He had no idea what Khan’s field really was, and in a way that was the most terrifying thing. An area of science so rarefied that almost nobody understood it, but just comprehensible enough that it might be vital to national security. The thought brought him out in a sweat, thinking about mind control, death rays, volcano lairs…

Was that it? Had Khan been the villain all along, and this escape was part of her ingenious plan? Except he couldn’t see how any of this could have been engineered by Khan, or by anyone, and Khan’s exit felt opportunistic. She’d seized her chance without even collecting her notes or the computer.

Julian’s instincts were telling him this was a multi-way clusterfuck, several factions after the same thing and treading on each other’s toes. He ticked off the possible enemies: Billy White’s greatgeorgengland mob were probably patsies rather than serious contenders, but someone was behind them. And someone else had beaten several of them to death. A big, ugly wrestler-type and an Oxbridge student who was supposed to be dead of exposure these four years.

He added it all to his notes, tabled the necessary meetings and jumped on board the accelerating train that was Op Herringbone—or Glassknife II: The Search for Khan. He had to report to his director, Hind, tomorrow. Her meeting request seemed formal and polite, but between the lines could be read the suggestion that this could be his only chance to explain his way out of a slapping.

After that, a text from Alison should have been a mercy. But Come over tonight. We’ll talk didn’t mean a pleasant evening with a bottle of wine and her latest Netflix fixation. It suggested a tense, late night of talking shop.

Alison’s desk was strewn with photos and transcripts. All three screens were bright with scans of similar documents, and Julian could see at least a dozen windows open on each.

“What have they got you working on?” he asked, then for form’s sake added, “If you can tell me.” If she couldn’t, she wouldn’t have left it out for his visit.

“This is your Op Mouser, while you’ve been off getting yourself into other trouble,” Alison said. She was taking a break from the desk, sipping tea on the sofa and petting Simms. Julian rattled about in the kitchen until he had tea as well, putting the wine in the fridge.

“Josie?” Alison asked when he returned.

“Could see I was stressed as hell, bless her. Let me off this once.”