Poor bastard, thought Yuri: coming from Austria to Afghanistan would be like arriving from another planet. The amount of information his superior officers appeared to possess could only mean that during the withdrawal of the military intelligence personnel the KGB had managed to get a tie-line into the restricted GRU telex and cable channels normally precluded to them. He wondered how long it would take for the GRU to discover and remove it. Not too long, he guessed: they were stupid, each of these men sitting and sweating and smelling around him, to boast so openly. He said: ‘They will be cautious after what happened.’

‘Just as long as they don’t get in our way,’ said Bunin.

‘We’ll walk all over them!’ goaded Yuri.

‘Bloody right,’ said Gusev, his mind jammed on replay.

‘Prove to everyone why we’ve been given the responsibility!’ said Yuri, cheerleading like the muezzin in the mosques outside.

‘Prove it like no one will believe!’ endorsed Solov.

Yuri hesitated, curiously, unsure if the remark were anything more than braggadocio buoyed up on a sea of alcohol. He’d been idly amusing himself, prodding their stupid reaction. More intently now, Yuri said: ‘Hararajat showed the mujahideen aren’t to be underestimated: it’s important not to forget that.’

‘It’s important for the mujahideen to be shown that the KGB is not to be underestimated, either. Or forget it,’ said Solov, and Bunin laughed.

Eyes-Only traffic, remembered Yuri. He said: ‘I have things to do here in the compound. But I would consider it an honour to buy you another bottle of vodka: this one is exhausted.’

‘And we would consider it a pleasure to accept,’ sniggered Anishenko.

Russian tradition dictated that Yuri, although a departing host, should accept the initial toast.