The word Russia derived from the Rus, the red-headed Vikings who headed east to explore and trade, and settled there, producing descendants. While Gavriela’s father, who claimed Viking descent, had never been further eastward than Berlin, she remembered Ilse’s words from the night that Dmitri had met her and the Wolf family.

‘Never mind Erik,’ Ilse had told Dmitri. ‘You and Gavriela could be brother and sister.’

That intense stare, Dmitri’s stare, was not too different from the gaze that Gavriela encountered daily in the mirror.

‘I find it curious,’ she said, ‘that a repressive Communist state where religion is outlawed is nevertheless rife with superstition. Or maybe it’s because of that repression that people believe in such nutty things.’

‘As you say.’ Dmitri pushed the bundle aside. ‘That’s a more likely explanation, isn’t it?’

‘If you were thinking of offering that to the British Museum, Colonel . . . Well, it’s not much of an offer.’

‘So what did you have in mind? Details of uranium shipments?’

They were getting to the heart of it.

‘Possibly,’ said Gavriela. ‘What would you want in return?’

‘My daughter back, of course.’ Dmitri’s eyes shone hard. ‘What did you expect me to demand?’

‘She’s safe in the West. Why would she want to come back?’

‘Why would her wishes matter to your government? Ursula is a schoolgirl. A German schoolgirl.’

‘Not Dutch?’ said Gavriela.

Ilse and Erik had been living in Amsterdam when the Wehrmacht invaded.

‘You want to turn me,’ said Dmitri. ‘So I can feed you classified information, now your famous tunnel has been blown. Very well, I agree. Provided you send her back to me.’

If it had not been for the flickering darkness, Gavriela might have agreed.

‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s not acceptable.’

Rupert might have made a different decision, but he wasn’t here. In such matters as recruiting agents and turning the opposition, nuance and context – and the case officer’s interpretation – were everything. She could justify refusing Dmitri’s demands simply by stating that she did not believe they were genuine.

The last thing London wanted, particularly after Burgess and Maclean, was to be played like fools, fed titbits of truth along with massive lies, manipulated from Moscow.

But they should also realise – Rupert certainly must – that she would have no intention of handing Ursula back to her monstrous stepfather. A new thought: Gavriela wondered if Rupert was in fact counting on that, because he believed in the darkness but could not share that belief with his fellow officers.

Perhaps Rupert, unlike his colleagues and superiors, wanted her to sabotage any attempt by Dmitri to work for SIS.

‘If I were to live in England,’ said Dmitri, ‘would I have access to Ursula? Controlled occasional access with your people watching – that would be acceptable.’

‘Who said anything about England?’

Dmitri’s gaze flicked towards the counter, and the SIS man standing ready.

What are you capable of, Dmitri?

If he could call on pseudo-mesmeric powers the way she had seen others of his kind utilise before, only violence on her part would stop him. This meeting could yet become catastrophe.

‘Surely, Colonel,’ she went on, ‘you’re not content with working for a single master?’

Unspoken: they both knew he already served two powers, and could not always work for the benefit of one without betraying the other – and that if anything he revelled in the ambiguity.

‘Ah, dear Gavi,’ he said. ‘You think you know me, don’t you?’

The use of the familiar form – du denkst dass du kennst mich – caused her to freeze.

‘Ma’am?’ The outer door had opened without her noticing. ‘We have company.’

A military staff-car had pulled up outside, its red pennant showing the yellow hammer and sickle. The driver and two officers inside did nothing for a moment; then a door opened. Nobody got out.

‘You’ll excuse me,’ said Dmitri, rising.

He took the cloth-wrapped metal and pushed it into his pocket.

‘Nice catching up with you,’ he added.

Then he walked out of the café, nodding to the SIS man who stepped aside for him, and slid into the staff-car. For a second, he looked back at Gavriela; then he pulled the door shut. It was a signal for the driver to drop in the clutch and power away from the kerb.

‘What just happened?’ asked the man who had been standing guard.

He tried to find out where Ursula is.

That would be the other reason for Rupert’s using Gavriela: besides the relationship with Ursula, there was her immunity to any psychological influence Dmitri might employ. Mean-while, Dmitri, for safety and as a fallback plan, had informed his people that the British had approached him. It allowed him to turn the play in either direction, unless Gavriela blocked the game totally.

She answered, ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

What she knew for certain was that her first loyalty was to Carl, her son. Going home to be his mother again was her main objective. If she could keep her newfound niece safe as well, that was an added benefit; but Gavriela no longer wanted to work for Rupert, and had no interest in Dmitri Shtemenko’s future, so long as he stayed a long way away from her, preferably on the other side of the Iron Curtain.

Not that such parochial, ephemeral divisions meant anything to the darkness.

TWENTY-THREE

VACHSS STATION, VIJAYA ORBITAL, 2604 AD

The judicial hearing was held in camera, with two non-Pilot humans on the panel, matching the two Pilot representatives and the two Haxigoji. Roger had not expected an even-numbered group, and was curious about the possibility of deadlock in deciding a verdict; then he pushed extraneous thoughts behind him. His primary goal was to make sure Jed was freed.

‘Keep your eyes open,’ had been his briefing officer’s final comment, a throwaway remark that was really something else. So far Roger had not worked out what he was meant to be alert to.

Jed’s incarceration meant confinement to the Sanctuary section of the orbital, no prison cells involved. If he and his fellow Pilots wanted to make an illegal getaway, they had the resources. This was a matter for diplomacy, not military tactics.

The panel was chaired by a soulful-looking Pilot called Ibrahim al-Khalid, who early in the proceedings announced: ‘Vachss Station authorities have agreed to treat certain security matters, to be touched upon in this hearing, as classified material. As one of two Sanctuary representatives here, let me add an official statement of gratitude for that wise decision.’

Beside al-Khalid sat the long-term ‘permanent’ Sanctuary resident, name of Declan Draper. The two humans on the panel were Emma Mbaka, who just happened to be Draper’s partner, and Vilok Khan, who had witnessed Jed killing Rick Mbuli – or the thing that once been Rick – which Roger would have thought disqualified him as an objective judge.

The Haxigoji pair were a female called Nectarblossom and an antler-bearing male called Acid Tang, whose arrival by shuttle from the surface had been marked by a great deal of ceremony, almost reverence, among the station-resident Haxigoji. Since the Haxigoji who witnessed the killing had protected Jed and appeared to approve of his actions – Roger had seen the holo footage as part of his briefing – there should be no problem here.

Not that he was complacent about any aspect of this mission, though it appeared to have little in common with the scenarios he had drilled in so hard in Tangleknot.

‘We look forward to exploring the implications of the defendant’s actions,’ said Nectarblossom through her translation-torc, ‘as a matter of the greatest importance.’