Leo saw fear in her eyes, for Grigori certainly, but also for herself. She was afraid. That fear had brought her to him. Finally Leo knew what he had to offer – safety and protection. It was hardly a great talent. But, perhaps, in these dangerous times it would be enough, enough to create a home, enough to satisfy a wife, enough to make a person love him. Putting his hand on top of hers he said:

—I will try.

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

Moscow

Novye Cheremushki - Khrushchev’s Slums

Apartment 1312 - 24 July 1965

Climbing the stairs, Leo Demidov’s shirt became damp with sweat, clinging to his back and stomach in transparent patches. His socks seeped with each squeeze of his toes. On the ground floor the elevator was broken: the door jammed half open, the light inside flickering like the eyes of a dying animal. Despite having to climb thirteen flights of stairs he encountered no other people. It was eerie for an apartment block to be silent in the middle of the day. No children played in the corridors, no mothers with shopping, no doors slamming shut or neighbours arguing – the bustle of ordinary life muffled by the heatwave now in its sixth day. In housing projects constructed in this fashion the concrete hoarded heat with the greed of a miser collecting gold. At the top of the stairs Leo paused, catching his breath before entering apartment 1312, unseen by the other occupants of the floor.

Surveying the cramped surroundings, he pinched the shirt off his torso as though it were a series of leeches feasting on him. He crossed the living area into the kitchen and ran his face under the water. The pressure was weak, the water disappointingly tepid. Nonetheless the sensation was pleasant and he remained underneath the stuttering flow with his eyes closed allowing the water to run over his cheeks, lips and eyelids. He turned the tap off, water dripping from his face, snaking down his neck. Opening the small window, he found the hinge stiff even though the building was only a few years old. The air outside was still, not a trace of wind, a block of heat wedged around the building. Opposite him the identically designed residential tower shimmered like a mirage: the vertical lines of thousands of windows quivering in the sunlight.