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Oleg Divov

War of the Worlds

And it sounds good: “I’m tired of foreign policy.”

This phrase will be good in the mouth of the brilliant and irresistible Ophelia Guinevere van den Bergh, Princess Sonno, at a social reception in the palace. Casually throw out: oh, excuse me, Your Excellency, I’m tired of foreign policy, I happened to be involved in it in my younger years, and it dealt with me, ha-ha, and positively tired me, let’s better talk about your wonderful horses.

In the language of Major Berg, weariness with foreign policy is described much more simply: Mother Valdez has fed me up with Eldorado, and so does her son, to be honest. To take care of an intriguer who has lost her influence, but still considers herself a major figure - thank you very much. Valdesiha will still make a mess, you don’t need to go to a fortune teller, I myself guarantee you as a great sorceress of the Indian people. Well, a pawn, confident that it is an incognito queen, is also not a gift. Enrique is just waiting for someone to play him big.

True, there is one “but”: the game can turn out unpredictably for all parties. The players feel as if they are in control of the process, but there is a suspicion that they themselves are inside the process, which is controlled by someone from the outside. And also a marginal sect is getting into the game with its bloody paws, nurtured by our intelligence and getting out of hand to such an extent that the great Kid Turner lay low and does not dare to stick his head out, and the cunning and almost omnipotent Jet Ashen imitates a binge, so gifted that even the faithful the secretary is about to leave Mr. Secretary of State. This doesn't bother anyone but me, does it? For Eldoradians, the premonition of a coup d'etat is a normal state, but earthlings have somehow lost the habit. Maybe that's why I'm nervous when I look at Enrique and his precious mother.

I am a practical person in life and have a good understanding of when it is necessary to solve tactical problems. Now the tactical task turned out to be the notorious foreign policy, and for the first time it dawned on me what a trap I had fallen into with the Valdezes. I got caught again, and again with them. The story of my illegal work in Eldorado repeated itself: I cannot leave the game without an order, but there will be no order. Do your duty, Officer Berg.

Previously, I was not at all worried that direct work with dissidents was entirely concentrated in the hands of the War Ministry - it seemed natural. From the point of view of the official Federation, dissident worlds seem to not exist at all. These are not even rebellious provinces, but rather simply undeveloped territories where unidentified private individuals operate, who should be given a slap on the wrist. The Federation has not yet managed to call them to order, but it will definitely call them, develop the territories, and happiness will come there. There are exceptions. While we were gathering our courage, wondering how we could organize Siberia, the Russians could well become dissidents. They had everything for this, including the king, without whom they would be nowhere, but as soon as the king is formed, try to get in touch with them. Well, we thought and thought, but the Russians themselves decided that it was more convenient for them with us - and they entered the Federation with state rights, along with all their national characteristics and an absolutely inappropriate sovereign according to democratic concepts. And the Federation pretended that this was necessary, as long as there was no war. And recently it turned out that while we were again gathering our courage, the Chinese themselves had established order in themselves, a bit scary, but stable, and they also have a king, even an entire emperor - no less, they picked it up from the Russians - and we are generally ready to admit this unfortunate fact is the norm, and illegitimate Shanghai is the sovereign Greater China. Because China is really big, and you can’t guess in advance who will throw hats at whom if it comes to conflict... The little border Kuashnara easily skipped the stage of recognition, everyone was so comfortable with the status of a transit zone that it was easier to graciously forgive it and call it a state than to nag parts with the same Shanghai, excuse me, China, and inevitably lose a piece to the greedy paws of Eldorado.

But we have a problem with Eldorado. We were quite capable of crushing them from the very beginning military force. But this is expensive, fraught with losses and generally inhumane, and especially inhumane in the sense that the Chinese will immediately attack us from the flank. Therefore, before achieving lasting peace with Shanghai - something our people never dreamed of - it seemed much smarter to squeeze the dissidents into a ring of military bases and move on to covert operations. Either nurture a more or less sane dictator, or bring Eldorado to complete ruin. In words it sounded very nice, only the secret operations ended with the creation of the Order of Eve, a bloodbath in Kuashnar, massacres throughout the Federation, and now on Earth.

And whether I like it or not, if we look for someone to blame for who started the whole mess, special military intelligence should bear responsibility for such a sad outcome. And ultimately, its governing body is the Ministry of Defense, and specifically Colin Rontu and Jet Ashen. And I would think seven times who is more worthy of a demonstrative flogging. Rontu, of course, is a rare whip and a slippery type, but let's be fair, he was not yet born when the situation had already taken its worst turn. There is a lot he simply doesn't know. In addition, our minister is a civilian being, a politician whose task is to restore order in the military department. He mainly thinks about how to curry favor with the Senate. But his ninety-year-old deputy national security, a hardened old devil, is obliged to know everything and be responsible for everything.

And he is trying to unravel what he himself helped to confuse, and it seems that he is completely confused.

I learned a lot in Eldorado that I preferred to forget. I had the opportunity to see the intelligence work that I had dreamed of joining all my life, worthy of sincere admiration. And then - its shadow side, worthy only of disgust, no matter how much you love your homeland, no matter how ready you are to even die for it. Now I’ve finally put two and two together - and the Federation’s foreign policy has turned out to be the very back side that, to put it mildly, puzzled me.

This policy is mostly done by random people and in passing. They have completely different interests. They earn money, divide zones of influence, redirect traffic flows... They steal, in short. Or, what’s even worse, with a confident hand they lead people to freedom and joy. Stealing with the other hand.

