Mr. van Jaarsveld, please, I don’t remember sending you invitation.
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Autumn 2012
Colonel Konstantin Gavrilovich Ivanov stared out the window of his office at the headquarters of the Uzbek State Security Service in Tashkent.
The rain in Spain, he once heard, fell mainly on the plain. In Uzbekistan, it fell mainly on the ill-fated, the downtrodden, the unchosen. Not people of Ivanov’s ilk, in other words. He, by virtue of lineage, had spent...
Published on November 27, 2022 05:53