Anatoly whipped out a bottle of vodka from his inside pocket as John opened the door. He strode past without invitation and began to climb the stairs to John’s flat. He’d never been before, but he knew where he was going.

John wasn’t used to spirits. He couldn’t read the Cyrillic lettering on the label, but Anatoly said it didn’t matter. This was courtesy of the Soviet embassy. He’d never be able to buy it here. Not this quality. Only in the Soviet Union. Pride of the diplomatic corps. Wheat and rye. Bay and caraway. It made him happy, relaxed.

‘You went away in the summer,’ Anatoly said. His English had improved since Berlin and although his accent was thick, his grammar and syntax were correct. ‘Were you on holiday? We couldn’t find you. Were you somewhere nice?’

John wasn’t sure whether he was bluffing or not. Give them the benefit of the doubt. They hadn’t traced him, he had been safe.

‘Yes,’ John said.

‘Would you recommend it?’

‘That depends on what sort of holiday you like,’ John said. He’d lie if necessary. Claim he walked the pilgrims’ route from Oslo to Trondheim. Four hundred miles. He’d give him a daily account if he wanted. Bore the pants off him. ‘Why are you here?’

Anatoly shifted in his seat, looked at the bookcase. ‘You have a gap in your shelves,’ he said. ‘As if something has been removed.’

‘I had some pottery,’ John said, thinking fast. ‘Leach. But I broke it.’ He shrugged, added, ‘Irreparably.’

‘A shame. Always a shame if one loses something precious,’ Anatoly said. He raised his glass, a sherry glass, the smallest John could muster. ‘Za vstrechu,’ he said. ‘To our meeting.’ He swallowed it in one go, reached for the bottle. ‘To refresh,’ he said, topping up his and John’s glass. ‘Tell me, how long has it been since we renewed our acquaintance?’

‘You know as well as I,’ John said.

‘And where have we got to?’

‘I cannot do this.’

‘You helped us before,’ Anatoly said, lifting his glass again and eyeing the vodka. He rubbed his finger round the rim of the glass until it squealed. ‘Did your handlers know?’ He leaned back, smiled.