A couple of minutes later I was standing in the elevator, wearing the bathrobe over my trunks and a pair of hotel slippers. And a couple of minutes after that I was lying in cool water and looking up at the sky.

The hotel swimming pool was on the roof. Huge, deep, and almost completely deserted—either because it was so early or because all the other guests were busy with other things. Apart from me, the only person there was a fat man of European appearance, lounging in the round bowl of the jacuzzi that projected into one corner of the pool and gazing at me benignly. Probably the right thing to do would have been to start dashing across the smooth surface of the water, tearing it open with a lively crawl, a stubborn breaststroke or an energetic butterfly. Maybe my example would have inspired the chubby hotel guest to take up sport and develop a wonderful physique—and could eventually have led to him changing his life completely.

But I myself could only swim in one style, the one that we used to call “frog paddling” when I was a kid, which is basically the most primitive possible variety of breaststroke, known to mankind ever since Neolithic times.

And, apart from that, I felt too lazy.

I splashed about in the pool for a while, gazing at the clear blue sky. Early September in Taiwan is quite a hot period, and it rains frequently too. But this morning it was remarkably cool and sunny at the same time.

It would be good to stay on here for a few days . . . No, it would be better to come here with my wife and daughter. To take a look at a different natural setting and culture, try the local cuisine, and really go swimming in the sea. It was a shame Svetlana didn’t want to come back to the Watch. With her abilities . . .

I sighed and climbed out of the water. It was time to have breakfast and look for Arina—the Witch wasn’t likely to be in the mood to sleep until midday.

We set out for the museum in a taxi, although I had suggested getting to know the Taiwan underground system. The museum was located outside the city, and we drove past new and old neighborhoods along a rapid-transit highway. I gazed out of the window curiously.

“You should travel more, Gorodetsky,” Arina said, glancing round at me. “Otherwise when you’re away on business external appearances will distract you from the essence of things.”

“Everything just doesn’t add up, somehow,” I admitted.

“Take your example from your bosses,” Arina continued. “Gesar, for example. Born in Tibet. Worked in territory that is now modern China and India. And then in Europe—in Holland.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise.