Moscow

Lubyanka Square - The Lubyanka, Headquarters

of the Secret Police - Next Day

Leo hadn’t slept last night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sting of the humiliation to fade. After several hours he’d got up and paced his empty apartment, moving from room to room like a caged animal, full of hate for the generous space appointed to him. Better to sleep in a barracks, the proper place for a soldier. His apartment was a family home, the envy of many, except it was empty – the kitchen unused, the living space untouched, impersonal, no more than a place to rest after a day’s work.

Arriving early, he entered his office and sat at his desk. He was always early except for the day he’d stopped to ask Lena’s name. There was no one else in the office, at least not on his floor. There might be people downstairs in the interrogation rooms, where sessions could run for days without interruption. He checked his watch. In an hour or so other staff would start to arrive.

Leo began to work, hoping the distraction would push the incident with Lena from his mind. Yet he was unable to focus on the documents in front of him. With a sudden swipe of his arm, he knocked the papers to the ground. It was intolerable – how could a stranger have such an effect upon him? She didn’t matter. He was an important man. There were other women, plenty of them, many would be thankful to be the subject of his attention. He stood up, pacing the office as he’d paced his apartment, feeling caged. He opened the door, walking down the deserted corridor, finding himself in a nearby office where the reports on suspects were held. He checked that Grigori had filed his report, expecting his trainee to have forgotten or to have neglected the duty for sentimental reasons. The file had been submitted, languishing near the bottom of a low-priority stack of case files, many of which would not be read for weeks, dealing with the most trivial of incidents.

Leo lifted Peshkova’s file, feeling the weight of the diary inside. In a snap decision, he moved it to the highest-priority pile, placing it at the very top – the most serious suspects, ensuring the case would be reviewed today, as soon as the staff arrived.

Back at his desk, Leo’s eyes began to close as if having completed that piece of bureaucracy he was finally able to sleep.

***

Leo opened his eyes. Grigori was nudging him awake. Leo stood up, embarrassed at being caught asleep at his desk, wondering what time it was.

—Are you OK?

Pulling his thoughts together, he remembered – the file.

Without saying a word, he hastened out of the office. The corridors were busy: everyone arriving for work. Quickening his pace, pushing past his colleagues, Leo reached the room where active cases were held for review. Ignoring the woman asking if he needed any help, he searched through the stack of files, looking for the documents on the artist Polina Peshkova. The file had been on the top. He’d put it there only sixty minutes ago. Once again the secretary asked if he needed any help.

—There was a file here.

—They’ve been taken.

Peshkova’s case was being processed.