“Take out my pistol and attempt to detain him,” Pastukhov replied.

The audience seemed to be surprised. There was total silence. Pastukhov shuffled his feet.

“Don’t go thinking that I’m some crazy, gung-ho kind of hero,” he said guiltily. “But what would I think? That it was some sort of psycho who’d dressed himself up as a vampire or a werewolf. That means he can be arrested. What can he do against a pistol? But if I know—the way I know a little bit about you—well then, of course, no. I’d run for it! But you wanted to know how an ordinary cop—a policeman, that is, would react . . .”

I quietly opened the door a bit and walked out of the hall.

Somehow I didn’t like what was going on. Since when had they started preparing the Night Watch for interacting with the human agencies of law enforcement? The humans were on their own and we were on our own. That was the way it had always been. Or maybe not always?

No, I definitely didn’t like this.

I looked round. Over at one side, beside a little projecting wall, Las was standing, smoking stealthily and hiding the cigarette in his fist like a schoolboy.

“What are you up to?” I asked, taken by surprise.

“What can a cop tell me that I don’t already know?” Las asked rhetorically. “Though I remember I met one cop who played a Vivaldi concerto on the flute. Now that did surprise me!”

“Well, why shouldn’t a man have a hobby like that?” I asked, shrugging. “No matter if he’s a policeman to the depths of his soul—if he enjoys playing, let him!”

“Right, but not standing under the falling snow in winter, on duty!” Las protested. He thought for a second and added. “His playing was lousy anyway, I tell you honestly. Definitely a C-minus.”

I shook my head. I had never encountered any militiamen or policemen who played the flute. In general I hadn’t come across even a tenth as many amusing little scenes as Las saw all around him. I’d come across plenty that were beastly and abominable, but not the amusing kind.

“In the first place,” I began, “I wasn’t invited to the lecture.”

Las nodded understandingly and whispered: “Yes, I would have been offended too!”

“In the second place, I find the whole subject rather strange,” I went on, ignoring the jibe. “Are we preparing for a series of cataclysms or something?”

“There’s no stability,” said Las. “The terrorists have seized another plane.”

“What plane?” I asked, pricking up my ears.

Las looked at me suspiciously. Then he shut his cigarette end in a pocket ashtray and waved his hand about to disperse the smoke.