His apartment, like all the others in the building, was small, and simple. Every home in the Narkomfin Building was open-plan and split-level. Medev’s front door opened onto a short flight of stairs up to a living area. Another flight led to the second level with his single bed and bathroom. There was no kitchen. Medev knew some of the other residents had secretly installed makeshift pantries in their living rooms so they didn’t have to eat every meal in the large ground-floor cafeteria. But he had kept the original layout of his—a small circular table surrounded by a built-in settee and chairs, and a desk bolted to the wall beneath the apartment’s single, wide window. He’d added a few bookshelves and paintings but he’d more or less kept his home the same for sixteen years. He also ate every meal he could in the cafeteria.

Secrecy and solitude were fundamental parts of Medev’s professional life, so he relished being surrounded by people whenever he had the chance. However, he hadn’t just stayed in the Narkomfin Building out of a deep, personal commitment to the concept of collectivised living. He’d stayed because he enjoyed his hour-long morning walk to KGB headquarters at the Lubyanka far too much to ever think about giving it up for a few acres of land out in the sticks. He also didn’t have anyone to move to the suburbs with.

Medev had given his life to the Party and the KGB. On his long but steady ascent to becoming chief of the KGB scientific directorate, he’d worked for many leaders and become privy to even more secrets. He was a near-mythical figure in the eyes of his staff, and had proven himself enough times to be left to run his directorate however he saw fit.

To the population of the Narkomfin Building he was something between an enigma and a contradiction. Everyone knew that he was a senior KGB officer. Some had even discovered his actual position and title. None of them understood why he lived with them, or why he was so friendly. Medev went out of his way to say hello to. everyone he met in the building, asked after the parents and children of the people whose paths he crossed regularly (they were always, invariably, fine), and was on very good terms with the cafeteria staff. This was particularly important because Medev’s responsibilities at the Lubyanka meant that he could easily miss the building’s normal mealtimes.

For the last two days he hadn’t left the Lubyanka before midnight.