—My name is Elena. I am a student from the Soviet Union, visiting the United States as part of a tour. We are performing a series of concerts in New York and Washington DC. Tonight we perform in the United Nations.

Agent Yates, repulsive as he was, was no fool. He’d been correct – the Soviets hadn’t given up. They’d made contact. Jesse had always been disillusioned with the CPUSA, but he’d never been able to say no to anything the Soviets had asked of him. The young Russian seemed uncertain whom she should address, perhaps not expecting Anna to be at home.

—Mr Austin, and Mrs Austin, I volunteered to act as a messenger. My spoken English is not good. I was informed that you speak Russian, Mr Austin. May I speak in Russian? I am sorry, Mrs Austin. Please forgive me. There would be no mistakes if we could speak Russian.

Jesse glanced at Anna. He said:

—I will translate.

Anna nodded her consent. The young woman switched to Russian. Her husband’s face brightened with the sound of that language – a language Anna had never understood.

***

Jesse’s Russian came back to him in a rush and he was amazed at his fluency after so many years. It didn’t feel like a language he’d taught himself, it felt like a mother tongue.

—I thought maybe I was no longer of any use to you.

He’d not meant to sound self-pitying. The young Russian girl shook her head.

—There was a school programme only two years ago to write to you when we heard of your difficulties with the authorities. Thousands of students composed letters of support. I myself wrote you a letter three pages long. They were posted to you. Surely some came through?

—No, nothing.

—We feared this would happen. They were intercepted. The American secret police open all your mail.

Jesse had long suspected that his mail was being intercepted though had no idea it was to this extent. He pictured the young FBI agents given the job of reading them all, hundreds of letters by children, analysed and fed through the most sophisticated automated code breakers. Elena continued:

—We also asked members of the American Communist Party to talk to you but they failed to persuade you to attend the concert.

Jesse became annoyed at the mention of the CPUSA.

—American Communists spend all their time bickering among each other. They’ve never achieved a thing worth mentioning. Why would I do anything for them?

We would have tried to call you…

The Russian girl blushed, not meaning to draw attention to their depressed circumstances. They no longer owned a phone. She continued: