I let out a primal roar. Mo looked concerned that I might cast his phone into the liquor aisle. I swallowed my rage and stabbed in the number of the second locksmith.
"Hello, Securelock Limited."
"Hi. I'm locked out of my flat."
"Right. I can sort that out for you, no problem."
"It's an emergency. And I don't have any identification."
"What's the address?"
I told him.
"I'm on another call at the moment, sir, so I can be with you in . . . say . . . forty-five minutes."
I checked my watch. My face must have been a picture – Mo actually looked sorry for me. "Can't you come any faster?"
"Forty-five minutes."
I sighed tensely, hung up, and handed over the phone, blinking back a tear. "Thanks, Mo."
