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."