pawful of butterflies, they shone a little brighter, and her smile widened.

Mr Wiley clapped his paws again. "If we are ready..." He looked about the room; no-one spoke. "We shall begin..."

Fabienne sloughed her robe, handing it to the coyote, then settled in a simple reclining pose, lying on one side, her head propped up on one paw while her other arm trailed along her flank, her lightly folded legs resting one on the other, and her tail curling over her knees. That she ended up facing Fangmeyer was unlikely to be a coincidence.

At first all the tigress could do was stare, mesmerised by the leopard's lush, silver-grey, rosette-dappled fur, that shaded to a shining white on stomach and chest, and the figure that seemed to have become even more poised and softly elegant in the intervening years. The warmth and humour in those light blue eyes was distracting, too.

Fangmeyer shook herself out of it, opened her pad, selected a pencil and started to loosely sketch, all the while keeping an eye on the other members of the class. Most were as engrossed in capturing a likeness of the mammal posing for them as she was, the only sounds the light scratching of pencils and charcoal on paper and the murmurs of Peter as he worked his way round the ring. The sole exception was a young red deer who was spending much more time gazing than drawing, but a sharp look from the coyote quickly changed that.

It was towards the end of Fabienne's third posing period, sitting with legs crossed, elbows resting on knees, paws linked, chin on those, eyes closed and tail trailing out behind, that Fangmeyer realised something had changed in the room. A box, plain silver-grey cardboard, now sat on the chair in the corner, which the snow leopard had indeed used for brief rests between poses, and it made her whiskers twitch.

A small but persistent knot of tension forming in her gut, she itched to investigate, but Mr Wiley chose that moment to join her. While he discussed her efforts – mostly complimentary, with a few suggestions for better shading and a query as to why the model had been depicted with an earring when they clearly weren't wearing one – Fangmeyer's attention was locked on the box.

Tension spiked to fear when Ralph called the end of the third period, and Fabienne rose, moving over to the chair. Fangmeyer dropped her board and leapt up, but before she could get round the room the snow leopard had lifted the lid; with a bang loud enough to make everybody jump scarlet liquid erupted from it, splattering their face and chest.

"What was that?!" someone shrieked; shock was pulsing in the room.

"Somebody's idea of a prank, I think." Fabienne kept her composure admirably, though her tail tip was flicking. She looked to the tiger who had just reached her. "I'm fine, though my ears will probably ring for a while. I won't hold this against you or the organisation, Mr Wiley."

"Thank you." Ralph looked chastened. "But I still feel responsible. Did anyone see anything?"

A muddled chorus of negatives came in response.

"Unfortunate." Mr Wiley rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This class is over; I can't in good conscience continue. Ms Growley – do you wish to report this incident to the authorities?"

Fabienne shook her head. "No. I'd be obliged if no-one spoke about this, either."

A few grumbles rose, but a stern look from Fangmeyer quieted them, then Mr Wiley ushered them all out. Before leaving himself, he turned to the cats. "I just want you to know you were a wonderful model, Ms Growley, and we'd be happy to work with you again, although...it's the first time a model has stared too long at a student."

The snow leopard's ears faintly coloured. "Thank you for having me."

"We should get you clean." Fangmeyer suggested. "Good thing this is just water coloured to look like, well..."

"Blood." Fabienne collected the box. "Come on, Lina."

Ignoring a faint shiver, the tiger followed the snow leopard through to the other room, which proved to be a small bathroom, with four stalls and three sinks and a neat little pile of clothes on the floor. Fabienne tore some paper towels from a dispenser and set to dabbing her coat dry, while Fangmeyer examined the box, finding a note, and fished her radio from her trouser pocket.

"Fangmeyer to base. I need to speak to the Chief."

"Putting you through now, Officer." The night dispatcher responded.

"Something happen?" Bogo asked a second later, curtly.

"Booby-trap, Sir," Fangmeyer replied. "A parcel. Ms Growley opened it before I could stop her, but fortunately it just sprayed water coloured to look like blood over her. No-one was hurt, just shocked."

"A mercy. Do you know why Ms Growley wasn't suspicious?"

"Because I believed it was from Peter," Fabienne explained. "He likes to give supportive little gifts, and it's his pawwriting on the lid."

Fangmeyer looked. The words 'a little something to encourage you' were written across the top of the box in a handsome script. "It does look like it, Sir. Everyone else believes this was a prank, but it has to be the stalker. They left a note."

"Read it."

"It says, 'Defy my will again, my pet, and next time the blood on your paws will be real'."

"That's them, all right. Did you recognise anyone, Ms Growley?"

"No," Fabienne shook her head. "Except Officer Fangmeyer."

"Did anyone see anything?"

"They say not," the tiger reported. "I didn't, either, but there was no way I could watch the door constantly. It's possible the stalker snuck in and left the bomb without being noticed."

"Or they got a student to lay it for them," Bogo posited. "Either way, the most worrying aspect is that they knew where Ms Growley would be. Wolford's close by, so I'll have him collect the box so we can look it over; we'll talk to the other attendees, too. You get Ms Growley home safely and stay with her from now on; don't take no for an answer."

"I'm not going to argue," Fabienne put in. "I could use the company."

"Good. We're clearly dealing with someone capable and ruthless, so we can't take any more chances."

"Agreed, Sir. On that subject, I'm not sure it's wise for Ms Growley to return to ZNN just yet, not least as I'm starting to wonder if the stalker is working there."

"I'd consider the likelihood high," Bogo concurred. "It helps to explain a great many things."

"If they are working for ZNN," Fabienne interjected, "then maybe my return might help...smoke them out?"

"It's possible," Bogo conceded. "But dangerous, and not just for you."

"I understand that, which is why I'd want Officer Fangmeyer to come to work with me. Undercover, of course."

"I'll take it into consideration. Fangmeyer, I'll call in the morning with any further instructions. Bogo out."

"Understood, Sir. Out." The tigress stowed the radio, then turned her full attention to the snow leopard now standing before her, still nude, but clean and slightly damp. "Interesting reunion, huh?"

"Certainly not gone quite how I'd hoped." Fabienne chuckled ruefully, her paws fidgeting. "But it's good to see you again, Lina."

"Been much too long." Fangmeyer sighed. "I've wanted to talk to you again, but every time something's come up."

"And I got so swept up in my soaring career everything else fell by the wayside. I have a number of regrets, but..." The snow leopard's fingers brushed those of the tigress. "You're the biggest."

Lina caught Fabienne's paw. "I've...often wondered what would have happened without the Clipper. If our paths hadn't diverged. I couldn't help thinking there was..."

"Something between us." The smaller cat took the larger one's other paw. "Something that might still be there..."

"It might," Fangmeyer agreed. Their noses were now only an inch or two apart, their gazes locked. "But can we do anything about it?"

"I'd like to try." Fabienne's nose feathered Lina's. "My regrets would only grow if I didn't."

"I..." Fangmeyer's ear twitched; a familiar engine was approaching. "I think we need to get moving. Wolford's arriving."

Fabienne didn't move. "Promise me we'll talk about this."

Lina drew a spotted paw to her muzzle, and kissed it. "I promise."