Theo’s phone began vibrating just as he struggled to carry three bulging shopping bags into the small lobby at the front of his mother’s former home. Perhaps Joanie needed a lift after all? He plonked the bags down, brought the phone from his pocket, and pressed the answer button a moment before registering that the number was an unrecognised mobile.
     Rats — it was probably a sales call. Still, he’d accepted the call now, so he felt obliged to at least discover who it was.
     He held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
     The voice was unnaturally low, with a tinny, warbly quality that instantly called to mind various scenes from horror and thriller films. “Hello Father.”
     Theo frowned. Parishioners seeking advice or absolution often approached him anonymously, but none had concealed their voice before. He opted for a tone of gentle curiosity. “Do you mind me asking who you are?”
     “I heard you on the radio today. You could call me a sympathiser to your cause.”
     Theo’s frown creased further as he opened the door to the hallway and stepped through. “How did you get this number?”
     “That’s irrelevant. The question you should be asking is, how can I help you.”
     Theo slid his shoes off. It was incredibly unlike Salma to give his number to a parishioner. Perhaps this one had come across as particularly desperate? Maybe it was the voice manipulator, but whoever it was didn’t sound desperate to Theo. “OK… How can I help you?”
     “No, Father — not how can you help me. How can I help you.”
     Now Theo took a single step into the lounge and switched on the light. The colours of the walls and his mother’s old furnishings were warm, but the room was a deathly cold. He stared at the empty fireplace. “I’m not sure I understand.”
     “Then allow me to explain, Father. I am someone who shares your views. Nathan Stold is a sick fuck who deserves to die. Er, pardon my language, Father.”
     Theo moved to the centre of the room. “That’s… OK. As I said on the radio, yes, like a lot of people, I feel that right now too. These feelings are perfectly natural, and—”
     “I plan to do something about it, though, Father. The government spent the rest of the day telling the media they’re making no plans to bring back the death penalty, despite the opinion polls on our side. So I’m going to make sure they change their minds.”
     “I’m not sure that’s—”
     “I will detonate a bomb in a random location around the city every few days until they bring the death penalty back, and kill that fucker. I… Pardon my language, Father.”
     It felt to Theo like his heart had vanished from his chest. “I’m sorry, is this a joke? It’s really not in good taste, and if you try this again I will be giving your number to the police.”
     “You should do, Father. That will be your role in all this.”
     “My role? Wh—”
     “Exactly. You are close to some of the most important, most powerful people in the country. Ministers, lords, royalty even — you can let them know how to stop the destruction and chaos that’s about to come.”
     Theo rubbed his eyes. “Look, I really don’t think threatening to—”
     “This is not a threat, Father. I’m fucking serious. Pardon my language again, Father — but I am. The government will bring back the death penalty, Stold will die, or else many, many more will die before he does. Do you understand?”
     Theo shook his head slowly. “You’re deranged.”
     “So is anyone who thinks that sick fuck should live! It starts now, Father. Right…”
     The voice faded slightly.
     “…now.”
     Then the speaker gave a short, ear-splitting crackle — and the line went dead.