“Evan Waller,” said Mallory. “Believed to be born in Canada sixty-three years ago, but that is incorrect. His public reputation is that of a legitimate businessman. But-”

Whit spoke up. “But his private rep is what?” He took the pistol from its holster and laid it on the table.

If Mallory was annoyed that Whit had interrupted him or placed the gun within view, he didn’t show it. In fact his eyes gleamed as he said, “Evan Waller is actually Fedir Kuchin.”

As he looked around the room and there was no discernible reaction from the group, disappointment replaced his glee. “Ukrainian born, he served in the military and then in the national secret police that reported directly to the KGB.” When even this revelation did not generate any comment he added sharply, “Have none of you heard of the Holodomor?” He looked at the opposite end of the table. “Dominic, surely at university you must have,” he said imploringly.

Dominic shook his head, his expression pained at having failed the older man.

Reggie spoke up. “Holodomor is Ukrainian for ‘death by hunger.’ Stalin killed nearly ten million Ukrainians in the early 1930s through mass starvation. That included nearly a third of the nation’s children.”

“How the hell did he manage that?” asked a disgusted Whit.

Mallory answered. “Stalin sent in troops and secret police and they took all livestock, poultry, food, seeds, and tools, with particular emphasis on the Dnieper River region, long known as the breadbasket of Europe. Then he sealed the borders to prevent escape and replenishment of the stolen articles, and also to stop the news from getting out to the rest of the world. No Internet back then, of course. Entire towns starved to death; nearly a quarter of the rural population of the country perished in less than two years.”

“Stalin rivaled Hitler in the atrocity department,” said Liza Kent pointedly.