“Dmitry, may I ask you another question, then?” said Olga, rejoining the conversation. “On a slightly different subject, but nonetheless . . . There’s a ship sailing over the sea. A large one, with many passengers on board, very many. The hold springs a leak. There aren’t enough lifeboats. They can’t wait for help—it simply won’t get there in time. The captain realizes they won’t be able to save everyone, but the passengers aren’t yet aware of the situation. What would you do?”

Pastukhov knitted his brows. Then he asked hopefully: “This is a kind of test, right? We had a visit from a psychologist, he asked questions like that . . .”

“No, no!” Olga said, shaking her head. “It’s not a test, not that. Simply a question. What do you think should be done in a situation like that?”

“Well, probably they should put the children in the lifeboats,” said Pastukhov, after thinking for a moment. “And the women, if they’ll fit.”

He was speaking sincerely, I could see that. And I immediately started to like the senior sergeant a lot more than when he was talking about the corrective power of pain and fear.

“Not even all the children will fit in!” said Olga. “And it’s by no means certain that they’ll survive in the lifeboats without any grown-ups, anyway.”

Pastukhov knitted his brows.

“They could save those who are most deserving . . .” he said thoughtfully. “You know, distinguished people with special honors and such . . .” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and objected to his own idea. “No, that’s no good. Who’s going to decide, eh? Who’s worthy, who isn’t . . . you’d end up with a real set-to. I’d probably do nothing.”

“Nothing?” asked Olga. Curiously, not judgmentally.

“Nothing!” Pastukhov replied, speaking firmly this time. “Well, you know, of course I’d order the crew to pump the water out, block off the hole with some kind of plug . . .”

“They use patches for that!” someone well informed on maritime matters told him from the hall.

“With a patch, then,” Pastukhov agreed. “But otherwise—let the musicians play and the waiters serve the food . . .”

He must have watched Titanic just recently, I thought.

“But who’s going to be saved?” Olga carried on questioning him.

“Whoever manages to get away,” Pastukhov said, with a shrug. “Whoever realizes that the ship is sinking, that there aren’t enough lifeboats. That would be the fairest way of all. Afterwards, when everybody realizes, you could try to impose some kind of order.”

“Thank you, that’s a very valuable opinion,” said Olga. “Any more questions?”

“Dmitry, this is a different situation . . .” said someone in the audience. “You’re an ordinary person, a cop, I mean, a polizei . . . uh, sorry. An ordinary policeman who knows nothing about Others. At night you come across a creature who behaves exactly as if he’s a vampire—or a werewolf, say. What would you do?”