Andrew felt like he was standing in a dream, some sort of parallel universe, a grotesque parody of his life. In this parallel universe, he was going to have a night out with his girl when his boss gave him the job of being a time bomb in Piccadilly Circus. There was an unseen man (probably watching him through London's countless CCTV cameras) texting him periodically, giving him instructions.

Since calling Rhiannon, the man had been silent. The silence scared Andrew more than the texts.

His watched beeped, making Andrew jump. Seven hours to go. Had it only been seven hours?

A text. From Rhiannon, thank God. "GOING TO YOUR PLACE. I ORDERED THE RIBS TO GO. WE'LL EAT THEM AT YOURS LATER."

He punched a reply. Sod it if his abductors blew him up for texting without their permission. "OKAY. LOVE YOU."

"SENTIMENTAL GIT."

Andrew laughed despite himself. Oh Rhiannon. She was the tough one in this relationship.

A new text. Andrew expected it to be from Rhiannon, but it was from him. "AREN'T YOU GOING TO CALL MUMMY?"

Andrew's grip tightened around the phone. Was he allowed another call? What other sick game were they playing? Were they trying to let his guard down before killing him unexpectedly? What did they want from him?

He shouldn't have told Michael about Mum and Rhiannon. They were probably going through employee records now, back at Morgenstern & Co., to find his address. They were going to go after Mum and Rhiannon.

He had told Rhiannon to go to his house. The abductor had heard it.

Oh God. He'd made the job easier for them. What had he done?

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He wanted to scream with rage and frustration. He wanted to try to slip out of the sniper's gaze, tear the vest off, and make for home. But no – they were too observant for him to be able to run. There was nothing around him to hide behind. And who knew how many snipers were trained on him?

In that moment of sheer panic, an odd sense of clarity came to Andrew's mind. They had nothing against him. Why would they go after his mother and girlfriend? They just wanted to play games with the police, with that Sherlock Holmes character. Andrew was just a pawn in that dangerous game, a pawn without a face and without a name and without an identity. (Even Mr. Morgenstern hadn't even asked for his name.) Mum and Rhiannon were off the board, on the sidelines. The only connection they had to the game was through him and his mobile.

It made sense. There were, of course, a thousand other possibilities; but Andrew chose not to think about them. God knew he had trouble enough.

He dialed his mother's number. He thought about Mum, a semi-retired nurse who had been an immense support to him for the past ten months. She was lean for her age while her other friends had begun to run to fat. Or perhaps recently, the cares and concerns on her mind had been draining her. Andrew suddenly realized how truly tired Mum always looked… She'd done so much for him, but he'd never really looked at her.

"Hello? Andy? Is that you?"

Mum was the only one who still called him Andy.

Andrew cleared his throat. "Hi, Mum. Yes, it's me. I just called to say… to say…" He could not go on. To say what? There was so much to say.

Mum jumped in: "Oh yes. Rhian texted me. She said she'd be over and she's bringing something for supper."

"Ah," Andrew cleared his throat again. He lied: "That's what I called to say. I called to say I'll be a while. Don't wait for me. You and Rhian. Go ahead and eat. And watch something nice, yeah? I think there's a documentary about France on the telly tonight."

"Oh don't worry, we'll wait for you."

"No, Mum. Don't. Please. Just eat. You must be hungry." He tried to sound as firm as possible without giving away the stress he felt.

"All right, then. How long will you be?" Andrew could hear the soft sounds of the radio station in the background. Mum always listened to the classical music station.

"A while," said Andrew. Actually, six hours and forty-seven minutes. "So don't wait for me. This job's a real pain."

"Yeah, life's like that. Well, I'll see you later." Andrew heard the smile in her voice.

"Mum?"

"Yes, Andy?"

"I love you, Mum. And I'm sorry." He felt emotions choke his words. Andrew wiped his tears away with the back of his shirt.

"Goodness, Andy, it's just dinner." Mum was laughing. "But I love you, too, my Andy pandy. See you in a tick, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye."

"Bye."

His mum hung up. Andrew lowered the phone slowly and put it back into his pocket.

Andrew saw his house clearly in his mind's eye. They'd moved there when he was nine. The kitchen was always bright – too bright – on clear mornings; his mother's bedroom always smelt of sunshine and white musk, his own room like deodorant and books. The garden had a vegetable garden that his mother tended on her own, now that his dad was not with them; the trampoline which Mum had reluctantly bought for him when he was eleven which was beginning to rust from disuse. The ugly floral sofa which had been a gift from Dad's mum years ago; the new telly…

How he longed to be home. That ordinary house on that ordinary street in Beckton was suddenly a sanctuary to him. He longed to be with her mum and Rhiannon, to love them in the best way that he could and to make up for all the ways in which he was found wanting before.

A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews :). They're very encouraging. Hope you guys liked this new chapter.