contemptuous cynicism, imagining that you are pure and perfect. That's the hardest thing of all – never to become cynical, never to lose faith, never to become indifferent.'

'Not a huge choice . . .' I said.

'Ha!' Gesar said, smiling. 'Just be glad that there's any choice at all.'

The suburbs of Saratov sped by outside the windows. The train was slowing down.

I was sitting in an empty compartment, watching the pointer.

Kostya was still following us.

What was he expecting?

Arbenin's voice sang in my earphones:

From deception to deception

Only manna pours down from the sky.

From siesta to siesta

They feed us only manifestos.

Some have gone, some have left.

I have only made a choice.

And I sense it with my back:

We are different, we are other.

I shook my head. It should be 'We are Others'. But even if we were to disappear, everyone would still be divided into ordinary people and Others. No matter how those Others were different.

People can't get by without Others. Put two people on an uninhabited island, and you'll have a human being and an Other. And the difference is that an Other is always tormented by his Otherness. It's easier for ordinary people. They know they're human, and that's what they ought to be. They have no choice but to be that way. All of them, forever.

We stand in the centre,

We blaze like a fire on an ice floe

And try to warm ourselves,

Disguising the means with the goal.

Burning through to our souls

In meditative solitude.

The door opened and Gesar came into the compartment. I pulled the earphones out of my ears.

'Look.' Gesar put his palm-held computer on the table. There was a dot crawling across the map on the screen – our train. Gesar glanced at the compass, nodded and confidently marked a thick line on the screen with his stylus.

'What's that?' I asked, looking at the point that Kostya's trajectory was heading for. I guessed the answer myself: 'An airport?'

'Exactly. He's not hoping for negotiations.' Gesar laughed. 'He's making a dash straight for the airport.'

'Is it military?'

'No, civilian. But what's the difference? He has the piloting templates.'

I nodded. For 'backup' all operational agents carried a collection of useful skills – the ability to drive a car, fly a plane or a helicopter, emergency medical knowledge, martial arts . . .Of course the template didn't provide perfect skills, an experienced driver would overtake an Other with a driving template, a good doctor would operate far more skilfully. But Kostya could get any kind of aircraft into the air.

'Surely that's a good thing,' I said. 'We'll send up the jet fighters and . . .'

'What if there are passengers?' Gesar asked sharply.

'It's still better than the train,' I said quietly. 'Fewer casualties.'

That very moment I felt an odd twinge of pain somewhere deep inside. It was the first time I'd ever weighed human casualties on the invisible scales of expediency and decided one side was lighter than the other.

'That's no good . . .' said Gesar, and then added: 'Fortunately. What does he care if the plane's destroyed? He'll just transform into a bat and fly down.'

The station platform appeared outside the window. The train blew its whistle as it slowed to a halt.

'Ground-to-air nuclear missiles,' I said stubbornly.

Gesar looked at me in amazement.

'Where from? The nuclear warheads were all removed years ago. Except for the air defence units around Moscow . . . but he won't go to Moscow.'

'Where will he go?' I asked expectantly.

'How should I know? It's your job to make sure he doesn't get anywhere,' Gesar snapped. 'That's it! He's stopped!'

I looked at the compass. The distance between us and Kostya had started to increase. He'd been flying as a bat, or running along as the Grey Wolf from the fairy tale, but now he'd stopped.

The interesting thing was that Gesar hadn't even looked at the compass.

'The airport,' Gesar said, sounding pleased. 'Okay, no more talk. Go. Requisition someone with a good car and get to that airport fast.'

'But . . .' I began.

'No artefacts, he'll sense them,' Gesar retorted calmly. 'And no one else goes with you. He can sense all of us now, you understand? All of us. So get a move on!'

The brakes hissed and the train came to a halt. I paused for a moment in the doorway and heard him say:

'Yes, stick to the "grey prayer". Don't make things complicated. We'll pump you so full of Power he'll be splattered across the airport.'

That was it. Apparently the boss was so fired up I didn't even