Vashnikov pauses in the act of lighting a cigarette. “How do you know this?”

“Does it matter? I found out. It wasn’t hard, Vashnikov. Your people have no loyalty to you at all—it’s a pity. A one-time pad for coding, a Minox camera? All very incriminating. If only you’d found some papers, too. If only you knew just how deeply HAMPTON has betrayed us. You must be desperate, eh? Desperate to find a way to cover this up, instead of simply admitting your mistake and stretching your utmost nerve to discover where HAMPTON has gone and bring him to justice.”

Vashnikov is quivering like a jelly. He puts his unlit cigarette and his lighter on the desk before him. His mouth flops open and closed like a fish gasping for water.

“I thought so,” says Lyudmila. “Very well. I will clean up your mess for you, never fear. It so happens I know precisely where HAMPTON is going, and with whom. I’m headed there shortly myself, to lead the interrogation and extract whatever information he’s taking back to his handlers. We’ll discover just how much damage has been done by your prize defector, Vashnikov, just how many valuable assets have been compromised by your stupidity, and if you’re lucky, Comrade Stalin will never know just how spectacular a failure you are. But please remember one thing, as you go about your business.”

“Yes, Comrade Ivanova?” Vashnikov says meekly.

She leans forward and whispers, “I know.”

MINUTES LATER, LYUDMILA RETURNS to her office and tells Anna Dubrovskaya that she’s been called away to attend to an emergency. She will communicate regularly to receive any messages. In the meantime, she will need Dubrovskaya to go immediately to Lyudmila’s apartment and wait there for Marina, whom Dubrovskaya will look after with the strictest possible eye until Lyudmila’s return.

Ruth

JULY 1952

Outside Riga, Latvia

The children want their mother, naturally, but the last thing Iris needs right now is a bunch of kids crawling over her. She sits in the front seat, the passenger side, holding Gregory, while Fox aims the car swiftly down the highway. I’ve crammed myself in back with the other kids. Kip sits squashed against the opposite door, Jack next to him, Claire cuddled up to my side. She motions me down to hear a secret and cups her hands around my ear.

“Daddy’th in the twunk,” she whispers.

“Is he, now? I do hope he’s comfortable in there, poor dear.”

Claire giggles and nestles herself to sleep on my lap. I stare at the back of Fox’s neck and think how lovely it would be to fall asleep like that, in somebody’s lap, so limp and trusting that she doesn’t even stir when I lean diagonally forward and ask Iris how she’s feeling.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just fine.”