“No,” Taylor said. “This was way beyond any potential clearance. There’s only six people in this building that know, and three in Vauxhall: me, my assistant, and the Chief.”

Kane had been in high-level, compartmentalized secrecy before, but nothing like this. He could see how it left you with little room to operate, reduced your own outlook.

“How many people live on Ascension?”

“ ‘Live’ may not be the word. There’s eight hundred people stationed on the island at the moment: three hundred Americans on the base, fifty UK military, some BBC and cable engineers. Most of the others are contractors—maintenance, catering, the usual—and those tend to be workers who’ve come over from Saint Helena. They often bring their families. But no one’s given permanent residency. And there’s very few tourists. Until a few years ago, civilians weren’t allowed on at all. So, we’re fairly sure we know who’s on there.”

Kane’s mind drifted briefly to the library in which he would have been sitting if it weren’t for this, to the concluding lectures in his account of secular poetry.

“How long would I be over there for?” Kane asked.

“No more than a month,” Bower said.

“I have commitments at the university,” he said. Bower looked puzzled, then realized what Kane meant.

“The PhD,” he said. “Yes, we appreciate that. I’ll leave it between you and Kathryn to make any necessary arrangements. A sabbatical, perhaps.” He smiled flatly. “There would be a full briefing later this week. You would be paid at the rate of external contractors, which I believe is considerably more generous than for staff. Kathryn will sort your cover and handle any logistics. Obviously this would retain the same level of security. I’m assured your assistance here will help offset any ongoing disciplinary concerns.”

Kane failed to hide a mixture of disdain and incredulity. Bower seemed taken aback.

“I understand disciplinary proceedings are ongoing,” he said, more hesitantly. “You are still technically under investigation. Is that not right?”

Kane had stopped expecting the worst of everyone, he realized; stopped seeing the world as interlocking power games.

“That’s right,” he managed to say.

“You’d be doing us a favor, is what I’m saying. And, of course, with a project of this significance . . . we wouldn’t forget.”

Bower closed his laptop, then excused himself and left Kane and Taylor to catch their breath and shake their heads.

“I had no idea he’d do that,” she said, quietly, as they headed back toward the outside world.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Let me drive you back.”

3

She exhaled once they were in the car, glanced at Kane when they’d cleared the last barrier.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

“The whole thing’s my fault.”

She drove, jaw clenched, knuckles white.

“Bower is very determined,” Kane said.