It was barely a hundred and fifty metres to the church of St Michael the Archangel, but the snow was thigh deep between the trees. Fresh flurries piled it even thicker. It must have been minus fifteen. There was no moon visible, no street lamps. Away from the glow of Polina’s windows the night absorbed me, sucking me into the void of the winter landscape.

Polina told me that Rachel had declined her offer of hospitality and said that she would be staying at the priest’s house next to the church instead. And what was the harm in that? It was nice to see young people moving back to the village again. Polina had also confirmed – to the point of irritation at how many times I asked – that no one else had visited Arkhangel immediately before, or since, Rachel had arrived.

I put one foot after the other, and tried to fathom why, of all the places she could have bolted to – whether she was running from something or towards it – she had come here. Was it me? Or my mother? Or perhaps it was closer to home than that. In my mind’s eye I saw Doc dead in his drawing room, slumped in front of the fire. For better or worse, he linked us all. Our pasts and our presents all spun around him. The thought of what might happen if – when – they collided made me shudder.

On the way to my mother’s old family house I’d avoided the road and persevered along an old cart track that had taken me to the west of the church, but not past it. The birch trees on the approach were thick enough to give good cover against infrared, though if anyone nearby had thermal imaging I’d be lit up like a Christmas tree. Despite Polina’s protestations about no one else having come to the village, an entire detachment of Special Forces could have deployed without her suspecting a thing. I was about to find out for certain if the GRU had connected Arkhangel the place to Arkhangel the project. My cheeks burned. There was just enough time for a simple recce. Ideally, I’d have watched the churchyard all night – but without the proper kit, minus fifteen will kill you. I didn’t have the proper kit. I didn’t have any kit – and I was injured.

I tried to empty my mind of Rachel, of the uncertainty of what meeting her might beget, and filled it instead with the specifics of safely crossing the short distance to the churchyard.