I DON’T SPEAK A word of Russian, but I do have my sister’s street address written down in both English and Cyrillic on a sheet of paper I keep in my pocketbook. I find my way outside—nobody stops me—and light a cigarette while I wait for a taxi. It takes some time, but one pulls up to discharge a passenger, and I hail it the same way I would hail a taxi in New York City. I give him the address and he doesn’t ask any questions, just nods and takes off.

At this point, it doesn’t require a seasoned intelligence agent to sense that something’s off. I know it in my bones. It isn’t just my nagging suspicions about Iris and Digby; it’s Kedrov’s disappearance—it’s Digby’s silence—it’s the fact that nobody seems to be following this taxi as it speeds through the streets of Moscow to the Digbys’ apartment building. Surely Fox and I weren’t that convincing in bed the other night? What’s happened to the fabled Soviet paranoia?

Or am I just too blind to see who’s watching?

And maybe it isn’t the wisest idea in the world to bolt across town in a Soviet taxi, either, but some peculiar inner urgency propels me to disregard such risks. I roll open the window and suck on my cigarette. The summer morning rushes past, the clear new sunshine speckled with pigeons. I wish to God I knew what I was doing.

I HAVE SOME RUBLES in my pocketbook, thanks to Fox’s foresight. I pay the driver and walk into the lobby of the apartment building as if I own the place, which is the only way to walk when you’re scared to death.

The elevator jolts and creaks and lumbers slowly upward, just as it did two days ago. When the doors clang open, I turn left and abandon all pretense of nonchalance. I find the right apartment—at least, I hope so—and knock hard. Wait, and knock again.

At last, I hear footsteps. Then silence, as the occupant stares through the peephole at me. The knob turns, the door opens, and there stands young Kip like the man of the house, unable to disguise his relief at the sight of me.

“Well, hello! I just wanted to stop by and bring the good news. Is your father here?”

“Y-yes. Come in, please.”

I step through the door and look around the foyer. “Have you just woken up? Guess what happened in the middle of the night. Your mother gave you a new baby brother! His name is Gregory and he’s absolutely enormous, and he can’t wait to meet you.”