Harry's gaze flicks upward reflexively, but he hasn't spotted any cameras inside and none reveal themselves here. Not that that necessarily means anything. Even he's fallen foul of the miniaturization of surveillance technology.

Still, he tends to operate on the assumption that he's constantly observed, even in his own home. A Kingsman surrenders any right to privacy quite early in his career.

"Presumably we were being watched beforehand," he says slowly, thoughtfully. "Why would they stop now?"

The thick air, already oppressive, feels like a crushing weight.