-On your knees.

-Please...

Vasili c.o.c.ked his gun. Leo dropped to his knees. All he could do was obey, beg, plead, except this was the one man who wouldn't listen, who cared about nothing other than his own personal vendetta.

-Vasili, this is important- Vasili pressed the gun against his head.

-Raisa, kneel beside your husband, do it now!

She joined her husband, side by side, in imitation of the executions outside the barn. The gun was moved behind her head. Raisa took hold of his hand, closing her eyes. Leo shouted: -No!

In response Vasili tapped the barrel of the gun against her head, teasing him.

-Leo...

Vasili's voice trailed off. Raisa's grip tightened around Leo's hand. Seconds pa.s.sed; there was silence. Nothing happened. Very slowly, Leo turned around.

The serrated blade had entered Vasili's back and exited through his stomach. Andrei stood there, holding the knife. He'd saved his brother. He calmly picked up the knifehe hadn't stumbled or fallen overand he'd stabbed this man cleanly and quietly, skilfully. Andrei was happy, as happy as he'd been when they'd killed the cat together, as happy as he'd ever been in his life.

Leo stood up, taking the gun from Vasili's hand. Blood snaked from the corner of Vasili's mouth. He was still alive but his eyes were no longer calculating, plans were no longer being formed. He raised a hand, placing it on Leo's shoulder, as if saying goodbye to a friend, before collapsing. This man, whose whole being had been bent on Leo's persecution, was dead. But Leo felt neither relief nor satisfaction. All he could think about was the one task he had left to perform.

Raisa got up, standing beside Leo. Andrei remained where he was. No one did anything. Slowly, Leo raised the gun, taking aim, just above the bridge of his brother's gla.s.ses. In the small room there was barely a foot between the barrel of the gun and his brother's head.

A voice cried out: -What are you doing?

Leo turned. Nadya was at the bottom of the stairs. Raisa whispered: -Leo, we don't have much time.

But Leo couldn't do it. Andrei said: -Brother, I want you to.

Raisa reached out, put her hand around Leo's hand. Together they pulled the trigger. The gun fired, recoiled. Andrei's head jerked back and he fell to the floor.

At the sound of the shot, armed officers stormed the house, running down the stairs. Raisa and Leo dropped the gun. The lead officer stared at the body of Vasili. Leo spoke first, his hand shaking. He pointed to Andreihis little brother.

-This man was a murderer. Your superior officer died trying to apprehend him.

Leo picked up the black case. With no idea if his guess would prove correct, he opened it. Inside there was a gla.s.s jar lined with paper. He unscrewed the lid, tipping the contents onto the table, onto his game of cards. It was the stomach of his brother's last victim, wrapped in an edition of Pravda Pravda. Leo added, his voice almost inaudible: -Vasili died a hero.

As the officers moved around the table, examining this gruesome discovery, Leo stepped back. Nadya was staring at him, her father's fury in her eyes.

Moscow 18 July Leo stood before Major Grachev in the office where he'd refused to denounce his wife. Leo didn't recognize the major. He hadn't heard of him. But he wasn't surprised that someone new was in charge. No one lasted long in the upper echelons of the State Security force and four months had pa.s.sed since he'd stood here. This time there was no chance that they'd be punished with unsupervised exile or sent to the Gulags. Their executions would happen here, today.

Major Grachev said: -Your previous superior was Major Kuzmin, a Beria appointee. Both have been arrested. Your case now falls to me.

In front of him was the battered case file confiscated in Voualsk. Grachev flicked through the pages, the photographs, the statements, the court transcripts.

