Austin appeared at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a knee-length coat, snow boots and a scarf. Leo assessed his tailored clothes. They were not flamboyant yet were no doubt excellent quality. Jesse Austin was wealthy. Reports estimated his annual inme to be in excess of seventy thousand dollars. Austin assessed his reception. Leo saw a hint of displeasure in his expression. Perhaps he felt he was being surrounded and crowded, overly managed. He addressed them in Russian:

—Have you all been waiting long?

His Russian was excellent, fluent, but it followed American patterns of speech and despite his good accent, his words sounded foreign. The foremost official stepped forward, replying in English. Austin cut him short:

—Let’s speak Russian. No one speaks it back home. When else am I going to practise?

There was laughter. The official smiled and switched from English into Russian.

—Did you sleep well?

Austin replied that he had, unaware that everyone already knew the answer.

The group left the House on the Embankment, making their way through the snow, guiding their guest towards the limousine. Leo and Grigori broke off, heading towards their car. They would follow the party, rejoining them at their destination. As Leo opened the door, he looked back to see Austin eyeing the limousine with disdain. He began to petition the officials. Leo couldn’t hear what they were saying. There was a disagreement. The officials seemed reluctant. Ignoring their protests, Austin hastened away from the limousine, arriving beside Leo and Grigori.

—I don’t want to be driven around behind tinted windows! How many people in Russia drive cars like that!

One of the officials caught up.

—Surely, Mr Austin, you’d be more comfortable in the diplomatic vehicle? This is just a standard working car, nothing more.

—Standard working car sounds great to me!

The official was flummoxed by this alteration of their carefully laid plans. He hurried back to his group, discussing the matter, then returned and nodded.

—Very well, you and I will travel with Officer Demidov. The others will go ahead in the limousine.

Leo opened the door, offering the front passenger seat to Austin. But once again Austin shook his head.

—I’ll sit in the back. I don’t want to take your colleague’s seat.

Putting the car in gear, Leo glanced in the rear-view mirror at Austin, his tall frame cramped into the ungenerous proportions of the car. The official peered at the rudimentary interior with dissatisfaction.

—These cars are very basic. They were built for work not for leisure. I imagine they compare badly to many of your American cars. But we have no need for excess here.

That sentiment may have carried more weight had the official not five minutes ago tried to impress his guest with the luxury of a limousine. Austin replied:

—It gets you there, doesn’t it?

The official smiled, a smile designed to cover his confusion.

—Gets us where?