Excerpt from The Senility of Vladimir P. by Michael Honig, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

As Sheremetev led Vladimir in, a hush descended on the room. Every eye turned on the old man in the blue suit who had stopped in the doorway. A few wisps of grey hair clung to his scalp, the face was wrinkled and jowly, and yet with its square chin, broad forehead, close-set and slightly slanting cold blue eyes, it was still immediately recognizable as the face that for thirty years had been the most photographed in Russia.

Vladimir looked at Sheremetev in confusion.

"It's alright, Vladimir Vladimirovich," he whispered. "It's just the people who have come for the meeting."

"Am I going to a meeting?"

"Yes."

"Have I been briefed?"

"Of course."

Vladimir looked around again, reassured now, taking in the lights and the cameras. Some last remaining instinct stirred within him of the leader that he had once been and he straightened his back, raised his chin, and a slight supercilious smile curled his lip.

"Who am I meeting?" he whispered.

"Lebedev," replied Sheremetev.

"Of course. Lebedev!" he muttered, and there was a note of combative relish in his voice as he glimpsed the big man standing with his aides on the other side of the room. "The time has come!"

This selection is excerpted with permission from Michael Honig's The Senility of Vladimir P. Reprinted by arrangement with Pegasus Books. All rights reserved