The threat was shrewdly targeted. The offer was tempting. Leo considered the prospect of returning to Moscow. He would be reunited with his daughters. Nara and Zabi would be safe. Yet could he trust the offer and trust the captain to keep his word? He might be executed as soon as he returned to Kabul. The defector, Fyodor, who’d escaped only for a day, and for no other reason than because he’d fallen in love, had been executed. Leo’s betrayal was far more serious.

Allowing Leo to think upon the mixture of incentives and warnings, Vashchenko turned to Greene, angling his attacks at the nation ready to accept him.

—You should consider carefully whether this man is asset or a liability.

Before Leo could interject Greene answered in fluent, graceful Russian:

—We have considered the matter carefully. We’ve already accepted his petition for asylum. Furthermore, he is not in Soviet-controlled Afghanistan, he is in Pakistan, and you have no legal hold over him here. My colleague Salaam is furious at your unauthorized entry into his country. I’m afraid we can’t let you have him.

Leo managed enough composure not to exclaim aloud, or gaze at Greene in dumb surprise, trying to react as if this lie were the truth, and an obvious truth at that. Greene toyed with his packet of cigarettes.

—I should point out, were you to be arrested in Pakistan, a Soviet officer – which I presume you to be – the Pakistani government would be upset. You would be classified as a spy. It could cause problems for you, problems far worse than the problems you’ve come here to solve.

Greene quickly translated his comments into Urdu for the Pakistani intelligence officer, who nodded. Leo knew that there was no chance Captain Vashchenko would ever allow himself to be caught alive. And were he to be found dead in Peshawar, the Soviet government would deny that he was working for them, rolling out any number of excuses.

A timid young waiter arrived at the table carrying four bottles of cola on a steel tray. The captain knotted his fingers together, placing his hands on the table.

—The Pakistanis provide aid and weapons to the Afghans. The pretence of their neutrality is not asset to the Soviet Union. We do not care about upsetting their feelings.

Greene glanced at Salaam, muttering an abbreviated translation, before saying to the captain:

—Where does that leave us? Suffice to say that murdering a CIA operative in Pakistan would change the United States’ perspective on the war dramatically.

The captain smiled.

—No one needs be hurt. We just washouan. It is as simple as that. I believe he is of no use to you. The United States should not be foolish enough to send troops into Afghanistan. Why become embroiled in a conflict so far away? Demidov’s information is of no relevance to you.