Last Watch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

“Duty pointsman? He has to deal with anything that turns up. If some inspector or other calls, if the drains burst, if someone delivers pizza or drinking water—he has to handle everything. Something between a receptionist and an office manager. It’s a boring job; we take turns to do it.”

  “And just what is it that you do here?”

  “Is that really any business of the fire safety service?” the man asked thoughtfully. “Well... we guard Moscow against manifestations of evil.”

  “You’re joking!” said the inspector, giving the duty pointsman a dour look.

  “Not at all.”

  A middle-aged, Eastern-looking man walked in without knocking on the door. The duty pointsman quickly got to his feet as he entered.

  “Well, now, what have we got here?” the newcomer asked.

  “One item left in the accounts office, one in the toilet, one in the fire safety board on the second floor,” the duty pointsman replied eagerly. “Everything’s in order, Boris Ignatievich.”

  The inspector turned pale.

  “Las, we haven’t got a fire safety board on the second floor,” Boris Ignatievich observed.

  “I created an illusion,” Las replied boastfully. “It was very realistic.”

  Boris Ignatievich nodded and said, “All right. But you didn’t notice the other two bugs in the programmers’ room. I think this is not the first time our guest has combined the duties of fire inspector and spy... am I right?”

  “What do you think you’re— ” the man began, and then stopped.

  “You feel very ashamed of carrying out industrial espionage,” said Boris Ignatievich. “It’s disgusting! And you used to be an honest man... once. Do you remember how you went to help build the Baikal – Amur Railroad? And not just for the money. You wanted the romantic dream, you wanted to be part of some great effort.”

  Tears began running down the inspector’s cheeks. He nodded.

  “And do you remember when you were accepted into the Young Pioneers?” Las asked cheerfully. “How you stood in line, thinking about how you would devote all your strength to the victory of Communism? And when the group leader tied your tie for you, she almost touched you with her big, bouncy tits... .”

  “Las,” Boris Ignatievich said in an icy voice. “I am constantly amazed at how you ever became a Light One.”

  “I was in a good mood that day,” Las declared. “I dreamed I was still a little boy, riding a pony... .”

  “Las!” Boris Ignatievich repeated ominously.

  The duty pointsman fell silent.

  The silence that followed was broken by the fire safety inspector’s sobbing. “I... I’ll tell you everything... I went to the Baikal–Amur Railroad to avoid paying alimony... .”

  “Never mind that,” Boris Ignatievich said gently. “Tell us about being asked to plant bugs in our office.”

  .

  .

  A COMMON ENEMY

  Chapter 1

  “I think you can guess why I’ve gathered you all together,” Gesar said.

  There were five of us in the boss’s office. Gesar himself, Olga, Ilya, Semyon, and me.

  “What’s to guess,” Semyon muttered. “You’ve gathered all the Higher and first-level Others. Svetlana’s the only one missing.”

  “Svetlana’s not here because she’s not on the staff of the Night Watch,” Gesar said, and frowned. “I’ve no doubt that Anton will tell her everything. I won’t even attempt to forbid it. But I won’t connive at breaches of the rules, either... This is a meeting of the Night Watch top management. Ilya, I have to warn you straightaway that some of what you hear will be new to you, and under normal circumstances you would never have heard it. So you must not talk about it. Not to anyone.”

  “What exactly is ‘it’?” Ilya asked, adjusting his spectacles.

  “Probably... probably everything that you are about to hear.”

  “A bit more than just ‘some of it,’ ” Ilya said with a nod. “Whatever you say. If you like, I’m willing to accept the mark of the Avenging Fire.”

