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«Who is he anyway? I'll get there when I can! What! What damned girls? Have you gone crazy? Can't you do a single thing on your own?»

The deputy squinted at me, cut short his conversation without saying goodbye, and got into the car. The driver took a deep drag, tossed his cigarette away, and grabbed hold of the wheel. The engine howled softly, and I barely had time to get into the front seat before the car moved away. Icy branches scraped across the outside of the door.

«You gone blind, or something?» the deputy barked at his driver, though I was the one to blame for what had happened. But as soon as the owner of the car turned to face me his tone changed: «You need to get to Perovo?»

It was the first time I'd ever taken a ride with a representative of authority. And this guy was either a top man in the militia or a gangland boss. I realized in theory that there was no difference as far as a Night Watch agent's powers were concerned, but I'd never tried to experiment before.

«Yes, back to where the guys came from. And make it quick…«

«Hear that, Volodya?» the deputy said to the driver. «Step on it!»

Volodya stepped on it so hard I started feeling a bit queasy, and I even glanced into the Twilight to see if we were going to get there.

It seemed like we were. Only not just because of our driver's skill or because, like any Night Watch agent, I have an artificially elevated success coefficient. It looked like someone had gone through the probability field, weeding out all the accidents, traffic jams, and overzealous traffic cops.

The only person in our department who could have done that was the boss himself. But what for?

«I'm feeling a bit frightened too,» whispered the invisible bird on my shoulder. «When I was with Count…«

She stopped short, as if she'd realized she was speaking a bit too freely.

The car drove through a red light at an intersection, following an incredible twisting course, dodging between the saloons and station wagons. Someone at a bus stop waved a hand in our direction.

«Like a sip?» the Duma deputy inquired amiably, holding out a small bottle of Rémy Martin and a throwaway plastic cup. It looked so funny, I poured myself thirty grams without even thinking about it. Even at that speed the car was providing a smooth ride; the cognac didn't spill.

I handed back the bottle, nodded, took the Walkman earphones out of my pocket, put them in and started the disc. Out came this really, really old song, «Sundays»—my favorite.

It was a small town, no bigger than a child's toy,

There'd been no plagues or invasions there since long ago.

The cannon rusted in silence on its fortress tower,

And the travelers' roads passed it by.

And so year after year, no holidays or working days—

The whole town slept,

Dreaming dreams of lands with empty cities

And dead cliffs…

We came out onto the main highway. The car just kept on picking up speed; I'd never traveled that fast in Moscow before. Or anywhere else, for that matter… If the probability field hadn't been cleared, I'd have made them slack off, but it was pretty terrifying anyway.

The music sounded among the cold cliffs,

While the town slept…

Calling to where?

Calling to whom?

That no one knew…

I couldn't help remembering that a member of the Romanov royal family was an Other. Only he wasn't initiated; he'd been spotted too late… They'd offered him the chance, but he'd refused.

That's one option.

I wondered how often he heard this music in the night.

All who left their windows open in the hot night Are gone now.

Gone away to seek a land where life is full of life,

Following the song…

«Like some more?» The deputy was Mister Conviviality himself. I wondered what suggestions Bear and Tiger Cub had implanted in his mind. That I was his best friend? That he was eternally in my debt? That I was the president's illegitimate, but favorite, son?

But that's all nonsense. There are hundreds of different ways of making people trust you and like you and want to help you. The Light has its own methods, but unfortunately the Darkness has plenty as well. It's all nonsense.

The question was: What did the boss need me for so badly?

Chapter 6

Ilya was waiting for me beside the road, standing there with his hands stuck in his pockets, staring up in disgust at the sky through the flurry of fine snowflakes.

«You took your time,» was all he said after I'd shaken the deputy's hand and got out of the car. «The boss is getting impatient.»

«What's going on here?»

Ilya grinned, but it wasn't his usual cheerful smile.

«You'll see… let's go.»

We set off along a trampled path, overtaking women with shopping bags rambling home from the supermarket. How strange it is that we have supermarkets now, just like the genuine article. But people still walk the same old tired way, as if they'd spent an hour standing in line for little blue corpses called chickens…

«Is it far?» I asked.

«If it was, we'd have taken a car.»

«How did our playboy make out? Couldn't he handle it?»

«Ignat tried his best,» was all Ilya said. I felt a brief pang of vengeful satisfaction, as if it were in my interest for handsome Ignat to screw up. If a mission required it, he was usually in someone else's bed within two hours after his assignment was set.

«The boss has declared a state of readiness for evacuation,» Ilya suddenly said.

«What?»

«At a moment's notice. If the vortex isn't stabilized, the Others quit Moscow.»

He was walking ahead of me; I couldn't look into his eyes. But what reason would Ilya have to lie…

«And is the vortex still…« I began. Then I stopped. I could see it.

Above the dismal nine-story block facing us, a black tornado was revolving slowly against the background of the dark, snowy sky.

You couldn't call it a twister or a vortex any longer. It was a tornado. It rose up out of the next building, hidden by the one we could see. And judging from the side angle of the dark cone, it started almost down on the ground.

«Damnation…« I whispered.

«Watch what you say,» Ilya snapped. «It could easily come true.»

«It's thirty meters high…«

«Thirty-two. And still growing…«

I cast a hasty glance at my shoulder and saw Olga sitting there. She'd emerged from the Twilight.

Have you ever seen a bird frightened? Frightened like a human being?

The owl looked ruffled. Can feathers really stand on end? There was an orange-yellow flame blazing in her amber eyes.

The shoulder of my poor jacket was torn into tiny shreds, and the claws continued scraping, as if they wanted to scrape right through to my body.

«Olga!»

Ilya turned back and nodded:

«Now you see… The boss says the vortex at Hiroshima wasn't that high.»

The owl flapped its wings and soared smoothly into the air, without a sound. A woman shrieked behind me—I swung around and saw a stupefied face, glazed eyes following the bird's flight in amazement.

«It's a crow,» Ilya said quietly, half-turning his head to glance at the woman. His reactions were far quicker than mine. A moment later the accidental witness was overtaking us, muttering about the narrow path and people who liked to block the way.