“Yes.” She took a breath. “I need you to do me a favor. We’ve got what looks like possible countersurveillance on the island—someone checking on Kane. I don’t know who, but I know that they’ve taken photographs of him and sent them through to a facial-recognition company called Percepta Biometrics.”

“Your message sounded like there were internal issues.”

“I’m managing those for now, but it does mean we need a result on this fast. People are developing anxieties about Ascension. They could throw a real spanner in the works.”

She gave him the details they had for Percepta. The company used various encryption tools but none of these were invulnerable. If you had a lot of time and expertise they could be hacked, or you could simply steal the keys, as GCHQ had been doing for two decades now by various means.

“I can explain more later,” Taylor said. “But I’m not in a position to put in a formal request. That would draw attention to Ventriloquist.”

“I would have to go through appropriate channels, Kathryn.”

“You’re the UK head of Echelon, Dominic. You don’t have to go through anyone. We’ve got a few hours, then I’m going to have to consider reporting that the island’s insecure and future operations are inadvisable.”

“Let me try,” he said.

Taylor hung up. That wasn’t the conversation she’d meant to have. She researched Percepta Biometrics, without uncovering much other than it was registered in Montserrat and boasted a database of three billion faces. She studied the photo and wondered where in the island Kane was when it was taken. If she sent it through, he might be able to identify the moment and therefore the camera operator.

She messaged Kane with the image attached, then waited for his reply, refreshing and reconnecting the system. There was still no word by the time Bower called back an hour later.

“I can’t see any direct communication between Percepta Biometrics and Ascension Island, but I’ve got something.” Taylor felt a jolt of electricity.

“What have you got?”

“Percepta’s European office received seven emails from a computer in London this month, and this same computer has been contacting a device on Ascension for the last two weeks.”

Yes, Taylor thought. She savored the sweet rush of a result—of knowledge, meaning power; meaning the correction of a power imbalance. Her heart raced.

“Any details?”

“I’ve got a physical location, some search history. But the computer concerned isn’t used much, and a lot of what it does is encrypted.”

Bower sent through the data: seven pages of contact information. But the bit Taylor cared most about was up front. The computer communicating with both Ascension and Percepta was housed at 9 Russell Square.