Nara proved invaluable in assessing the lists of women that the deserting officer had come into contact with. She knew most of the names either personally or by reputation and was quick to rule out those who would never have allowed themselves to become embroiled in the scandal of a romance. Leo was not convinced that his young protégée understood that love could make even the most reliable of characters behave unpredictably, doubting that Nara had ever fallen in love. But he decided to go along with her initial observations, having very little knowledge of the women on the list himself.

Despite Fyodor Mazurov having spent three months in the country very few opportunities for romance would have presented themselves. Unlike many war zones and capital cities, there were no brothels in Kabul, though Leo had heard mention from several senior military figures of a desire to create one for the influx of soldiers. The women would be brought in from abroad, from Communist allies in the east perhaps, flown in like crates of bullets or artillery shells with the brothels run not as a commercial venture but as part of the military infrastructure, kept secret to ensure that the pious sensibilities of the local population were not offended. This project, no doubt appointed a lewd code name of some sort, had not yet been implemented and so the young officer must have fallen in love with an Afghan woman. The status of women in the country meant that there were no female shopkeepers, no women at leisure in the teashops, and little likelihood of chance encounters on the street. Nara was adamant that the woman would have come from the upper classes, the only area of society where there was a degree of gender integration. Going through the officer’s list of meetings and duties, one woman stood out. He had regular meetings with an Afghan minister, a member of the new government, a man with a daughter in her mid-twenties, university educated, fluent in Russian and employed as the minister’s translator.

The address led them to a house built in the traditional style, with mud walls and decorative flourishes, hundreds of years old. Many similar houses had been destroyed and this craftsmanship no longer defined entire districts, existing instead as isolated examples, lonely remnants. Positioned on a narrow and ancient street, the colours rich red and brown, Leo thought it appropriate that romance had taken refuge in one of the few beautiful architectural areas that remained standing. Once a comparatively wealthy district, catering to the upper classes, it was difficult to view any part of the city as privileged. Nowhere was safe, nowhere was protected from outbreaks of violence.

Leo didn’t knock, but picked the heavy iron lock. It was an old design. The decorative engravings were mirrored by the craftsmanship of the mechanics – making it harder to open than many modern locks. Nara became nervous.