The Day Watch (9 page)

And he had expended all that tremendous Power on himself.

Remoralization. The search for the ethically optimum solution. The Light Ones’ most terrible problem was how to avoid causing harm, how to avoid taking a step that would result in inflicting evil on human beings.

“That makes him a super-egotist!” Pavel said with relish. “He could have defended his girlfriend, couldn’t he? And he could have fought us, couldn’t he? And how-with that Power! But what did he do? He used everything he collected on himself. He didn’t even try to stop the hurricane… but he could have done that, he could have!”

“Who knows what any other course of action would have led to?” I asked.

“But he acted just like any of us. Like a genuine Dark One!”

“If that were true, he’d be in the Day Watch.”

“And he will be,” Pavel said confidently. “Where else can he go? He couldn’t bear to give away all that Power, so he used it on himself. And afterward he made excuses-it was all so that he could make the correct decision…

And what was his decision? Not to interfere! That was all-not to interfere! That’s our way, the Dark way.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Pavlusha,” I said.

The plane shuddered as the undercarriage was lowered.

At first glance the shape-shifter seemed to be right. But I could remember Zabulon’s face during the days after the hurricane. The expression in his eyes was very gloomy-I’d learned to tell the difference. It was as if he’d realized too late that he’d been tricked.

Pavel carried on discussing the subtleties of the struggle between the two Watches, their different approaches, their long-term operational planning. What a strategist… he should have been sitting in headquarters, not roaming the streets…

I suddenly realized how tired he’d made me feel during our two-hour flight. But at first he’d made quite a pleasant impression…

“Pavlusha, who do you transform into?” I asked.

The shape-shifter started breathing heavily through his nose and answered reluctantly: “A lizard.”

“Oho!” I looked at him again with more interest. Shape-shifters like that were a genuine rarity; he was no ordinary werewolf, like the late Vitalik. “That’s serious! But why don’t I see you on operations more often?”

“I…” Pavel stopped and frowned. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed his sweaty forehead. “You see, the thing is…”

His embarrassment was wonderful to watch. He was like an erring schoolgirl on a visit to the gynecologist.

“I transform into a herbivorous lizard,” he finally blurted out. “Not the most useful kind in a fight, unfortunately. The jaws are strong, but the teeth are flat, for grinding. And I’m too slow. But I can break an arm or a leg… or chew off a finger.”

I couldn’t help laughing. I said sympathetically, “Well, never mind. We need personnel like that too! The important thing is for you to look impressive and instill fear and confusion.”

“I look impressive all right,” said Pavel, squinting sideways at me suspiciously. “Only my scales are too colorful, like a painted Khokhloma toy. It’s hard to disguise myself.”

I managed to keep a straight face.

“Never mind, I think that’s interesting. When people have to be frightened, especially little children, colorful scales are just the thing.”

“That’s the kind of work I usually do…” Pavel admitted.

A sharp jolt cut short our conversation as the plane touched down on the runway. The passengers burst into applause somewhat prematurely. I gazed avidly out through the window for a few seconds, looking at the greenery, the airport terminal, a plane taxiing to take off…

I simply couldn’t believe it.

I’d escaped from stuffy, oppressive Moscow. I had the vacation I’d been waiting for so long… and my special rights… and when I got back-Zabulon would be waiting for me again…

Pavel saw me as far as the trolley stop. It’s the most amusing trolley route I know: all the way from one town to another, from Simferopol to Yalta. But strangely enough, it’s quite a convenient way to travel.

Everything here was different, quite different. It seemed hot-but it wasn’t the asphalt-and-concrete city heat of Moscow. And even though the sea was a long way off, I could sense it. And the luxuriant greenery, and the whole atmosphere of a huge resort at the height of the season.

It felt good… it really did. I just wanted to get a shower as soon as possible, get a good night’s sleep, tidy myself up…

“You’re not going to Yalta, are you?” Pavel asked understandingly.

“Not exactly to Yalta,” I said. I looked gloomily at the long line. Even the children were all keyed up, ready to grab a seat in the trolley. I had nothing with me at all-just my purse and the sports bag over my shoulder, and I could have stood quite easily-but only if I managed to get on the trolley without a ticket.

