Like all controllerates, it was a supply chain, collating and assessing the product brought in by officers overseas and then disseminating it in daily updates and weekly reports to the relevant customers. Their areas of responsibility centered on the Falklands, but also involved less explicitly political issues: some drug running off the coast of Brazil and oil exploration in the North Falkland basin. She had two case officers in Latin America, one handling an agent in the Argentine defense forces, one with a source in an energy company. There was a team working on the African side, concentrated on Sierra Leone, where the British embassy housed a small but busy MI6 station. And, as of last year, there was Ventriloquist: a GCHQ liaison job and hence the only one that didn’t make the paper trail.

She glanced down a list of messages and appointments: upcoming budget meetings, IT issues, and yet another compulsory training session on new data sharing protocol with the EU. The only message she read in full came from St. Thomas’s Hospital. Rory Bannatyne’s body was in the care of a security-cleared pathologist: Dr. Alexandra Glenning. Taylor would be notified of the outcome in due course.

She went to her own office, which had an adjoining secure communications room and a view over South London. Daniel Kudus knocked as soon as she sat down. She was always glad to see him. He had transferred from the Falklands desk specifically for the cable project when Taylor had insisted she needed one other staff member read into the operation. Kudus had been hungering for a more front-line role. He navigated the environment of MI6 with a taciturn facade she hoped contained a measure of disdain. His eyes showed experience beyond his years. He was an outsider in the service, so she trusted him, trusted his loyalty to her, and he worked hard. He had been processing Rory’s reports over the last year and had also felt the impact of Rory’s death. His bearing had become solemner, his enthusiasm more measured.

“The deputy chief was just here,” Kudus said. “He asked to see you.”

“Gabriel came here? Did he say about what?”

“No.” Kudus had been around long enough to know the politics of the place, and that this spelled trouble. “How was Rory’s sister?”

Taylor handed him the postcard. Kudus read it, puzzled, turned it over in his hands.

“Rory sent it shortly before he died. It was in an envelope, as if he wanted to keep the contents secret. He sent her cards whenever he could, but never one like this.”

“Jack Moretti.”

“Rory seems confident he’s an American psychologist. His sister never got a chance to look into this. I’m curious why Rory wanted to track him down. So let’s give it a go.”

“Okay.”