He sighed, sat down opposite her. “The press are on this, Kathryn.”

“Really?”

“It took some hack from the Mail contacting our press center for me to find out that someone had died on a job—that they connect to the disappearance of a teenage girl. That is not ‘standard.’ ”

Her heart sank. The service had strong connections with the press; they’d try to keep it under wraps for now, but she could see the headlines itching to surface: Teen Sex Killing on Spy Island.

“What does Ventriloquist involve, exactly?” Skinner asked.

“Much what you’d expect. Comms interception.”

“What I really want to avoid is finding myself in front of the Joint Intelligence Committee being asked to explain how the program connects to Petra Wade.”

The deputy chief never raised his voice, which made him all the more unpleasant. Maybe the service needed people like him, Taylor had once reasoned: fastidiousness as sadism. Or perhaps he was simply an outdated curiosity, and not worth being intimidated by. Which was easier to think from a distance.

“It was cleared through the appropriate channels,” she said. “I have followed procedure at every step.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Kathryn.”

She felt the cool fury of a man who had hit the ceiling of his authority. This was why people like him hungered for the very top: You could piss on everyone. Was that what it felt like up there? She had the authority of magic words—Echelon, Ventriloquist—but he could still ruin her career. True seniority within the agencies came down to ears: who had the ear of C, of the F-Sec, of the PM. Skinner was close to Downing Street.

“What do you intend to tell the Americans?”

“Nothing.”

“Do they know about the cable plan?”

“No. We don’t go to the White House for clearance on our own soil just yet.”

He briefly closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was gazing wearily down at the desk.

“Do you know what they give us for use of Ascension? Do you know their longstanding concerns about the security of the place?”

“I’m sure Washington will approve when they see the data coming in. GCHQ have a team waiting to start. I’ve sent an officer to establish what happened. They will find out if there’s any reason to pull the operation.”

Skinner nodded, studying her.

“Did you have any previous connections with Rory Bannatyne?”

“No,” she said. “Well, we’d worked together before, but only very briefly.”

His eyes narrowed. He sensed something, like a dog sniffing. As if this was enough, Skinner got up, moved around the desk toward her.

“What your officer will do is extract himself from that place at the earliest convenience. Suspend all operations. We’re going to need to devise a media strategy. The press are very close to sending someone out there. This is what we call an almighty cock-up.”