‘Sushki,’ explained the interpreter. ‘Russian biscuits. Please to try.’ Luke suddenly remembered how hungry he was. He picked up one, took a bite and nearly broke his teeth on it. It was rock hard. Was this a test? He put it down and raised his glass of tea to his lips, then stopped. This was how the former KGB officer and defector Litvinenko had died, drinking tea laced with radioactive polonium-210. He waited to see if the colonel was going to drink his, but Luke’s hesitation had not escaped his notice. The Russian muttered something to the young interpreter, who again translated: ‘Do not be afraid, the colonel says. There is no polonium in the tea.’

So this was dark Russian humour, then. Luke smiled and took a sip of the hot liquid just as the colonel began a long speech in Russian.

‘The colonel would like to make it clear from the outset,’ the interpreter said, looking from Jenny to Luke and back to his boss, ‘that the outbreak of this virus did not come from Russia. Absolutely not. In fact it occurred on the territory of a NATO member, Norway, yes? So the Russian people were deeply upset by the accusation of your government that we could possibly have been in any way responsible.’

Luke groaned inwardly. They had been expecting something like this. He just hoped they could move on quickly.

‘But,’ the interpreter continued, in the same flat transatlantic monotone, ‘we are meeting today as professionals, as experts in our fields. We shall put aside our differences in the spirit of international cooperation.’ He waited for a reaction and now it was Jenny who spoke up.

‘We fully appreciate your cooperation,’ she said diplomatically, ‘and I’m glad that we can put the past behind us. Now, I have two requests.’ She folded her arms and regarded the colonel as she spoke. ‘First, we’re hoping you can update us on your own investigations, given that …’ Luke could see she was looking Petrov straight in the eye now ‘… phone calls were made at the time of the outbreak between the suspect area on Svalbard and this very building.’ She let that hang in the air while it was translated. Luke flashed her a knowing look. He had always had a profound respect for her encyclopaedic knowledge of biological and chemical weapons, but now he felt a secret surge of pride in her. Jenny clearly wasn’t daunted by their surroundings, nor their current situation: she had cut straight to the chase.

The interpreter was starting to look uncomfortable, but Colonel Petrov did not react. His face remained blank and expressionless yet Luke sensed an immediate chill in the atmosphere.

‘Second,’ Jenny continued, her voice clear and crisp, showing no trace of the tiredness he was feeling, ‘I would like to visit your Ivanovsky Institute of Virology, here in Moscow.’ Silence. ‘At number sixteen Gamalaya Street,’ she added.