His eyes bored into her. This happened, of course. Certain environments brought out the spooks, and she was never surprised to find Berlin sniffing around. But it was a different feeling being caught winging it, off-road. This was dangerous, but also possibly an opportunity. She’d met Fischer in Geneva many years ago. Alongside his activity as a globe-trotting financier, he remained a senior officer within the colossal Bundesnachrichtendienst,or BND, as Germany referred to its intelligence agency. Taylor was one of the very few people who knew of this double life. She wondered what he was doing here and hoped he felt equally exposed, so she might exploit the potential awkwardness. She suspected Fischer had more insight into this scene than she did, but he didn’t have to know that.

“I wanted to catch a word with Geoffrey before he disappears,” Fischer said.

“I’ve monopolized him enough. I needed to freshen up anyway. Geoffrey, it’s been a pleasure. And I wish you luck.”

The MP shook her hand again, releasing it regretfully, insisted she take one of his cards, and offered her lunch if she wanted to continue the conversation.

Taylor cut through the crowded room, trying to think why Markus Fischer would turn up here. She went to the bathroom, locked herself in a stall and ran searches on her phone for Quadrant. The company’s website was as slick and opaque as she expected: sliding full-screen images of the stars with a variety of mission statements. Quadrant Space Technologies provide advanced space engineering solutions that integrate an innovative proprietary portfolio of satellite technologies and disruptive business solutions. It listed offices in London, along with testing and production facilities in Oxfordshire. There was some information on their patented ClearSky debris solution, but all it told her was that investment had been made and things were set to proceed in the coming months. Nothing about why it should cause her problems.

By the time Taylor returned to the sculpture gallery, Fischer’s conversation with the MP was over and the German stood alone, admiring the Rosetta Stone. She went over. They stood side by side, gazing at the hieroglyphs.

“I owe you one,” she said quietly.

“We owe each other. Let’s get out of here.”

Fischer taking the initiative shifted her momentarily onto the back foot, but this was what she’d had in mind. She needed insight, which meant taking a risk.

“Be at the end of the street in fifteen minutes,” Taylor said. “The far corner of Russell Square. I’ll pick you up.”

20