After a moment, she clocked the two men from Russell Square in the center of the room. They were partly eclipsed by the group that had gathered around them. Payne had an unmistakable Westminster bearing, simultaneously gauche and unctuous. The younger man had removed his jacket. He looked intelligent, awkward, excited. Why had they been running checks on Kane, four thousand miles away? Why digging up her past transgressions? Taylor wondered if she’d made a mistake. But the conjunction of a senior politician with an offshore-owned property suggested something was going on. The Oman element put Taylor in the crosshairs, but it also gave her a sense of purpose: If they wanted to confront her, they could do it directly. They could come out from behind the holding company, show her what they were made of. She was running on anger and adrenaline. At the same time, something told her that these weren’t men who got their hands dirty with security, that neither of them knew her face well enough to recognize her.

They split up. A lot of people wanted to speak to the younger man. The MP moved away, joining a separate cluster of guests. Taylor made a mental note of the people that the two men interacted with, noting who appeared acquainted, who might have information, who might even engineer an introduction. A “bump” as they called it, get talking apparently accidentally, establish cover, draw closer to your target. Taylor was assessing her options when someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see a man in his sixties wearing a pink tie and a wavering smile.

“I believe I saw you at the Expo last week,” he said.

“Really? I don’t think it was me.” She smiled.

“Oh. You’re not with the Financial Times?”

“No.”

He laughed. “Apologies. A senior moment. I thought your face looked familiar. Are you in the business?”

“On the edges,” Taylor said, catching her breath again, focusing on her story. “And you?”

“Empyrean.”

“Remind me what Empyrean do.”

“Space burials. Funerals: memorial ashes sent into orbit. That kind of thing.”

Taylor felt her eyes widen. She moderated her surprise.

“How interesting,” she said.

“Very popular. Surprisingly popular.”

Taylor introduced herself using the investor cover and his eyes lit up.

“I must send you one of our packs.”

“Please do.”

Financing the New Age of Exploration, she thought. Was it possible she was at a networking event for the space industry?

“Two years ago, this was in a Holiday Inn with about twenty people,” the man said. “And we were the only ones offering funerals.” He looked wistful. “Soon they’ll say it’s a bubble. Enjoy it while it lasts. This is your nuts man.”

He stopped a young man as he was marching past.

“Michael, you must meet Suzan. She’s an investor. I was saying you’re the nuts man.” He winked. “Michael’s the nuts and bolts of it all.”