He would never see Raisa again. He would never sleep beside her, or kiss her. And with that thought, he let the smooth, heavy stone roll out of his hand. Night had come. The red smudge of sunset was gone. The lights of Coney Island were bright.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around. Nara and Zabi were approaching. They arrived by his side, standing over him, unsure what to say. Leo patted the ground beside him.

—Sit with me a while.

Nara sat on one side, Zabi on the other. Leo took Zabi’s hand. She sensed something was wrong even if she didn’t understand what it was.

—Are you leaving us?

Leo nodded.

—I have to go home.

—Isn’t this home?

—It is for you. I must return to Russiai>

—Why?

—My daughters are there. They’re in trouble. They’re being punished instead of me. I can’t allow that to happen.

—Can’t they come here? They can live with us. I don’t mind sharing my room.

—They won’t be allowed to come here.

—I don’t want you to go.

—I don’t want to leave you.

—Can’t you stay until Christmas? I’ve been reading about it at school. I want to celebrate it with you. We can buy a tree and cover it with lights.

—You can still do that with Nara.

—When are you coming back?

Leo didn’t reply.

—You are coming back, aren’t you?

—I don’t think so.

Zabi was crying.

—Have we done something wrong?

Leo took hold of her hand.

—You’re the most amazing girl. You’re going to have a wonderful life here with Nara. I’m sure of that. You can achieve anything you set your mind to. And I’m going to enjoy hearing about your success. But there is something I must do.

ONE MONTH LATER

Soviet Airspace above Moscow

13 December

Peering out of the window of the passenger plane chartered by the Soviet government to bring him home, Leo was disappointed that Moscow was hidden below angry clouds, as if shunning the gaze of the returning traitor, refusing to show him the city that he’d once sworn to protect against all enemies, domestic and foreign. No matter what rationale he applied, he could not deny that he felt ashamed. He was a man who’d fought proudly as a Soviet soldier and he would gladly have died for his country. Yet he had ended up betraying it. While his sense of personal shame was intense, he felt far greater shame that his nation had squandered its opportunity for social progress, instead industrializing darkness, making its citizens complicit in a murderous command economy, building death-factories in every corner of the country, from Kolyma’s gulags to the secret police headquarters, the Lubyanka, a building that lurked somewhere underneath those winter clouds. To the ideals that underpinned the Revolution, they were all traitors to one degree or another.