—You love him, this man, Mikael Ivanov, who worked for this secret department? He told you his motivation was equality and justice. Elena, he didn’t love you. Love was how you were manipulated. Some people want money. Some people want power. You wanted love. That was your price. You were bought. It was planned. The love was a lie, the most obvious and simple of tricks.

Elena wiped away her tears, feeling a wave of anger for the first time.

—You can’t be sure of that. You don’t know what happened.

—I am sure. I’ve planned operations like this myself. What’s worse, they knew that only a person who wasn’t aware of the plot could have persuaded Jesse Austin to attend the concert. They needed someone in love. They needed someone full of love and optimism. Otherwise, Jesse Austin would have sensed a trick. He would have sensed if you were lying to him, or if you didn’t really believe the things you were saying. He would never have attended that concert if you hadn’t asked him to.

Elena stood up.

—I know it’s my fault! I know!

Leo shook his head, lowering his voice.

—No, I blame myself. I taught you nothing. I let you into this world naked and naive and this is what happened. Raisa and I wanted to shelter you from those things – lies, deceit, trickery – but they are the truths of our existence. I failed you. I failed Raisa. I had only one thing to offer her, protection, and I couldn’t even provide that.

Leo addressed Frol Panin.

—Where is Ivanov now?

—I know that right now he is on a train. I don’t know where that train is heading.

Leo paused, sensing this was the truth but suspicious of it all the same.

—Who killed my wife?

—To the world, the answer is Anna Austin.

—That is a lie.

—We don’t know what happened.

Leo became angry.

—We know that the official version of the events is a lie! We know that much.

Frol Panin nodded.

—Yes, that version seems unlikely. However, to avoid a diplomatic crisis we have agreed not to contradict the American version of events.

—Who killed Jesse Austin? Was it us? Was it the Americans? It was us, wasn’t it?

—As far as I know, the plan was merely to have Jesse Austin turn up outside the United Nations. The hope was that he would be arrested, dragged off by the police, and if one of the students could become embroiled in the ruckus that would be useful from a propaganda point of view. It was a plot conjured up by a department that is desperate to make some inroads into the anti-Communist senti a de that prevails in the United States. They wanted to repair Jesse Austin’s career. They wanted him to be famous again.

Leo began pacing the room again.