‘And for some scientist from NASA. What’s he going to do? Launch a rocket off Tower Bridge?’

Bennett shot to her feet, shaking the table and spilling the dregs of her coffee onto its faded Formica surface. Both of the other women twisted round in surprise, then, realising who had caused the sudden commotion, turned back to each other, pretending they hadn’t seen anything.

Bennett carried her cup over to one of the sinks. Then, once she was through the canteen’s large double doors, she sprinted up the stairs to the embassy exit. The secretary was right. There was no reason for anyone from NASA to fly all the way to London for a conference on economic development—unless they weren’t coming for the conference at all.

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Knox had one more stop to make before he met Bennett.

He walked down the long eastern slope of Parliament Hill, crossed the heath between the wide, open boating lake and the tree-shrouded men’s bathing pond, and headed up into Highgate.

Highgate was one of London’s old villages. Like Montmartre, sitting above Paris, it had been home to artists, writers, and politicians. It was an enclave of people who had worked out how to successfully combine creativity, power, and influence.

The Hollands’ home was called Wytchen House, but it was known both in and outside MI5 as ‘the cottage’. It was an ironic name as it was, by any normal standards, a mansion. But it had a demure, even humble air to it, set back from the road behind a small, elegant garden and with most of its bulk hidden behind high stone walls.

Knox knocked on the heavy oak front door, and a few moments later Sarah opened it. She looked like she hadn’t slept since he’d last seen her in Guy’s, and she did little to hide her irritation at finding Knox on her doorstep. But she still invited him in.

Knox had been to the Hollands’ house countless times, but he always felt slightly strange when he stepped inside—like a child visiting his rich friend’s parents.

Without a word Sarah walked into the drawing room, expecting Knox to follow her. She sat in a deep, high-backed chair in front of an empty fireplace. A pot of tea and an open hardback book were on a small table next to the chair.

Knox stopped in front of a chaise longue, set across from Sarah’s chair on the other side of a large, intricately patterned rug.

‘That’s where I found him,’ Sarah said, gesturing at the spot where Knox was standing.

Knox resisted the urge to leap to one side, and instead sat down on the chaise longue. It was overstuffed and he perched awkwardly on it. Sarah picked up the hardback—a sign that she didn’t expect Knox to stay very long.

‘What do you want, Richard?’