I asked. 'If it's not possible to do as I requested, they should have said so.'

'And what was the money for?' the head of security queried.

'What money?' I asked in surprise. 'Ah . . .your colleague thought I was offering him money?'

The head of security smiled.

'Absolutely not!' I said firmly. 'I wanted to get my handkerchief out of my pocket. My hay fever's really killing me today. And there was a load of small change in there, so I put it on the desk . . . but I didn't even get time to blow my nose.'

I think I overdid it a bit.

The stony-faced boss held out my pass and said very politely:

'The incident is closed. I'm sure you understand, Mr Gorodetsky, that private individuals are not permitted to view our security recordings.'

I sensed that what had stung the boss most was the phrase about 'small change'. Of course, he wasn't exactly poor, working in a place like that. But he wasn't so flush that he could call a hundred dollars small change.

I sighed and lowered my head.

'Forgive me for being so stupid. I really did try to offer some . . . remuneration. I've been running from one bureaucrat to another all this week, registering the firm . . . it was an automatic reflex.'

The security boss gave me a searching look. He seemed to have softened just a bit.

'It's my fault,' I admitted. 'I was just overwhelmed by curiosity. Would you believe I couldn't sleep half the night, I kept trying to guess . . .'

'I can see you didn't sleep,' the boss said, looking at me. And he couldn't resist asking – after all, human curiosity is ubiquitous, 'What is it you're so interested in?'

'My wife and daughter are at the dacha right now,' I said. 'I'm knocking myself out, trying to get the work on the apartment finished . . . and suddenly I get this letter. Anonymous. In a woman's handwriting. And the letter . . . well, how can I put it . . . it's a kilo of flirting and half a kilo of promises. A beautiful stranger is dreaming of getting to know you, it says, but she doesn't dare take the first step. If I'm observant enough to realise who the letter's from – then all I have to do is approach her . . .'

A glint of amusement appeared in his eyes.

'And your wife's at the dacha?' he asked.

'Yes, she is,' I said with a nod. 'Don't get the wrong idea . . . I've no ambitious plans. I'd just like to find out who this stranger is.'

'Do you have the letter with you?' the boss asked.

'I threw it away immediately,' I said. 'If my wife ever set eyes on it, I'd never be able to prove that nothing happened . . .'

'When was it sent?'

'Three days ago. From our post office.'

The boss thought for a moment.

'The letters there are collected once a day, in the evening,' I said. 'I don't think too many people go in there . . . only about five or six a day. If I could just have a look . . .'

The boss shook his head and smiled.

'Yes, I understand in principle it's not allowed . . .' I said sadly. 'Can't you at least take a look, eh? Maybe there wasn't a single woman there that day, and it's my neighbour's idea of a joke. He's like that . . . the jolly type.'

'From the tenth floor, you mean?' the boss asked, frowning.

I nodded:

'You take a look . . . just tell me if there was a woman there or not.'

'This letter is compromising for you, isn't it?' the boss said.

'To some extent,' I admitted. 'As far as my wife is concerned.'

'Well, then you have grounds for viewing the recording,' the boss decided.

'Thank you very much!' I exclaimed. 'Really, thank you!'

'You see how simple everything is?' said the boss, slowly pressing a key on his computer keyboard. 'And you go getting the money out . . . what Soviet sort of way is that to behave? Just a moment . . .'

I couldn't restrain myself, I got up and stood behind his shoulder. The boss didn't object. He was pretty excited – evidently there wasn't much work for him to do in the grounds of Assol.

The image of the post office appeared on the screen, first from one corner – an excellent view of what the counter girls were doing. Then from another