“Comrades, first let me ask you if you need to retire to consider your verdict?”

A man seated at the right-hand end of the front row, as befits a bit-part player, stood up and, sticking to his script, said, “No, comrade chairman.”

“Have you reached a verdict?”

“Yes, we have, comrade chairman.”

“And is that verdict unanimous?”

“Yes, it is, comrade chairman.”

“And what is your verdict?”

Each of the twelve members of the jury picked up a piece of paper from their chair, and held it high in the air, revealing the word GUILTY.

Harry wanted to point out that there was only one piece of paper on each chair but, as Anatoly had advised, he looked suitably chastened when the comrade chairman turned to face him for the first time.

“The jury,” she declared, “has unanimously found you guilty of a premeditated crime against the state, and I, therefore, have no hesitation in sentencing you to twelve years’ imprisonment in a labor camp, where you can once again share a cell with your criminal friend Babakov.” She closed her file and paused for some considerable time before adding, “However, as Colonel Marinkin recommended, I will offer you one last chance to sign a confession admitting your crime and the terrible mistake you have made. Should you do so, your sentence will be suspended, and you will be extradited and never allowed to visit the Soviet Union or any of its satellites again. Should you ever attempt to do so, your sentence will automatically be reinstated.” After a short pause she said, “Are you willing to sign a confession?”

Harry bowed his head and said, very quietly, “Yes, I am.”

For the first time, all three judges showed an emotion—surprise. The chairman couldn’t hide her relief, unintentionally revealing what her masters had clearly always wanted.

“Then you may approach the dais,” she said.

Harry stood up and walked over to the three judges. He was shown two copies of the confession, one in Russian and the other in English, both of which he read carefully.

“You will now read your confession to the court.”

Harry read the Russian version first, which brought a smile to the lips of the comrade chairman. He then picked up the English version and started to recite it. From the blank stares he received he wondered if anyone in that courtroom understood a word of English. He decided to take a risk, change the occasional word, and see how they reacted.

“I, Harry Clifton, a citizen of the United Kingdom, and President of PEN, have involuntarily and with coercion, signed this confusion. I have spent the past three years with Anatoly Babakov, who has made it clear to me that he did work in the Kremlin, and met Comrade Chairman Stalin on several occasions, including when he was awarded his degree. Babakov also admitted that the book he wrote about Comrade Stalin was fact, and not a figment of his imagination.