She squeezed through the gap between the planks. Her feet were dangling above the tracks. She let go of the plank and fell, disappearing from view. Leo grabbed the first body and lowered it through the gap, squeezing it through. The body dropped onto the tracks, out of sight.

Raisa had landed awkwardly, bruising her side and tumbling. Disorientated, dazed, she lay still for a moment. Too long, she was wasting time. Leo's carriage was already far away. She could see the body which Leo had thrown down and began to crawl towards it, in the same direction as the train. She glanced behind her. There were only three carriages until the end of the train. But she couldn't see any hooks. Perhaps Leo had been wrong. There were now only two carriages left. Raisa still hadn't reached the body. She stumbled. There was now only one carriage separating her from the end of the train. With only metres before the final carriage pa.s.sed over her, she saw the hookshundreds of them, all attached to fine wires, at different heights. They covered the entire width of the carriage, impossible to avoid.

Raisa got up, crawling again, as fast as she could, reaching the body. It was laying face down, head nearest her. She didn't have time to turn it around so she turned herself around, lifting up the body and crawling under this man, positioning her head under his head. Face to face with her attacker, staring into his dead eyes, she made herself as small as possible.

Suddenly the dead body was wrenched off her. She saw wires all around her, like fishing lines, each one barbed with many jagged hooks. The body lifted up, as though alive, a puppet, tangled up, no longer even touching the tracks. Raisa remained flat on the tracks, perfectly still. She could see the stars above her. Slowly she stood up. No hook had caught her. She watched the train move away. She'd done it. But there was no sign of Leo.

As he was larger than Raisa, Leo had figured that he needed the bigger of the two dead men, he'd need more body ma.s.s to protect him from the hooks. However, this dead man was so large he didn't fit through the gap in the planks. They'd stripped him in an effort to reduce his width but he was too broad. There was no way to get him through the hole. By this point Raisa had been on the tracks for several minutes.

Desperate, Leo lowered his head though the gap. He could see a body caught at the end of the train. Was it Raisa or the dead man? It was impossible to tell from this distance. He had to hope it was the dead man. Adjusting his plan, he supposed that if he positioned himself correctly he could escape underneath this tangled body. That body would have caught all the hooks in that section. He'd be free to pa.s.s underneath it. He said goodbye to the other prisoners, thanked them, and dropped onto the tracks.

Rolling close to the enormous steel wheels, he pulled himself away, facing the end of the train. The body in the wire was rapidly approaching, tangled up on the left-hand side. He positioned himself accordingly. He could do nothing but wait, making himself as small and as flat as possible. The end of the train was nearly over him. He lifted his head up off the ground just long enough to see that it wasn't Raisa. She'd survived. He had to do the same. He lay down flat and closed his eyes.

The dead body brushed over him.

Then, paina single stray hook caught his left arm. He opened his eyes. The hook had cut through his shirt, into his flesh. With only a fraction of a second before the wire went taut, pulling him along, he grabbed hold of the hook and tugged it out, taking a clump of skin and flesh with it. He clutched his arm: feeling dizzy as blood seeped from the wound. Staggering up, he saw Raisa hurrying towards him. Ignoring the pain, he put his arms around her.

They were free.

Moscow Same Day Vasili wasn't well. He'd done something he'd never done beforehe'd taken time off work. Not only was such behaviour potentially dangerous, it was out of character. He'd rather be ill at work than ill at home. He'd managed to rig his accommodation arrangements so that he was, for the most part, able to live alone. He was married, of course; it was unthinkable that a man could remain single. It was his social duty to have children. And he'd followed the rules accordingly, marrying a woman with no opinions, or at least none that she expressed, a woman who'd dutifully given birth to two childrenthe minimum acceptable if no questions were to be asked. She and the children lived in a family apartment on the outskirts of the city while he occupied an inner-city work address. He'd arranged this ostensibly so that he could have his pick of mistresses. In fact, he partook in extra-marital affairs only very occasionally.

After Leo's exile to the Urals, Vasili had pet.i.tioned to move into Leo and Raisa's apartment; apartment 124. He'd got his wish. The first few days had been enjoyable. He'd ordered his wife to go to the spetztorgi spetztorgi, the restricted shops, to buy fine food and drink. He'd held a work party in his new apartment, no wives allowed, where his new deputies drank and ate and congratulated him on his success. Some of the men who'd served under Leo now reported to him. Yet despite all these ironies and the delicious reversal of fortune he hadn't enjoyed the party. He felt empty. He no longer had anyone to hate. He no longer had anyone to scheme against. He was no longer irritated by Leo's promotion or efficiency or popularity. There were other men who he competed with but the feeling wasn't the same.

