Before she drew level with Lindsay, Stella turned into a shop. Instantly, Lindsay sprinted across the street and followed her in, realizing belatedly she had just walked into a sex shop. Videos for sale covered one wall, magazines another. Two cabinets in the middle of the floor held sex toys. A swift glance revealed dildos of proportions no one but a hard-core masochist could desire. With an inward shudder, Lindsay drifted towards the counter where Stella was standing, lips pursed in impatience, arms folded and one sandalled foot tapping. Behind the counter was a youth so spectacularly lacking in physical charm that it was hardly surprising he’d chosen to work in a place that recognized the importance of fantasy. He had a phone clamped to one scarlet ear. The other stood out at ninety degrees to his shaven head. The tattooed fingers holding the phone read “shag.” In your dreams, Lindsay thought derisively. Neither of them showed the slightest interest in Lindsay as she pretended to browse the videos.

“He’s not answering,” he said in a thickly adenoidal voice.

“I told him I was coming in this afternoon,” Stella said peevishly.

“He never said.”

“He must have told you where he was going.”

“He never. He just said he had some business to sort.” He replaced the phone under the counter. “D’you wanna come back later?”

“Not especially, no. Did your precious boss say when he’d be back?”

The youth shrugged nervously, one finger creeping reflexively towards a nostril. “He never tells me nothing. We’re open till ten, though.”

“I know you’re open till ten,” Stella said through gritted teeth. Lindsay had often read the expression, but she’d never seen anyone perform it before now. It was impressive, she had to admit. Stella hefted the holdall on to the counter. Where it had been almost empty before, it was now bulging, square corners pushing the fabric out in several places. “Have you got a box?” she demanded.

The youth looked as if gorm had followed couth out of his life a long time ago. “A box?” he echoed.

“A cardboard box? Big enough to hold the tapes I’ve got in here? I’ll leave them for Keith, but I don’t want to leave my bag behind, capisce?”

“Yeah, right.” The youth disappeared through a bead curtain. Stella drummed her fingers on the counter top. Lindsay moved casually behind her to the opposite wall and started looking at magazines. Out of the corner of her eye, she could still see Stella. The youth emerged with a box about twice the size of the holdall. “This do?”

Stella didn’t even bother to answer. She simply unzipped the bag and transferred about a dozen video tapes into the box. “When Keith shows his face, tell him Stella was here as promised. There’s twelve samples in there. Six different films, each cut in two versions—one for America, one for Europe. Tell him to call me with his orders before Monday. Have you got that?” He nodded. “Repeat it back to me,” she commanded.