I just hope he puts enough money in the account so that I don’t have to call him again. I’m annoyed with my brief moment of vulnerability, but the sound of the door slamming pushed it away. He won’t tell my mother that he spoke to me. As far as she’s concerned, I no longer exist.

I slide my phone back into the front pocket of my bag, then lift it back up and hoist it onto my back. I’m sick of this travelling now. I want a bit of luxury for a change. I watch people push expensive wheeled cases over the concourse. Glamorous women in high heels tap-tapping on the marble floor. Over at the cash machines, people are fumbling with small travel bags, stuff wads of notes into hidden pockets, and I think for a moment about strolling over and robbing someone while they faff around with their wallets, but I decide against it. It feels riskier here, somehow. Despite everything that’s happened to me in one of the most dangerous countries in the world, I actually feel more intimidated here in this airport. It would be much easier for me to be extradited from here, and I’d rather not take the risk.

I follow the signs for the trains and hope that they haven’t changed their security systems since I was here last – when there were no barriers and rarely any guards doing spot-checks. There are electronic adverts on various screens as I walk towards the train platform, advertising the Westin Grand, and I decide that it must be fate. I wait for the correct train, and jump on. It’s a much easier system to navigate than in Moscow, and with a quick change, I am there.