The Twilight Watch (13 page)

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 planned, was it? Gesar's son a Dark
Magician?'

'I'm sure he would have become a Dark One in any case . . .'
said Witiezslav. 'With his way of life . . .'

'You have subdued his will, urged him towards the Dark, 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 Karslbad
yet? We can continue this conversation, Witiezslav. This may not
be Krasnaya Kupal'nya, but we still have plenty of space for a duel.'

Witiezslav 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 snapped.

'The Inquisition acknowledges its . . . its haste . . .'Witiezslav
said. 'The Moscow Night Watch is entitled to take this . . . this
man under its tutelage.'

'To carry out his remoralisation?' Gesar asked. 'To initiate him
after he has turned to the Light?'

'Yes,' Witiezslav said in a whisper.

'Well then, let us consider this dispute settled,' Gesar said with
a smile, slapping Witiezslav on the shoulder. 'Don't be upset. We
all make mistakes sometimes. The important thing is to put them
right, isn't it?'

My, that old European bloodsucker certainly had iron self-control.

'That's right, Gesar,' he said sadly.

'By the way, have you caught the renegade Other?' Gesar asked.

Witiezslav shook his head.

'What's in my little boy's memory?' Gesar wondered aloud. He
looked at Timur Borisovich, already standing there fully dressed.
'Ai-ai-ai . . . Oleg Strizhenov. A 1960s movie star. What an audacious
disguise!'

'So it would seem the traitor is fond of old Russian movies?'
asked Witiezslav.

'Indeed. Personally I would have preferred Innokenty
Smoktunovsky,' Gesar replied. 'Or Oleg Dal. Witiezslav, this case
is a dead-end. The traitor hasn't left any leads.'

'And you can't even imagine who he is?' Witiezslav 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?'

Witiezslav 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,' Witiezslav said wearily. 'He has no need to
now.'

Gesar smiled, looking at the gloomy vampire. Then the smile
disappeared from 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.'

Witiezslav nodded and disappeared, only 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 – boy, 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 from now on.

Witiezslav 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 offer 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, no matter what token compliments Gesar might have
paid me.

W
E MADE A
curious group – a young vampire from the Day
Watch, two Inquisitors and a Light Magician.

All standing together in a big, empty apartment waiting for the
water in the microwave to boil so we could make instant coffee.
I'd even allowed Kostya to come in, and now he was sitting on
the inside of the windowsill.

Witiezslav was the only one who just couldn't sit still.

'I'm not used to Russia any more,' he said, striding up and down
in front of the window. 'I've lost the feel of the place. The country's
unrecognisable.'

'Yes, the country's changing. New houses being built, new roads
. . .' I exclaimed enthusiastically.

'Spare me your irony, watchman,' Witiezslav interrupted. 'That's
not what I'm talking about. For seventy years the Others in your
country had the strongest discipline of all. Even the Watches
remained within the bounds of propriety.'

'And now it's like everything's gone crazy?' I asked shrewdly.

Witiezslav didn't answer that.

I felt ashamed. No matter what he was like, this Prague vampire
from the Inquisition, today he had been thoroughly hoodwinked
and bamboozled. It was the first time I'd seen the Inquisition
humiliated. Even Gesar . . . well, he wasn't exactly afraid of it, but
he acknowledged it as an insuperable force.

Then suddenly he had outwitted it. And with elegant ease.

Had something changed in the world? Had the Inquisition
become a third side . . . just one more side in the game? Dark
Ones, Light Ones and the Inquisition?

Or Dark Ones, Light Ones and the Twilight?

The water in the glass teapot began to seethe and bubble. I
poured the boiling water into the cups standing along the
windowsill. Set out the coffee, sugar and a carton of milk.

'Gorodetsky, do you realise that today the Treaty was violated?'
Witiezslav asked suddenly.

I shrugged.

'You don't have to answer,' Witiezslav said. 'I already know
you've understood the whole thing. An individual from the Moscow
Night Watch provoked the Inquisition into acting injudiciously,
after which he was granted the right to recruit a certain individual
to the side of the Light. I don't think he will be of any
great help to the Night Watch.'

I didn't think so either. Timur Borisovich wouldn't bother to
learn how to use the Twilight Power. He'd have long life, the
ability to do little magic tricks, to see his business partners' secret
thoughts, to dodge bullets . . . That would be enough for him.
Okay, you had to assume his firm would transfer large sums into
the Night Watch account on a regular basis. And the businessman
would become a better person, he would do some kind of charity
work . . . pay for the upkeep of a polar bear in the zoo and ten
orphans in a children's home.

But even so, it wasn't worth a quarrel with the Inquisition.

'Ignominious,' Witiezslav said bitterly. 'The abuse of an official
position for personal ends.'

I couldn't help snorting.

'What's so funny?' Witiezslav asked guardedly.

