—I knew all along it would be impossible for you not to try something. You couldn’t merely stage a concert. You had to go further. You had to do more.

—It was an ill-conceived plan that has gone badly wrong.

—Let me go to New York. Let me investigate.

—Leo, my friend, listen to me: what you ask is impossible.

—I must find out who murdered my wife. I must find them and kill them.

—Leo, you will never be allowed to go. It will not happen. There is nothing you can do.

Leo shook his head.

—There’s nothing else! This is all that’s left for me to do! I promise, I will find her killer. I will find the person responsible. I will find them.

Same Day

Leo had no clear sense of how long he’d been sitting on the roof of the apartment block – several hours at least. After Panin had left, he and the girls had put the room back as it should be, resembling a home, the two beds side by side. Leo had begun to make dinner but abruptly abandoned his efforts, leaving the food uncooked. The only place he could think to go was the roof.

Teenagers sometimes came here to kiss and fool around if they couldn’t find anywhere else. Tonight, in the pouring rain, it was empty. Leo did not feel cold, even with his clothes soaked through. He could see out across the city, the night lights of Moscow smudged by rainfall. He stood up, walking to the edge of the building and looked down at the drop. He remained there for many minutes, trying to reason why he should step back. He remembered his promise. Stepping away from the edge, he turned his back on the city, heading downstairs to an apartment he’d once thought of as home.

EIGHT YEARS LATER

Soviet–Finnish Border

Soviet Checkpoint - 760 Kilometres North-West of Moscow

240 Kilometres North-East of Helsinki - New Year’s Day 1973

The rucksack belonged to a man shot trying to cross the border into Finland. Despite it being a savage winter with the snow in the forests lying waist deep, the man had attempted the perilous crossing perhaps hoping that the weather and near-permanent darkness would make it easier to pass undetected. To trespass into this heavily controlled area by accident or design was considered an attempt to defect to the West, an act of treason. The soldiers patrolling, many on skis through the forest, were instructed to shoot to kill. There would be wide-reaching repercussions if a traitor managed to slip through and seek asylum abroad, revealing classified information about the Soviet Union to its enemies. On a personal level, Eli Romm, in charge of this zone, would be called be witribunal and would almost certainly lose his job and possibly his freedom, accused of neglect or, worse, of wilfully allowing an act of sabotage.