It took another two long meetings for Korolev to grasp what Medev had dangled in front of him and start talking about BIOS-3 in more terrestrial terms. It could, he began to argue, be used to house brave comrades in hostile environments around the world, or high-value foreign assets from whom the KGB might want to extract information in complete secrecy.

Medev could see merit in both arguments. But just as Korolev didn’t have infinite resources, neither did he. Considerable amounts of KGB money had already been funnelled into the Zenit satellite and Vostok rocket programmes as well as the constant surveillance of their American counterparts, the Corona programme and Project Mercury. He couldn’t justify moving funds from any of these to research that would take years to produce even a proof of concept.

An hour ago Medev had finally sent Korolev on his way, empty-handed but with a promise to reconsider his request at some un­specified date in the future.

‘I know you’re desperate to tell me all about it,’ Galina said, knowing full well that Medev couldn’t. ‘But I’ve got to get back to my stove. A bowl of solyanka, comrade?’

‘That sounds perfect,’ Medev said. A bowl of Galina’s sweet and sour beef stew was exactly what he needed before heading up to his apartment and sleep.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Knox slouched in his Eames lounger. He’d been sitting in it for hours, watching the sun drop over London as he slowly sank lower and lower himself. He was now near horizontal. There was a crystal tumbler on the floor next to him within easy reach. The events of the day had called for something stronger than gin, so he was drinking his best Ron Zacapa rum, neat.

He’d spent the whole evening staring out at the city, seething about his run-in with Peterson, and trying to work out exactly what he’d ended up in the middle of. He’d been given a puzzle to solve that didn’t make any sense. There were too many parts, and he couldn’t see how any of them fitted together.

He’d survived as an outsider within MI5 by always being one step ahead, always knowing more about an operation than anyone else, considering every outcome, and preparing for all of them. Knox was absolutely not in control of this situation, and he didn’t like it. There had to be some angle that would make everything fall into place. But he had no idea what it was. And the longer he sat thinking about it, the less Kemp House felt like a castle in the sky and the more it felt like a giant plinth, giving a clear shot at him to anyone who wanted one.