‘Boris Ignatievich …’
The boss and Olga instantly moved apart.
‘Boris Ignatievich, you say there are four sets of data here?’
‘Yes.’
‘For you, Ilya, Semyon …’
‘And you, Anton.’
‘Why?’ I asked dumbly.
‘During that stand-off on the roof you stayed down in the second level of the Twilight for three minutes, Anton … that’s a third-grade power.’
‘Impossible,’ I said.
‘It happened.’
‘Boris Ignatievich, you always told me I was just an average magician!’
‘Well, let’s just say I need an excellent programmer more than one more field operative.’
At any other moment I would have felt proud. Offended at the same time, of course, but still proud. I’d always thought that fourth-grade magic was my ceiling, and it would be a long time before I reached it. But just at that moment everything was clouded by a clammy, repellent feeling – fear. Even though in five years of working in a quiet staff position in the Watch I’d learned not to be afraid of anything: the authorities, thugs, diseases …
‘This was a second-degree intervention …’
‘The boundary here’s very subtle, Anton. You might be capable of more.’
‘But we have more than ten third-grade magicians. Why am I a suspect?’
‘Because you offended Zabulon personally. And he’s quite capable of setting a trap just for Anton Gorodetsky Or rather, adapting an old trap that was being kept in reserve.’
I left without asking any more questions.
Our lab’s on the fourth floor too, but in the other wing of the building. I set off hurriedly along the corridor, nodding to people I met, but remained focused, clutching that disk tighter than a romantic young man clutches the hand of the girl he loves.
Was the boss telling the truth?
Could this really be aimed at me?
Probably he was. I’d asked a straight question and been given a straight answer. Of course, as the years go by, even the most Light of magicians acquire a certain degree of cynicism and learn to play tricks with words. But the consequences of a direct lie would be too serious even for Boris Ignatievich.
I reached the entry lobby and its electronic security systems. Magicians tend to regard technology with disdain, and Semyon had once shown me how easy it was to fool the voice analyser and the iris scanner. But I’d gone ahead and bought these expensive toys anyway. Maybe they were no protection against an Other, but it seemed entirely possible that one day the guys from the Federal Security Service or the mafia would decide to check us out.
‘One, two, three, four, five …’ I muttered into the microphone, gazing into the camera lens at the same time. The electronic circuits pondered for a few seconds, then a green light came on above the door.
There was no one in the first room, where the server’s cooling fans were humming gently. The air conditioners built into the wall were huffing and puffing, but it was still hot in there. And spring had only just begun …
I didn’t go into the system analysts’ lab, just walked straight through into my own office. It wasn’t all mine. Tolik, my deputy, worked here too. Sometimes he lived here, spending the nights on an old leather sofa.
He was sitting at his desk, thoughtfully inspecting an old motherboard.
‘Hi,’ I said, sitting down on the sofa. The disk was burning my hands.
‘It’s a goner,’ Tolik said gloomily.
‘Bin it then.’
‘Let me just take its brain out first.’ Tolik was thrifty, a habit acquired from years of working in state-financed institutions. We had no financial problems, but he carefully stockpiled all the old hardware anyway, even if it was of no use to anyone. ‘Would you believe it, I’ve been fiddling around with this for half an hour, and it’s still dead.’
‘It’s a prehistoric antique, why waste time fiddling around with it? Even the technology in accounts is more up to date.’
‘I could give it to someone … Maybe I should take the cache out too …’
‘Tolik, we’ve got an urgent job to do,’ I said.
‘Uh?’
‘Look …’ I held up the disk. ‘This is a dossier … a complete dossier on four members of the Watch. Including the boss.’
Tolik opened the drawer of his desk, put the motherboard in it and stared at the disk.
‘Exactly I’m going to go through three of them. And you’re going to go through the fourth … mine.’
‘So what are we looking for?’
‘This,’ I said, holding up the briefing notes. ‘It’s possible that one of the suspects may be carrying out sporadic killings of Dark Ones. Unauthorised killings. All the known incidents are listed here. We have to either eliminate this possibility, or …’
‘Ah, so it really is you who’s killing them, then?’ Tolik asked. ‘Pardon my irony.’
‘No. But don’t take my word for it. Let’s get on with it.’
I didn’t even look at the information about me, just downloaded all eight hundred megabytes on to Tolik’s computer and took out the disk.
‘Shall I tell you if I come across anything really interesting?’ Tolik asked. I glanced across at him as he started looking through the text files, tugging on his left ear and clicking regularly with his mouse.
‘That’s up to you.’
‘Okay.’
I started with the materials on the boss. First there was an introductory section – background information. Every line I read brought me out in a sweat.
Of course, even this dossier didn’t give the boss’s real name and origins. Facts like that weren’t kept on file anywhere for Others of his rank. But even so there was so much that I didn’t know. Starting with the fact that the boss was older than I’d thought. At least a hundred and fifty years older. And that meant he’d been personally involved in drawing up the Treaty between Light and Dark. I was intrigued by the thought that all the other magicians still surviving from that time held positions in the central office and weren’t stuck in the exhausting and tedious post of regional director.
Apart from that, I recognised a few of the names under which the boss had figured in the history of the Watch, and learnt where he was born. We’d wondered about that sometimes, and even placed bets on it, always pointing to ‘indisputable’ proof. But somehow no one had ever suspected that Boris Ignatievich was born in Tibet.
And even in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined whose mentor he had been.
The boss had been working in Europe since the fifteenth century. From indirect references, I inferred that the reason for this move was a woman. I could even guess who it was.
I closed the introductory window and looked over at Tolik. He was watching some video footage. Of course, my biographical details were less fascinating than the boss’s. I glanced at the small moving picture and blushed.
‘For the first incident you have a solid alibi,’ Tolik said without turning round.
‘Listen …’ I was lost for words.
‘Okay, okay. I’ll fast-forward it, to check the entire night …’
I imagined what the recording would look like at high speed and turned away. I’d always suspected the boss kept tabs on his colleagues, especially the young ones. But not that cynically!
‘The alibi won’t be that solid,’ I said. ‘I’ll get dressed and go out any moment now.’
‘I can see that,’ Tolik confirmed.
‘And I’ll be gone for almost an hour and a half. I was looking for champagne … and while I was looking, I sobered up a bit in the fresh air. Started wondering if it was worth going back.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Tolik. ‘You watch the boss’s private life.’