Story One Chapter 6
THE ELEVATOR SEEMED TO TAKE AN UNBEARABLY LONG TIME CREEPING UP to the twentieth floor. I managed to think up and reject several plans on the way. It was the bodyguards who complicated the whole business.
I'd have to improvise. And if necessary, breach my disguise a little.
I rang the doorbell for a long time, peering into the electronic eye of the spy-hole. Eventually something clicked and a voice from the intercom concealed in the wall asked, "Yes?"
"You're flooding me out!" I exclaimed, trying to sound as agitated as possible. "The frescoes on my ceiling have run! The water's swilling about in the grand pianos!"
Where the hell did I get those frescoes and pianos?
"What grand pianos?" the voice asked suspiciously.
How was I supposed to know what kinds of grand pianos there are? Black and expensive. Or white and even more expensive. . .
"Viennese pianos! With curvy legs!" I blurted out.
"Not the ones in the bushes then?" the voice asked me with blunt irony.
I looked down at my feet. That damned multiple point lighting. . . there weren't even any proper shadows!
I reached my hand out toward the door and just caught a faint glimpse of a shadow on the pinkish wood bound with armor-plate steel.
And I pulled the shadow toward me.
My hand plunged into the Twilight, and I followed my hand.
The world was transformed, becoming colorless and gray. A dense silence descended, only disturbed by the buzzing of the electronic innards of the spy-hole and the intercom.
I was in the Twilight, that strange world to which only the Others know the way. The world from which our Power is drawn.
I could see the pale shadows of the wary bodyguards through the door, their auras flickering an alarmed crimson color above their heads. And now I could have reached out with my thoughts, given the order, and they would have opened the door for me.
But I preferred to walk straight through the door.
The security guards were really alarmed¡ªone of them had a pistol in his hand, the other was reaching incredibly slowly for his holster.
I touched the security guards, running my thumb across their solid foreheads. Sleep, sleep, sleep. . . You are very tired. You have to lie down and sleep right now. Sleep for at least an hour. Sleep very soundly. And have pleasant dreams.
One guard went limp immediately, the other resisted for a fraction of a section. I'd have to check him later to see if he was an Other, you could never tell. . .
Then I emerged from the Twilight. The world acquired colors and sped up. I heard music coming from somewhere.
The two guards were slumping like stuffed sacks onto the expensive Persian rug spread out just inside the door.
I managed to catch both of them at once and lay them out fairly gently.
Then I set off toward the sound of a violin singing in a minor key.
Now this apartment had been finished in real style. Everything here shone, everything had been carefully considered so that it harmonized with the whole. It must have taken a real top designer to do all this. The owner hadn't hammered a single nail into any of these walls. He'd probably never even expressed any desire to do so. . . just muttered in approval or dissatisfaction as he looked through the color sketches and jabbed his finger at a few of the pictures¡ªthen forgotten about his apartment for six months.
It turned out that Timur Borisovich had come to the Assol building to relax for a while in the Jacuzzi. And a genuine Jacuzzi at that, not a hydro-massage bath from some other less famous firm. Only his face, so painfully reminiscent of Gesar's, protruded above the frothing surface of the water. There was an expensive suit carelessly thrown across the back of a chair¡ªthe bathroom was big enough for chairs, and a coffee table, and a spacious sauna, and this Jacuzzi, which was like a small swimming pool.
No doubt about it, genes are a remarkable thing. Gesar's son couldn't become an Other, but in his human life he enjoyed every possible boon.
I walked in, got my bearings in those wide, open spaces, and approached the bath. Timur Borisovich looked at me and frowned. But he didn't make any sudden movements.
"Your bodyguards are sleeping," I said. "I assume you have an alarm button or a pistol somewhere within easy reach. Don't try to use it, it won't help. "
"There's no alarm button here," Timur Borisovich growled, and his voice sounded painfully like Gesar's. "I'm not paranoid. . . So you must be an Other?"
Right. Apparently it was full and frank confession time.
I laughed.
