That was enough information to search the computer database. I didn't have access to the complete files, I wasn't senior enough. But fortunately senior management had no idea how much information an indirect search could yield.
Provided, of course, that I really wanted to find out who Olga was.
I poured the cognac and waited. Olga came out of the bathroom about five minutes later, drying her hair with a towel. She was wearing my jeans and sweater.
I couldn't say she was transformed . . . but she was definitely looking a lot more attractive.
'Thanks, Anton. You've no idea how much I enjoyed—'
'I can guess.'
'Guessing's not enough. That smell, Anton . . . that smell of burning. I'd almost got used to it after half a century.' She sat down awkwardly on a stool and sighed. 'It's not good, of course, but I'm glad of this crisis. Even if they don't pardon me, it's a chance to get clean . . .'
'You can stay in this form, Olga. I'll go out and buy some decent clothes.'
'Don't bother. I only have half an hour a day.'
Olga screwed up the towel and tossed it on to the windowsill. She sighed:
'I might not get another chance to take a shower. Or drink cognac . . . Your health, Anton.'
'Your health.'
The cognac was good. I took a sip and savoured it, despite the total muddle in my head. Olga downed hers in one and pulled a face, but she observed politely:
'Not bad.'
'Why won't the boss let you assume your normal form?'
'That's not in his power.'
Clear enough. So it wasn't the regional office that had punished her, but the higher authorities.
'Here's to your success, Olga. Whatever it was that you did . . . I'm sure your guilt must have been expiated by now.'
She shrugged.
'I'd like to think so. I know people find me easy to sympathise with, but the punishment was just. Anyway, let's get down to business.'
'Okay.'
Olga leaned across the table towards me and spoke in a mysterious whisper:
'I'll be honest with you: I've had enough. I've got strong nerves, but this is no way to live. My only chance is to carry through an assignment so important that our superiors will have no option but to pardon me.'
'Where can you find a mission like that?'
'We already have it. And it has three stages. The boy – we protect him and then bring him over to the side of the Light. The girl vampire – we destroy her.'
Olga's voice sounded so confident that suddenly I believed her. Protect one, destroy the other. No problem.
'But that's only the small change, Anton. An operation like that will get you promoted, but it won't save me. The really important part is the girl with the vortex.'
'They're already dealing with her, Olga. They've taken me . . . us off the assignment.'
'Never mind that. They won't be able to handle it.'
'Oh no?' I asked ironically.
'They won't. Boris Ignatievich is a very powerful magician. But this isn't his field.' Olga half closed her eyes in a mocking smile. 'I've been dealing with Inferno eruptions all my life.'
'So that's why it's war!' I exclaimed, catching on at last.
'Of course. You don't get sudden eruptions of hatred like that in times of peace. That bastard Adolf. . . he had plenty of admirers, but he would have been incinerated in the very first year of war. And the whole of Germany with him. The situation with Stalin was different, adoration on a monstrous scale like that is a powerful shield. Anton, I'm a simple Russian woman . . .' – the smile that flitted across Olga's face showed what she really felt about the word 'simple' – 'and I spent all the last war shielding the enemies of my own country against curses. For that alone I deserve to be pardoned. Do you believe me?'
'I believe you.' I got the impression she was already getting slightly drunk.
'It's lousy work . . . we all have to go against our human nature, but that was too much . . . Anyway, Anton, they won't be able to handle it. I can at least try, though even I can't be sure I'll succeed.'
'Olga, if this is all so serious, you should put in a report.'
She shook her head and pushed back her wet hair.
'I can't. I'm forbidden to associate with anyone except my partner on the assignment and Boris Ignatievich. I've told him everything. All I can do now is wait. And hope that I'll be able to deal with this – at the very last moment.'
'But doesn't the boss understand all that?'
'I think he understands it all very well.'
'So that's the way . . .' I whispered.
'We were lovers. For a very long time. And we were friends too, something you don't find so often . . . Okay, Anton. Today we solve the problem of the boy and the crazed vampire. Tomorrow we wait. We wait for the Inferno to erupt. Agreed?'
'I have to think about it, Olga.'
'Fine. Think. But my time's up already. Turn away.'
I didn't have time. It was probably Olga's own fault. She'd miscalculated how much time she had left.
