Edgar, an intelligent guy, quickly appreciated Sasha’s worth, and started asking for comments about what he himself was saying. ‘One reason for so much crime,’ he told us, ‘is that there’s a fantastic amount of paper money actually in circulation. One the one hand, people don’t trust the banks. On the other, inflation’s moving so fast that they reckon they get a better return by having dollar bills in their possession. So there’s cash everywhere, and a big incentive for robbery. Is that right, Major?’

‘Certainly!’ Sasha gave a vigorous nod. ‘More dollars in Russia now than in rest of world.’

‘Outside the States,’ Edgar corrected.

‘Of course. But that is very much money.’

The lectures helped us all to refine the aims of our course. With kidnappings so common, hostage rescue was obviously of prime importance, and we decided to concentrate on that. EMOE – explosive method of entry, or blowing in doors and windows – was clearly going to be another key area. A third vital subject was ambush drills, and a fourth, the bodyguarding of VIPs. Strictly speaking, BG work fell outside the remit of the Subversive Action Wing, but as all the members of our team had been on specialist close-protection courses it seemed natural to include the subject in our syllabus.

Sasha’s tales of the Mafia were so lurid that they acted on the team like shots of adrenalin. All right, we were going in on a training task, but soon every one of the lads was dreaming that we would somehow become directly involved in a Tiger Force hit and get some action ourselves. And it was obvious from the relish with which he described anti-Mafia operations that Sacha was a born killer.

‘In Gorki, my home town, is this godfather figure,’ he told us one evening. ‘Real name Borzov. But he calls himself Nepobedinyi – Unvincible.’

‘Invincible,’ I suggested.

‘Yes – Invincible. He thinks nobody can keell him. He is former criminal, many years in gaol. Like I told you, he is true vor v zakone, a criminal in the law. Now his chauffeur drives him in bullet-proof Mercedes. Always four bodyguards with him when he moves around. He lives in a palace – like the Winter Palace in St Petersburg, almost. At night, in the yard round his house, a Siberian tiger is wandering. Like a guard dog. A guard cat, you say?’

‘Some cat,’ said Pavarotti.

‘Two hundred kilos,’ Sasha said, not joking. ‘We heard he feeds this cat on human flesh, his enemies. This Invincible wears a Patek gold watch. His body is covered in pictures . . . tattoos. Small Mafia are not allowed such pictures. If some man gets one without authority, he can be keelled. But Invincible has on his chest a portrait of Lenin. And why? Because no one would dare to shoot at our great Communist leader. On his knees, he has pictures of stars. And why? That means he never kneels for anyone.’