Disorientated by the long flight, the time difference, the emotions of the past week and this reunion, Elena briefly wondered if she’d walked into a different apartment. The furniture had been moved, their beds stacked up, chairs pushed aside as if to make space for a dance. The kitchen table had been positioned in the centre of the room directly under the light. The tabletop was covered with clippings from Soviet papers about the murder of Jesse Austin. There were sheets of intricate handwritten notes, photographs of Jesse. There were photographs of Raisa. A chair had been placed opposite the table. The set-up was unmistakable. It was ready for an interrogation. Leo’s voice was scratched and hoarse:

—Tell me everything.

Fingers knotted tightly together again, Leo listened with ferocious concentration as Elena recounted events in New York. She became emotional, muddling some of the points, confusing names and offering rambling justifications. At such points Leo interrupted, asking for nothing more than the facts, requesting clarification and demonstrating a pedantic desire for exact details. He didn’t lose his temper, he didn’t shout, and this absence of emotion was perturbing. Something has died inside of him, Elena thought, as she reached the end of her account. Leo said:

—Please give me your diary.

Elena looked up, confused. Leo repeated the request:

—Your diary, give it to me.

Elena looked up at her sister, then back at Leo.

—My diary?

—Your diary, yes, where is it?

—Everything was confiscated by the Americans, they took our clothes, our suitcases, everything. My diary was in it.

Leo stood up, pacing the room.

—I should have read it.

He shook his head angry with himself. Elena didn’t understand.

—My diary?

—I found it before you left, under your mattress. I put it back. It would have contained information about this man Mikael Ivanov. Am I right? You would’ve speculated on his feelings for you. You would have detailed what he’d asked you to do. You were in love. You were blind. I would have seen the relationship was a fraud.

Leo suddenly stopped walking, raising his hands to his face.

—If I’d read the diary I could’ve figured it all out. I could’ve stopped the whole thing. I could’ve stopped you from going. Raisa would be alive now. If I’d just behaved as an agent. I thought it would be wrong to go through your things. But that is who I am. Tt I do. Those are my only skills. I could have saved Raisa’s life.

He was speaking so fast his words were running into each other.