"Yes, I am. I'm glad no long explanations will be required. "
Timur Borisovich snorted. "Do I have to get out? Or can we talk like this?"
"This is fine," I said generously. "Do you mind?"
The Great Magician's offspring nodded, and I moved up a chair and sat down, heartlessly creasing his expensive suit.
"Do you understand why I'm here?"
"You don't look anything like a vampire," said Timur Borisovich. "Probably a magician? A Light Magician?"
I nodded.
"You've come to initiate me," Timur Borisovich decided. "Was it too much trouble to phone first?"
Oh, calamity. . .
He didn't understand a thing after all.
"Who promised you would be initiated?" I asked sharply.
Timur Borisovich frowned. "I see. . . here we go again. What did you come here for?"
"I'm investigating the unsanctioned dissemination of secret information," I said.
"But you're an Other? Not from state security?" Timur Borisovich asked anxiously.
"Very unfortunately for you, I'm not from state security. Tell me absolutely honestly who promised you would be initiated and when. "
"You'll sense it if I lie," Timur Borisovich said simply.
"Of course. "
"Oh Lord, all I wanted was just to spend a couple of hours in peace," Timur Borisovich exclaimed in a pained voice. "Problems here, conflicts there. . . and when I climb into the bath, in comes a serious young man looking for answers. "
I waited. I didn't bother to point out that I wasn't simply a man.
"A week ago, I had a meeting with. . . " Timur Borisovich hesitated, ". . . a meeting, in rather strange circumstances. . . with a certain gentleman. . . "
"What did he look like?" I asked. "No need to describe him, just picture him to yourself. "
A gleam of curiosity appeared in Timur Borisovich's eyes. He looked hard at me.
"What?" I exclaimed, bewildered.
I had good reason to be. . .
If I could trust the mental image that had appeared in the businessman's mind (and I had no reason not to trust it), then the person who had come to talk to him was the now little known but once famous movie actor Oleg Strizhenov.
"Oleg Strizhenov," Timur Borisovich snorted. "Still young and handsome. I thought there was something badly wrong with my head. But he said it was just a disguise. . . a dis. . . "
So that was it. Gesar had had enough wits to disguise himself. . . Well then. . . that improved our chances.
Feeling a bit more cheerful, I said, "Go on. Then what happened?"
"That were-creature," said Timur Borisovich, inadvertently confusing our terminology, "gave me a lot of help with a certain matter. I'd gotten involved in a bad business. . . entirely by chance. If I hadn't been told a few things, I wouldn't be lying here now. "
"So you were helped. "
"Helped big time," Timur Borisovich said with a nod. "So naturally, I got curious. Then another time we had a real heart-to-heart. Remembered old Tashkent and talked about the old films. . . And then this phoney Strizhenov told me about the Others, and said he was a relative of mine. So he'd be happy to do anything at all for me. Free and for gratis, no return favors required. "
"So?" I asked, urging him on.
"Well, I'm not an idio
t," Timur Borisovich said with a shrug. "You don't ask a golden fish for three wishes, you ask for unlimited power. Or at the very least for a pool full of golden fish. I asked him to make me an Other, like him. Then this 'Strizhenov' started getting edgy and hopping about like he was on a red-hot skillet. Said it couldn't be done. But I could tell he was lying. It can be done. So I asked him to make a real effort and turn me into an Other after all. . . "
He was telling the truth. Every single word. But he wasn't quite telling me the whole story.
"It's impossible to make you into an Other," I explained. "You're an ordinary human being. I'm sorry, there's no way you'll ever be an Other. "
Timur Borisovich snorted again.
"It's. . . well, if you like, it's in the genes," I explained. "Timur Borisovich, did you realize that your contact was caught in a trap? That he had formulated his proposal wrong, and as a result he was obliged to do something for you that's impossible?"
The self-confident businessman didn't have anything to say to that.
"You did," I said. "I can see that you did. And you still went on demanding?"
"I told you¡ªit can be done!" said Timur Borisovich, raising his voice. "I can feel it. I can tell when someone's lying just as well as you can. And I didn't make any threats, I only asked. "
"It was probably your father who came to see you," I said. "Do you realize that?"