  “We can dispense with the formalities,” said Gesar. He took a small metal box out of his desk and began rummaging in it. Meanwhile I carried on looking around with my usual curiosity. What made the boss’s office so interesting was the huge number of little items that he kept because he needed them for his work or simply as souvenirs—though it was hard to say which was which. Something like Pliushkin’s bins in Gogol’s book Dead Souls, or a child’s box in which he keeps his most cherished ‘treasures,’ or the apartment of some absentminded collector who’s always forgetting what it is he actually collects. And the most amazing thing was that nothing ever disappeared; even though there was almost no space left in the cabinets, new exhibits were added all the time.

  This time my attention was caught by a small terrarium. It didn’t have a lid, and there was a piece of paper glued to its side, bearing the letters “OOO” (or the numbers 000). Standing inside the terrarium was a stupid little toy made in China—a small plastic toilet, with a tarantula squatting on it in a regal pose. At first I thought the spider was dead or made of plastic, but then I noticed its eyes glinting and its mandibles moving. There was another spider crawling across the glass walls—fat and round, looking like a hairy ball with legs. Every now and then the spider stopped and spat a drop of green venom onto the glass, clearly aiming at something outside. At the same time something showered down off the spider into the terrarium. There were some other spiders moving around on the bottom, greedily reaching out their legs to catch the treat. The fortunate ones who managed to grab something began jumping up and down for joy.

  “Interested?” Gesar asked, without looking up.

  “Uh-huh... . What is it?”

  “A simulation. You know I like to study self-contained social groups.”

  “And what does this simulation represent?”

  “A very interesting social structure,” Gesar said evasively. “In its basic form it should have become the traditional jar of spiders. But here we have two principal spiders, one of whom has taken up a dominant position by climbing onto a high point, while the other is acting as if he is providing protection against external aggression and caring for the members of the community. As long as the dominant spiders remain active, this simulation can continue to function with minimal internal aggression. I just have to spray the inhabitants with beer every now and then to relax them.”

  “But doesn’t anyone ever try to climb out?” Ilya asked. “There’s no lid... .”

  “Only very rarely. And only the ones who get fed up with being a spider in a jar. In the first place, the illusion of conflict is constantly maintained. And in the second place, the experimental subjects regard being in the jar as something out of the ordinary.” Gesar finally took some object out of his box and said, “All right, that’s enough of the small talk. Here is the first thing for you to think about. What is it?”

  We stared in silence at the gray lump of concrete that looked as if it had been chipped out of a wall.

  “Don’t use magic!” Gesar warned us.

  “I know,” Semyon said guiltily. “I remember that incident. A radio microphone. They tried to put it in here in the fifties... or was it the sixties? When we were the ‘Nonferrous Mining Equipment Assembly Trust.’ Some bright guys from the KGB, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” said Gesar. “Back then they were very keen on looking for spies, and on a sudden impulse they decided to check us. We had provoked certain suspicions... It was a good thing that we had our own eyes and ears in the KGB. We organized a campaign of misinformation, certain vigilant comrades managed to get others rebuked for the pointless squandering of expensive equipment... and what about this?”

  A huge steel screw glinted in Gesar’s hands. To be quite honest, I didn’t even kno
w that they made screws that large.

  “I doubt if you know about this,” Gesar told us. “It’s the only attempt... at least, I hope it is... ever made by the Dark Ones to spy on us using human means. In 1979. I had a very difficult conversation with Zabulon, and afterward we signed an appendix to the agreement on prohibited methods of conflict.”

  The screw was put back into the box. Two tiny brown tablets were taken out.

  “That was from when they wanted to take our building away!” Ilya said brightly. “In ’96, wasn’t it?”

  Gesar nodded.

  “Absolutely right. A certain ambitious young oligarch got the idea that the former state enterprise, which had become the Nonferrous Metal Mining Company, looked like a very tasty and absolutely defenseless little morsel of property. However, when their listening devices and external observation revealed the kind of people who simply dropped in for tea and a chat with the old director, the oligarch cut his ambitions back sharply.”

  “That was misinformation as well, of course?” Olga asked curiously. It seemed that the boss’s unusually complicated preamble was intended for her, because she had missed all these old events.

