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Philadelphia Experiment.’
    Secker couldn’t hold back a grin. Buckingham snapped round and gave him a hard look. His expression straightened.
    ‘And?’
    ‘It appears some version of the experiment did indeed occur and was run by a very senior and respected scientist. It was not conducted in Philadelphia, but in Norfolk, Virginia and a few
years before the date set by most “experts” on the subject. I’m still trying to establish who the scientist was.’
    ‘The Philadelphia Experiment is considered to be an urban myth, Herman. Why should we countenance the story?’
    ‘I know,’ Toit replied and pulled himself up from the seat. He towered over the diminutive Secker. ‘But apparently Six are taking it seriously.’
    ‘OK,’ Buckingham said. ‘But what relevance does it have to anything?’
    ‘I only have a brief report to go by, but two things about it jumped out at me. The first is that the experiment was considered at the time to be one of utmost importance to the US
military.’
    ‘When was this exactly?’
    ‘1937.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘The events were secured under a Triple A intelligence rating, which meant that no one had access to the facts for a minimum of a hundred years. Even then, it appears MI6 acquired the
information by fluke.’
    ‘How? What sort of fluke?’ Secker asked.
    ‘I have no idea.’
    ‘The second fact?’ Buckingham said.
    Toit paused again before answering. His eyes turned to the buildings close to the London Eye: the Houses of Parliament across the river, the Admiralty, Westminster Abbey. ‘I heard through
the grapevine that you spotted something quite extraordinary using the new satellite network controlled out of Flotta.’
    ‘You are well-informed.’
    ‘It’s my job.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘According to my information, the experiment in 1937 had some close connection with a very famous woman of the time.’ He pursed his lips, glanced at his shoes and then turned his
gaze straight into Glena Buckingham’s eyes. ‘Amelia Earhart.’

10
    Ignoring each other as though they had not exchanged a word on the thirty-minute journey, as the capsule of the London Eye completed one full revolution and skimmed slowly
along the egress–ingress platform, Herman Toit had parted company with his employers. He had then turned left while Secker and Buckingham hung a right.
    The Eurenergy executives were met by a chauffeur-driven BMW that slipped onto Belvedere Road en route to the company’s Hammersmith headquarters. Toit walked north beside the grey-brown
Thames towards grimy concrete steps that led up to Waterloo Bridge.
    It had clouded over, the temperature dropping a few degrees. Toit walked at a brisk pace towards the Strand. He turned as a black cab slowed and drew to a stop at the kerb. The driver’s
window wound down, and a thin man with black hair and dark shades leaned over.
    ‘I have a message for you, Mr Toit.’
    Toit, all senses alert, looked back along the bridge towards the Bullring and the Imax cinema. ‘I’m all ears.’
    ‘Could we drive a short while, sir?’
    Toit glanced into the interior of the cab to see it was empty, then pulled on the handle and slipped inside. The cab drove away before he was seated. Beside him on the leather seat lay an iPad.
Toit picked it up and instantly the screen flickered to life.
    A heavily pixelated face filled the screen and a man’s distorted voice spilled from the tiny speaker.
    ‘You come highly recommended, Mr Toit.’
    Toit stared impassively at the screen and noticed the driver concentrating on the road as they approached the Strand.
    ‘We would be interested in employing you.’
    ‘I am already spoken for.’
    ‘But paid insufficiently I would imagine.’
    Toit pursed his lips and looked out at the traffic and the stone buildings. ‘Go on.’
    ‘We would like to secure your exclusive services for a particular task.’
    ‘I’ve never been keen on the word “exclusive”.’
    ‘I believe, Mr Toit, that