Timur Borisovich froze in his seething Jacuzzi.
"He wanted to help you all right," I said. "But he can't do this. And your demand is literally killing him. Do you understand that?"
Timur Borisovich shook his head.
"The promise he gave was too vague," I said. "You took him at his word, and if he fails to carry out his promise, then he'll die. Do you understand?"
"Is that one of your rules?"
"It's a corollary of Power," I said curtly. "Well, for the Light Ones. "
"Where was he all that time, my dad. . . " Timur Borisovich said with genuine sorrow in his voice. "I suppose he must still be young? Why did he come to me when my grandchildren are already married?"
"Believe me, he couldn't have come sooner," I replied. "Most likely he didn't even know about you. It just happened that way. But now you're killing him. Your own father. "
Timur Borisovich didn't say anything.
But I was exultant. Because this businessman lounging in his Jacuzzi wasn't a hardened scoundrel. He'd grown up in the East, and the word "father" meant a lot to him.
No matter what.
"Tell him that I withdraw my. . . request," Timur Borisovich muttered. "If he doesn't want to. . . then to hell with him. . . He could simply have come and told me everything honestly. He didn't need to send his staff. "
"Are you sure I'm one of his staff?"
"Yes. I don't know who my dad is. But he's some big wheel in those Watches of yours. "
I'd done it. I'd removed the Sword of Damocles that had been hanging over Gesar's head.
Maybe that was why he'd sent me to the Assol? Because he knew I could do it?
"Timur Borisovich, one more request," I went on, striking while the iron was hot. "You have to disappear for a while, get out of town. Certain facts have become known. . . there are Others on your trail, apart from me. Including Dark Ones. They'll make trouble for you, and for. . . for your father. "
Timur Borisovich jerked upright in his bath. "What else will you order me to do?"
"I could order you," I explained, "just as easily as your bodyguards. And you'd go dashing to the airport without your trousers. But I'm asking you, Timur Borisovich. You've already done one good deed by agreeing to withdraw your demand. Take the next step. Please. "
"Do you realize what kind of ideas people get about businessmen who take off without warning to God knows where?"
"I can imagine. "
Timur Borisovich grunted and suddenly looked older somehow. I felt ashamed. But I carried on waiting.
"I'd like to talk. . . to him. "
"I think that'll be okay," I agreed. "But first you have to disappear. "
"Turn around," Timur Borisovich growled.
I obediently turned around, because I believed I wouldn't get a heavy nickel-plated soap dish across the back of my head.
And that entirely groundless trust saved me.
Because I glanced at the wall through the Twilight to make sure the bodyguards were still sleeping peacefully by the door. And I saw a fleeting shadow¡ªmoving far too quickly for a human being.
What's more, the shadow was moving through the wall. Not walking normally, like a magician, but gliding along like a vampire.
By the time Kostya walked into the bathroom, I'd already set my face into the calm, mocking expression appropriate for a Light Watchman who's gotten the better of a Dark One.
"You!" said Kostya. In the Twilight his body gave off a light vapor. Vampires generally look different in the Twilight world, but Kostya still looked a lot like a human being. Amazing for a Higher Vampire.
"Of course," I said. My words seemed to sink into wet cotton wool. "What are you doing here?"
Kostya hesitated, but he answered honestly:
"I sensed you using Power. So I knew you must have found something. . . Someone. "
He turned his gaze on Timur Borisovich. "Is this the blackmailer?"
There was no point in lying now. Or in trying to hide the businessman either.
"Yes," I said. "I've got him to withdraw his demands. "
"How?"
"I lied, told him it was his own father who promised to turn him into an Other. And now his father's in serious trouble. . . He felt ashamed and withdrew his demands. "
Kostya frowned.
"I'm planning to send him as far as possible out of harm's way," I lied, inspired. "He can settle down somewhere in the Dominican Republic. "
"That's only half of the investigation," Kostya said sullenly. "I think you Light Ones are protecting one of your own. "
"We are, or I am?"
"You are, Anton. Finding the human being isn't the most important thing. We need the one who spoke out of turn. Who promised to initiate him. "
"But he doesn't know anything!" I protested. "I checked his memory, there's nothing there. The traitor came to him disguised as a movie actor from the last century. And he didn't leave any clues. "
"We'll see about that," Kostya decided. "Let him get his pants on, and I'll take him in. "
How about that for cheek.
"I found him, and he's going with me," I barked.
"And I think you were going to cover up the clues," Kostya said with quiet menace in his voice.
Behind our backs the old man was slowly toweling himself off, without even the slightest idea of the conversation we were having in the Twilight. And we glared at each other, neither of us willing to back off.
"He's going with me," I repeated.
"Fight you for him?" Kostya asked, almost cheerfully.
And in a single gliding movement he was there beside me. He glanced into my eyes, and in the Twilight his eyes glittered with red fire.
He really wanted this fight.
He'd been wanting it for years. To finally convince himself that truth was on the side of the Higher Vampire Konstantin, and not the naive youth Kostya, who had dreamed of freeing himself from the curse and becoming human again. . .
"I'll annihilate you," I whispered.
Kostya just laughed. "Shall we find out?"
I looked down at my feet. The shadow was barely visible, but I raised it and slipped down into the next level of the Twilight, where the walls of the building were mere hints in the mist and space was filled with a low, disconcerting drone.
But I only held the advantage for a brief moment.
Kostya appeared at the second level immediately after me.
Now he had really changed a lot¡ªhis face looked like a skull with the skin stretc
hed tight over it, and his eyes had sunk into the skull. His ears were long and pointed.
"I've really learned a lot," Kostya whispered. "Well then, who's the suspect going with?"
And then another voice spoke. "I have a proposal that will suit everyone. "
Witezslav materialized in the gray mist. His body was also distorted, and it was steaming, like a lump of dry ice in the sun. I shuddered¡ªthe Prague vampire had emerged from the third level of the Twilight, from depths that were beyond my reach. Just how powerful was he?
Edgar appeared after Witezslav. The journey to the third level had cost the magician a serious effort¡ªhe was staggering and breathing heavily.
"He's going with us," Witezslav continued. "We are not inclined to suspect Anton Gorodetsky of any criminal intent. But we take note of the Day Watch's suspicions. The investigation is transferred to the Inquisition. "
Kostya didn't reply.
I didn't say anything either. Apart from the fact that Witezslav was well within his rights, there was no way I could oppose him.
"Shall we go back, gentlemen?" Witezslav proposed. "It's a little bleak down here. "
And a second later we were back standing in the spacious bathroom, where Timur Borisovich was hopping from one foot to the other as he tried to get into his underpants.
Witezslav gave him time to pull up his underwear. It was only when the businessman heard something and turned around, then saw our little group and shouted out in surprise that Witezslav cast a cold glance at him.
Timur Borisovich went limp. Edgar leapt to his side and lowered the helpless body into a chair.
"You say he doesn't know who the traitor is," Witezslav said, surveying the businessman curiously. "What a remarkably familiar face. . . It suggests certain rather interesting conjectures to me. "
I didn't say anything.
"You can be proud of yourself, Anton," Witezslav went on. "What you said made perfect sense. I believe this man's father really does serve in a Watch. The Night Watch. "
Kostya giggled. Of course, he didn't much like Witezslav's decision. Kostya would have preferred to deliver Gesar's offspring to the Day Watch. But the way things were suited him pretty well too.
"Could the all-wise Gesar really have committed such a blunder?" he asked in delight. "How interesting. . . "
Witezslav looked at him, and Kostya stopped short.
"Anyone can blunder," Witezslav said in a quiet voice. "Even a magician beyond classification. But. . . "
He fixed his gaze on me. "Can you ask Gesar to come here?"
I shrugged. It was a stupid question, of course I could. And so could Witezslav.
"I don't like what's going on here," Witezslav said in that same quiet voice. "I don't like it at all. Someone here is bluffing far too brazenly. "
He ran his piercing, inhuman glance over all of us. Something had put him on his guard, but exactly what was it?