'I think Gesar was right. You really have been shuffling papers
around for too long.'

'So you think there's nothing wrong with all this?' Witiezslav
asked. 'There's no call for outrage?'

'A man – okay, so he's not the best man in the world – will
become a Light One,' I said. 'Now he will never do evil to anyone.
On the contrary. So why should I be indignant?'

'Leave it, Witiezslav,' Edgar said quietly. 'Gorodetsky doesn't
understand a thing. He's too young.'

Witiezslav nodded and took a sip of coffee. He said gloomily:

'I thought you were different from the rest of this Light fraternity.
That it was the substance you cared about, not the form.'

That really wound me up.

'Yes, the substance is important to me, Witiezslav. And the
substance here is that you're a vampire! And you, Edgar, are a Dark
Magician! I don't know where you see a violation of the Treaty,
but I'm sure there wouldn't have been any charges brought against
Zabulon!'

'Light Magician . . .'Witiezslav hissed. 'Adept of the Light . . . All
we do is maintain the balance, is that clear? And even Zabulon would
have ended up facing a tribunal if he'd pulled a stunt like this.'

But there was no stopping me now.

'Zabulon has done lots of things. He tried to kill my wife. He
tried to kill me. He's constantly urging people towards the Dark.
You say one of our side acted dishonestly in outwitting the cheat?
Well, maybe it was dishonest, but it was right. You're always so
outraged when you get your own counterfeit coin back . . . well,
that's easily fixed. Start playing fair for a change.'

'Your fairness and ours are two different things,' Edgar put in.
'Witiezslav, let's go.'

The vampire nodded and put down his unfinished cup of coffee.

'Thank you for the coffee, Light One. I return to you the invitation
to enter.'

And the two Inquisitors walked out, leaving just Kostya, sitting
silently on the windowsill and finishing his coffee.

'Moralists!' I said angrily. 'Or do you think they're right too?'

Kostya smiled:

'No, of course not. They got what they deserve. It's high time
the Inquisition was taken down a peg or two . . . I'm just sorry
it was Gesar who did it, and not Zabulon.'

'Gesar didn't do anything,' I said stubbornly. 'He swore, didn't
you hear him?'

Kostya shrugged:

'I've no idea how he set everything up. But it was his plot.
Zabulon was right to wait it out. He's a cunning old fox, all right
. . .You know what surprises me?'

'What?' I asked cautiously. Somehow I didn't find Kostya's support
very inspiring.

'What difference is there at all between us? We intrigue to drag
the little people we want over to our side. And you do exactly
the same. Gesar wanted to make his son a Light One – and he
did it. Good for him! I've got no complaints.'

Kostya was smiling.

'Who do you think was right in the Second World War?' I
asked.

'What are you getting at?' Kostya was tense now, naturally
expecting a trick.

'Just answer the question.'

'Our side was right,' Kostya said patriotically. 'And, by the way,
some vampires and werewolves fought in the war. Two of them
were even awarded the order of Hero of the Soviet Union.'

'And just why was our side right? Stalin would have been happy
enough to swallow up the whole of Europe. We bombed cities
full of civilians, and pillaged museums, and shot deserters . . .'

'Because it was our side! That's why it was right!'

'Well then, now it's
our
side that's right. And our side is the
Light Ones.'

'You mean, that's the way you see it,' Kostya objected. 'And you
refuse to consider any other point of view?'

I nodded.

'Ha . . .' Kostya said contemptuously. 'Come up with at least
one logical argument.'

'We don't drink blood,' I said.

Kostya put his cup down and stood up.

'Thank you for the hospitality. I return to you the invitation to
enter.'

And I was left alone – in a big, empty apartment, with just the
dirty cups, the open microwave and the water cooling in the glass
teapot . . .

Why had I heated it in the microwave? A single pass with my
hands and the water would have boiled right there in the cups.

I took my mobile phone out and dialled Svetlana's number.
There was no answer. She must have gone for a walk with
Nadiushka and left her phone in her room again.

Deep down I wasn't feeling nearly as sure of myself as I'd tried
to make out.

In what way were we really better after all? Intriguing, fighting,
deceiving? I needed the answer, I needed to hear it again. And
not from that smart-alec Gesar, with his way of weaving words
into fancy lace patterns. And not from myself either – I didn't
trust myself any more. I needed the answer from someone I did
trust.

But I also needed to understand how Gesar had tricked the
Inquisition.

Because if he had sworn on the Light, and lied . . .

Then what was I fighting for?

'Oh, to hell with the . . .' I began and stopped short. Don't
curse – they taught us that in the first few days after initiation.
And I'd almost let rip.

Let the whole business be. Just let it be.

And at that moment someone rang the doorbell – as if they'd
guessed this was a bad time for me to be left alone.

'Yes!' I shouted across the room, remembering that I hadn't
locked the door.