And I didn’t feel like standing.

If it came down to it, I had a thick wad of cash for my travel allowance, vacation allowance, and medical allowance-Zabu-lon had managed to issue me almost two thousand dollars. That was certainly plenty for two weeks. Especially in Ukraine.

“All right, Pavlusha,” I said and kissed him on the cheek. The shape-shifter blushed. “I’ll get there, no need to see me off.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I was instructed to give you every possible help.”

Oh, my little protector… A herbivorous lizard, a cow with scales …

“I’m sure. You need to get some rest too.”

“I’m going to go on a bicycle trip with friends,” he informed me for some reason. “They’re really nice guys-Ukrainian werewolves and even a young magician. Maybe we could call in to see you?”

“I’d like that.”

The shape-shifter walked back toward the airport, clearly intending to board another flight, and I set off along the

thin line of taxis and private cars offering lifts. It was already getting dark, and there were only a few of them left.

“Where to, lovely lady?” a stout man with a moustache called out. He was standing beside his little Zhiguli and smoking. I shook my head-I’d never traveled between towns in a Zhiguli… I ignored the Volga as well, and the tiny Oka too-goodness only knew what that driver was hoping for.

But that brand new Nissan Patrol would suit me very well.

I leaned in over the lowered window. There were two dark-haired young guys sitting in the car. The one in the driving seat was smoking and his companion was drinking beer from a bottle.

“Are you guys free?”

Two pairs of eyes stared at me, sizing me up. I didn’t look too creditworthy-that was necessary for my cover…

“Possibly,” the driver said. “If we can agree on a price.”

“We can,” I said. “To the Artek camp. Fifty.”

“Are you a Young Pioneer?” the driver laughed. “For fifty we’ll give you a ride round town.”

The witty type. He was so young he shouldn’t have been able to remember what a Young Pioneer was. And his ambitions were exorbitant… fifty rubles-that was almost ten dollars.

“You didn’t ask the most important thing,” I remarked. “Fifty what?”

“Well, fifty what?” the driver’s friend repeated obligingly.

“Bucks.”

The young guys’ expressions changed immediately.

“Fifty bucks, we go fast, without any other passengers, and we don’t turn the music up loud,” I added. “Is it a deal?”

“Yes,” the driver decided. He began looking around. “What about your things?”

“I’ve got them all here.” I got into the backseat and dropped my bag down beside me. “Let’s go.”

My tone of voice seemed to have had the right effect. A minute later we were already swinging out onto the road. I relaxed and leaned back a bit more comfortably. This was it. Vacation. I needed to rest… eat the peaches…

gather my strength…

And afterward Moscow and Zabulon would be waiting for me…

Just at that moment my cell phone rang in my bag. I got it out without opening my eyes and took the call.

“Alisa, how was the flight?”

I felt a warm glow in my chest. One surprise after another! Even during our best times Zabulon hadn’t felt a need to take any interest in such petty details. Or was this just because I was unwell and feeling down?

“It was excellent, thanks. They say there were some problems with the weather, but…”

“I know about that. The guys in the Simferopol Day Watch gave us a hand with the weather conditions. That’s not what I meant, Alisa. Are you in a car now?”

“Yes.”

“Your forecast for this trip is bad.”

I pricked up my ears. “The road?”

“No. Apparently your driver.”

In front of me the young guys’ cropped heads were like blank stone. I looked at them for a second, furious at my helplessness. I couldn’t even feel their emotions, let alone read their thoughts…

“I’ll handle it.”

“Have you let your escort go?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure, Alisa?” There was genuine concern in Zabulon’s voice. And that had the same effect on me as dope on an athlete.

“Of course. Try looking further ahead in the forecast!”

Zabulon was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Yes, it straightens out… But keep in touch. I’ll come if it’s necessary.”

“If they do anything to me, just skin them alive, sweetheart,” I said.

“I’ll do more than that-I’ll make them eat their own skins.”

Zabulon agreed. It was no empty threat, of course, but a real promise. “Well, have a good vacation, darling.”

