“He’s not in custody anymore. The impression I get is that he escaped.”

“Oh, shit. Where is he?”

“According to what we’ve picked up from the island, he’s on the US base with a family: people called Thomas and Anne Lindgren. It’s not clear what role they have on the base, but the Ascension police don’t have jurisdiction, so they’re waiting for him to either leave or for some authority to grant them access.”

“See who Thomas and Anne Lindgren are, and if we can establish any kind of contact with them. I also want to know if there’s a procedure in place for evacuating the island and how it’s initiated—the Overseas Territories Department would be able to tell you. We need to think about involving Special Operations as well. There’s an SAS unit on the Falklands. I think we’d have grounds to drop them in, but C would need to authorize. Get Special Ops informed of the state of play.” This was reserved for the most extreme of circumstances, but Taylor figured that was where they’d arrived.

“What did Ian Latham say?” Kudus asked.

“We’ve got the strong possibility of a Russian agent on the island, living deep cover, possibly within a space defense program. So we need staff lists, previous security vetting files, everyone who’s traveled on and off the island in the last few years. That includes as many working on the US base as possible. Try to access private contractor databases as well. Get security clearance lists for the bases, with dates and roles: Air Force, NASA, CIA. You wanted to risk your career, now’s your chance.”

She checked the map, dialed the contact number for Markus Fischer.

“I have something for you, but I need help.”

“Know about the current situation in the Atlantic?”

“I have some ideas.”

“Can you get to West London?”

“I can get to the river. I want to stay where the roads are clear and I can see what’s going on. Meet me at the south side of Wandsworth Bridge in an hour. Park by the Alma Hotel. If you think you’ve been tailed, drive by. I’ll see you. We’ll rethink.”

“Okay.”

“I need somewhere I can use a secure phone line and get internet access.”

“I can get you that.”

Taylor put the radio on news as she drove. Nothing on the BBC yet. The prime minister had had to pull out of an appearance at a new hospital. That meant an emergency meeting was under way. Things were moving quickly.

Fischer was already in place when she arrived, waiting in a BMW with tinted windows. He had an earpiece in. Taylor climbed into the passenger seat, saw another car pull out behind them as they began to drive. Fischer registered her concern.

“It’s ours. We get an escort. You’re a VIP now.”