Taylor excused herself and went to get another juice. When Payne noticed her by the drinks, he caught her eye again. He kept his head bowed, as if deep in discussion, but a second later began to move away, a hand on his interlocutor’s elbow, a pat on their back. Then he was beside her.

“Stick close to the wine. That’s my policy.” Payne smiled, topping up his glass.

“It’s a good one.”

“I remember coming here as a schoolboy. Seems a bit of a shame to see it used for corporate nibbles. Bit of an insult to the gods.”

“I’m sure the gods have seen worse.”

“Indeed. How are you finding it all?”

“Fascinating.”

“If you don’t mind a bit of snake oil with your Chardonnay.”

“Nothing snake oil about Quadrant,” Taylor said, with a smile of her own this time. This caused him to regard her more carefully, but not without amusement. Now Payne introduced himself, by which he meant: Who are you?

“Suzan Wicks,” Taylor said, shaking his hand. “I’m an investment manager.”

“Is Quadrant a company you’ve got your eye on?”

“For sure. One of the reasons I’m here.”

“Between you and me, they would be a wise investment. A British company that’s going places. That has that vision thing. You know what I mean? Stuart’s a genius.”

“What’s he got up his sleeve this time?”

“Making space viable. Finding solutions to problems.” Payne winked and leaned in. “Junk.”

“Junk.”

“Space junk. Where there’s muck there’s brass, and there’s a lot of muck in space right now. It’s a little over my head, but I know intelligent people when I see them. It’s a very clever gambit. But that’s just the start.”

Before he could expand, Payne’s attention was diverted by someone standing behind Taylor. She saw his eyes slide and a new smile grow. Then she heard a voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

“May I cut in?”

“Markus,” Payne said. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Taylor turned, slightly horrified to gaze up into the eyes of Markus Fischer, officer for the German intelligence service. Fischer was tall, smartly dressed, immaculately groomed, befitting his long-term cover as an international banker. This, she assumed, was how Geoffrey Payne regarded him. She hadn’t crossed paths with Fischer for six or seven years, but they knew each other well. He met Taylor’s eyes and appeared to bury his own reaction.

“I hope I’m not interrupting . . .” Fischer began.

“Not at all,” Taylor managed to say. She stuck a hand out quickly. “Suzan Wicks.”

Fischer smiled with only the hint of a raised eyebrow.

“Pleasure to meet you, Suzan. Markus.”