Vasili got out of bed and decided he'd drink himself better. He poured a large measure of vodka and stared at the gla.s.s, swishing the liquid from side to side, unable to raise it to his lips. The smell made him feel sick. He put the gla.s.s down. Leo was dead. Soon he would receive official notification that the two prisoners had not arrived at their destination. They'd died en route as so many did, after getting into a fight over shoes or clothes or food or whatever. It was the final defeat of a man who'd humiliated him. Leo's very existence had been a kind of perpetual punishment for Vasili. So, then, why did he miss him?

There was a knock. He'd expected the MGB to send round men to authenticate his illness. He walked to the door, opening it, seeing two young officers standing before him.

-Sir, two prisoners have escaped.

He could feel the dull ache inside him vanishing as he said the name: -Leo?

The officers nodded. Vasili was feeling better already.

Two Hundred Kilometres South-East of Moscow Same Day Half running, half walking, constantly looking behind themtheir speed depended on whether fear or exhaustion had the upper hand. The weather was in their favour: weak sunshine and thin cloud, not too hot, at least compared to the inside of that carriage. Leo and Raisa knew from the position of the sun that it was late afternoon but had no way of knowing the exact time. Leo couldn't remember where or how his watch had been lost or if it had been taken. He estimated they had at the most a four-hour head start on their guards. A rough calculation put their speed at eight kilometres an hour whilst the train had been moving not much more than an average of sixteen, putting a distance of some eighty or so kilometres between them. That was a best-case scenario. It was possible the guards might have been alerted to the escape much sooner.

They broke out of woodland into open countryside. Without the cover of trees they were visible for kilometres. They had no choice but to continue, exposed as they were. Seeing a small river at the bottom of an incline they adjusted direction, picking up speed. It was the first water they'd come across. Reaching it they dropped to their knees drinking greedily, cupping their hands, scooping it into their mouths. When this wasn't enough, they submerged their faces. Leo joked: -At least we'll die clean.

The joke had been misjudged. It wasn't enough that they do their best to stop this man. No one would appreciate their attempt. They had to succeed.

Raisa focused on Leo's injury. The gash wasn't closing; it wouldn't stop bleeding, too much of the skin and flesh had been ripped. The strip of shirt they'd tied around it was now soaked with blood. Leo unpeeled the shirt.

-I can put up with it.

-It's leaving a powerful scent for the dogs.

Raisa stepped out of the river, approaching the nearest tree. A spider's web had been spun between two branches. Very carefully she broke the web with her fingers, transferring it whole and laying it across the ripped flesh of Leo's upper arm. Immediately blood seemed to solidify upon touching the thin silver lines. She worked for several minutes, searching for more webs, finding them, collecting them and layering them, until the injury was criss-crossed with silky threads. By the time she'd finished the bleeding had stopped.

Leo remarked: -We should follow this river for as long as possible. The trees are the only cover and the water will hide our smell.

The water was shallow, knee deep at the deepest point. Not fast enough or powerful enough so that they could float and drift with the current. Instead they had to walk. Hungry, exhausted, Leo knew there was only so long they could keep this up.

While guards were indifferent to whether prisoners lived or died, escape was unpardonable. It made a mockery not only of the guards but of the entire system. No matter who the prisoners were, no matter how unimportant, their escape made them important. The fact that Leo and Raisa were already cla.s.sified as high-profile counter-revolutionaries would make their escape a matter of countrywide significance. Once the train had come to a stop and the guards had noticed the dead body caught up in the wire a count would be done of all the prisoners. The escapees' carriage would be identified; questions would be asked. If answers weren't given prisoners might be shot. Leo hoped that someone would be sensible enough to tell the truth immediately. Those men and women had already done more than their share to help them. Even if they confessed there was no guarantee that the guards wouldn't make an example out of the entire carriage.

