cut out and stuck onto the envelope.

And naturally there was no return address.

'The letters have been cut out of three newspapers,' said Gesar. 'Pravda, Kommersant and Arguments and Facts.'

'Ingenious,' I remarked. 'Can I open it?'

'Yes, do. The forensic experts have already done everything they can with the envelope – there aren't any fingerprints. The glue was made in China and it's on sale in every newspaper kiosk.'

'And it's written on toilet paper!' I exclaimed in delight as I took the letter out of the envelope. 'Is it clean at least?'

'Unfortunately,' said Gesar. 'Not the slightest trace of organic matter. Standard cheap pulp. "Fifty-four metres", they call it.'

The sheet of toilet paper had been carelessly torn off along the perforation and the text was glued onto it in different-sized letters. Or rather, in entire words, with a few endings added separately, and with no regard for the typeface:

'The NIGHT WATCH should BE INTERESTED to know that a CERTAIN Other has REVEALed to a CERTAIN human being the entire truth about oTHErs and now inTENDs to turn this human beING into an OTHER. A wellWISHer.'

I would have laughed, but somehow I didn't feel like it. Instead, I remarked perspicaciously:

'"Night Watch" is written in complete words . . .'

'There was an article in Arguments and Facts,' Gesar explained. 'About a fire at the TV Tower. It was called "NIGHT WATCH ON THE OSTANKINO TOWER".'

'Clever,' I agreed. The mention of the tower gave me a slight twinge. That hadn't exactly been the best time of my life . . . I would be haunted forever by the face of the Dark Other I threw off the TV Tower in the Twilight . . .*

* See The Night Watch, Story Two

'Don't get moody, Anton, You didn't do anything wrong,' said Gesar. 'Let's get down to business.'

'Let's do that, Boris Ignatievich,' I said, calling the boss by his old 'civilian' name.

'Is this for real then?'

Gesar shrugged.

'There's not even a whiff of magic from the letter. It was either composed by a human being, or by a competent Other who can cover his tracks. If it's a human being, then there has to be a leak somewhere. If it's an Other, then it's a totally irresponsible act of provocation.'

'No traces at all?' I asked again to make sure.

'None. The only clue is the postmark.' Gesar frowned. 'But that looks very much like a red herring.'

'Was the letter sent from the Kremlin then?' I quipped.

'Almost. The postbox the letter was left in is located on the grounds of the Assol complex.'

Great tall buildings with red roofs – the kind that Comrade Stalin would have approved of. I'd seen them. But only from a distance.

'You can't just go walking in there!'

'No, you can't,' Gesar said with a nod. 'So, in sending the letter from the Assol residences after all this subterfuge with the paper, the glue and the letters, our unknown correspondent either committed a crude error . . .'

I shook my head.

'Or he's leading us onto a false trail . . .' At this point Gesar paused, observing my reaction closely.

I thought for a moment. And then shook my head again:

'That's very naïve. No.'

'Or the "wellwisher",' Gesar pronounced the final word with frank sarcasm, 'really does want to give us a clue.'

'What for?' I asked.

'He sent the letter for some reason,' Gesar reminded me. 'As you well understand, Anton, we have to react to this letter somehow. Let's assume the worst – there's a traitor among the Others who can reveal the secret of our existence to the human race.'

'But who's going to believe him?'

'They won't believe a human being. But they will believe an Other who can demonstrate his abilities.'

Gesar was right, of course. But I couldn't make sense of why anyone would do such a thing. Even the most stupid and malicious Dark One had to understand what would happen after the truth was revealed.

A new witch hunt.

And people would gladly cast both the Dark Ones and the Light Ones in the role of witches. Everyone who possessed the abilities of an Other . . .

Including Sveta. Including little Nadya.

'How is it possible "to turn this human being into an Other"?' I asked. 'Vampirism?'

'Vampires, werewolves . . .' Gesar shrugged. 'That's it, I suppose. Initiation is possible at the very crudest, most primitive levels of Dark power, but it would have to be paid for by sacrificing the human essence. It's impossible to make a human being into a magician by initiation.'

'Nadiushka . . .' I