‘For tonight,’ I said, ‘If you’re organising protests, download GatewaySMS. They’ll cut the internet again but you’ll still be able to communicate with anyone in the group. And it’s secure.’

I made sure he understood what I was talking about. He grasped the concept enthusiastically.

‘Thank you.’

‘What do you want?’ I asked. ‘At the end of this?’

‘Justice. That is all.’

‘Have you thought about using the flag? Maybe the colours in it. Doesn’t the blue symbolise peace and unity? You’re proud of Kazakhstan. You want to defend it, defend Nazarbayev’s legacy, for everyone. The Western press understands that.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Any famous people supporting you? Celebrities?’

‘Not openly.’

‘Okay. Keep in touch.’ I didn’t feel optimistic for them, and wondered if they knew they were on a frontline.

‘Please, tell the world.’

I went to shake his hand and he hugged me.

I found Satayev’s armed guard a mile west of the city centre, as promised. It was a ten-minute drive to the airport. As we drove, I experienced the faint, flickering promise of redemption: this could be the good revolution I was owed, the one I’d been waiting for. The one that was going to go right.

Which should have been a warning sign.

Semey airport was small and low-tech. A side gate opened for us, well-rehearsed men averting their eyes as we drove straight onto the smooth tarmac of the runway. We passed helicopters and one IL-76 cargo plane, rolled right up to a crisp white forty-seat Tupolev jet, just as the cockpit lights came on.

Once on board I was given a drink and code for the wi-fi. There were others travelling – three well-dressed men, none of whom spoke to one another, one of whom might have been a discreet chaperone. They glanced at me but seemed unfazed by my bruised face. A pilot with gold teeth shook our hands. A free newspaper told me the President was making efforts to address concerns around the country: long-serving men had resigned, though not Zhaparov. Independence Day was coming up on 16 December and would be an opportunity to show the world that Kazakhstan stood united.

When we were in the air, one of the men gave me a folder. ‘From Akan.’

Inside was a copy of a document from GRU’s Asian Directorate, carrying the CEKPETHO stamp for highest-level classified: Lt General Grigory Tanayev, to Anton Kirkorov, head of the Russian Federation Ministry of Energy. Timeline: 19:07, 25 November. Topic: Block 9 estimates.

The intelligence came from an agent named SERENADE. It consisted largely of stolen hyperspectral data, translated into 3D sections of the Earth, veined with dayglo pinks and blues.