The hunt would begin along the tracks. They'd use dogs. A pack of trained dogs travelled with every train, kept in far better conditions than the human cargo. If a sufficient distance had been established between their point of escape and the point at which the search began then the beginning of the scent trail would be difficult to find. Considering the fact they'd been on the run for maybe three-quarters of a day without sight of their pursuers Leo could only presume this was the case. It meant Moscow would be notified. The search would be broadened. Trucks and cars would be mobilizedthe possible escape area divided up into grids. Planes would scour the countryside. Local military and security organizations would be informed, their efforts coordinated with national organizations. They would be hunted with a zeal that went far beyond professional duty. Rewards and bonuses would be offered. There was no limit to the manpower and machinery that could be thrown after them. He should know. He'd been involved in these hunts himself. And that was their only advantage. Leo knew how their hunts were organized. He'd been trained by the NKVD to operate unseen behind enemy lines and now the enemy lines were his own borders, borders he'd fought to protect. The size of these searches made them heavy handed, difficult to manage. They'd be centralized, vast in sweep but inefficient. Most importantly he hoped they'd target the wrong area. Logically Leo and Raisa should be heading to the nearest border, towards Finland, the Baltic coast. A boat was their best chance of getting out of the country. But they were heading souththrough the very heart of Russia, towards the city of Rostov. In this direction there was almost no chance of freedom, no promise of safety at the end.

Walking through the water, moving at a much slower pace, they frequently stumbled and fell; each time it was harder to get up. Not even the adrenaline from being hunted could sustain them. Leo was careful not to let the web wash off his arm, keeping it raised. So far neither of them spoke about their predicament, as though their existence was on too short a lease to even make plans. Leo guessed that they were about two hundred kilometres east of Moscow. They'd been on the train for almost forty-eight hours. Speculatively this put them somewhere near the town of Vladimir. If he was right then they were now travelling in the direction of Ryazan. Ordinarily from this point, travelling by train or car, Rostov was at least a twenty-four-hour journey south. However, they had no money, no food; they were injured, dressed in filthy clothes. They were wanted by every national and local State Security apparatus.

They came to a stop. The river flowed in between two halves of a small village, a collective farm. They stepped out of the water, some five hundred paces up stream from the huddle of houses. It was late, light was fading. Leo said: -Some of the villagers will still be working; they'll be on their land. We can sneak in, unnoticed, see if we can find some food.

-You want to steal?

-We can't buy anything. If they see us, they'll hand us in. There's always a reward for escaped prisoners, far more than these people make in a year.

-Leo, you've worked in the Lubyanka for too long. These people have no love of the State.

-They need money like everyone else. They're trying to survive like everyone else.

-We have hundreds of kilometres to cross. We can't do it alone. We just can't. You must realize that. We have no friends, no money, nothing. We have to convince strangers to help uswe'll have to sell them our cause. That's the only way. That's our only chance.

-We're outcasts, harbouring us will get them shot, not just for the individual who helps us but the entire village. State officials wouldn't think twice about sentencing all of them to twenty-five years, deporting the whole population, children included, to a northern encampment.

-And that's exactly why they'll help us. You've lost faith in the people of this country because you've been surrounded by the people in power. The State doesn't represent these villages, it doesn't understand them and it doesn't have any interest in them.

-Raisa, this is city-dissident talk. It's not relevant to the real world. It would be insanity for them to help us.

-You have a short memory, Leo. How did we just escape? We told the inmates of that carriage the truth. They helped us, all of them, several hundred, probably about the number that live in this village. The prisoners in our carriage will almost certainly face some sort of collective punishment for not alerting the guards. What did they do it for? What did you offer them?

Leo remained silent. Raisa pressed her point.

-If you steal from these people, you'll be their enemy when we are in fact their friends.

-So you want to walk into the centre of the village, as if we were family, and greet them?

-That's exactly what we're going to do.

Side by side, they walked into the centre of the village as if they were returning from work, as if they had a right to be here. Men and women and children gathered around them, surrounding them. Their houses were made of mud and wood. Their farm equipment was forty years out of date. All they had to do was turn them over to the State and they'd be richly rewarded. How could they refuse? These people had nothing.

Encircled by hostile faces, Raisa spoke up.

-We're prisoners. We've escaped from the train transporting us to the Kolyma region, where we would've died. We're now being hunted. We need your help. We ask for this help not for ourselves. Eventually we'll be caught and killed. We've accepted that. But before we die there is one task we have to perform. Please let us explain why we need your help. If you don't like what we tell you, then you should have nothing to do with us.

