In a world of technology and online networking, a pair of newlyweds leave a hotel and arrive home only to find a very shocking package in the back of their car. Where has it come from, and why is it there?
The maid slipped into the car park, clutching the satchel protectively. She looked furtively around. Harsh strip lighting sliced down from the ceiling. Hovercars were parked snugly in allotted slots, their ionizers off and lifeless.
Except for one.
A concierge, a tall man, smartly clad in a white shirt and waistcoat, was helping a married couple get into their car. He had summoned the maid to bring down a clothes bag for the woman, who had supposedly left it in her hotel room.
The maid has seized the chance to escape the room as soon as she had heard it through her PC. As was her duty, she'd hurried to run the errand in less than five minutes, and the woman was most impressed with her promptness.
"Thank you," she said gratefully from the front seat. "Put it in the boot for me."
The maid scurried towards the car, glancing back at the door to the concierge's office. Her fingers fumbled as she undid the zip ever so slightly and placed the satchel gently in the boot with the other luggage.
The concierge slammed the boot shut, sending a cold shiver through the maid. She stood there, stock still, staring at the stark letters on the car's holoplate. Then, the strip lights began rippling over the bodywork as the ionizers flared up, and the car swung smoothly out of the hotel.
"Snap to," said the concierge sharply.
"Of - of course," said the maid, and fumbled distractedly with her nails as she hurried off towards the hotel lobby for her mop. The concierge sauntered back to his office, boots clicking unsettlingly in the silent car park.
The maid made to follow him until another set of headlights came stabbing out of the darkness. Another hovercar was thrumming into the car park.
As she knew he would, the concierge came ambling back out of his office.
He was shot in the head.
Blood sprayed across the floor and door, glistening redly in the strip lights. The man fell to the floor without a sound.
Then the car door opened. A man got out. He saw the maid.
"What are you doing here?" he barked at her.
"I am meeting you, like you asked," she said. She was no longer shaking, but standing defiant, at her full height.
"Is that so?" hissed the man, not turning as more men emerged from the new car. They were garbed all in black. "I had not expected you to be so co-operative ..."
"Right you were," said the maid. "He's gone."
"Gone, I tell you, gone! You will never have him, never!"
And suddenly alarms sprang up all round the car park, throwing crazy bars of crimson light around the room.
The man rushed across the room and grabbed the maid by the throat.
"Where have you taken him?" he roared in her face, the light spinning crazily across his face, his eyes gleaming madly.
"I shall never tell you," sobbed the maid through the tightening fist at her throat, her tears like rubies on her cheeks. "You will never - touch - my son ..."
Police were moving in. The man roared in anger as the life faded from the maid's eyes. He threw her to the floor at the feet of the dead concierge.
"Let's go," he snapped, and he returned quickly to his car.
A secret had died with the maid. For she had told no-one about the baby boy she had brought with her to work, for fear of his safety. Her home was up in flames, and her son was missing. But no-one, not even the police, would make the connection between her and the satchel now nestled snugly in the boot of an inconspicious car.