Fangmeyer had sequestered herself in a corner of the huge main ZNN newsroom, a vast space crammed full of desks and alive with shifting monitors, including two banks hanging from the high ceiling. Amongst all this a hive of mammals buzzed, a low chatter of keys, pawsteps and voices omnipresent. Glossy glass doors led to offices for Fabienne and Peter Moosebridge, as well as the directors, the producers, and other anchors, and a large meeting room.

The snow leopard herself, impeccably attired in a plum jacket with a gold flower lapel pin, a pastel yellow shirt patterned with leaves, and a long plum skirt, was currently being welcomed back, at length, by her co-presenter. From the look on her face he was testing her patience a little, and when finally freed there was a perceptible sag of relief.

Fabienne came over, sinking into a chair next to the tiger. "He can be a little much, sometimes," she chuckled, "but he means well. It seems he was going to give me a gift to support my modelling, but it and the box it was in went missing from his office at the last minute."

"Which pretty much proves your stalker works here. Wait – he knew you were modelling?"

Fabienne nodded. "It was Peter's idea. He even found the class."

"So the stalker could have overheard him, or found the details in his office. How many people have access to it?"

"It's not locked, so, theoretically...everyone."

"Great." Fangmeyer sighed. "And how many mammals work here?"

"More than a hundred, and the turnover's quite high. High pressure working environment."

The tigress groaned softly. "So the stalker might not even be here any more. Has anyone other than Mr Moosebridge reacted strongly to you today? Or strangely?"

"Not that I noticed. Have you seen anything?"

"No, but I can't begin to keep track of all the activity. When's the mail due? There might be another letter."

"Actually, it's likely here by now. It's pretty prompt. I'll check."

Fangmeyer watched her leave, trying to study everyone she passed as she wended her way across the newsroom, but saw nothing. A minute later she was back, carrying a fat package with her name printed on it, along with the address of the newsroom and an underlined insistence to 'rush to the addressee'.

The tigress opened it; inside was a note, and a stiff, blood red collar with the words 'PROPERTY OF JR' stitched around it in stark white. A shared shudder, then Fangmeyer read the note. "'I see you're still not listening to me, my pet, but I'll give you one last chance. Either you do your stint wearing this collar, and tell the whole city you're mine to do with as I please, or...or a bomb goes off in the newsroom'..."

Fabienne swallowed, trembling. "Oh, god..."

"'You try to evacuate, the bomb goes off. You get the police involved, the bomb goes off. You try to tamper with the bomb, it goes off. You have no choice but to follow my wishes, kitten; I own you, and I always will'." Fangmeyer closed her eyes, taking a long, slow breath. "When's your stint start?"

"Fifty minutes."

"Not much time." The tiger grimaced. "I daren't even call the Chief."

"If worst comes to worst, I'll do as they say." Fabienne was nervously determined. "I can't risk..."

"We'll figure this out." Fangmeyer patted her paw. "There has to be a way to beat them."

Fabienne nodded, settling herself. "They have to be able to see what we're doing. See the bomb."

"Hacked a security camera, maybe?"

Blue eyes widened. "Or they're watching the webcam!"

"You've a webcam? Where?"

"Corner across from ours. Gives a view across the newsroom and of the studio. Always live."

"Can it see us?"

"No."

"Good; that gives us a little freedom." Fangmeyer thought hard. "The bomb has to be visible on that camera, so it can't be under a desk or a chair. It's sitting in the open, but unnoticed; in a box or a bag, maybe, on someone's desk."

Fabienne stood up, and cast her gaze around. "I can see a dozen bags and at least four boxes, but none of them stand out."

"Well, they're hardly going to label it." Fangmeyer permitted herself a grim chuckle. "But, it will have a wireless transmitter; they're not going to be anywhere near when they set it off."

"No antennae sticking out an...wait." Fabienne's head tilted. "There's one of Peter's boxes on Rudderly's desk, but there's no way he'd ever be gifted anything..."

Striped ears perked. "Why?"

"He's been here three or four months." The snow leopard's gaze was distant. "And he's managed to alienate pretty much everyone. He's a good worker, but a really poor communicator. Barely talks, and won't say a word to..." She sagged back onto her chair. "Me. My god..."

Fangmeyer petted her paw. "Did he ever try anything with you?"

Fabienne shook her head. "No, but...now I think about it...he was so adamant about having that desk, and from it he can see right into my office. Now I'm wondering if that little camera someone saw him with isn't hidden on his desk somewhere..."

"Aimed right at you." Fangmeyer squeezed the snow leopard's paw. "I think we have our stalker. Can you see him?"

