She can’t see Andrei as he stands in the check-in hall of Pulkovo Airport’s international wing, concealing himself behind a column in the corner, away from the counter with the handwritten sign where the words NEW YORK are scribbled in the neat cursive loops of a top English student. But Sasha knows he is there. She can sense him. He watches her walk from the customs area, dragging her half-open suitcase, which has obviously been rummaged through, and he shakes his head in frustration. This was the one thing he failed to do, to give her name to the customs director. One thing he failed to do, but not the only thing. He clenches his jaw, but it is too late now. It is too late for so much. He watches her drag her suitcase away from the door, where she starts to fold the rumpled clothes and pack everything back into the bag. When she is done, Sasha looks around, sees the loopy handwritten sign, and joins the line for check-in. It is a short line, uncharacteristic of lines in this city: not many people travel to New York from Leningrad.

He sees a red passport in her hand, which, he knows, has just been issued and still smells of glue, a special external passport granting her permission to leave for the United States of America. Sasha knows he had to cash in some huge favors he had accumulated over the years in order to have that passport issued. He even got his father-in-law involved—he had to—although he knew Vadim smelled the truth, by the way his son-in-law begged. He had never asked for anything before, so the old man looked him in the eye and said, “This is for her, isn’t it,” which they both knew was not really a question. Andrei didn’t nod or shake his head in denial. “Whoever this is for,” he replied as impartially as he could muster, “I’m sending her away. Far away.” “How far?” asked Vadim, a flare of suspicion in his eyes. “America,” he said and turned to the wall, because the sound of that destination made him have to catch his breath. That was when the old man walked over to the internal office phone, lifted the receiver, and dialed a number that only he could dial. “A visa and a passport will be issued in her name,” he said, his voice both a warning and a condemnation. “But if they investigate who authorized this, it will be you who takes the fall.”

He is ready to take the fall. He has nothing to lose.