‘You say you got into trouble?’ Kotkin ignored Buslenko’s reply.

‘Some. Not much. We had to bust up a prisoners’ revolt in SIZO13 prison. I killed an inmate … Not a big deal, given the situation, but a prison official took one in the neck because he didn’t do what he was told and stay out of the way. Not my fault. His. But his brother was a big shot in the Interior Ministry. You know how it is …’

‘We’re not looking for misfits or drop-outs. We’re looking for soldiers. Good soldiers who can take and carry out orders.’

‘That’s what I am.’ Buslenko straightened himself up in the leather chair. ‘But I thought you were looking for people to … well, break the law.’

‘The only law we follow is the soldier’s code. If you join us, you will be a member of an elite. Everything we do is regulated by the highest military standards. It’s no different from normal service with a Spetsnaz unit. The only difference is that it pays a hell of a lot better. But you’re not in yet. I need you to answer a few questions.’

‘Go ahead …’ Buslenko shrugged nonchalantly, but his mouth felt dry and he had to resist the temptation to look over the Russian’s shoulder to the black glass wall behind. His instinct now jabbed at him incessantly. There was someone in there. Watching. Listening. He was there. Sasha’s intelligence had been right.

‘Do you know what it is that holds a military unit together?’

‘I dunno … obedience, I suppose. The ability to carry out an order as efficiently as possible.’

Kotkin shook his scarred head. ‘No, that’s not it. I’ll tell you what it is. It’s trust. The trust of true comradeship. Loyalty to one another and to your commander.’

‘I guess so.’ Buslenko detected something changing, like a sudden shift in air pressure just before a storm. He sensed the other three men on the long sofa tensing almost imperceptibly. But there was no change in the Russian’s demeanour. Too professional. The files on Kotkin showed that he had been an interrogator, or torturer, in Chechnya or elsewhere on the fringes of Russia’s crumbling empire. Maybe that was why he was there. Not as Buslenko’s recruiter, but as his torturer and executioner. And still Buslenko’s instinct nagged at him that there was someone watching and listening behind the glass wall.

‘Loyalty. That’s what holds a unit together. Brothers under arms.’ The Russian paused, as if waiting for Buslenko to say something. The other three men stood up. Buslenko strained to hear the hint of any sound behind him.

‘What’s the problem?’ Buslenko asked, trying to keep his tone even. It will come from behind, he thought again.

‘We all share a common experience.’ Kotkin continued as if he had not heard Buslenko’s question. ‘We are men of war whose lives depend on each other. What we fight for is secondary. What really matters is that we fight together. There is an unspoken, unbreakable bond of loyalty between us. There is no greater bond. And there is no greater treachery than when that bond is betrayed.’