That caught Kate off guard, but she didn’t blink. ‘Well, she actually lives between the capital and Kotka, so we had lunch there, in a café on the quay. I can’t remember the name of it.’

The woman stared at the passport and the piece of paper beside it, as if both were a mystery, the truth of which would soon be revealed. ‘What is your occupation?’

Kate pointed at the piece of paper again. ‘I work for Oxfam.’

‘In Dublin?’

‘In London.’

‘You do not sound Irish.’

‘My mother is English and I was brought up in London. But my father is still alive and lives in Dublin.’

‘What is his name?’

‘Dermot.’

Another silence. This time, it took on a more threatening air.

It’s just routine, Kate told herself. How could they know anything? SIS’s passports and back stories were legendarily efficient. They had to be. There was even a man called Dermot McGillis in Dublin who would agree he was her father if asked, and she had his number in her phone.

‘Is something wrong?’ Kate said. She allowed a trace of irritation in her voice. A real tourist would be annoyed at the delay by now.

‘Wait here,’ the woman said. She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Kate looked up at the clock on the wall. It was seven and the night had long since closed in, the wind rattling the windows and rushing beneath the door. She was cold and longed for a cigarette.

She waited. The deadpan, slow, deliberate obfuscation of Russian officials was designed to unsettle the guilty and she could see no logical reason yet for concern.

Time dragged. Five minutes crawled past, then ten.

Until the woman stood before her again. ‘You may go,’ she said abruptly.

Kate resisted the temptation to ask what that had been about and got back into her car. ‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at the woman. She headed off into the night.

The journey on to St Petersburg was long, featureless and sodden from the rain that had recently doused the perpetually potholed roads. But as she closed in on the old Russian capital, the temperature dropped and the episodic bursts of spitting rain became steadily drifting snow. At first, it melted on the damp tarmac, but by the time she had made her way through the industrial outskirts to the city’s grand European centre, it had blanketed its streets in the magical winter coat Kate remembered so well.

She parked outside the front entrance of the hotel, which was right on Admiralty Embankment, and checked into the sleek modern reception area. She asked the valet to take care of parking the car and made her way to her room on the fifth floor.