We had flown in from Paris that morning, and then I had taken Egor to the Economic Achievements Exhibition district, where his mother still lived. Only then did I go home and grab barely two hours’ sleep. There was something heroic about it. As there was in the impervious, restrained expression on my face. “Good morning, boss,” I said. “Egor has come to Moscow, he’s staying with his mother. He’s prepared to take part in our operations if necessary.” “Good,” said Gesar, studying my face curiously. “Well done, both of you. I’m glad.” “Can I go?” I asked. “Hmm,” Gesar said. “Is that all? No questions, arguments, or accusations?” “No,” I said. “Can I go?” “Wait,” said Gesar. “Sit down.” I obediently sat facing him. “Anton, you have every right to be indignant,” said Gesar. “But let me explain at the very start—there wasn’t even any magic involved! Just psychology. An understanding of the motives that guide people and Others. Only you could have persuaded Egor to come to Moscow and agree to a suicide mission, and then only if you sincerely tried to talk him out of it.”
