A lot of images stirred in Kane’s mind, prominent among them Anne’s uniform, the windowless Flight Research Test Center, and Thomas gazing across the Dew Pond on Green Mountain.

Kane returned to the living room, looked at other photos: in frames, on the shelves, in piles beside the books. He found Anne and Thomas’s wedding, in a garden of some kind, a young Connor in attendance not looking much older than he did in the photograph by his bed. There were photos of Anne in her twenties, Anne pregnant among the surreal peaks of Ascension, then Carina as a baby surrounded by US Air Force personnel. There was a map of Finland with the Finnish flag in the top right corner.

“How did your mum meet Thomas?”

“Some green group.”

“Can you remember its name?”

“Antelope Valley Conservation, I think. They were involved in that a lot when I was little. When we were in California.”

“Weird question: Any idea which of them joined it first?”

Connor looked at Kane, puzzled. “No.”

“Was it before your dad died?”

“Why?” he said.

“No reason. Just curious. Sorry.”

But something about this question had unsettled the boy. He wouldn’t take his eyes off Kane now.

“Forget it,” Kane said. He looked out of the living room window, at the identical cabins, artificial-looking plants, the moon almost touching the horizon. He felt the boy watching him intently.

“Thomas said there are parties on this island,” Kane said. “Secret ones. You saw one once and the Administrator’s car was there. Does that sound right?”

“Not really.”

“No?”

“Everything was pretty normal until Petra went missing.”

“No invite-only parties? Guys messing around with young girls?”

“No. Why? Did Thomas say that?”

Kane went back to the photos and searched through them again, found one of a young and strikingly confident Anne Lindgren sitting in front of a round, triple-layered window, smiling at the camera. It looked like she was on an airplane, with the moon visible through the glass. There was something odd about the image, though. When Kane looked closer he saw it wasn’t the moon—it was Planet Earth behind her. She was in space, and the earth hung in darkness over her shoulder. On the back, it said: To Thomas. Maybe one day you’ll come up here with me and we can watch the sunrise sixteen times a day.

Kane replaced the photo, feeling a mixture of wonder and dread. He turned slowly back to Connor.

“What does your mum do on the base exactly?” Kane asked.

“Something important. I don’t know exactly.”

“Important and secret, I guess.”

“That’s why we have to be here.”

“Right.”

Kane went and checked on Carina. She lay very still in the dark with her eyes open.

“Where’s Mom?” she said, without looking at him.

“She’ll be back soon.”

Kane took the binoculars from the living room and returned to the boy’s bedroom.