Fabienne glanced around. "No. I think he was in earlier, but he's not here now. Must have put the package in the mail room, left the radio on his desk and gone."

"All right." The tigress nodded. "You'd better get back to work; you've already been here too long, and he might be getting suspicious. Don't tell anyone what's going on. Just act normal."

"All right." Fabienne exhaled, shook herself lightly, then leaned in, her whiskers tickling the tiger's. "Good luck." The lightest of nuzzles, then she collected the collar and tucked it into a jacket pocket, stood up and headed across the room, looking every inch a professional newscaster.

Fangmeyer watched the other cat for a moment, then her focus was firmly on Rudderly's desk, and the box. As the minutes ticked steadily away she fought to work out a way of getting to it without being seen on the webcam, but kept coming up short. The room was far too open and the camera too high to make it anywhere near undetected.

With twenty minutes left, the tiger pulled out her phone and loaded the webcam's feed, discovering that it wasn't fully live, instead being a still image that updated every five seconds. She studied it for a while, noting the spots where she'd be able to hide, and began to form a plan that was a little desperate, but better than nothing.

With ten minutes remaining, Fangmeyer stood, watched for the cam image to change, then darted round the desks in front of her, dropped to the floor and pressed herself tight behind them. The next time the picture updated, she repeated the move, and in this fashion was able to reach the row of desks that Rudderly's was amongst.

Unfortunately, she was drawing attention from many of the mammals in the room, so she forced herself to stay put, willing everyone to stop looking. Fortunately, with a little help from Fabienne calling out for all the information they had on a certain story, they soon did. Four more dashes brought the tiger level with the box.

Now came the biggest problem – five seconds was likely not enough time to deal with the bomb, not least since she had no idea how it was built, and was far from an expert. Hurriedly, she ran through what she had been told of the first device – simple and clean with no frippery or trickery or failsafes – and reckoned the odds good of this one being the same. That gave her a small boost of confidence.

The many screens showing clocks told her there were three minutes left. She looked for Fabienne, spotting the snow leopard standing near the studio, preparing to enter, a paw fidgeting in the pocket that held the collar. They locked eyes for a second, and Fabienne blinked twice, then nodded languidly in the direction of the webcam.

Fangmeyer's confusion faded when she looked at her phone and saw the camera was now updating every ten seconds – twice as long a gap, and hopefully enough to nullify the bomb. Resolving to thank the pale cat profusely should they survive this, the tiger waited for the picture to change, then lunged for the box. She tore off the lid, saw an aerial and yanked it away, then closed her eyes and waited.

Nothing happened. After a good minute she opened them again, and they instantly went to Fabienne. The snow leopard smiled, pulled out the collar, dropped it into a waste basket, and entered the studio. The tigress, after a long exhale, took a longer look at the device, which was indeed simple, just a wireless receiver and a detonator wired to a lump of explosive. Without the signal, it appeared, it couldn't go off.

Even so, she put the lid back on, and pulled out her radio to call the Chief. Once all had been explained, and he'd confirmed an explosives officer would take charge of the bomb as soon as possible, she found a large enough unoccupied chair and sat down to wait. Fifteen minutes later the officer arrived and took the device, and Fangmeyer retired to her corner to wait for Fabienne's stint to end.

Not long before the snow leopard was due to exit the studio, an otter showed up that set alarm bells ringing loud for the tigress. His manner was edgy, and only grew more so as he passed the desk that no longer carried the bomb, tinged with a dark anger. Since he was a giant river otter, standing as tall as Fabienne and almost as tall as Fangmeyer, and powerful with it, that was worrying. Reaching the waste basket by the studio doors he pulled the collar out, glared at it, shattered the bin in one punch, pounding a dent in the wall behind it, then snarled with a muzzleful of sharp teeth at the snow leopard signing off close by.

Fangmeyer stood up, and started moving toward him. His head spun to her, he glared even more violently, then he took off running, straight for the door he'd entered through. The tigress tried to cut him off but missed by several feet; wrenching herself round she had a split-second glimpse of a large capsule of red liquid before it hit her in the chest.

Coloured water erupted over her, drenching her torso, splashing into her eyes, and taking her feet out from under her. She slammed into a desk, almost rocking it over, and sprawled across the floor; by the time she'd cleared her vision and pulled herself up Rudderly was long gone, and the entire newsroom was staring aghast at her.

Fabienne ran up. "Lina!"

"I'm fine." Fangmeyer was more than a little angry with herself. "And I'm sorry. I thought he was going to attack you, so I tried to stop him, and now everyone..."

