Is this love? No, of course not. But perhaps this is how love begins?

How love begins – it was sentimental, consistent with the fanciful temperament of someone who writes an inoffensive diary but hides it as carefully as if it contained treachery and intrigue. What a silly and dangerous thing to do. Leo didn’t need a physical description of this friendly young man to know his identity. He looked up at his protégé and said:

—Isaac?

Grigori hesitated. Deciding against a lie, he admitted:

—I thought a conversation might be useful in evaluating her character.

—Your job was to search her apartment and observe her activities. No direct contact. She might have guessed you were MGB. She’d then alter her behaviour in order to fool you.

Grigori shook his head.

—She didn’t suspect me.

Leo was frustrated by these elementary mistakes.

—You know that only because of what she wrote in the diary. Yet she could have destroyed the original diary, replacing it with this bland set of observations, aware that she was under surveillance.

Hearing this, his brief attempt at deference broke apart, like a ship smashed against rocks. Grigori scoffed, displaying remarkable insolence:

—The entire diary fabricated to fool us? She doesn’t think like that. She doesn’t think like us. It’s impossible.

Contradicted by a young trainee, an agent deficient in his duties – Leo was a patient man, more tolerant than other officers, but Grigori was testing him.

—The people who seem innocent are often those we should watch the most carefully.

Grigori looked at Leo with something like pity. For once his expression did not match his reply.

—You’re right: I shouldn’t have spoken to her. But she is a good person. Of that I am certain. I found nothing in her apartment, nothing in her day-to-day activities that suggests she is anything other than a loyal citizen. The diary is inoffensive. Polina Peshkova does not need to be brought in for questioning. She should be allowed to continue her work as an artist, in which she excels. I can still return the diary before she finishes work. She need know nothing of this investigation.

Leo glanced at her photo, clipped to the front of the file. She was beautiful. Grigori was smitten with her. Had she charmed him in order to escape suspicion? Had she written about love, knowing that he would read those lines and be moved to protect her? Leo needed to scrutinize this proclamation of love. There was no choice but to read the diary line by line. He could no longer trust the word of his protégé. Love had made him fallible.