It opened a bit and my neighbour Las stuck his head in. He
glanced around and asked:

'Okay to come in? I'm not interrupting anything?'

'No, that's fine, come in.'

Las walked into the room and took a look around.

'Nah, it's not so bad in here . . . only you need to get a toilet
installed . . .All right if I grab a quick shower? Now or this evening
. . . I really enjoyed it.'

I stuck my hand in my pocket and felt for my bunch of keys.
Imagined the keys swelling and splitting . . .

I tossed Las the new set.

'Here, catch!'

'What are these for?' Las asked, inspecting the keys.

'I have to go away. Use the place in the meantime.'

'Oh no, the first decent guy to move in . . .' Las replied, disappointed.
'What a shame! Are you leaving soon?'

'Straight away,' I said. I'd suddenly realised how much I wanted
to see Sveta and Nadya. 'Maybe I'll be back.'

'And maybe not?'

I nodded.

'What a shame!' Las repeated, moving closer. 'I saw your minidisc
player somewhere around the place . . . here.'

I took the disc he was holding out to me.

'
Combat Implants
,' Las explained. 'My album. Only don't play it
when there are women or children present.'

'I won't.' I twirled the disc in my hands. 'Thanks.'

'Have you got problems or something?' Las asked. 'Sorry if I'm
sticking my nose in, but you're looking pretty low.'

'No, it's nothing,' I said, shaking myself. 'I'm just missing my
daughter. I'll be off in a minute . . . she's with my wife at the
dacha, and I've got all this work to do here . . .'

'A sacred duty,' Las said approvingly. 'A child must not be left
without attention. At least if her mother's with her, that's the most
important thing.'

I looked at Las.

'The mother's most important for a child,' Las said, with the air
of a Vysotsky, Piaget or some other doyen of child psychology. 'It's
biologically determined. What we males mostly do is take care of
the female. And the female takes care of the child.'

I was let into Timur Borisovich's apartment without any arguments.
The bodyguards looked perfectly all right and probably
didn't have the slightest idea about recent events.

Gesar and his new-found son were drinking tea in the study.
The study was large – I'd even be tempted to call it huge – with
a massive desk and heaps of all sorts of amusing trinkets on the
shelves of the antique cabinets. It was amazing how similar their
tastes were. Timur Borisovich's study was just like his father's office.

'Come in, young man,' Timur Borisovich said, and smiled at
me. 'You see, everything's been worked out.'

He cast a quick glance at Gesar and added:

'He's still young, hot-headed . . .'

'That's for sure,' Gesar said with a nod. 'What's happened,
Anton?'

'I need to have a word,' I said. 'In private.'

Gesar sighed and looked at his son, who stood up:

'I'll go and see my blockheads. No point in them just sitting
on their backsides here. I'll find them something to do.'

Timur Borisovich went out, and I was left alone with Gesar.

'Well, what's happened, Gorodetsky?' he asked wearily.

'Can we speak freely?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't want to see your son become a Dark Magician, did
you?' I asked.

'Would you like to see your Nadiushka as a Dark Enchantress?'
said Gesar, answering a question with a question.

'But Timur was certain to become a Dark One,' I went on.
'You needed to be granted the right to his remoralisation. And
for that the Dark Ones or, even better, the Inquisition had to
panic and apply unreasonable force to your son.'

'And that's what happened,' said Gesar. 'All right, Gorodetsky,
are you trying to accuse me of anything?'

'No, I'm trying to understand.'

'You saw me swear on the Light. I hadn't met Timur before. I
didn't promise him anything, I didn't send the letters. And I didn't
engage anyone to do these things.'

No, Gesar wasn't making excuses. And he wasn't trying to pull
the wool over my eyes. It was as if he was setting out the terms
of a problem – waiting with relish to see what answer his pupil
would give.

'Witiezslav only needed to ask one more question,' he said. 'But
apparently that question was too human for him . . .'

Gesar blinked rapidly.

'The mother,' I said.

'Witiezslav killed his own mother,' Gesar explained. 'Not with
deliberate intent. He was a young vampire and he couldn't control
himself. But . . . ever since then he has tried not even to say that
word.'

'Who is Timur's mother?'

'There ought to be a name in the file.'

'There could be any name at all in the file. It says that Timur's
mother disappeared at the end of the war . . . but I know a female
Other who spent the time since then trapped in the body of a
bird. As far as people knew, she had died.'

Gesar was silent.

'Could you really not find him any sooner?'

'We were sure that Timka had died,' Gesar said quietly. 'Olga
was the one who didn't want to accept it. And when she was
rehabilitated, she went on looking . . .'

'She found her son. And made him a rash promise,' I concluded.

'It's permissible for women to give way to their feelings,' Gesar
said dryly. 'Even the wisest of women. And men exist to protect
their woman and their child. To organise everything on a serious,
rational basis.'