A man stepped forward, in his mid-forties, an air of self-importance about him.

-As chairman of this kolkhoz kolkhoz, it is my duty to point out that it would be in our best interests to turn them over.

Raisa glanced at the other villagers. Had she been wrong? Had the State already infiltrated these villages, planted their own spies and informers in the management system? A man's voice called out.

-And what would you do with the reward, hand that over to the State too?

There was laughter. The chairman went red, embarra.s.sed. Relieved, Raisa realized this man was a comic figure, a puppet. He wasn't the real authority. From the back of the crowd an elderly woman spoke out: -Feed them.

As though an oracle had spoken, the debate was over.

They were led into the largest house. In the main room, where food was prepared, they were seated and given cups of water. A fire was stoked. All the while their audience grew until the entire house was crowded. Children filled the s.p.a.ces in between the adults' legs, staring at Leo and Raisa as children might stare in a zoo. Fresh bread, still warm, was brought from another house. They ate with their wet clothes steaming in front of the fire. When a man apologized for not being able to offer them a new set of clothes, Leo merely nodded, disorientated by their generosity. He could offer them a story; that was it. Finishing his bread and water, he stood up.

Raisa watched the men, women and children as they listened to Leo. He began with the murder of Arkady, the young boy in Moscow, a murder he'd been ordered to cover up. He spoke of his shame at having told the boy's family that it was an accident. He went on to explain why he was expelled from the MGB, sent to Voualsk. He explained his amazement when he'd found another child had been murdered in almost exactly the same way. The audience gasped, as though he was performing some magic trick, when they were told that these murders were being committed across their entire country. Some parents ushered their children out of the house as Leo warned them of what he was about to describe.

Even before Leo had finished his story his audience had formed ideas as to who could've been responsible. None of them supposed these murders were the work of a man with a job, a man with a family. The men in the audience found it hard to believe that this killer couldn't be immediately identified. All of them were certain they'd know he was a monster just by looking him in the eyes. Glancing around the room, Leo realized their perspective on the world had been shaken. He apologized for introducing them to the reality of this killer's existence. In an effort to rea.s.sure them he outlined the murderer's movements along the railways, through the major towns. He killed as part of his routine; a routine wouldn't bring him into villages like this.

Even with these a.s.surances, Raisa wondered whether or not these people would any longer be so trusting and welcoming. Would they feed a stranger? Or from now on would they fear that strangers were hiding some evil they couldn't see? The price of this story was the audience's innocence. It wasn't that they hadn't seen brutality and death. But they'd never imagined that the murder of a child could give pleasure.

It was dark outside and Leo had been speaking for some time, well over an hour. He was nearing the end of his story when a child ran into the house.

-I saw lights on the northern hills. There are trucks. They're coming this way.

Everyone got to their feet. Reading the faces of those around him Leo knew that there was no chance these trucks could be anything other than the State. He asked: -How long do we have?

Asking that question, he'd already grouped himself with them, presumed a connection when in fact there was none. They could quite easily surrender them and claim their reward. Yet it appeared as if he was the only one in the room even contemplating such an idea. Even the chairman had surrendered to the collective decision to aid them.

Some of the adults hurried out of the house, perhaps to see for themselves. Those remaining quizzed the boy.

-Which hill?

-How many trucks?

-How long ago?

There were three trucks, three sets of headlights. The boy had seen them from the edge of his father's farm. They were coming from the north, several kilometres away. They'd be here in minutes.

There was nowhere to hide in these houses. The villagers had no belongings, no furniture to speak of. And the search would be thorough, brutally so. If there was a hiding place it would be found. Leo knew how much pride was at stake for the guards. Raisa took hold of his arms: -We can run. They'll have to search the village first. If they pretend we were never here, we can get ahead, maybe hide in the countryside. It's dark.

Leo shook his head. Feeling his stomach tense, his thoughts were thrown back to Anatoly Brodsky. This is what he must have felt when he'd turned around to see Leo on the crest of the hill, when he'd realized that the net had closed around him. Leo remembered how that man had paused, staring for a moment, unable to do anything other than contemplate that he'd been caught. On that day he'd run. But there was no way to outrun these guards. They were rested, equipped to huntlong-range rifles, telescopic sights, flares to light up the sky and dogs to pick up suspicious trails.