It was a truly repulsive sight. Olga shook and arched over backwards. A shudd er ran through her body and the bones bent as if made of rubber. Her skin split open, revealing bleeding muscles. A moment later, and the woman had been transformed into a formless, crumpled bundle of flesh. And the ball kept shrinking, getting smaller and smaller and sprouting soft, white feathers . . .
The owl launched itself off the stool with a cry that sounded half human, half bird, and fluttered across to her chosen place on the fridge.
'Hell and damnation!' I exclaimed, forgetting all the rules. 'Olga!'
'Isn't it lovely?' The woman's voice was gasping, still distorted by pain.
'Why? Why like that?'
'It's part of the punishment, Anton.'
I reached out my hand and touched one outstretched, trembling wing.
'Okay, Olga, I'm with you.'
'Then let's get to work, Anton.'
I nodded and went out into the hallway. I opened the cupboard where I keep my equipment and moved into the Twilight – otherwise you simply can't see anything in there except clothes and a load of old junk.
A light body settled on my shoulder.
'What have you got?'
'I discharged the onyx amulet. Can you recharge it?'
'No, I've been deprived of almost all my powers. All they left me is what's required to neutralise the Inferno. And my memory, Anton . . . they left me my memory. How are you going to kill the girl vampire?'
'She's not registered,' I said. 'I've only got the old folk methods.'
The owl gave a screeching laugh.
'Are poplar stakes still popular?'
'I don't have any.'
'Right. Because of your friends?'
'Yes. I don't want them to shudder every time they step inside the door.'
'What, then?'
I took a pistol out of a hollow gouged in the bricks and glanced sideways at the owl – Olga was studying the gun.
'Silver? Very painful for a vampire, but not fatal.'
'It has explosive bullets.' I slid the clip out of the Desert Eagle. 'Explosive silver bullets. Four four calibre. Three hits and a vampire's totally helpless.'
'And then?'
'Traditional methods.'
'I don't believe in technology,' Olga said doubtfully. 'I've seen a werewolf regenerate after being torn to pieces by a shell.'
'How long did it take to regenerate?'
'Three days.'
'Well, there you are then.'
'All right, Anton. If you have no faith in your own powers . . .'
She was disappointed, I realised that. But then I was no field operative. I was a staff worker assigned to work in the field.
'Everything will be fine,' I reassured her. 'Trust me. Let's just focus on finding the bait.'
'Okay, let's go.'
'This is where it all happened,' I told Olga. We were standing in the alley. In the Twilight, of course.
The occasional passers-by looked odd skirting round me, yet unable to see me.
'This is where you killed the vampire.' Olga's tone couldn't have been more brisk. 'Right ... I understand. You did a poor job cleaning up the mess, but that's not important.'
As far as I could see, there wasn't a trace left of the dead vampire. But I didn't argue.
'The girl vampire was here . . . you hit her with something here . . . no, you splashed vodka on her . . .' Olga laughed quietly. 'She got away . . . Our operatives have completely lost their touch. The trail's still clear even now!'
'She changed,' I said morosely.
'Into a bat?'
'Yes. Garik said she did it at the very last moment.'
'That's bad. This vampire's more powerful than I was hoping.'
'She's completely wild. She's drunk living blood and killed. She has no experience, but plenty of power.'
'We will destroy her,' Olga said sternly.
I didn't say anything.
'And here's the boy's trail.' There was a note of approval in Olga's voice. 'Yes indeed . . . real potential. Let's go and see where he lives.'
We walked out of the alley and set off along the pavement. The houses surrounded a large inner yard on all sides. I could sense the boy's aura too, but it was very weak and confused: he clearly walked round here all the time.
'Straight ahead,' Olga commanded. 'Turn left. Further. Turn right. Stop.'
I stopped facing a street with a trolleybus crawling slowly along it. I didn't emerge from the Twilight yet.
'In that building,' Olga told me. 'Straight ahead. That's where he is.'
The building was a monster, an immensely high, flat slab set on tall legs or stilts. At first glance it looked like some gigantic monument to the matchbox. Look again and you could see it as an expression of a morbid gigantomania.
'That's a good house for killing in,' I said. 'You could go insane in there.'
'Let's try both,' Olga agreed. 'I've got plenty of experience.'