"And?…" Edgar asked sourly.

"We get a fix on the book. We know which car it's in. And then we can surround that car and take the passengers aside with their luggage, one by one. As soon as we find the killer, the pointer will tell us. And that's it! No more need to destroy the train."

"I thought about that," Edgar said reluctantly. "There's just one argument against it, but it's decisive. The perpetrator will realize what's happening. And then he'll be able to strike first."

"Get Gesar, Zabulon, Svetlana, and Olga here… do the Dark Ones have other powerful magicians?" I looked at Kostya.

"We can find a few," Kostya answered evasively. "But will we have enough Power?"

"To deal with one Other?"

"Not just an Other," Edgar reminded me. "According to the legend, several hundred magicians were assembled to destroy Fuaran."

"Then we'll assemble them too. The Night Watch has almost two hundred members of staff, and the Day Watch has just as many. And there are hundreds of reservists. Each side can easily muster a thousand Others."

"Mostly weak, sixth- or seventh-level. We can't get together more than a hundred real magicians, third-level and up." Edgar spoke so confidently that there was no possible doubt he really had thought through the option of direct confrontation. "That might be enough-if we back up the Dark and Light Magicians with Inquisitors, use amulets and combine the two Powers. But it might not be. Then the strongest fighters would be killed and the perpetrator will be left with a free hand. Don't you think he might be counting on us taking this very approach?"

I shook my head.

"And another thing I've been thinking about," Edgar said with gloomy satisfaction. "The perpetrator might regard the train as a trap that will draw together all the powerful magicians in Russia. He could have hung the train from end to end with spells that we can't sense."

"Then what's the point of all our efforts?" I asked. "What are we doing here? One nuclear bomb-and the problem's solved."

Edgar nodded. "Yes. It has to be nuclear, to penetrate all the levels of the Twilight. But first we have to make sure the target won't slip away at the last moment."

"Have you accepted Zabulon's viewpoint then?" I asked.

Edgar sighed. "I've accepted the viewpoint of common sense. An exhaustive search of the train and the use of massive force is fraught with the danger of magical carnage. And by the way, people would be killed anyway. Destroy the train… of course I feel sorry for the people. But at least we'd avoid any global convulsions."

"But if there's still a chance…" I began.

"There is. That's why I propose to continue with the search," Edgar agreed. "Kostya and I take my young guys and we comb the whole train-from the back and the front at the same time. We'll use amulets, and in suspicious cases, we'll try to check the suspect through the Twilight. And you have another word with Las. He's still under suspicion, after all."

I shrugged. It all sounded too much like playing at searching. In his heart of hearts Edgar had already given up.

"So when's zero hour?" I asked.

"Tomorrow evening," Edgar replied. "When we're passing through the uninhabited area around Semipalatinsk. They exploded nuclear bombs in that area anyway… one more tactical weapon's no great disaster around there."

"Happy hunting," I said and walked out of the compartment.

It was all obscene. It was all no more than a few lines in the report that Edgar was already preparing to write: "Despite the efforts made to isolate the perpetrator and locate the Fuaran…"

There had been a time when I used to find myself thinking the Inquisition was a genuine alternative to the Watches. After all, what was it we did? We divided people from Others. We made sure that the actions of Others impacted people as little as possible. Yes, it was practically impossible-some of the Others were parasites by their very nature. Yes, the contradictions between Light Ones and Dark Ones were so great that conflicts were inevitable.

But there was still the Inquisition. It stood above the Watches, and it also maintained the balance. It was a third power and a dividing structure of a higher level. It corrected the mistakes made by the Watches…

But things had not turned out like that.

There wasn't any third power. There wasn't and there never had been.

The Inquisition was an instrument for keeping the Dark Ones and the Light Ones apart. It supervised the observance of the Treaty, but not in the interests of people, only in the Others' own interests. The Inquisition was made up of those Others who knew that we were all parasites and a Light Magician was no better than a vampire.

Going to work in the Inquisition was an act of resignation. It meant finally growing up, abandoning the naive extremism of youth for healthy adult cynicism. Accepting that there were people and there were Others, and they had nothing in common.

Was I ready to accept that?

Yes, probably I was.

Only somehow I didn't want to go over to the Inquisition.

It was better to keep toiling away in the Night Watch. To go on doing the work no one needed, protecting the people no one needed.

And by the way, why shouldn't I check out our only suspect? While there was still time.

Las was already awake, sitting in his compartment and gloomily contemplating the bleak view through the window. The table top was raised and the bottle of kumis was cooling in the washbasin under a thin trickle of water.

"There's no refrigerator," he said mournfully. "Even in the best compartment they don't provide a refrigerator. Want some kumis?"

"I already had breakfast."

"So?"

"Well, just a little bit…" I agreed.

Las poured us literally a drop of cognac each, just enough to moisten our lips. We drank it and Las said thoughtfully:

"Just what came over me yesterday, eh? No, tell me, why the hell would any rational man go to Kazakhstan on vacation? Spain maybe. Or Turkey. Or Beijing, for the festival of kisses, if you're looking for extreme tourism. But what is there to do in Kazakhstan?"

I shrugged.

"It was a strange mental aberration," Las said. "I was just thinking…"

"And you decided to get off the train," I prompted.

"Right. And then get on a train going the other way."

"A sound decision," I said, quite sincerely. In the first place, we'd have one suspect less. And in the second place, a good man would be saved.

"In a couple of hours we'll reach Saratov," Las said out loud. "That's where I'll get off. I'll phone one of my business partners and ask him to meet me there. Saratov's a good town."

"What makes it so good?" I inquired.

"Well…" Las poured another two glasses, a bit more generously this time. "There have been people living in the territory around Saratov since time immemorial. That gives it an advantage over the regions of the Far North and the like. During czarist times it was the capital of a province, but a backward one-no wonder Chatsky said in Griboedov's Woe from Wit "into the wilderness, to Saratov!" But nowadays it's the industrial and cultural center of the region, a major railroad junction."

"Okay," I said cautiously. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or just snowing me, and the word "Saratov" could easily be replaced by "Kostroma," "Rostov," or any other city.

"The most valuable thing is the major railway junction," Las explained. "I'll get a bite to eat in some McDonalds and then set off back home. And there's an old cathedral there too-I'll definitely take a look at that. So my journey's not completely wasted, is it?"

Yes, our unknown opponent had definitely been overly cautious. The suggestion had been too weak and it had dissipated in only twenty-four hours.

"Tell me, what was it that made you suddenly go dashing off to Kazakhstan?" I asked carefully.