Leo turned to the young boy who'd seen the trucks.

-I need your help.

Same Day Nervous, his hands shaking, the boy crouched in the middle of the road in almost complete darkness, a small bag of grain spilled before him. He could hear the trucks approaching, the tyres kicking up dirt: they were only a couple of hundred metres away, coming fast. He closed his eyes, hoping they'd see him. Was it possible they were going too fast to stop in time? There was a screech of brakes. He opened his eyes, turning his head, caught in the beam of powerful headlights. He raised his arms. The trucks lurched to a stop, the metal b.u.mper almost touching the boy's face. The door to the front cabin opened. A soldier called out.

-What the f.u.c.k are you doing?

-My bag split.

-Get off the road!

-My father will kill me if I don't collect it all.

-I'll kill you if you don't move.

The boy wasn't sure what to do. He continued picking at the grains. He heard a metallic click: was that the sound of a gun? He'd never seen a gun: he had no idea what they sounded like. Panicking, he continued picking at the grains, putting them in the bag. They wouldn't shoot him: he was just a boy picking up his father's grain. Then he remembered the stranger's story: children were being killed all the time. Maybe these men were the same. He grabbed as much grain as he could, picked up the bag and ran back towards the village. The trucks followed him, chasing him, beeping their horns, getting him to run faster. He could hear soldiers laughing. He'd never run so fast in his life.

Leo and Raisa were hiding in the only place they could hope the soldiers wouldn't searchunderneath their own trucks. While the boy was distracting the soldiers, Leo had sneaked under the second truck, Raisa under the third. Since there was no way of telling how long they'd have to hold on for, perhaps for as long as an hour, Leo had wrapped their hands in ripped shreds of shirt in an attempt to ease the pain.

As the trucks came to a stop, Leo wedged his feet around the axle shaft, his face close to the wooden underside of the truck. The planks strained towards him as the soldiers walked across it, jumping off the back of the truck. Looking down over his toes, he saw one of the men crouch down to tie his bootlaces. All the man had to do was turn around and Leo would be seen and caught. The soldier stood up, hurrying towards one of the houses. Leo hadn't been seen. He repositioned himself so he was able to get a view of the third truck.

Raisa was afraid but mostly she was angry. This plan was smart, that was true, and she hadn't come up with anything better but it depended entirely on their ability to cling on. She wasn't a trained soldier: she hadn't spent years crawling through ditches, climbing over walls. She didn't have the upper-body strength needed to make this work. Already her arms were aching, not just aching, they were hurting. She couldn't imagine how she was going to manage another minute, let alone an entire hour. But she refused to accept that she was going to be the one to get them caught just because she wasn't strong enough, refused to accept the idea that they'd fail because she was weak.

Fighting the pain, silently crying with frustration, she could no longer hold on, she had to lower herself to the ground and rest her arms. However, even with a rest, she'd recover only enough to hold on for another minute or two. The length of time she'd be able to hold herself up would rapidly decrease until she couldn't do it at all. She had to think around this problem. What was the solution that didn't rely on strength? The strips of the shirtif she couldn't hold on, she'd tie herself on, tie her wrists to the axle shaft. That would be fine as long as the truck was stationary. All the same she'd still have to lower herself to the ground for a couple of minutes while she bound herself. Once on the ground, even still under the truck, the chances of her being seen increased dramatically. She looked sideways, checking right and left, trying to get a sense of where the soldiers were. The driver had remained guarding the vehicle. She could see his boots and smell his cigarette smoke. Actually, his presence suited her just fine. It meant they were unlikely to suspect that anyone could've clambered underneath it. Slowly, carefully, Raisa lowered her legs to the ground, trying not to make a noise. Even the smallest of slips would alert that man to her presence. Unwinding the strips of shirt she fastened her left wrist to the shaft before partially tying her right wrist. She had to finish the knot with her already bound-up hand. Done, secured, pleased with herself, she was about to lift up her feet when she heard a growl. Looking sideways, she found herself staring at a dog.