-In that bas.e.m.e.nt we found the remains of three stomachs, two of which had been cooked. They'd been taken from children, although we're still trying to find out who these victims might be. You were right. Andrei Sidorov was a murderer. I've reviewed his background. It seems he was a collaborator with n.a.z.i Germany and was mistakenly released back into society after the war instead of being correctly processed. That was an unpardonable error on our part. He was a n.a.z.i agent. They sent him back with instructions to take revenge on us for our victory over the Fascists. That revenge has taken the form of these terrible attacks on our children; they targeted the very future of Communism. More than that, it was a propaganda campaign. They wanted our people to believe our society could produce such a monster when in fact he was corrupted and educated by the West, transformed by his time away from home and then returned with a poisoned, foreign heart. I notice that not one of these murders took place before the Great Patriotic War.

He paused, looking at Leo.

-Was this not your thinking?

-That was exactly my thinking, sir.

Grachev offered his hand.

-Your service to your country has been remarkable. I've been instructed to offer you a promotion, a higher grade of position within the State Security organs, there's a clear route to a political role if you should want it. We're in new times, Leo. Our leader Khrushchev considers the problems you faced in your investigation part of the unpardonable excesses of Stalinist rule. Your wife has been released. Since she a.s.sisted you in hunting this foreign operative any question of her loyalty has now been answered. Both your records will be wiped clean. Your parents will have their old apartment back. If that is not available, then they will have a better one.

Leo remained silent.

-You have nothing to say?

-That is a very generous offer. And I'm honoured. You understand that I acted without any thought of promotion or power. I merely knew this man had to be stopped.

-I understand.

-But I would like permission to turn down your offer. And instead make a request of my own.

-Go on.

-I want to take charge of a Moscow homicide department. If such a department does not exist I would like to create it.

-What need is there of such a department?

-As you already said yourself, murder will become a weapon against our society. If they cannot spread their propaganda through conventional means, they will use unorthodox means. I believe crime will become a new front in our struggle with the West. They will use it to undermine the harmonious nature of our society. When they do, I want to be there to stop it.

-Go on.

-I would like General Nesterov transferred to Moscow. I would like him to work with me in this new department.

Grachev considered the request, nodding solemnly.

Raisa was waiting outside, staring up at the statue of Dzerzhinsky. Leo exited the building and took her hand, a brazen display of affection no doubt scrutinized by those staring out of the Lubyanka. He didn't care. They were safe, at least for the time being. That was long enough; that was as long as anyone could possibly hope for. He glanced up at Dzerzhinsky's statue and realized that he couldn't remember a single thing that man had ever said.

ONE WEEK LATER.

Moscow 25 July Leo and Raisa were seated in the director's office of Orphanage 12, located not far from the zoo. Leo glanced at his wife and asked: -What's taking so long?

-I don't know.

-Something's wrong.

Raisa shook her head: -I don't think so.

-The director didn't like us very much.

-He seemed OK to me.

-But what did he think of us?

-I don't know.

-Do you think he liked us?

-It doesn't really matter what he thinks. It matters what they think.

Leo stood up, restless, saying: -He has to sign off on it.

-He'll sign the papers. That's not the issue.

Leo sat down again, nodding.

-You're right. I'm nervous.

-So am I.

-How do I look?

-You look fine.

-Not too formal?

-Relax, Leo.

The door opened. The director, a man in his forties, entered the room.

-I've found them.

Leo wondered if that was just a turn of phrase or whether he'd literally searched the building. The man stepped aside. Standing behind him were two young girls, Zoya and Elena, the daughters of Mikhail Zionoviev. It had been several months since they'd witnessed their parents' execution in the snow outside their home. In that time the physical change was dramatic. They'd lost weight, their skin had lost colour. The younger girl, Elena, only four years old, had a shaved head. The elder girl, Zoya, ten years old, had her hair cropped short. They'd almost inevitably been infested with lice.

Leo stood up, Raisa beside him. He turned to the director.

-Could we have a moment alone?

The director didn't like the request. But he obliged and retired, shutting the door. Both girls positioned themselves with their backs against the door as far away from them as possible.

-Zoya, Elena, my name is Leo. Do you remember me?

No response, no change in their expression. Their eyes were alert, waiting for danger. Zoya took hold of her little sister's hand.

