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acquiescence: he sincerely hoped it would not be too bad for the man. He said: ‘Of course. Every time.’
    â€˜Travel safely, Yevgennie Pavlovich.’
    Of everything that had happened on this uncertain day, the unexpected invocation of one of the oldest Russian proverbs came close to causing Levin’s open collapse. He swallowed against the sensation, feigning a cough so that he could raise a hand to his mouth to cover his distress from the other man. ‘To return to be your companion again, Vadim Alekseevich,’ he said, completing the rote-like ritual. He listened intently to the sound of his own voice, surprised at its evenness.
    The recall notice gave Levin the excuse to leave ahead of the normal, mass departure of the other Soviet officials. He felt safe telephoning ahead, to warn Galina he would be early: she was too well prepared to respond wrongly over the open line but Levin was confident she would understand something was happening because he rarely departed from normality when he was working within the confines of the United Nations.
    She was still cautious when he entered the compound apartment, following his lead, which he offered quickly, not wanting her to give any blurted sort of reaction too soon to be discerned by those who daily transcribed the monitors he knew to be installed in their apartment. Very early in the posting Levin had found three listening devices in the most obvious places – the telephone receiver, the light socket and inside the actual keyhole of the door separating the living room from the main bedroom – before abandoning the search as a useless exercise, because he knew they were the ones he was expected to find and that there would be others more cleverly concealed. Quickly, to guide her, he said: ‘I thought we might go out tonight. Dinner, I mean.’
    Galina, who was as heavy as her husband, bulge-hipped and droop-busted, but unlike Levin worked harder to disguise it, always dressing carefully in voluminous, folding dresses and smocks, was instantly alert, aware of two departures from the norm within the space of an hour. ‘A mission party?’ she probed tentatively.
    â€˜Just the two of us.’
    Galina knew from Levin’s monitoring search that there was no visual surveillance. Confident therefore that the gesture was safe she nodded, knowingly, raising her voice in apparant anticipation. ‘That would be wonderful.’
    â€˜Petr will be all right by himself,’ Levin insisted, in further guidance to her that their son was not to accompany them.
    Galina became sober-faced in more complete awareness, but for the benefit of the listening devices she maintained the necessary charade. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’ll be quite all right.’
    Levin decided upon the Café Europa on 54th Street, not talking within earshot of the cab driver on the way and politely asking when they arrived for their table to be changed, to ensure greater privacy. Galina had been involved from the beginning – that had been one of Levin’s insistences – so there was no necessity for detailed explanations. He still watched her intently as he spoke, alert for her reaction to match his earlier bewilderment.
    â€˜This morning?’ she demanded, not able to believe it either.
    â€˜Waiting for me when I arrived.’ He was glad of the waiter’s interruption for drinks orders although it delayed the inevitable question by only a few seconds.
    â€˜How long?’
    â€˜A fortnight.’
    Galina looked at him doubtfully, as if she had misheard. Then, flatly, she said: ‘Natalia is not due back from Moscow for another month.’
    â€˜Do you think I need reminding of that!’
    â€˜So it’s got to be a mistake.’
    â€˜Which I can’t do anything to rectify.’
    â€˜You must query it!’
    â€˜How can I!’
    â€˜How can you not!’
    â€˜I can’t go back!’ protested