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Draper gestured towards Margaret. ‘Not all,’ she said.

‘Margaret is here today because of my intervention,’ Carlyle said. ‘But yes, I was using hyperbole – not everyone is missing. Some were present only to provide ancillary information, others weren’t able to contribute. But enough have disappeared to confirm the pattern. The Acacia Avenue Protocol has been initiated.’

A heavy silence hung in the air. Koenig broke it.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘You say more of your attendees have disappeared than can be explained away as a coincidence – that someone has been hoovering them up. Presumably to extract their part of the puzzle. And whoever is behind this is extrapolating from the information your guys are being forced to tell them. And now they’re acting on said extrapolation?’

‘I didn’t think it would be possible,’ she said. ‘But yes.’

‘Something else has happened then,’ Koenig said. ‘People disappearing is one thing. But you seem very sure that A has led to B. Why?’

‘Do you play chess, Mr Koenig?’

‘I used to. Not so much these days.’

‘Miss Draper?’

‘Same as Koenig. I used to.’

‘Well, imagine the protocol is a game of chess. A complex, multidimensional game of chess. If you wanted to play this version, what would you need first?’

‘The rules,’ Koenig said.

‘Exactly,’ Carlyle said. ‘You would make sure you understood how to play the game. That’s what they were doing when they abducted my attendees. They were learning the rules. What would you need next?’

Koenig considered the question carefully. Chess was a beautiful game. A minute to learn, a lifetime to master. He’d been OK at it. Draper had been better. She’d been able to see the entire board. On the rare occasion they’d played each other, she’d always been five steps ahead of him. She had a better middle and endgame. She instinctively knew which pieces to protect and which pieces to . . .

And like that, he knew what had gotten Carlyle so spooked.

‘Someone is removing key pieces,’ he said.

Carlyle winced. Then she nodded.