The Last Watch (11 page)

‘It won't start.'

She didn't argue. She didn't even ask how I knew. Probably she put it down to the wonders of oriental medicine. She asked:

‘Why would I want a child without a husband?'

‘That's for you to decide,' I said. ‘I'm not going to try to persuade you either way.'

‘Who are you?' Lera finally asked.

‘Gorodetsky. Anton Gorodetsky. I'm from Moscow. I … I was asked to investigate the circumstances of Victor's death.'

Lera sighed and said bitterly:

‘Vitya's father using his contacts … What's the point now …'

‘To find out the truth.'

‘The truth …' The girl poured herself some water and drained the glass in one. Her body was driving her blood through her kidneys at a furious rate, removing the alcohol and its metabolic products. ‘Victor was killed by a vampire.'

‘Vampires don't exist, Lera.'

‘I know. But what do you do when a guy says “There's someone drinking my blood”, and then they find him with a bite mark on his throat and no blood left in his body?'

There was a subtle note of hysteria in her voice.

‘I checked the channel that the boat was sailing in,' I said.

‘There's blood in it. A lot of blood. Calm down, Lera. Vampires really don't exist. Someone killed your friend. He bled to death. That's terrible, it's cruel, but vampires don't exist.'

She said nothing for about a minute. Then she asked:

‘Why didn't the police tell me that?'

‘They have their reasons. They're afraid of leaks of information. Perhaps they even suspect
you
of something.'

That didn't frighten her at all – in fact, it seemed to make her angry.

‘The bastards. I can't get to sleep, I get sloshed on whisky in the evenings. Yesterday I almost dragged some guy into bed … I'm afraid to be alone, understand? Afraid. And they don't tell me anything … Excuse me, I'll just be a moment.'

I waited for her to come back from the toilet, then said:

‘I must have overdone it a bit with the massage. But I'm not a professional, I've just picked up a few moves.'

‘The things they teach your crowd,' Lera said, and I realised she was as certain that I worked for the KGB as the young Frenchman in the Dungeons had been. We're all children of mass culture. We all believe in its clichés. You don't even need any documents if you behave like a secret agent in an action movie.

‘Lera, I want to ask you to make an effort to recall all the circumstances of Victor's death,' I said. ‘I know you've said it all over and over again. But please try.'

‘We got into that stupid boat,' Lera began. ‘I almost fell over, it was a very awkward step down, a long way, and I couldn't see the bottom of the boat in the darkness.'

‘Tell me everything from the very beginning. Start from the moment when you got up that morning. Every detail.'

Lera's eyes glinted mischievously.

‘Well … we woke up at ten, we missed breakfast. Then we had
sex
. Then we went into the shower, and we got a bit carried away in there …'

I nodded and smiled benevolently as I listened to the girl's story, which really did include all the details. And when she broke into tears, I waited for a few minutes without saying anything. The tears stopped and Lera shook her head. She looked into my eyes.

‘We went into a pub, the Oak and Ribbon, and had something to eat. We drank a pint of beer each. It was hot, and then we saw the sign for that damned tourist show. Victor thought it would be interesting. Or at least that it would be cool inside. So we went in.'

Nothing. Not a single clue. I realised that Lera had been questioned by professionals before me: they had drained her, forced her to remember, asked the same questions ten times. What else could she possibly remember out of the blue now?

She started describing the boat again, the awkward step down into it, and I raised my hand.

‘Stop there, Lera. That mirror maze – you said it was the most interesting thing. Didn't anything odd happen in there?'

I didn't know why I'd asked that question. Perhaps because I was still thinking about Egor. Perhaps I'd remembered the old wives' tale that vampires have no reflections in mirrors.

‘In the hall of mirrors …' Lera knitted her brows. ‘Ah! There was something. Victor started waving to someone. As if he'd seen someone he knew. Afterwards he said he must have imagined it.'

‘How about you, Lera? Did
you
see anybody you knew?'

She shook her head.

‘No. There are mirrors on all sides in there. You really get lost among all those faces, all those people. And it gets a bit annoying after a while … I tried not to look.'

