"Uh, yeah," John said, helping the man to a stand. "Sorry for, um, chasing you down here and all that. Just... who exactly was it that you picked up that meat from."

"I don't know," the man practically whimpered. "I picked up the pork from one of the local butchers just outside of London. I collect from a lot more than one store... nothing seemed particularly out of place. Old Sam at the cutting board was out sick though, I remember that much. Had his son running the counter."