‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

The picture came attached to a report on a citizen journalism website called InfoVillage, apparently hosted in Armenia. Tensions simmer as protests continue.

Semey was in the north-east of Kazakhstan, close to the border with Russia. Its central square had been occupied, which at minus 10 degrees suggested a serious level of commitment. Origins of the protests were unclear – the report alluded to ongoing refusal by local authorities to allow environmental campaigning or union activities. Last week, three students had been arrested for inciting discord. Rather than quashing things, the situation blew up. Locals were now out in force with photographs of the students and banners demanding justice.

It didn’t vibe ethnic conflict, more anti-oppression. People were singing. Some of the elders wore traditional Kazakh clothing.

‘The signs say things like Put the People First,’ I said. ‘Protect Workers’ Rights.’

‘Okay,’ Piper said.

They looked genuine: home-made, not mass-produced – varying handwriting, different paint and ink. Someone lifted up a Styrofoam model resembling the Goddess of Democracy statue erected by protesters on Tiananmen Square.

I clicked back to the men being dragged out of the Daewoo.

‘Who filmed this?’

‘A member of the public.’

‘Just passing by? It’s not filmed through a windscreen.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Have the British press picked up any of this?’

‘I’m managing to keep them at bay for now.’

‘This is a DV camera, not a phone.’

‘You reckon?’

‘I know. The lighting’s off a camera light.’ I listened to the voices in the background, checked the uniforms, then some of the other videos posted which purportedly documented GL5 malpractice: a man in his underwear on a concrete floor, someone on the ground with their head between their knees, someone handcuffed to a trough. ‘At least two of the other videos are from Georgia,’ I said. ‘Shot five years ago at least. You can hear the voices in the background, the accents.’

Piper nodded slowly, eyes lighting up. ‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘You’re sure?’

‘That’s a Georgian number plate in the background.’

She grabbed her phone and stood up. ‘Get yourself a drink.’

Piper wandered over to the window and made a call, touching her forehead to the glass as she spoke.

‘We may have some ammunition … Yes, I’ll send that … No, we don’t want to drive more traffic unnecessarily … ’

I went through her bag. In a thick Gucci wallet I found a swipe pass identical to the one Walker had used to access the Vectis office block. I pocketed it. I went to the bar and helped myself to a beer. She came back thoughtful.

‘Do you think your missing colleague connects to all this?’

‘Maybe.’

Piper took a hit on the vape, disappeared briefly behind an apple-scented cloud.

‘Shit,’ she sighed. Then she turned to me again, flapping a hand at the steam. ‘You’ve been here awhile?’

‘Why?’

‘You seem to understand this place more than most people.’