and the ceiling was dotted with tiny halogen bulbs for accent lighting. Larissa was sitting there – evidently Gesar's secretary, Galochka, was on holiday, and our field work coordinators really didn't have much work of their own to do.

'Hello, Anton,' Larissa said. 'You're looking good.'

'Two weeks on the beach,' I replied proudly.

Larissa squinted at the clock:

'I was told to show you straight through. But the boss still has visitors. Will you go in?'

'Yes,' I decided. 'Seems like I needn't have bothered hurrying.'

'Gorodetsky's here to see you, Boris Ignatievich,' Larissa said into the intercom. She nodded to me: 'Go on in . . . oh, it's hot in there . . .'

It really was hot in Gesar's office. There were two middle-aged men I didn't know languishing in the armchairs in front of his desk – I mentally christened them Thin Man and Fat Man, after Chekhov's short story. But both of them were sweating.

'And what do we observe?' Gesar asked them reproachfully. He cast a sideways glance at me. 'Come in, Anton. Sit down, I'll be finished in a moment . . .'

Thin Man and Fat Man perked up a bit at that.

'Some mediocre housewife . . . distorting all the facts . . . vulgarising and simplifying everything . . . running rings round you! On a global scale!'

'She can do that precisely because she vulgarises and simplifies,' Fat Man retorted morosely.

'You told us to tell everything like it is,' Thin Man said in support. 'And this is the result, Most Lucent Gesar.'

I took a look at Gesar's visitors through the Twilight. Well, well! More human beings! And yet they knew the boss's name and title. And they even pronounced them with candid sarcasm. Of course, there are always special circumstances, but for Gesar to reveal himself to ordinary people . . .

'All right,' Gesar said with a nod. 'I'll let you have one more try. This time work separately.'

Thin Man and Fat Man exchanged glances.

'We'll do our best,' Fat Man said with a good-natured smile. 'You understand, though – we've already had a certain degree of success . . .'

Gesar snorted. As if they'd been given some invisible signal that the conversation was over, the visitors rose, shook the boss's hand in farewell and walked out. In the reception area Thin Man made some flirtatious remark to Larissa, and she laughed.

'Ordinary people?' I asked cautiously.

Gesar nodded, gazing at the door with a hostile expression. He sighed:

'People, people . . . All right, Gorodetsky. Sit down.'

I sat down, but Gesar still didn't say anything. He fiddled with his papers and fingered some bright-coloured, smoothly polished glass beads heaped up in a coarse earthenware bowl. I really wanted to look closer and see if they were amulets or just glass beads, but I couldn't risk taking any liberties in front of Gesar.

'How was your holiday?' Gesar asked, as if he'd exhausted all his excuses for delaying the conversation.

'Good,' I answered. 'I missed Sveta, of course. But I couldn't drag little Nadya out into that scorching Spanish sun. That's no good . . .'

'No,' Gesar agreed, 'it isn't.' I didn't know if the Great Magician had any children – even close associates weren't trusted with information like that. He probably did. He was almost certainly capable of experiencing something like paternal feelings. 'Anton, did you phone Svetlana?'

'No,' I said and shook my head. 'Has she contacted you?'

Gesar nodded. Then suddenly he couldn't contain himself any longer – he slammed his fist down on the desk and burst out:

'Just what did she think she was doing? First she deserts from the Watch . . .'

'Gesar, every one of us has the right to resign,' I objected. But Gesar had no intention of apologising.

'Deserts! An enchantress of her level doesn't belong to herself! She has no right to belong to herself! If, that is, she calls herself a Light One . . . And then – she's raising her daughter as a human being!'

'Nadya is a human being,' I said, feeling myself starting to get angry. 'Whether or not she becomes an Other is for her to decide . . . Most Lucent Gesar.'

Gesar realised that I was all set to blow too. And he changed his tone.

'Okay. That's your right. Pull out of the fight, ruin the little girl's life . . . Anything you like! But where does this hate come from?'

'What did Sveta say?' I asked.

Gesar sighed:

'Your wife phoned me. On a number that she has no right to know