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-one 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-then 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-the 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 idiot," 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…"