‘Can't you even make a guess at who he might have seen?'

‘Could that be important?' Lera asked seriously.

‘Yes,' I replied with no hesitation.

It was very important. It was a clear clue. If there was a vampire in the Dungeons and he was diverting people's eyes, he could have been seen in the room of mirrors. And Victor hadn't just seen someone – he had recognised him.

So what was dangerous about being recognised? Someone had gone into the Dungeons – what of it? Why had the vampire panicked and killed the unsuspecting student?

I didn't know. Not yet.

‘I think Victor thought he had seen a friend of his … not someone from here,' Lera said after thinking for a moment. ‘Because he was very surprised. If he'd seen someone from the university, he would have waved to him and shouted “Hi.” But he just waved and didn't say anything. You know, the way you do when you're not quite sure if you've seen a friend or made a mistake. And afterwards, when he couldn't find anyone, he really seemed quite upset. And he said it was all nonsense. As if he'd persuaded himself that it couldn't have happened. Anton, did Vitya see his killer?'

‘I'm afraid he did,' I said, nodding. ‘It's possible that was why he was killed. Thank you. You've been a great help.'

‘Should I tell this to the police?' Lera asked.

‘Why not? Only, if possible, don't mention that I was here, okay? But you can tell them what you've remembered.'

‘Will you tell me if you find the killer?'

‘Definitely.'

‘You're lying,' Lera said, shaking her head. ‘You're lying – you won't tell me anything.'

‘I'll send you a postcard,' I said after a pause. ‘With a view of Edinburgh. If you get a postcard, it means that Victor has been avenged.'

Lera nodded. I was already at the door when she asked:

‘Anton, if I … What should I do about the child?'

‘That's for you to decide. You must understand that nobody else will ever decide anything for you. Not the president, not your boss, not even a kind magician.'

‘I'm nineteen,' Lera said in a quiet voice. ‘I loved Vitya. But now he's gone. Twenty years old, with a child and no husband …'

‘You have to make up your mind. But please don't drink in any case,' I said.

And I closed the door behind me.

Evening arrived, and I hadn't slept the night before, which had been divided between airports and aeroplanes. I had another coffee and glanced regretfully at the beer pumps: one pint would be enough make me completely dozy now. I phoned Gesar and gave him a summary of what I'd found out during the day.

‘Look for a vampire in Victor's circle of Moscow acquaintances,' Gesar mused thoughtfully. ‘Thank you, Anton, all his Moscow contacts have been checked already … All right, we'll look a little bit harder. We'll start digging as far back as the kindergarten. What are you going to do now?'

‘Go and catch up on my sleep,' I said.

‘Any provisional conclusions?'

‘There's something going on here, Gesar. I don't know what it is, but it's something big.'

‘Do you need any help?'

I was about to say no, but then I remembered Semyon.

‘Boris Ignatievich, if Semyon isn't too busy …'

‘Is he missing Scotland?' Gesar chuckled. ‘All right, I'll send him over. If he gets a move on you'll meet in the morning. Get some rest.'

I didn't tell Gesar anything about Egor. I put my cellphone away, with a quick glance at the charge indicator. Well, well – the battery was almost full. In Moscow my phone went flat in
a
single day, even though I didn't talk very much. But abroad, it worked quite happily for a week. Were the pylons here planted closer together, or something?

Now for another part of the job. An unpleasant part.

I took out the carving of the wolf and set in on the table.

Contact, advice, protection?

I grasped the figure with both hands and closed my eyes. Perhaps that wasn't how it worked?

‘Zabulon!'

Was that someone's gaze I seemed to sense?

As far as I could recall, Zabulon never responded immediately. Not even when his lover called.

‘Zabulon!'

‘Why are you shouting like that, Gorodetsky?'

I opened my eyes. There was no one there, of course.

‘I need some advice, Dark One.'

‘Ask.'

It was a good thing that almost no emotion at all is transmitted in this kind of conversation. Zabulon was probably chuckling to himself. A Light One coming to him for help!

