Lindsay felt a mixture of irritation and satisfaction. If she’d lost Stella, she could have gone back to Helen empty-handed but virtuous. Now she was nailed to her tail for another sticky journey, more likely than not. She turned her car round and backed into a space right at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was on double yellows, but she couldn’t imagine a traffic warden coming all the way down there on the off chance in heat like this.

She looked across at the building whose vanway held the Fiat. There was nothing to indicate who the tenants were or what they did. It was simply a blank box in dirty red brick with windows that indicated four floors above the ground-floor level, which had no windows at all. Time to take a chance, Lindsay decided. She got out of the car, leaving it unlocked in case she needed to make a quick getaway, and walked purposefully across the street. The building had a side entrance, a pair of heavy wooden doors at the top of three shallow concrete steps. Lindsay tugged the brass handles, relieved when one opened and admitted her into a small foyer. Ahead were more double doors, this time steel and reinforced glass. By an entryphone was a bank of etched metal plaques. Dessins Domingo was the tenant of the top floor. Underneath them were Bronzed Bodies—Sculptures, and Media Masters, followed by Heavenly Dolls, Stationary Cycles plc and Gorton Engineering.

Lindsay made a quick note of the names, though she felt fairly sure she wouldn’t be far wrong if she looked for Stella Piper at Media Masters. The only question was what Media Masters did, and what Stella was doing there. She walked back to the car and moved it to the street where the cul-de-sac emerged, finding a handy space facing in the direction Stella would logically take to get back to civilization as Lindsay knew it. She settled down for another wait. This time, she didn’t have to hang around long. Within ten minutes, the Punto appeared at the junction and shot off into the Wapping labyrinth.

Once they were back on the main road, the route could not have been more simple. Tower Hill down to the Embankment, round the choked artery of Trafalgar Square and up Charing Cross Road, where the traffic was moving so slowly Lindsay could read the promotional posters in the bookshop windows. There were a couple of times when she thought she’d lost Stella at traffic lights, but the rush-hour traffic was so sluggish, she caught up on the next change. At Cambridge Circus, Stella slipped left into Shaftesbury Avenue, then turned right into the pulsating heart of Soho café society. She dog-legged her way through the streets until they reached a backwater where the flesh trade had not yet been ousted by fashion. Stella had slowed down to a crawl, obviously looking for a parking place. Behind Lindsay, a car pulled out and swung round a corner. Quickly, she reversed into the available space and jumped out in time to see Stella losing patience and bumping her car on to the pavement further down the street. She got out and headed back up the street in Lindsay’s direction. Lindsay walked casually towards Stella on the opposite pavement, glad of the weather as an excuse for wraparound sunglasses that let her stare without being spotted.