MoscowBY the time Andrei was in the terminal building at Moscow airport, battered and shabby, with dim, grey lighting, he had divided his mind into two. With one side he must now control all his behaviour, as if he really believed all that he had read in Pravda and Izvestia about the Soviet aims in Czechoslovakia and the ‘welcome’ the Warsaw Pact troops had received from the local population. This side now asserted itself; it was soaked deeply in Soviet ways and it could interpret everything it saw on the faces of the people whom Andrei met. It noticed the slightly raised eyebrows and quizzical look of the passport control officer with the bright red star on his cap as Andrei went through the special channel for those travelling on official or diplomatic passports. ‘How could you enjoy thi
