An event? There were enough people arriving to lend her some cover. She was wearing her work suit, which was sharp enough to blend in. Taylor thought she might at least try to find out what it was—that this might give her some insight into 9 Russell Square. She showed her bag to the security and crossed toward the museum. A corporate event, Taylor decided, scanning the attendees. She climbed the front steps, glancing at her watch as if late. Security just inside the doors amounted to two young staff with clipboards. No name badges to collect, Taylor was relieved to see. She approached, unsmiling, governmental ID at the ready.

“I’m with Geoffrey Payne,” Taylor said. “You won’t have my name down.”

There was an exchange of looks between the young man and the slightly older woman beside him who saw Taylor’s ID and gave a nod.

“Of course,” she said. “Have a good evening.”

The sight inside took Taylor’s breath. Colored lights swept across the pale stone walls of the Great Court. Acrobats descended from balloons suspended above the heads of several hundred people. Beneath them, a contortionist in silver balanced on a giant mirror ball. Projections wrapped around the rotunda of the Reading Room: Financing the New Age of Exploration. Then the words disappeared and in their place was the burning exhaust of a rocket launch.

Taylor followed the crowd as it channeled toward the Egyptian sculpture gallery. There were more guests in here, crowded closer together, talking over the sounds of a string quartet. Ramses II stared impassively past the Rosetta Stone at the musicians. Drinks and canapés filtered through. Taylor took a glass of orange juice. She read identifiable types around her: government, City, media, finally the self-styled entrepreneurs—younger, tieless, eager. She searched for her target pair, contemplating cover stories she could give if challenged. Snap cover needed to be convincing but obscure enough that no one would expect to find you online. An investor on behalf of a wealthy individual could work; she knew enough of them, wrapped in tangled webs of advisors and investment vehicles. They turned up most places and were usually welcome.