‘Yes, that would be good then I can review where I’ve placed people.’

‘Don’t forget the vicar’s deaf ear.’ He chuckles.

‘I won’t.’ I leave him to his task and walk straight into Tom coming out of the snug.

‘Excellent.’ He takes my arm. ‘Do you have some flowers to cut?’

I nod. I don’t, but in the garden we won’t be overheard. My mind shifts to Moscow mode. I think I may have walked every park in that city. We remain silent until we are under the cover of the trees and among the camellia bushes. I turn to Tom. ‘Do you know this George Russell?’

‘I’ve met him.’ Tom shrugs.

‘And?’ I snip at some eucalyptus branches.

He clears his throat. ‘Seems sound.’

‘That doesn’t fill me with confidence.’ I turn to him.

‘Not much fills me with confidence at the moment.’

I put my hand on his arm. ‘Tom, this isn’t like you.’

‘True.’

‘There’s more than you’re telling me.’ I stop walking.

He laughs. ‘Always.’ Lighting a cigarette, he offers it to me and I take it, waiting while he lights one for himself. ‘Victor said in his dispatch that he felt someone was following him.’

I frown. ‘I wasn’t followed.’

‘Are you sure?’ He casts me a sideways glance and I search my memories seeing the park, the museums and the Arbat. I’d been followed on my first drop in Aden in 1955 and that taught me what it felt like. But the unease I felt in Moscow was different.

‘I’m sure.’ I take the secateurs out of the basket on my arm as I see Mr Hoskine in the distance. Here, under the trees, dew lingers on the leaves and I cut a white hydrangea head. The air smells of pine and petrichor and all I can see in my mind is the park bench in Moscow where I was sitting with Salome. Diana stood by the pond looking at another child trying to make a small wooden boat float. Victor entered the park and watched the children for a while. I’d let Salome’s lead slip and she ran towards Diana. I began walking towards the pond. Victor caught the lead and brought Salome back to me with a smile. The scene is so clear. Were the women with the children watching us? Victor handed the lead back to me then bent down to scratch Salome’s head and clipped the film inside the dog’s collar. It was a seamless handover. He left the park and Diana and I stayed for another hour. No one had followed us home. Other than to say thank you to Victor we hadn’t spoken.

‘I’m sure,’ I say again as we move to the top of the garden now.

‘Victor is vitally important and if the information he’s feeding us is true then Khrushchev is bluffing.’