I switched off the cell phone and slipped into a doze. The Nissan drove on smoothly and we were soon out on the high road. The young guys occasionally lit a cigarette and there was a smell of tobacco-fortunately not the worst kind. Then the sound of the motor became more labored-we were climbing the mountain pass. I opened my eyes and glanced through the open window at the starry sky. How big the stars were in the Crimea. How close.

Then I fell asleep for real. I even began dreaming-a sweet, languorous dream. I was swimming in the sea at night and there was someone beside me, and sometimes in the darkness I could almost make out the lines of his

face, and I could feel the gentle touch of his hands…

When I realized that the touch was real, I instantly woke up and opened my eyes.

The engine was silent and the car was standing a little distance off the highway. I think it was in the emergency side road for poor souls whose brakes have failed.

My driver’s brakes and his friend’s had definitely failed. I could see it in their eyes.

When I woke up the driver’s friend took his hand away from my face. He even gave a crooked smile as he said,

“We’re here, sister.”

“It doesn’t look like Artek, brother,” I replied.

“It’s the Angarsky Pass. The motor’s overheated,” said the driver, licking his lips. “We have to wait. You can get out for a breath of fresh air.”

If he was still trying to make lame excuses, he was obviously far more nervous than his companion, who screwed up his courage and said, “You can take a piss…”

“Thanks, I don’t need one.” I carried on sitting there, watching the pair of them curiously, wondering what they’d try. Would they try to drag me out of the car? Or try to rape me where I was? And afterward?

It would be too dangerous to let me go. They’d probably throw me off a cliff. And probably into the sea-the murderer’s best friend throughout the ages. The land preserves clues for a long time, but the sea has a short memory.

“We were starting to wonder,” the driver declared, “if you really have the money… Young Pioneer.”

“Since I hired you,” I said, emphasizing the word ‘hired,” “it means I do.”

“Show us,” the driver demanded.

Oh, how stupid you are… you little people…

I took the wad of money out of my purse, peeled off a fifty and held it out, as if I hadn’t noticed the greedy eyes devouring the money. Well, now I was certainly done for.

But they still seemed to need some kind of justification. If only for themselves.

“It’s counterfeit!” the driver squealed, carefully hiding the fifty in his pocket. “You bitch, you were trying to…”

I looked at them calmly as I listened to a choice serving of obscene language. I felt something inside me tense up, but even so, I didn’t have the normal powers of an Other that would have allowed me to turn these two young runts into obedient puppets.

“Hoping your friend can help, are you?” the driver’s friend asked. “Is that it? Going to skin us alive, is he? We’ll skin him, you bitch!”

I laughed as I imagined the million and one amusing things Zabulon would have done to these young pups just for saying that.

The driver grabbed hold of my arm. His young face was basically rather handsome-I wouldn’t have minded having a resort romance with an attractive young man like that-but now it was contorted by a mixture of anger, fear, and lust.

“You’re going to pay in kind, you bitch.”

Ugh. In kind. And with all my things, and a brief flight through the air down an almost vertical incline…

No, I didn’t want my acquaintance with the warm water of the

Black Sea to start that way. The other young guy reached out toward me, clearly intending to rip my blouse. The bastard-it cost two hundred and fifty bucks! His hands had almost reached me when I pressed the barrel of my pistol against his forehead.

There was a brief pause.

“My, what tough kids you are,” I purred. “All right, get your hands off, and get out of the car.”

The pistol had really stunned them. Maybe because I’d come out of the airport, so there was no way they could have expected me to be carrying a gun. Or maybe because their little pups’ instincts told them it would be a pleasure for me to blow their brains out.

The young guys jumped out of the car and I followed them. They hesitated for a few seconds and then tried to make a run for it. But that didn’t suit me now.

I put the first bullet into the ankle of the driver’s friend. His legs were less important-he didn’t have to work the pedals. It was a trivial glancing scrape-more like a skin burn than a firearms wound-but it was more than enough.

The friend fell to the ground with a howl and the driver stopped dead in his tracks with his hands in the air. I wondered who they thought I was. A Federal Security Service agent on vacation?