The snow leopard caught her paw, and started to lead her across the room. "Lina, he planted a bomb in the middle of a newsroom. People were already realising something was up. Let's get you dry, and some peace to call this in. We know who it is now, so we've a much better chance of stopping him."

"True." Still a little subdued, Fangmeyer let Fabienne take her down a short passage to a small restroom.

"This is for the use of the 'talent' only," the snow leopard explained as she closed the door. "So we won't be disturbed."

"Thanks." The tigress retrieved her radio, checked it was still working, and got through to Bogo. She related what had happened as Fabienne unbuttoned her shirt, bracing herself for a berating. It didn't come.

"In the circumstances, you did the right thing. If you hadn't acted, he very well could have attacked Ms Growley. I've no doubt he's growing desperate, and that just makes him more dangerous. You've hopefully rattled him enough to go to ground awhile, and that gives us a chance to track him and secure him. I'll put out an urgent city-wide APB, and speak to the media. Ms Growley, does he know where you live?"

Fabienne, kneeling to ease the tiger's trousers down, sighed. "I don't know. It's possible."

"Then I'd suggest finding somewhere else to stay for now."

Fangmeyer didn't hesitate. "Ms Growley can stay with me, Sir. I have the room, and there's no way he could know where I live."

"Yet." Bogo didn't sound convinced. "But in lieu of other options, you have my permission. At the very least it might stymie him long enough for us to catch him. Be on your guard, and call in regularly. If you see him, don't engage; get out, and alert us. Your priority is Ms Growley's safety, not Rudderly."

"Understood, Sir. I'll only engage as a last resort."

"Good. Check in when you get there. Bogo out."

"Yes, Sir. Out." Fangmeyer tried to tuck her radio back in her pocket, realised she no longer had the pocket, and chuckled wearily. "Soaked me pretty good, huh?"

Fabienne nodded. "Even your underwear got wet."

"You do realise I have no other clothing, right? It's not like I expected to be drenched by a psychotic giant otter, after all."

The snow leopard nosed her cheek. "You dry yourself – lots of paper towels in here – and I'll find you some clothes. I won't be long."

She hustled out, and Fangmeyer stepped to the nearest dispenser to collect towels. Patting her coat dry, she had a long, silent conversation with the tigress in the room's large mirror, debating whether this was the time, and trying to ignore the tremble that was setting in, and not really getting anywhere with either.

She wasn't quite dry when the snow leopard returned, clutching new clothes, so they collected some towels of their own and helped her to deal with the remaining damp spots. When Fangmeyer was finally dry enough to think about dressing, though, she didn't get the chance, for Fabienne embraced her, one paw on the small of her back, the other higher up, their face pressed into the top of her chest.

"You're trembling," the smaller cat observed, quietly.

The tigress returned the hug, nuzzling Fabienne's brow gently. "So are you. It can happen after you've stared death in the face."

The snow leopard rubbed her fingers into the bigger cat's thick fur. "If it's all the same to you, I really don't want to dwell on that. I'd much rather distract myself with a tall, handsome, naked tiger." A beat, then a grimace twisted her face. "And I could probably have phrased that a little better..."

Fangmeyer laughed, holding her a little closer. "Handsome?"

Fabienne shifted just enough to be able to look up at the tiger. "Well, 'pretty' really doesn't fit, and while you do have a certain beauty, that isn't quite right, either, so yes, handsome." A light playfulness grew in her eyes. "You'd make a good model, actually."

Fangmeyer shook her head. "I'd never have the courage. How you do it I'll never know."

"It's not hard," Fabienne persisted. "You just have to lounge around in the nude for an hour or two."

"The 'nude' part's the problem." The tiger's ears had coloured faintly.

"You're nude now," the snow leopard reasoned.

"With you." Fangmeyer nosed her scalp. "If anyone else were to walk in right now I'd panic, but with you...it's fine." She chuckled. "In fact, I actually kind of like it."

Fabienne rose on tiptoes, until she could fully nuzzle the tiger's snout, then rest their cheeks together. "We really need to have that talk."

"The moment Rudderly's locked up, we will," Fangmeyer vowed, her paw cradling the back of the other cat's head.

"Although..." Fabienne shifted so their noses touched, their whiskers brushed, and their eyes locked. "I think I already know what I want..."

Muzzles rolled slowly, but just before lips could touch a knock came at the door. The snow leopard sighed.

"Hold that thought." She kissed the tiger's nose, then slipped away.

Fangmeyer began to dress. "I've been holding it for years. What's one more day?"