"I'll contact my chief," Kostya said in a tone that brooked no denial.
Witezslav didn't object. He was looking at Timur Borisovich and frowning.
I took out my cell phone and dialed Gesar's number.
"Someone's trying to make fools of us all. . . " said Witezslav, his fury starting to break through. "And that someone. . . "
"Tell him to get dressed," I said, listening to the beeping of the phone. "Or do we have to humiliate an old man and take him like that in his underpants?"
Witezslav didn't stir a muscle, but Timur Borisovich stood up and started getting dressed, as if he were sleepwalking.
Edgar sidled up to me and asked sympathetically, "Isn't he answering? In his place I'd. . . "
"It will be a long time before anyone offers you a place like that," Witezslav commented. "If you can't see how we've been set up. . . "
If the look on Edgar's face was anything to go by, he couldn't see a thing. And neither could I, or Kostya, who had rolled his eyes back and up and was whispering something soundlessly.
"Yes, Anton. . . " Gesar said when he answered. "Anything interesting?"
"I've found the man who was promised he could be turned into an Other," I said, forcing the words out with a struggle.
Total silence fell in the bathroom. Everyone seemed to be straining to hear the faint sound from my cell phone.
"Excellent!" Gesar exclaimed. "Well done. Now get in touch with the investigators from the Day Watch and the Inquisition right away. Let them join in the investigation. That Czech vampire, Witezslav, is around there somewhere. The old guy's on the ball, even if he doesn't have any sense of humor. . . but that's a misfortune suffered by all vampires. "
Witezsav turned toward me. His face had turned to stone and his eyes were blazing. He'd heard everything. And I would have bet a crate of Czech beer to a bottle of triple cologne that Gesar knew perfectly well that Witezslav was standing there beside me.
"Witezslav is already here," I said. "And so is Edgar and. . . the investigator from the Dark Ones. "
"Great!" Gesar was delighted. "Ask our visitor from Prague to put up a portal for me. . . if he can manage that, of course. I'll drop over to see you. "
I put the phone away and looked at Witezslav. To be honest, I felt Gesar had overdone the jibes a bit.
But how could I know the way things stood between the old Light Magician and the vampire Inquisitor? And what scores they had to settle with each other?
"You heard him," I said evasively.
"Tell me again," Witezslav replied curtly.
"The head of the Night Watch of Moscow, the Most Lucent Magician Gesar, requests you to put up a portal for him. If that is within your power, of course. "
Witezslav simply glanced briefly to one side¡ªand a narrow, bright portal appeared in the air above the seething Jacuzzi. Anyone stepping out through that strange doorway was bound to end up in the water.
"No problem," Witezslav said coolly. "Edgar. . . "
The former Dark Magician looked devotedly into his eyes.
"The file on this man. . . " Witezslav nodded toward Timur Borisovich, who was lazily knotting his necktie. "It's probably downstairs, in the security service office. "
Edgar disappeared¡ªto save time, he went to get the file through the Twilight.
And a moment later Gesar appeared in the bathroom.
Only he didn't appear through the portal, but beside it, stepping down neatly onto the marble slabs of the floor.
"I'm really getting old," he sighed. "I missed the door. . . "
He looked at Witezslav and broke into a broad smile.
"Well, just look who's here! Why didn't you drop in to see me?"
"I've been busy," Witezslav answered curtly. "I think we need to resolve a few matters that have come up as quickly as possible. . . "
"You've been spending too much time in the office," Gesar sighed. "You've become a total bureaucrat. . . Well, what do we have here?"
"There he is," I put in.
Gesar gave me a smile of approval and looked at Timur Borisovich.
There was a sudden silence. Kostya had gone quiet after finishing his soundless conversation with Zabulon¡ªwho was in no hurry to put in an appearance. Witezslav had turned to stone. I was trying not even to breathe.
