‘Why?’
‘I told you Anton, you’re linked. There are three divergences in the probability field.’
The boss waved his hand and a white screen unfurled in the air. Zabulon frowned, he must have been caught by the edge of the energy discharge.
‘The first path along which events can develop,’ said the boss. A black stripe ran across the white sheet that hung in the middle of the room without any visible means of support. Then it blurred, spreading out in an ugly blot that extended beyond the edge of the screen.
‘This is the most probable path. The vortex attains its maximum power and the Inferno erupts. Millions killed. A global cataclysm – nuclear, biological, asteroid impact, a twenty-point earthquake. You name it.’
‘And a direct infernal discharge?’ I asked cautiously, glancing sideways at the Dark Magician. His face remained impassive.
‘No. I don’t think so. The threshold’s still a long way off.’ The boss shook his head. ‘Otherwise, I think the Day Watch and the Night Watch would have wiped each other out already. The second path …’
A thin line, leading away from the black stripe. Broken off abruptly.
‘Elimination of the target. If the target dies, the vortex will disperse … of its own accord.’
Zabulon stirred and said politely:
‘I’m prepared to help with this little initiative. The Night Watch cannot carry it out on its own, I believe? We are at your service.’
Silence. Then the boss laughed.
‘As you wish,’ said Zabulon with a shrug. ‘I repeat, for the time being we offer you our assistance. We don’t want a global catastrophe that will wipe out millions of people in an instant. Not yet.’
‘The third path,’ said the boss, looking at me. ‘Watch carefully.’
Another line, branching off from the main root, gradually growing thinner and fading away to nothing.
‘That’s what happens if you get involved, Anton.’
‘What do I have to do?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. Probability forecasting has never been an exact science. I only know one thing: you can remove the vortex.’
I suddenly had the stupid idea that maybe I was still being tested. A field work test … I’d killed the vampire, and now … But it couldn’t be. Not with such high stakes.
‘I’ve never removed any black vortices.’ My voice sounded different, not exactly frightened, more surprised. The Dark Magician Zabulon giggled repellently in a woman’s voice.
The boss nodded.
‘I know that, Anton.’
He stood up, pulled his gown around him and walked up to me. He looked absurd, or at least his oriental garb seemed like an awkward parody in the setting of an ordinary Moscow apartment.
‘Nobody has ever removed any vortices like this one. You’ll be the first to try.’
I said nothing.
‘And don’t forget, Anton, if you mess this up, even just a tiny bit, anything at all, you’ll be the first to burn. You won’t even have enough time to withdraw into the Twilight. You know what happens to Light Ones when they’re caught in an Inferno eruption?’
My throat went dry. I nodded.
‘Pardon me, my dear enemy,’ Zabulon said mockingly, ‘but don’t you allow your colleagues the right to choose? In such situations, even in wartime, it has always been usual to call for volunteers.’
‘We’ve already made our call for volunteers,’ the boss snapped without turning round. ‘We’ve all been volunteers for a long time already. And we don’t have any choice.’
‘But we do. Always.’ The Dark Magician laughed again.
‘When we acknowledge that humans have the right to choose, we deprive ourselves of it, Zabulon,’ said Boris Ignatievich, with a glance at the Dark Magician. ‘You’re playing to the wrong audience here. Don’t interfere.’
‘I say no more.’ Zabulon lowered his head and shrank down again.
‘Give it your best shot,’ said the boss. ‘Anton, I can’t give you any advice. Try. I beg you, please, try. And … forget everything you’ve been taught. Don’t believe anything I’ve said, don’t believe what you wrote in your course notes, don’t believe your own eyes, don’t believe what anyone else says.’
‘Then what do I believe, Boris Ignatievich?’
‘If I knew that, Anton, I’d walk straight out of this headquarters and over to that building myself.’
We both looked out the window simultaneously. The black vortex was still swirling, swaying from side to side. Someone walking along the pavement suddenly turned to face into the snow and started making a wide circle round the stalk of the vortex. I noticed a path had already been trodden along the edge of the road: the people couldn’t see the Evil straining to strike their world, but they could sense its approach.
‘I’ll watch Anton,’ Olga said. ‘Back him up and maintain communications.’
‘From outside,’ the boss agreed. ‘Only from outside. Anton, go. We’ll do the best we can to screen you from any kind of observation.’
The owl flew up off the bed and landed on my shoulder.
I glanced at my friends, then at the Dark Magician – he looked like he’d gone into hibernation – and walked out of the room. The noise in the rest of the apartment faded immediately.
They showed me out in total silence, without any unnecessary words, without any shoulder-slapping or helpful advice. After all, what I was doing wasn’t such a big deal. I was only on my way to die.
It was quiet.
Too quiet somehow, even for a Moscow commuter suburb at that late hour. As if everyone had shut themselves in at home, turned out the lights and huddled down with their heads under the blankets, keeping quiet, saying nothing. Quiet, but not sleeping. The only movement was the trembling of the blue and red spots in the windows – the TVs were switched on everywhere. It’s become a habit already, when you’re afraid, when you’re suffering – switch on the TV and watch absolutely everything, from the teleshopping to the news. People can’t see the Twilight world. But they are capable of sensing how close it is.
‘Olga, what can you tell me about this vortex?’
‘Nothing definite.’
So that was it?
I stood at the entrance, watching the stalk of the vortex flexing like an elephant’s trunk. I didn’t feel like going in just yet.
‘When …what size of vortex can you extinguish?’
‘Five metres high, and I have a shot at it. Three metres and it’s a sure thing.’
‘And would the girl survive if you did that?’
‘She might.’
There was something bothering me. In this unnatural silence, with even the cars in the street trying to avoid this doomed district of the city, there were still some sounds left …
Then it hit me. The dogs were howling. In all the apartments in all the buildings on all sides, the miserable dogs were complaining to their owners – in quiet, pitiful, helpless voices. They could see the Inferno moving closer.
‘Olga, information about the girl. All of it.’
‘Svetlana Nazarova. Twenty-five years old. Physician, employed in polyclinic number seventeen. Has never previously come to the attention of the Night Watch. Has never previously come to the attention of the Day Watch. No magical powers detected. Her parents and younger brother live in Brateevo, she maintains occasional contact with them, mostly by phone. Four close girlfriends, currently being checked, so far nothing exceptional. Relations with other people equable, no serious hostility observed.’
‘A doctor,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘That’s a lead, Olga. Some old man or old woman dissatisfied with their treatment. There’s often an upsurge of latent magical powers in old age.’