‘It depends on the situation. But there’s two thousand of us in Kazakhstan. I’m sure I could find some spare hands.’

‘Two thousand?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Working for Saracen?’

‘Not just Saracen. We’ve got contracts with the government; border tech. That’s the big new market, and we proved ourselves in Israel and Mexico.’

We agreed payments and contacts, swapped some final anecdotes, then began back across the concrete.

‘What kind of lads have you got over here?’ I asked.

‘Everything. Thai, Columbian, Ukrainian. Mostly Brits though.’

‘Good kit?’

‘Take a look at this.’

He led me to a hangar. Inside, crouching in the darkness, were forms I didn’t recognise: thin struts, metal plates, electronic devices that could have been cameras or lasers.

‘It’s for a virtual fence. Buried sensors and camera towers all linked to central control centres. UAVs, motion sensors. The lot.’

‘For protecting drill sites?’

‘That’s right.’

There was something strange at the back: a rusted COSCO container with Chinese markings. I tried to see it as we headed out; it had been half-obscured by tarpaulin, but I got a glimpse inside and it contained what looked like a military radio system. Light entered through three bullet-sized holes in the metal. It seemed all sorts of stories sheltered in the hangar.

‘Come on.’ Purvis moved back towards the daylight.

‘You’re well equipped,’ I said.

‘We’re doing our job,’ he said. ‘We own this market. No one’s competing right now.’

The day outside seemed brighter. Men had stopped on the tarmac. They stood stiffly as gates rolled back and a black convoy with outriders swept in. Purvis put a hand up to stop me.

An armoured Bentley swept towards the helipad. It stopped beside the Sikorsky and a guard got out, opening a back door as steps lowered from the helicopter and its rotors began to turn.

‘Carter,’ Purvis said. ‘The boss.’

A lone figure moved between the car and the helicopter, head bowed against the wash. Then he was gone, the stairs folded in and the heli took off, sending up gritty snow, everyone ducking. Life in the compound continued.

‘Ever used the heli for a search-and-rescue mission?’ I asked.

‘There was one the other day, actually. A woman. I was never told what she had to do with Saracen. Hunt her down, we were told. Whereabouts? Somewhere in Kazakhstan.’ He slapped his forehead and laughed.

‘Those were the words used?’

‘Something like that. Why? Planning on getting lost? I wouldn’t. It’s one big fuck-off country.’

‘You never found her, I take it.’

‘Not as far as I’m aware.’

‘And they said “hunt”?’

‘Hunt, find her, whatever. Something urgent.’

I was sitting in my hotel room with the gun in my hand when my phone rang. It was Elena Yussopova.

‘Elena.’

‘John, where are you?’

‘I’m at my hotel,’ I said. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I need to speak to you.’

‘Okay.’