  Semyon giggled and drawled in a voice like Yeltsin’s: “You un-der-stand, my friend, you decide important matters at the city level, and you don’t ask for any help... Call round if anything happens.”

  Gesar smiled in reply. “ ‘Call round if anything happens’ is putting it a bit strongly. But never mind, no one judges the victors... . Anyway, those were cases from the past. But here is today’s catch... .”

  He took something that looked like a Band-Aid out of the box. A thin white square, slightly sticky on one side—it was not easy for Gesar to pull it off his finger.

  “Technology is constantly developing,” I said, impressed. “A microphone and transmitter?”

  “You’ll be surprised to know that there’s a recorder here too,” Gesar told me. “Everything is recorded and then shot off in a three-second coded burst once a day. A fine little toy. Expensive. And you can’t buy it just anywhere.”

  “Get to the point, Boris,” Olga said.

  Gesar tossed the ‘toy’ back into the box and glanced around keenly at all of us.

  “A week ago Anton and Semyon spent some time in the city of Edinburgh. Something rather unpleasant happened there. Without going into too much detail, a group of Others, including at least one Light One, one Dark One, and an Inquisitor, tried to steal one of the most ancient magical artifacts in existence, with the help of paid human assistants who were equipped with magical amulets. The artifact is the so-called Crown of All Things, created by the Great Merlin shortly before he withdrew into the Twilight.”

  Ilya whistled. Olga said nothing: Either she had already heard about this from Gesar, or she didn’t think any display of emotion was required.

  “I should add that the three Others were all Higher Ones,” Gesar continued. “Well... perhaps not all of them. Perhaps two of them. Together they could have taken the third one down to the sixth level of the Twilight.”

  To my surprise, Ilya didn’t say anything. He must have been stunned. I didn’t think he had ever gone any deeper than the third level.

  “This is already unpleasant,” said Gesar. “None of us knows what kind of artifact Merlin hid on the seventh level of the Twilight, but there are serious grounds for believing that this artifact is capable of destroying all civilization on Earth.”

  “Another Fuaran?” Semyon asked.

  “No, Merlin didn’t have the knowledge to transform people into Others,” said Gesar, shaking his head. “But it is something very powerful indeed. Security measures to keep the artifact safe have been tightened up: The Inquisition is guarding it now, as well as the Night Watch of Scotland. But the situation is too serious. I have learned that attempts have been made to spy on Watches in Moscow, New York, London, Tokyo, Paris, Beijing... in short, at all the key points on the planet. Everywhere the people involved have no idea who hired them. So far all attempts to find the instigators have produced nothing.”

  “Gesar, what’s down there, on the seventh level of the Twilight?” Ilya asked. “I know it’s not done to talk about the deeper levels to anyone who hasn’t been there, but—”

  “Semyon will tell you what he saw,” Gesar replied. “He’s been to the fifth level. And ask Anton if you like—he’ll tell you about the sixth level. I give my permission. But as for the seventh level...”

  Everybody gazed curiously at Gesar.

  “I haven’t been there. And I can’t answer your question,” Gesar concluded firmly.

  “Ha,” said Olga. “I was certain you had been there, Boris.”

  “No. And before you ask, Zabulon hasn’t been there either. Nor have any of the Others I know. I believe that only a zero-point magician is capable of it. Someone who possesses absolute Power. Merlin was such a magician. Nadya Gorodetskaya will become such an enchantress... .”

  Everybody turned to look at me.

  “I won’t let her into the Twilight before she’s grown up,” I said firmly.

  “Nobody’s asking you to,” Gesar assured me. “And... don’t start objecting before I finish. I want to put your Nadya under guard. Continuous guard, round the clock. At least two Battle Magicians. Second or third level of Power. They won’t hold out long against Higher Ones, but if we provide them with good artifacts, they’ll be able to drag things out long enough to call for help.”

