‘That was far too expensive,’ she said. It would have come from one of the Western-goods shops.

‘I love her. Think of her as mine.’

Natalia was unsure whether or not to be glad of the remark. Sasha hadn’t asked any questions yet but it wouldn’t be much longer. ‘You still shouldn’t have done it.’

Popov shrugged the protest aside. Able, from the way he was standing, to conceal the heavy seriousness between them from other parents in the room he said, simply, ‘Hello.’

‘Hello,’ said Natalia, just as serious. Should she, could she, take another chance?

Stanislav Silin knew he had them rattled, Sobelov most of all. It was a good feeling, like it had been a good feeling watching the bombast leak from the man when Sobelov realized how easily the size of the robbery would re-establish things in their proper order.

Silin had guessed, of course, about the money involved but he didn’t think it was an exaggeration to value 250 kilos of weapons-graded material, which was what he’d been promised, at $75,000,000 at least. They’d been dumbstruck by that, as he’d known they would be because he had been when the size had been put to him. Sobelov had tried to recover, questioning both the amount and the profit, but the others hadn’t doubted him. They hadn’t just believed him, they’d backed him, not even Bobin or Frolov supporting the demand that there should be a change in the system to involve all of them in the negotiations instead of leaving it to him alone, which was his agreed right as the boss of bosses. Silin had been worried at that insistence, unsure how much ground he’d lost: the fact that everyone apart from Sobelov was prepared to leave the brokering to him, like it had always been in the past, had to be the best indicator he could have wished that he could defeat Sobelov’s challenge.

But he still couldn’t afford to relax.