Michelle's 'shop' took up a completely separate wing of the house. It was a shop because it had gowns and suits draped on hangers for sale. But there were no customers in evidence. Occasionally, a young man would drift into sight. Walking flat footed to keep the video camera on his shoulder on a level, he would pause by a creation, view it from various angles and then move on.

Sometimes a woman would appear and then disappear with the garment to a changing room only to reappear minutes later to model the clothes in front of a camera. The models were different sizes and shapes. All the models were beautiful but also clearly intended to represent a customers view of themselves. Earphones on the young men's heads relayed instructions.

The models spoke quietly and respectfully into the cameras. Their words were converted into digital codes which sped around the world through the Internet until they found their destinations in the wealthy home computer terminals of the viewers. It was a cross between TV shopping and the very highest of haute couture.

Sarah was sure there were few in the world that could afford these prices. It was the ultimate in personal service. The very best in couture bought on line, delivered direct and the wealthy need never move from their couches except to reach for their cheque books.

Very occasionally, as the hours went by, a plane would land and Michelle would gushingly accompany a client in person around the the boutique. But this was rare and it was clear that most of the business was done through the cameras.

"But why do you want to sell your business", enquired Sarah later as they relaxed around the pool.

"It's simple - I am treading on too many toes", replied Michelle expansively, speaking English out of courtesy to her guests but making little effort to avoid a strong French accent.

"I'm fed up of looking over my shoulder only to see someone trying to do it to me. I want out - and to live on my earnings in luxury somewhere nice and comfortable."

"And this is where you come in", said Tim languidly. He had changed into light slacks, a cream short sleeved open shirt buttoned low and crocodile shoes. He draped a leg over the side of his chair. Relaxed, wealthy, masculine, focusing now fully on her.

"There are two competing firms that are considering buying this outfit. One is a large mail order chain that wants to add a touch of class to its range. The other is a top Japanese fashion house. We believe they are planning to attack our computer system with a new highly virulent artificial intelligence virus. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, this was confirmed by the encrypted Email on the disk you got from the youth.

"You mean that Michele's business is Terry's next target?" said Sarah.

"Indeed, we think so from the description – although nothing was very specific. In fact we can't prove anything at the moment and of course afterwards would be too late. We need to have the antidote ready as soon as it happens."

"We didn't tell you at the time but the person you made friends with at the convention is not only a world leader in cryptology but also a world leader in computer viruses and their antidotes. He was the person referred to in your Email. He is Terry's paymaster."

Sarah's mind was swamped with conflicting emotions.

"So that was why you wanted me to get to know him!"

"We need you to help us get information about his latest developments and we think you have had some experience in that."

He looked for a moment slightly embarrassed.