Leo could see the pack of dogs being held beside the third truck. The man with them wasn't aware of Raisa, not yet. But the dogs were. He could hear the snarling: they were at the perfect eye level. Unable to do anything, he turned his head and saw the boy, the boy who'd helped them on the road. No doubt fascinated by events, he was watching from the inside of his house. Leo lowered himself to the ground, getting a better look. The soldier in charge was about to move off. But one of the dogs in particular was straining at the leash, almost certainly having seen Raisa. Leo turned to the little boy. He'd need his help again. He gestured at the dogs. The boy hurried out of the house. Leo watchedimpressed at the boy's cool headas he moved towards the pack of dogs. Almost immediately all the dogs turned on the boy, barking at him. The soldier called out: -Stay in your house.

The boy reached out, as though to stroke one of the dogs. The soldier laughed: -It'll bite your arm off.

The boy pulled back. The soldier led the dogs away, repeating his order that the boy return to his house. Leo pulled himself back up, pressing himself flat against the underside of the truck. They owed that boy their lives.

Raisa had no idea how long she'd been tied under the truck. It felt like an impossibly long time. She'd listened as the soldiers carried out their search: furniture was kicked over, pots upturned, objects smashed. She'd heard the dogs barking and seen the explosion of light as flares were fired. The soldiers were returning, moving back to the trucks. Orders were being shouted. The dogs were loaded into the back of her truck. They were about to leave.

Excited, she realized the plan had worked. Then the engine started. The axle shuddered. In a couple of seconds it would start spinning. She was still tied to it. She had to get free. But her wrists were bound and it was difficult to untie the knots, her hands were numb, her fingers unresponsive. She was struggling. The last of the soldiers were in the truck. The villagers were crowding round the trucks. Raisa still wasn't free. The trucks were about to drive off. She leaned forward, using her teeth, tugging at the knot. It came undone and she dropped to the ground, landing with a thump on her back, a noise masked by the sound of the engines. The truck drove off. She was in the middle of the road. In the light of the village she'd be seen by the soldiers sitting at the back of the truck. There was nothing she could do.

The villagers moved forward, cl.u.s.tering. As the truck drove off, leaving Raisa on the road, they surrounded her. Looking back the soldiers saw nothing unusual. Raisa was hidden amongst the villagers' legs.

Raisa waited, still on the road, curled up. Finally a man offered his hand. She was safe. She stood up. Leo wasn't there. He wouldn't have risked letting go until the trucks were in the dark. She guessed he was worried about being seen by the driver of the third truck. Perhaps he'd wait until they were turning. But she wasn't worried. He'd know what to do. All of them waited in silence. Raisa took the young boy's hand, the boy who'd helped them. And before long they could hear a man running towards them.

Moscow Same Day Despite the many hundreds of soldiers and agents now searching for the fugitives, Vasili was convinced that none of them would succeed. Although the odds were heavily weighted in the State's favour, they were chasing a man who'd been trained to avoid detection and survive in hostile territory. There was a belief in some quarters that Leo and Raisa must have had a.s.sistance, either from treacherous guards or from people waiting at a designated location on the railway line who'd orchestrated the breakout. This had been contradicted by the confessions of the prisoners who'd been travelling in Leo's carriage. They'd declared, under duress, that they'd escaped alone. That wasn't what the guards wanted to hearit embarra.s.sed them. So far the search had focused on possible approach routes towards the Scandinavian border, the northern coastline and the Baltic Sea. It was taken for granted that Leo would try and cross into another country, probably using a fishing boat. Once in the West he'd connect with senior government figures who'd gladly aid and shelter him in exchange for information. For this reason his capture was considered a matter of the highest urgency. Leo had the potential to inflict untold damage on Soviet Russia.

Vasili dismissed the idea that Leo's escape had been a.s.sisted. There was simply no way anyone could have known which train the prisoners would be on. The process of getting them on a Gulag transport had been hurried, improvised and last-minute. He'd pushed it through without the proper paperwork or procedure. The only person who could've helped them escape was him. This meant that there was a chance, no matter how ridiculous the notion, that he'd be blamed. It seemed that Leo had the potential to ruin him after all.

So far none of the search groups had found any trace of them. Neither Leo nor Raisa had any family or friends in that area of the countrythey should be alone, in rags, penniless. When he'd last spoken to Leo the man hadn't even known his own name. Evidently he'd regained his wits. Vasili had to figure out where Leo was going: that was the best way to trap him rather than searching the countryside at random. Having failed to recapture his own denounced brother, he must succeed in capturing Leo. He wouldn't survive another failure.