“What greater punishment could there be? His last words as he handed me the book were, ‘I’ve risked my life for this, and would happily sacrifice it to know it had been published so that the world, and more important the Russian people, can finally be told the truth.’ So I only have one purpose left in life, Mr. Clifton, and that is to see Anatoly’s book published, whatever the consequences. Otherwise every sacrifice he’s made will have been in vain.” She grasped his hand. “You’ll find it in an antiquarian bookshop that specializes in foreign translations on the corner of Nevsky Prospekt and Bolshaya Morskaya Street in Leningrad,” she said, continuing to grasp Harry’s hand like a lonely widow clinging to her only son. “It’s on the top shelf in the farthest corner, between War and Peace in Spanish, and Tess of the d’Urbervilles in French. But don’t look for Uncle Joe, because I hid it in the dust jacket of a Portuguese translation of A Tale of Two Cities. I don’t think too many Portuguese visit that shop.”

Harry smiled. “And if it’s still there, and I’m able to bring it back, are you happy for Mr. Guinzburg to publish it?”

“Anatoly would have been proud to be—” She stopped, smiled again and said, “Anatoly will be proud to be published by the same house as Harry Clifton.”

Harry took an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. She opened it slowly and extracted the check. Harry watched to see her reaction, but she simply put the check back in the envelope and returned it to him.

“But surely Anatoly would have wanted you to—”

“Yes, he would,” she said quietly. “But it’s not what I want. Can you imagine the pain he suffers every day? So until he is released, I do not care to live in any degree of comfort. You, of all people, must understand that.”

They sat silently together in the little room, holding hands. As the shadows crept in Harry realized there was no light. She was determined to share her husband’s prison. She displayed such dignity that it was Harry who felt embarrassed. Finally, Mrs. Babakov stood.

“I’ve kept you far too long, Mr. Clifton. I will understand if you decide not to return to Russia, as you have much to lose. And if you do not, I make only one request: please say nothing, until I have found someone who is willing to carry out the task.”

“Mrs. Babakov,” Harry said, “if the book is still there, I will find it. I will bring it back, and it will be published.”

She embraced him and said, “I will of course understand if you change your mind.”