Rectangular patches of carpet had been nailed to the wooden steps down to the basement with no concern for appearances, making it baffling why the alteration had been done at all. The answer was on the ceiling, covered in black soundproof foam. The concrete floor had also been carpeted in a patchwork of material, using the remains of carpets from upstairs. This wasn’t about aesthetics or comfort, it was about noise, the creation of a quiet room, a cocoon shut off from the world.

There was a tatty chair positioned opposite a large television set up on a small side table. There was a second refrigerator, this one containing bottles of beer, neatly lined up, labels facing forward. There was a stack of newspapers, recently read, crossword puzzles filled in. Leo looked through the home-crafted bookshelves. They contained various biographies of sporting heroes, reference books, a dictionary for the word games that Yates seemed to occupy himself with. There were magazines about fishing. There was pornography. The room was like a teenager’s den buried under a decaying, apparently respectable family house.

The carpeted stairs and soundproofed ceiling meant that neither Leo nor Nara heard Yates arrive. Only when Leo turned to address her did he see the man standing at the top of the padded steps.

Same Day

Yates had been handsome once, Leo thought, remembering the wedding photograph, with his thick dark hair and well-cut suit. But not any more: skin sagged underneath yellow-tinged eyes. Compensating for this slackness in his features, his lips were stretched tight, thin as a washing line. He used gel to smooth down his grey hair, as when he’d been young, though now it looked like a sickly imitation, a pastiche of youth. Likewise, his suit might have fashionable once but now it was dated and worn, the material threadbare and the cut loose around his limbs. He’d lost weight. From the contents of the refrigerator, Leo deduced that his body had been whittled down by drink. But the creeping frailties of old age did nothing to soften his appearance, physical vulnerabilities made no dent on the aggressive force of his presence. Whatever wrong he’d done, whatever part he’d played in the events of that night, this was an unrepentant man, staring at them with brazen confidence and not a hint of remorse. They’d come for him, broken into his house, and it was him who spoke first, assuming a position of power, smug that they had failed to take him by surprise.

—I’ve been expecting you.

Recovering his own omposure, Leo said to Nara, speaking in Dari:

—He knows who we are?

She didn’t have time to translate, Yates guessed the question and said:

—You are Mr Leo Demidov.