She looked over at me, recognition then shock hitting her face as she saw through my disguise. "Бета Полина, ты жив!" (Beta Polina, you're alive!)

"I am. We should get out of view, though."

"Of course, Beta." She opened the door and walked to the elevator, I followed along, careful not to show much to the cameras in case anyone was watching. The Moscow police weren't as advanced in surveillance and facial recognition use as the West, but you never knew who might be watching. Soon we were in her nineteenth-floor apartment and she was making tea. "What may I do for you, Beta? Your photograph and that of your...