I lengthened my stride, bounded up to the door, and hastily unlocked it. Damn, what kind of stupid habit was that? Why would I want to lock my door in the Night Watch, when there weren’t any outsiders here? But all the same I did it . . .

The phone was lying on the desk, still ringing. Stubbornly and insistently. Somehow it was clear that it wouldn’t carry on ringing for long—and this call was very important for whoever was making it.

But, at the same time, I didn’t want to answer it.

“Hello,” I said, raising the phone to my ear.

“Antoine!” Erasmus Darwin exclaimed with genuine feeling that I could sense through all the digital relay stations, fiber-optic cables, and satellites suspended in the sky that bridged the two and a half thousand kilometers between us. “I am exceedingly glad to hear your voice! I hope you are presently in good health and a positive frame of mind?”

“Thank you, Erasmus,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the desk. “Yes, I am in good health and a positive frame of mind.”

“I am most gratified to hear that,” said Erasmus. “Are you presently in Muscovy, or has duty carried you further afield to regions unknown?”

“Yes, I’m in Moscow,” I confessed.

I didn’t like the way Erasmus was talking. He was far too agitated. Speaking just a little bit more hastily than usual. And I could hear some kind of noise in the background. Not loud, but unpleasant.

“What a pity that we can only speak for two and a half minutes!” said Erasmus.

“Why?” I asked in surprise. “Er . . . is your mobile phone running down? Or is there no money in the account?”

Erasmus laughed quietly.

“No, no! There’s enough money in it to last to the end of my life. Antoine . . . please. I can’t carry on guessing about the Great Gesar’s present. Tell me, Antoine! What is the secret of the bonsai that he sent me?”

The noise in the phone grew louder.

I hesitated for a moment.

“Erasmus, I don’t know for sure. I haven’t asked Gesar. But I think I’ve realized what the truth is.”

“Well, well?” Erasmus asked eagerly.

“It’s just a little tree in a pot. Just a bonsai. Without any magic. Gesar’s idea of a joke.”

Erasmus said nothing for a second, while the noise in the earpiece grew louder. Then he burst into laughter.

“Gesar! Oh, the cunning old Tibetan fox! I’d been told that he likes wacky jokes! Thank you, Antoine! I had to find out. I had to hear the answer. Otherwise it was just too upsetting!”

“Erasmus, what’s going on?” I asked. “Pardon me for asking, but are you drunk?”

“Yes, a little bit,” he admitted. I heard a distinct gulp. “But this is such a rare whisky . . . so very old. I was keeping it for a special occasion . . .”