-This is my wife Raisa. She's a teacher.

-h.e.l.lo, Zoya. h.e.l.lo, Elena. Why don't you both take a seat? It's much more comfortable sitting down.

Leo picked up the chairs, putting them down near the girls. Although reluctant to move from the door, they sat down, still holding hands, still saying nothing.

Leo and Raisa crouched so that they were below the children's eye level, still keeping their distance. The girls' fingernails were blackperfect lines of grimebut their hands were otherwise clean. It was obvious that they'd been hastily tidied up before the meeting. Leo began.

-My wife and I want to offer you a home, our home.

-Leo has explained to me the reason you're here. I'm sorry if this is upsetting to talk about, but it's important we say these things now.

-Although I tried to stop the murder of your mother and your father, I failed. Maybe you see no difference between me and the officer who committed that terrible crime. But I promise you, I am different.

Leo faltered. He took a second, regaining his composure: -You might feel that by living with us you're being disloyal to your parents. But I believe your parents would want the best for you. And life in these orphanages will offer you nothing. After four months I'm sure you understand that better than anyone.

Raisa continued: -This is a difficult decision we're asking you to make. You're both very young. Unfortunately we live in a time when children are forced to make adult decisions. If you stay here your lives will be tough and they're unlikely to get any easier.

-My wife and I want to offer you back your childhood, we want to offer you a chance to enjoy being young. We won't take the place of your parents. No one can replace them. We'll be your guardians. We'll look after you, feed you and give you a home.

Raisa smiled, adding: -We expect nothing in return. You don't have to love us: you don't even have to like us necessarily, although we hope, eventually, you will. You can use us to get out of here.

Supposing the girls wanted to say no, Leo added: -If you say no, we'll try and find another family that will take you, a family that doesn't have connections to your past. If that would be easier for you, you can tell us. The truth is, I cannot fix what happened. However, we can offer you a better future. We do not expect anything in return. You will have each other. You will have your own room. But you will always know me as the man who came to your farm, the man who came to arrest your father. Perhaps that memory will grow smaller over time, but you'll never forget it. That will make our relationship complicated. But I believe, from personal experience, that it can work.

The girls sat in silence, staring at the Leo, staring at Raisa. They'd made no reaction and they hadn't changed position, still sitting on the chairs holding hands. Raisa remarked: -You are free to say yes or no. You can ask us to find you a different family. It's entirely up to you.

Leo stood up.

-My wife and I will go for a walk. We'll let you talk about it, the two of you, alone. You'll have this room to yourself. Make whatever decision you like. You have no reason to be afraid.

Leo walked around the girls and opened the door. Raisa stood up and stepped out into the hallway, Leo followed, shutting the door behind them. Together they walked down the corridor, as nervous as they'd ever been in their lives.

Back in the office, Zoya gave her little sister a hug.

Acknowledgements

I've been lucky to have the support of a wonderful agent, St John Donald at PFD, who nudged me towards writing this book. For that nudgeand many other things besideI'm extremely grateful. Thanks also to Georgina Lewis and Alice Dunne for their help along the way. Through the various drafts I had feedback from Sarah Ballard, which was the perfect mix of criticism and encouragement. Finallyand it's clear I owe a lot to PFDI'd like to thank James Gill for taking on the book once it was finished, only for him to tell me it wasn't finished at all, making me rewrite it again. His enthusiasm at that stage was much needed and much appreciated.

My editors, Suzanne Baboneau at Simon Schuster UK and Mitch Hoffman at Grand Central Publishing, have been amazing. I've loved working with both of them. Thanks also to Jessica Craig, Jim Rutman and Natalina Sanina. Natalina was kind enough to point out some of the errors I made with regards to Russian names and Russian life in general.

Special mention must go to Bob Bookman at CAA for all his advice and for putting me in contact with Robert Towne. A writing hero of mine, Robert took time to share his thoughts with me on a late draft of the book. Needless to say, they were inspirational.