"That's curious," said Gesar. He went over to Timur Borisovich, who was staring blankly straight ahead, and touched his arm. He heaved a sigh: "Ah. . . "
"Do you know this man, Most Lucent Gesar?" Witezslav asked.
Gesar turned toward us with an expression of profound sadness on his face, and asked bitterly, "Tell me, have you completely lost your grip? This is my own flesh and blood, Witezslav! This is my son!"
"Really?" Witezslav asked ironically.
Gesar took no more notice of him. He put his arms around the old man, who from the human point of view could have been his father. He stroked his cheeks affectionately and whispered, "Where have you been all these years, my littl
e one. . . and we end up meeting like this. . . They told me you'd died. . . they said it was diphtheria. . . "
"My heartfelt congratulations, Gesar," said Witezslav. "But I should like to receive an explanation. "
Edgar reappeared in the bathroom. Perspiring, clutching a folder in his hands.
Still hugging his old son, Gesar replied, "It's a simple story. Before the war I worked all over Uzbekistan. Samarkand, Bukhara, Tashkent. . . I was married. Then I was recalled to Moscow. I knew I'd had a son, but I never saw him. There was no time for that. . . there was a war on. Then the boy's mother died. And I lost track of him. "
"Not even you were able to find him?" Witezslav asked suspiciously.
"Not even me. According to the documents, he had died. Of diphtheria. . . "
"This is a Mexican soap opera," Edgar protested, outraged. "Most Lucent Gesar, do you claim that you have never met this man?"
"Never," Gesar said sadly.
"You have never spoken to him, never, in contravention of all the rules, offered to help him become an Other?" Edgar persisted.
Gesar looked at the magician ironically.
"Esteemed Inquisitor, if anyone knows, you should, that a human being cannot become an Other. "
"Answer the question," said Edgar, half asking, half ordering.
"I have never seen him, never spoken to him, and never made any promises to him. I did not send the letters to the Watches and the Inquisition. I did not ask anyone to meet with him or send those letters. The Light bears witness to my words!" Gesar rapped out. He flung out his hand¡ªand for an instant a petal of white fire blossomed on it. "Are you casting doubt on what I say? Claiming that I am the traitor?"
Gesar had grown taller, as if some spring had straightened out inside him. You could have hammered nails into the look in his eyes.
"Are you accusing me of anything?" Gesar continued, raising his voice. "You, Edgar? Or you, Witezslav?"
Kostya was too slow to back away and he too was caught in that withering glance.
"Or you, vampire-boy?"
Even I felt like hiding. But deep in my heart I was laughing. Gesar had put one over on everyone. I didn't know how he'd managed it, but he had.
"We would not dare even to surmise such a thing, Most Lucent Gesar," said Witezslav, and he was the first to bow his head. "Edgar, your questions were phrased impolitely. "
"I apologize," Edgar said, hanging his head. "Forgive me, Most Lucent Gesar. I am profoundly sorry. "
Kostya was gazing around in panic. Was he waiting for Zab-ulon? No, that wasn't likely. On the contrary, he was hoping the Dark One's chief wouldn't turn up for his share of the taunts.
And Zabulon wouldn't turn up, I realized that. A European vampire who, for all his great power and centuries-old wisdom, had lost his touch for intrigue might fall into a trap. But Zabulon had realized right away that Gesar wouldn't leave himself open so stupidly.
"You have attacked my son," Gesar said sadly. "Who cast the spell of paralysis on him? You, Konstantin?"
"No!" Kostya exclaimed, panic-stricken.
"I did," Witezslav said dourly. "Shall I remove it?"
"Remove it?" Gesar barked. "You have used magic on my boy. Can you imagine what a shock that is, at his age? Eh? And who will he become now, after the initiation? A Dark One?"
My eyes almost popped out of my head. Kostya gave a faint squeal. Edgar clamped his jaws shut.
We must all have looked at Timur Borisovich through the Twilight at exactly the same moment.
The aura of a potential Other was quite unmistakable.
Timur Borisovich had no need to expose himself to the fangs of a vampire or a werewolf. He could become a perfectly respectable magician. Fourth or fifth-level.
