She hadn’t expected any Americans in the meeting. The man was tall, in his late fifties. Vass stared at her with such intensity that she was momentarily taken aback. His eyes didn’t casually wander over her clothes, or note her simple shoes. She reached out to shake his hand. He took hold of it, loosely, as if it were something awful. He didn’t shake it: he merely held it. She found herself wanting to pull away. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was making her feel uncomfortable. Though she’d been practising, Raisa’s English was limited.

—It is my pleasure to meet you.

Trofimov laughed. Vass did not. He answered in perfect Russian, releasing her hand:

—My name is Evgeniy Vasilev. They call me Evan Vass as a joke. It is a joke, I suppose? I have never found it funny.

Trofimov explained his joke:

—Evan has been in America so long and is so corrupted by American ways we have renamed him.

Even this light exchange left Raisa confused – to claim someone was corrupted by American ways was hardly a laughing matter, yet it seemed the remark were no more than banter. These men existed in a rarefied atmosphere where even serious accusations carried no danger. As Trofimov poure glass of water she reminded herself that no matter what leniency they showed each other she was not of their level and rules that did not apply to them still applied to her.

Putting the disconcerting introduction behind her, Raisa reiterated the plans for the concert, pointing out the significance of the arrangements, from the choice of songs to the blocking. There had been one meeting in her hotel last night with her American counterpart: she was about to have a second meeting in the Grand Assembly Hall. There would be a dress rehearsal in the afternoon. Trofimov smoked throughout, smiling and nodding, occasionally watching his cigarette smoke swirl in the air-conditioned currents. Vass gave no reaction, regarding her with unmoving coal-black eyes. As she finished, Trofimov stubbed out his cigarette.

—That sounds excellent. I have nothing to add. You seem to have everything under control. I’m sure the concerts will be a great success.

The men stood up. It was her cue to leave. Raisa couldn’t believe it, standing uncertainly.

—You don’t have any comments?

Trofimov smiled.

—Comments? Yes, good luck! I’m looking forward to the concert. It will be a great success. A triumph, of that I have no doubt. We will see you tonight.

—Won’t you be attending the dress rehearsal this afternoon?

—No, that won’t be necessary. And it might spoil the experience. We trust you. We trust you completely.