‘Zabulon, when the Mirror Magician came to you, did you summon him?'

That obviously wasn't the question he'd been expecting.

‘The Mirror? Vitaly Rogoza?'

‘Yes.'

A pause. No, he knew the answer all right: he was deciding whether to tell the truth or to lie.

‘A Mirror cannot be summoned, Light One. They are children of the Twilight.'

‘Then what has to happen for a Mirror Magician to appear?'

‘One Power has to acquire a significant advantage over the other. And it has to be a sudden imbalance, acquired too quickly.
The
Mirror came because Gesar was raising Svetlana's level too rapidly, he brought Olga back into play and … and he rewrote your future daughter's destiny to make her the Greatest of the Great.'

‘Is it possible to foresee who will be the next Mirror Magician?'

‘It is. He is an Other whose own fundamental Power is minimal. He must have no love for the Light or for the Dark. Or, on the contrary, he must love the Light and the Dark. A human being, and an Other, who stands at the fork in the road and makes no distinction between Light and Dark. There are individuals like that, but they are rare. In Moscow there are two of them – Victor's father and … your little friend Egor. But then, he's already grown-up now, isn't he?'

‘Why did Rogoza come from Ukraine?'

‘Because we're not the ones who decide who's going to be a Mirror. I was rather hoping that he would show up, but nobody ever knows anything in advance. A Mirror Magician might come, or he might not. He can appear straight away, or he can take days, even months, to reach the place where the equilibrium has been disrupted. Have I satisfied your curiosity?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then I expect a courtesy in return. Who killed Victor? And what have Mirror Magicians got to do with it?'

‘You won't like this information, Zabulon. I think that Victor was killed in order to discredit the Scottish Night Watch. They own the tourist attraction. And as for the Mirror … I'm afraid that the situation here might be destabilised. So badly that a Mirror Magician will turn up. Are there any candidates for the role in Edinburgh?'

He believed me. At least, I thought he believed me. He answered thoughtfully:

‘I don't know. I've never tried to find out.'

‘Then that's all for the time being. If you do find out, please let me know, if you would be so kind.'

Without bothering to wait for his mocking chuckle, I opened my hand and cut off the contact. The figurine was gleaming with sweat, which made it seem almost alive.

That was it: time to go back to the hotel. To that cosy de luxe apartment for Light Ones, that kingdom of white and pink and beige, those lace curtains and silk sheets.

My phone jangled.

‘Hello?' As I pressed the phone to my ear, I caught the waiter's eye and ran one finger across my open palm, as if I was writing out a bill. The waiter gave a laboured smile, glanced at the solitary cup standing in front of me and scribbled ‘£2' on a piece of paper.

‘Anthony, my friend,' Lermont said in English. That ‘Anthony' told me immediately that there was someone there who was not supposed to know that I was Russian. ‘How was my employee feeling when you left the Dungeons?'

‘Just fine.'

‘He's been killed, Anthony. Do you think you could come over?'

I hissed something unprintable and scooped the small change out of my pocket. Right – the castle was there, the ravine and the bridge were there …

‘If I can catch a taxi straight away, I'll be there in five minutes.'

‘Make it quick,' Lermont told me.

I found a free taxi immediately – I didn't need to resort to magic in order to get someone out of a cab that was already occupied. Edinburgh was remarkably good for taxis in general. I got in, took out a cigarette and lit it. The driver looked at me rather disapprovingly, but didn't say anything. I wound the window all the way down. Of course, his next passengers would be non-smokers …

But I felt like smoking.

Idiot. What an idiot I was! I'd felt alarmed for Egor, concerned for Valeria … But I hadn't bothered to use my head for what it was really meant for. My visit to the Dungeons had been observed. And now poor Jean, the nervous French student, would never go back home to Nantes …

It was my fault.

But what about Lermont – closing the place down and only leaving one man on duty to watch it? Not an Other, not a Battle Magician who could fight vampires on equal terms, but a frightened kid in make-up and fancy dress.