  Ilya grabbed his head in his hands. “Boris Ignatievich! Where will I get that many second-and third-level Others from? Are we going to take our entire fighting force off the street?”

  “No, not all of it,” Gesar replied. “We have four second-level Others, after all. And nine third-level. Alisher and Alexander can be raised to third-level.”

  “Which Alexander? Korostilyov?” Ilya asked in amazement.

  “No, Malenkov.”

  “Sasha can be raised,” Olga agreed. “I’m prepared to do it in three days. Even two.”

  “Wait!” I exclaimed. “Wait! Would you like to hear my opinion?”

  Gesar looked at me curiously. “Yes, I would. Only bear in mind that sooner or later the individuals who failed to obtain the artifact will come to the conclusion that they need an absolute magician. And there is only one in the whole world. One. Your daughter. So will you agree to her being guarded?”

  “But what will Svetlana say?”

  “Svetlana is a mother,” Olga said in a gentle voice. “I think she remembers how her daughter was kidnapped once already. And she understands that she herself cannot guard her daughter twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Sveta will agree, Anton,” Semyon said with a nod. “No need for a crystal ball there.”

  “But Boris Ignatievich, what am I supposed to do with the streets?” Ilya objected. “I protest officially as your deputy for the patrol service! Am I supposed to send out fourth-and fifth-level magicians to work on their own? The Dark Ones will walk all over us!”

  “They won’t,” Gesar said with a frown. “Zabulon is also allocating his second-and third-level magicians to guard Nadya Gorodetskaya.”

  It was my turn to clutch my head in my hands. But Ilya immediately calmed down.

  “Then we only need to supply half as many bodyguards? In that case, I—”

  “No, not half. It’s two of ours and two Dark Ones.”

  “Gesar!” I protested.

  “Anton, this is being done for the sake of your daughter’s safety,” Gesar replied in a firm voice. “That’s all, the matter’s closed! Let’s get on with other business. Ilya, you stay behind after the meeting, we’ll discuss who to use as bodyguards and how to equip them.”

  I said nothing. I was seething inside, but I said nothing.

  “So far we have only spoken about defense,” Gesa
r continued. “I charge Olga with developing the measures for protecting the Watch against spy technology and a possible attack by human mercenaries. Involve Tolik from the computer service. And Las from the operations side.”

  “But he’s a weak magician.” Olga snorted.

  “But he has a nonstandard way of thinking,” said Gesar. “And you know pretty much all there is to know about battles between Others and human beings. You’ve certainly had plenty of experience.”

  I gave Olga a curious glance. So she did have an interesting background, then?

  “What I need from all of you now is something else,” Gesar went on. “How are we going to attack?”

  “Attack whom?” I protested. “If only we knew who it is that’s muddying the waters... .”

  “To attack doesn’t necessarily mean to go rushing into battle,” Olga stated didactically. “To attack also means to take actions that the enemy isn’t expecting, to disrupt his plans.”

  Gesar nodded in approval.

  “Then there’s only one thing we can do,” I said. “That is, apart from trying to find the traitors... but I expect the Inquisition is breaking its back on that one already. We have to break through to the seventh level. But if we can’t... the Circle of Power?”

  “Zabulon also suggested a Circle of Power,” Gesar said with a nod. “But it won’t help, not even if we try by accumulating each other’s power, or the Dark Ones try by sucking each other dry... not even with a human sacrifice... . The strength of barriers between the levels of the Twilight increases exponentially. We have calculated it.”

  “Not even a human sacrifice?” Semyon asked in amazement.

  “Not even,” Gesar said dryly.

  “That little poem... on the sixth level... ,” I said, looking at Gesar. “Remember, I told you about it?”

  “Recite it,” Gesar said with a nod.

  The Crown of All Things is here concealed. Only one step is left.

  But this is a legacy for the strong or the wise—

  You shall receive all and nothing, when you are able to take it.