Feeling self-conscious, Leo stopped by one of the aisles, picking one at random. Each box had a sticker with a number written on it, a long code that meant nothing to a casual glance. Every box had a lid, making it impossible to browse. Clarke commented:

—There is a reference catalogue in the office that matches up the codes with a description of the contents. Not everything is stored in boxes, though: some odd-shaped objects, or oversize items, stand on their own. They’re located further down, near the back. Let me bring a copy of the catalogue: that might help.

Clarke turned around and hurried towards the office. Leo circled, restless – his thoughts dwelling upon the investigation. Idly he opened the nearest box. It was filled with money, wads of five-and ten-dollar bills, low denominations, but pristine, unused, a small fortune. Leo suspected the money was Soviet-produced forgeries. One wad of money was inside a plastic bag labelled

CAUTION

. The notes probably contained a chemical of some kind, perhaps even a toxin. Putting the lid back on, he moved down to the next aisle, selecting another box and lifting the lid. This box was filled with scientific equipment, a microscope and other apparatus that Leo didn’t recognize. The objects were dated, perhaps fifty or so years old. Once again there was no explanation: no written documents. After the third and fourth box it dawned on him that the bulk of this archive would prove to be banal. It appeared as if the Americans had collected everything even vaguely connected to Soviet spy protocols.

About to turn around and wait for Clarke to return, Leo spotted the oversize objects. He walked towards the back of the archive, finding a walking cane made out of gnarled wood. He toyed with it for a while, wondering if there was a secret compartment, some secondary function, a poison spear perhaps. Giving up, he returned it to the shelf. There was an old-fashioned transceiver, perhaps used to make secret communications, as large as a television. Next to that was a suitcase.

Leo crouched down, his hands shaking as he placed them on the case. Though his hands had changed markedly over the years, this case had not. It was old fashioned with a leather-clad handle and rusted steel locks. Despite the fact that he hadn’t seen it for sixteen years there was no doubt that it was the same case he’d bought when he was a young secret-police officer.

It was the suitcase Raisa had taken to New York.

Same Day

Leo stood up, peering through the boxes, checking to see if Clarke was close by. There was no sign of him. Returning to the case, his hands still shaking in nervous anticipation, he clicked the locks open and looked inside.