Captain Anton Vashchenko woke at five o’clock, getting out of bed at the first sound of the alarm, not allowing himself a moment’s delay, throwing his feet out from under the covers and pressing them against the cold floor. He found satisfaction in such discipline and in the dark found his steel water bottle, containing strong cold coffee brewed last night. He took a long gulp before getting dressed in the dark, putting on running gear, jogging pants, sweatshirt, trainers and a holster, which held his semi-automatic Makarov pistol tight near his shoulder. His route was approximately five kilometres, along Darulaman Boulevard, crossing the Kabul River into the centre of town. It had been suggested that if he wanted ecise he could run at the heavily guarded airport, laps of the runway. He’d dismissed the idea. He would run where he lived, as he had always done. In Stalingrad, where he’d grown up after the Great Patriotic War, he’d run past ruined buildings and unexploded bombs, scampering over rubble – devastation had been the backdrop to his childhood. Here in Kabul, his run took him past slums and bullet-chipped ministries. He refused to live in protected isolation, in the secure military garrisons outside the city. Causing some inconvenience, he’d insisted upon modest temporary accommodation in the embassy despite several protests that it was inappropriate. From his point of view, he’d been tasked with the security of Kabul so living outside the city made little sense. Losing control over these streets would hand their enemy a psychological victory. It was essential that they act and behave like this was their city. Indeed, Kabul was their city now, whether the Afghans liked it or not.

Captain Vashchenko left the gates of the embassy, jogging in the direction of the city centre. Normally, running in Russia, for the first kilometre his muscles would be heavy with sleep, a sensation he’d shake off as he eased into the rhythm of the run and the caffeine took hold. But in Kabul he was alert from the first step, his heart beating fast not because of the exertion or the speed, but because there was a chance someone might try to kill him.