‘Privacy legislation?’ she offers. ‘Too much faith in faulty algorithms?’

‘And?’ Silas says. ‘What do you and I know works better than facial-recognition software?’

Strover pauses before answering. ‘Humans,’ she says. ‘Super recognisers.’

Silas nods. ‘Experts reckon it will be a good ten years before the software can match the super recognisers.’

‘And a number of them have gone missing in the past six months,’ Strover says.

‘Ever since Gilmour Martin arrived in the UK.’

Strover looks up at Silas. ‘You think he’s responsible?’

‘We have to consider it.’

He thinks back to what happened to his own super-recogniser unit. Kate, its best operator, was nearly killed in a car accident, denting the unit’s performance as well as its morale. One month later, his boss closed the unit down and signed a contract for Centaur, a new facial-recognition software system that’s yet to go live.

‘Why a Tesla, though?’ Strover asks. ‘Quite a top-end car to abduct someone in.’

‘Not if Gilmour’s trying to frame Rob, a well-known techpreneur who’s already got one himself.’

‘It’s also electric,’ she says. ‘Silent. And Teslas have a chill mode – it softens out the throttle response.’ Strover really should consider a job on Top Gear. ‘A person wouldn’t even be aware that there was a car behind them,’ she continues.

‘Get on to the super-recogniser unit in Nottingham,’ Silas says, a new urgency in his voice. Gilmour might be trying to destroy Rob’s career, but Silas isn’t going to allow him to ruin his. ‘Ask them to go through ANPR records for the night that their star performer disappeared and look for a Tesla registered to Gilmour Martin. Then check in with Dublin, Madrid and Hamburg.’

86

Jake

Jake stands with Bex at the corner of Shepherdess Walk, looking down towards the Tesla, still up on the kerb.

‘Something’s happening,’ Bex says.

The driver of the Tesla gets out and walks over to the entrance to the block of flats where they now know Rob lives. He disappears inside and reappears a minute later with a woman. Kate. He takes her by the arm and walks her over to the car. Is she going willingly? Maybe she’s unwell? The driver now has one hand on Kate’s elbow, either to steady her or to restrain her.

‘It’s her,’ Bex says.

‘Kate!’ Jake calls out from down the street and starts to run towards her.

Kate turns to look at them. Jake knows at once that she’s under duress. There is nothing but fear in her face. A moment later, the driver bundles her into the back of the car, helped by another woman standing nearby, who gets in after Kate.

‘Wait!’ Jake calls again, still running. Bex is close behind him.

But the car is already accelerating silently away from them.

‘Get the number plate,’ he says, making a note of it himself. ‘You got it?’