The operation wouldn’t have succeeded without Rory. A great success, as Bower had said. Which meant big kudos for the three of them. Rory Bannatyne helped their respective careers and disappeared back into the shadowy National Technical Assistance Centre—shamed or relieved or furious, Kane had no idea. Kane lost himself in the dog days of the Arab Spring. Taylor continued toward her incident in Algeria. None exactly lucky, now that he thought about it. Perhaps Oman had put some curse on them.

They reached Oxford and Kane directed Taylor to his home. When they arrived, she got out of the car and looked around the small terraced street. He rented the upstairs flat of a neat, attractive house. The road was narrow, with the tightly packed houses lending a sense of both crowdedness and seclusion. Seven p.m. A mild night. Kane wondered for a moment if she wanted more from him than operational assistance. On the quiet street Taylor looked smart and successful and bigger than this provincial world. She also looked like she didn’t want to be alone just yet.

“I can’t imagine living here,” she said.

“It takes no imagination. This is my life. Come in for a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

They went up to his rooms. His first visitor, and suddenly he felt aware of the mustiness. She studied the place much as she’d studied the street, hands in her coat pockets, head turning. Most of the pictures and decorations belonged to the landlord, a former professor now based in France, and Kane had adopted them as he would the furniture of any cover ID. He felt Taylor search for traces of a partner, a life, a past.

“No mementos of your service to the country?”

“No. Want a drink?”

“More than anything. But unfortunately I don’t do that anymore.”

“Something soft?”

“A tea would be nice. Black, no sugar.”

She continued to browse the shelves while he put the kettle on.

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year. A year without spying. There should be awards: abstinence from the service. Is that tasteless?”

“Because I’m a recovering alcoholic? No, we still have a sense of humor. Although I’m not sure anyone knows that about me anymore. I heard you had a bit of a crazy time too.”