Viktor sat opposite, sizing up the unshaven official. Yeveyev spoke with a Moscow accent and Viktor recalled the document he’d read explaining the reasons why this man had been sent to this place – isolated even by Siberian standards. His host smiled and reached into a drawer. With a practiced hand, he fished out a bottle and two tumblers. Viktor put a hand over his glass. ‘I’m here to see bodies, not drink, Yeveyev.’