Unfortunately, most likely a Dark Magician. . . But. . .
"And now what am I to do?" Gesar continued. "You have attacked my little child, frightened him, crushed his will. . . "
The superannuated "little child" was scrabbling feebly at his necktie, still trying to tie the Windsor knot as neatly as possible.
"Is he going to become a Dark One now?" Gesar asked indignantly. "Well? This was all specially planned, was it? Gesar's son a Dark Magician?"
"I'm sure he would have become a Dark One in any case. . . " said Witezslav, "With his way of life. . . "
"You have subdued his will, urged him toward the Darkness, and now you make claims like that?" Gesar said in a menacing whisper. "Does the Inquisition believe it has the right to violate the Treaty? Or is this a strictly personal attack. . . haven't you got over Karlsbad yet? We can continue this conversation, Witezslav. This may not be Krasnaya Kupal'nya, but we still have plenty of space for a duel. "
Witezslav wavered for a second, trying to withstand Gesar's stare.
Then he gave in. "My apologies, Gesar. I had no idea that this man was a potential Other. Everything indicated quite the opposite. . . those letters. . . "
"And what now?" Gesar barked.
"The Inquisition acknowledges its. . . its haste. . . " Witezslav said. "The Moscow Night Watch is entitled to take this. . . this man under its tutelage. "
"To carry out his remoralization?" Gesar asked. "To initiate him after he has turned to the Light?"
"Yes," Witezslav said in a whisper.
"Well then, let us consider this dispute settled," Gesar said with a smile, slapping Witezslav on the shoulder. "Don't be upset. We all make mistakes sometimes. The important thing is to put them right, isn't it?"
My, but that old European bloodsucker had iron self-control.
"That's right, Gesar," he said sadly.
"By the way, have you caught the renegade Other?" Gesar asked.
Witezslav shook his head.
"What's in my little boy's memory?" Gesar asked aloud. He looked at Timur Borisovich, already standing there fully dressed. "Ah. . . Oleg Strizhenov. A 1960s movie star. What an audacious disguise. "
"So it would seem the traitor is fond of old Russian movies?" asked Witezslav.
"Indeed. Personally, I would have preferred Innokenty Smok-tunovsky," Gesar replied. "Or Oleg Dal. Witezslav, this case is a dead end. The traitor hasn't left any leads. "
"And you can't even imagine who he is?" Witezslav asked.
"I can imagine," Gesar said with a nod. "There are thousands of Others in Moscow. Any one of them could have assumed someone else's appearance. Does the Inquisition wish to check the memory of all the Others in the city?"
Witezslav frowned.
"No, it can't be done," Gesar agreed. "I can't even vouch for my own colleagues, and the Others who don't serve in the Watches will refuse point blank. "
"We'll set an ambush," Edgar declared. "And if the traitor shows up again. . . "
"He won't show up," Witezslav said wearily. "He has no need to now. "
Gesar smiled, looking at the gloomy vampire. Then the smile was suddenly wiped off his face.
"Now will you please leave my son's apartment? I'll be expecting you in my office to sign the report. At seven o'clock this evening. "
Witezslav nodded and disappeared¡ªonly to reappear a moment later, looking slightly confused.
"On foot, on foot," Gesar said. "I've shielded off the Twilight here. Just to be on the safe side. "
I trudged off after the Inquisitors and Kostya¡ªboy, was he happy to be out of there and on his way.
"Anton," Gesar called after me. "Thank you. You did a good job. Call in to see me this evening. "
I didn't answer. We walked past the bodyguards, still dead to the world, and I attentively scanned the aura of the one I'd thought seemed doubtful.
No, not an Other after all. A human being.
I'd be doubly careful about that for a long time now.
Witezslav said nothing, engrossed in thought, leaving Kostya and Edgar to fiddle with the locks. Then he cast a sideways glance in my direction and asked, "Will you off
er us a cup of coffee, watchman?"
I nodded. Why not?
We'd worked together on the same job. And we'd all been duped together¡ªno matter what token compliments Gesar might have paid me.