Pipistrelle was MI5’s top-secret, highly advanced, and almost entirely undetectable bugging system. After six years of rapaciously competitive development by the planet’s spy agencies, it was still one of the most effective pieces of surveillance technology in the world. It was the jewel in MI5’s crown, and knowledge of its existence had not been shared with the other Venona countries, or the rest of Britain’s allies—even MI6 only received the occasional, sparing precis of the secret conversations it overheard in embassies, offices, and living rooms.

Knox started to realise why Holland had wanted him to meet Laing. He sounded just like he had when he was starting out: earnest, and dedicated to the point of obsession. He was also, Knox imagined, still stewing over what had happened in Canada.

‘That sounds fairly comprehensive,’ Knox said. ‘But perhaps there’s something I can add. A second pair of eyes is always useful.’

Laing slowed to a stop, and Knox could sense him stiffening even more. They’d looped round the garden and were now back at the other side of the fountain.

‘May I speak freely, sir?’

‘Of course.’

‘I appreciate what you’re doing. I know I made a mistake in Ottawa, and I know I have to serve my penance. But this is a waste of your time. This is a simple job and I’m on top of it.’

Knox was silent for a second, both surprised and impressed by Laing’s sudden burst of directness.

‘Send me what you have, and I’ll decide that,’ he said.

Laing gave another acquiescent nod. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I‘ll see to it right away.’

Knox let him go.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

‘Where on Earth have you been?’ Malcolm White asked as Knox stepped into the cavernous research and development department deep in the bowels of Leconfield House.

White was the head of the department, and the man almost solely responsible for the innovations like Pipistrelle that let British intelligence keep some kind of pace with its immeasurably better funded and resourced American and Russian counterparts.

Knox had decided to see if there was anything else happening in MI5 headquarters that he could help with while he waited for Laing’s files. His first stop was White, who he found exactly where he expected him to be, inspecting his latest contraption that straddled the divide between science and wizardry—a perfectly smooth black box suspended on wires that connected it to a series of bronze coils.

Knox looked at the mechanism, conscious that he had no idea what it could possibly be used for, or what mysteries it might contain.

‘Had to take a little trip,’ he replied. He pointed at the box. ‘What’s this?’

‘Nothing yet,’ White replied. ‘I assumed you’d been packed off to Africa like the rest of the bloody Service.’