Kane walked to the port, which was no more than a small stone promontory protected by railings. A set of steep concrete steps sank down into the black froth. All the fishing boats were moored away from shore, safely into the bay, and even the dinghies for tendering were weighted at a distance from the stone. The sea churned, with sparks of phosphorescence moving in cryptic forms beneath the surface.

A crane towered above him, warehouse buildings at the back—a shipping office, fire station. The ruins of an old stone fort remained to the side, one of the original lookout points, silhouetted against the water. No hotel.

He headed back, past the church, toward the edge of the settlement where it ran up against a wall of starless black hillside. That was where he found the hotel. There was an expanse of empty parking lot with a giant anchor at its center, and a dark, bulky building a few meters beyond it with not a single light on inside.

The door was locked. A laminated notice had been fixed to the glass beside it:

It is with the deepest regret that the Shareholders in the Ascension Georgetown Hotel have decided to close their hotel and car hire business on Ascension. We have chosen to keep the business going for the six months since the curtailing of flight links with the U.K. in the hope that a worthwhile service would resume. Sadly, the air links currently proposed are inadequate for the purposes of maintaining a fully functioning hotel and it is impossible for the Ascension Georgetown to continue its operations any further into such an uncertain future.

No date. The sign looked new. Kane studied the structure. His feeling, beyond anger at the total bungling by whoever had made the arrangement, was that if this could go wrong, anything could go wrong. It was a reminder that, due to exceptional operational sensitivity, he wasn’t working with a full team, that the people planning this operation had never set foot on the territory. The abandoned hotel was a disaster, but it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him here.

Kane walked around to the back. The windows would be easy enough to open. He could get inside for tonight. Was there another hotel on the island? Could he get there if there was? It was past nine p.m. now.

On his way back toward the residential area, he started looking at cars—old, rusted vehicles, a couple with keys in the ignition. This felt useful to know. There were lights on in some of the bungalows. When he saw his first silhouette behind a blind, Kane knocked. He was still surprised when someone answered it, and felt obscurely guilty, catching them existing in such a strange environment, as if everything on the island must be furtive.