In London, the lights stayed on.… By the time the cranes rose over Royal Mint Court, Londoners had already learned to read geopolitics in steel and glass. The new Chinese embassy was enormous—deliberately so. Its setbacks complied with planning law, its façade nodded politely to British heritage, and its fiber lines were thicker than anything required for consular work. The debates in Parliament sounded procedural, but the briefings circulating in Whitehall were not. They spoke of SIGINT hardening, of RF-quiet rooms, of the peculiar way modern embassies were no longer buildings so much as platforms—nodes in a planetary system of data, logistics, and influence. Mara Ellwood watched the construction from across the Thames, nursing coffee gone cold. She was an analyst by trade, trained on the Cold War canon—Moscow Rules, dead drops, brush passes—but her last posting had cured her of nostalgia. Today’s intelligence didn’t live in alleyw...