bother to ask how he'd dealt with the chief conductor, by giving him money or – more likely – using his mysterious 'amulet of subjection' again. He had a calm, contented expression on his face.

'We'll divide into two groups,' he said, moving straight into command mode. 'You'– he nodded in the direction of the Inquisitors – 'are staying in this carriage. Take the conductors' compartment and compartment one, that's six places. Askhat will settle you in . . . ask him for anything you need, don't be shy. And don't take any positive action on your own, don't play the amateur detective. Behave like . . . like people. Report on the situation to me every three hours . . . or as necessary. We'll be in carriage number seven.'

The Inquisitors filed silently out of the lobby, following the smiling conductor. Edgar turned to Kostya and me and said:

'We'll take compartment four in carriage number seven. We can regard it as our temporary base. Let's go.'

'Have you come up with a plan yet, chief?' Kostya enquired. I couldn't tell if he was being ironic or sincere.

Edgar looked at him for a second, clearly also wondering whether it was a genuine question or a jibe. He answered anyway:

'If I have a plan, you'll hear about it. In good time. Meanwhile I want to get a cup of coffee and two or three hours' sleep. In that order.'

Kostya and I set off after Edgar. The vampire grinned and I couldn't help winking back at him. After all, we were united now by our position as subordinates . . . despite all my reservations about Kostya.

The carriage that the chief conductor rides in is the top spot in the whole train. The air conditioning always works. The boiler is always full of hot water, and there's always a fresh brew of tea ready. And finally, it's clean, even in the Central Asian trains, and they give out the sheets in sealed packs – they really have been laundered after the previous run. The toilets work, and you can boldly go into them without rubber boots.

To complete the passengers' comforts, the restaurant car is hitched to one end of the chief conductor's car. And the sleeper car – if there is one in the train – is at the other end.

The Moscow–Almaty train had a sleeper carriage. We walked through it, glancing curiously at the passengers. They were mostly solemn, well-fed Kazakhs, almost all with briefcases that they kept with them, even in the corridor. Some of them were drinking tea from bright-coloured bowls, others were setting out sliced meat and bottles on the little table and breaking boiled chickens into pieces with their hands. But most of them were still standing in the corridor, watching the Moscow suburbs slide past.

I wondered what they were feeling, these citizens of a newly independent country, as they gazed at their former capital. Were they content with their independence? Or could they possibly be feeling nostalgic?

I didn't know. You couldn't ask them, and if you did, you couldn't be sure they'd answer honestly. And breaking into their minds to make them answer honestly wasn't our style.

It would be better anyway if they were happy and proud – of their own independence, their own statehood, their own corruption. Especially since not so long before, at the three hundredth anniversary of St Petersburg, people had been saying: 'Let them steal everything, at least it's our own thieves doing it, not the ones from Moscow.' So why shouldn't the Kazakhs and Uzbekis, Ukrainians and Tajiks feel the same way? If our single country was demarcated along republican and municipal lines, then how could we complain about the neighbours from the old communal apartments? The little rooms with the view of the Baltic had gone, so had the proud Georgians, and the Kirghizhians. Everyone had been happy to go. The only room we had left was the big kitchen – Russia, where the different nations all used to stew in the imperial pot. So okay. No problem. Our kitchen's got gas! How about yours?

Let them be happy. Let everyone feel good. The Petersburgians, delighted with their anniversary celebrations – everyone knows you can dine off one good anniversary for a century. And the Kazakhs and Kirghizhians, who had founded their own states for the first time . . . although they, of course, could put forward heaps of evidence to prove their ancient statehood. Then there were our brother Slavs who