Leo had been given his own cell – not out of kindness, more likely they feared that as an older man he would be at risk of tuberculosis and might not survive until the trial if thr had beto one of the communal cells. At regular intervals the grate in the door slid open and an officer checked that Leo hadn’t tried to kill himself. Since his arrival he’d slept for no more than thirty minutes. As the days progressed he’d almost given up on sleep altogether, pacing backwards and forwards – four steps by two steps were the dimensions of his cell – his thoughts revolving around the prospect that he might never see his daughters again.

The cell lights were turned on. Leo was surprised. He received no visitors at night. The door opened. A man in his mid-forties entered accompanied by a guard. Leo didn’t recognize him although it was obvious from his smart suit and shoes that he was important, a politician perhaps. He seemed nervous, despite his trappings of power. He would not hold eye contact with Leo for longer than a second. They did not close the door, the guard remaining close by the man’s side. It was only at this point that Leo noticed the guard was ready with a truncheon, to protect the visitor.

Plucking up the courage to look Leo directly in the eye, he said:

—Do you know me?

Leo shook his head.

—If I told you my name it would mean nothing to you. However, if I told you the name that I used to go by…

Leo waited for the man to continue.

—I used to be known by the name of Mikael Ivanov.

Leo’s first thought was to step forward and crush Ivanov’s throat, assessing the likelihood of success considering his own age and physical condition. Dismissing his instinctive reaction, he managed to control his anger. He had not achieved the one thing he wanted – a visit from his daughters. Whatever blunt satisfaction might come from killing Ivanov, it would guarantee that he would be executed without having seen Zoya and Elena. Apparently relieved that he’d not been attacked, Ivanov pointed out:

—I was forced to change my name.

Leo spoke for the first time.

—A hardship, I’m sure.

Ivanov was irritated with himself.

—I’m trying to explain why you couldn’t find me. Frol Panin advised me to change my identity. He was sure you’d come looking for me, no matter how many years went by. You did. That was why I had to pretend—

—To be dead?

—Yes.

—Panin was wise. It saved your life.

—Leo Demidov, do you believe a person can change?

Leo considered Ivanov carefully, sensing genuine remorse and wondering if it was a trick – another form of punishment. Modulating his tone from outright hostility to deep scepticism, he replied:

—What do you want?