Maybe I’m slowly becoming a dissident myself, or maybe my work with August and my experience just took its toll recent years, which completely dispelled many illusions. In the Federation, everything seems well thought out and generally looks good, but behind the beautiful façade, anything can turn out to be no good. We simply close our eyes to some things – we’re used to them. But it shouldn't be like that. And in the situation with Eldorado, it is obvious to me: what intelligence calls “the coherence of the operation” has been violated. The Senate is confident that they know what we should do with Arrigno - hell, Arrigno will do you twice. No, with all due respect, Dr. Arrigno is not good enough to outsmart the entire Federation single-handedly. It’s just that Jet Ashen has a special opinion about him, and he will allow the dictator to play as he sees fit. By the way, Mother Valdez also has her own opinion. And Enrique's. And the one who stands behind the Order of Eve has a very special opinion. I hope, I really hope that the Siberian counterintelligence has some opinion. I just want to call Dima Pavlov and ask him to do something truly terrible so that this mess will be closed out of fright.

Sorry, but in Major Berg’s terms, this is just a mess, and not foreign policy at all. And the fate of millions of people is actually at stake. And mine too. And my son.

Too much has been left to those who, in theory, should not decide such issues. Too much depends on the dedication and goodwill of the performers. So you can neither fight with the Eldoradians nor negotiate. This is no way to conduct business at all. I've already seen this. I know how it ends.

Like then, in Eldorado.

Part one

Golden Mexico City is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

It is wonderful during the day when its snow-white buildings are illuminated by the sun. It is wonderful in the evening, when the lights turn on and dressed-up people come out onto the streets. It is wonderful at night, when its squares, squares and majestic embankments are empty. But it is most wonderful before dawn, when multi-colored illumination mixes with the timid rays of a pink dawn.

Everything turned out to be ridiculous and scary. A chain of brutal murders and terrorist attacks could lead Inquisitor McKinby to the leaders of the conspiracy. But there is no conspiracy as such, only a fight for power. Instead of a revolution there will be a coup. Instead of the Federation - controlled chaos. Instead of the New World - civil war. As Della Berg promised, you have been scammed. All at once. The lives of millions and the fate of billions of people are at stake. If you are ready to answer for them, organize your own conspiracy. Invite the fugitive Eldoradian dictator and his sworn enemy; star princes and generals; dissidents and counterintelligence; unsuccessful religious leaders who were taken away from the hands of a totalitarian sect and sold to a new owner. Good company. On hand are real Indians, a brilliant programmer and a retired Satanist. Become state criminals. There is no other way. Conscience doesn't allow it. It is difficult to understand who are friends and who are enemies. It's hard to know who the next target is. And somewhere a Russian saboteur is wandering: he seems to be for our people, only he has problems in...

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The seventh novel from the series “Profession: Inquisitor” about the New World from the modern Russian master of action-packed fantasy Oleg Divov. The author's favorite genre is dystopia.

War of the Worlds Oleg Divov

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Title: War of the Worlds
Author: Oleg Divov
Year: 2016
Genre: Detective fiction, Science fiction, Social fiction

About the book “War of the Worlds” Oleg Divov

Oleg Divov’s novel “War of the Worlds” is the seventh and, apparently, not the last book in the “Profession: Inquisitor” series. Structurally, the book is divided into two parts. The first tells how Della served as an agent on the planet Eldorado. It is smaller in volume, and serves as the end of the story told in the previous book, and the background for this book.
The genre of the book is detective fiction, although some define it as a romance novel, since most of The narrative is given to the story of Dalla Berg, not her boss August McKinby. But in fact, this is a high-quality adventure novel with constantly changing scenery and new faces.
Indeed, enough space is given to the inquisitor’s assistant: Della already has a child from her first marriage and has managed to marry her boss in a fictitious marriage, which has made everyone wait for their marriage to become real. Also, the heroine of the novel “War of the Worlds” decides to end her intelligence career and decides on her position in life, proving to everyone her loyalty to the McKinby clan.
What happens to the rest of Oleg Divov’s characters? Confused in their own intrigues, everyone has to accept help from Ophelia, since they have no other ways to avoid trouble. But new problems are looming over Augustus himself: he is accused of treason, and it will not be easy for the inquisitor to clear his name.
Meanwhile, the conspiracy that August McKinby has been trying to unravel for several books now leads to the worst thing that could happen in the Federation - a coup, chaos and civil war. And then the hero of Oleg Divov has to become what he has been trying to catch all this time - a conspirator who enters into alliances with dubious personalities, an intriguer and, in fact, a state criminal. What can you do for the benefit of billions of people? And most importantly, none of this motley company knows who will be the next victim in a complex and confusing game.
"War of the Worlds" is a complex social fiction with a detective plot. In addition, love and feelings also find a place in this world of war and intrigue. And, as practice shows, dealing with galactic terrorists is much easier than dealing with the feelings of one stern inquisitor and his wayward assistant.

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Oleg Divov

War of the Worlds

And it sounds good: “I’m tired of foreign policy.”

True, there is one “but”: the game can turn out unpredictably for all parties. It seems to the players that they are managing the process, but there is a suspicion that they themselves are inside the process, which is being controlled by someone from the outside. And also a marginal sect is getting into the game with its bloody paws, nurtured by our intelligence and getting out of hand to such an extent that the great Kid Turner lay low and does not dare to stick his head out, and the cunning and almost omnipotent Jet Ashen imitates a binge, so gifted that even the faithful the secretary is about to leave Mr. Secretary of State. This doesn't bother anyone but me, does it? For Eldoradians, the premonition of a coup d'etat is a normal state, but earthlings have somehow lost the habit. Maybe that's why I'm nervous when I look at Enrique and his precious mother.

I am a practical person in life and have a good understanding of when it is necessary to solve tactical problems. Now the notorious foreign policy turned out to be a tactical task, and for the first time it dawned on me what a trap I had fallen into with the Valdezes. I got caught again, and again with them. The story of my illegal work in Eldorado repeated itself: I cannot leave the game without an order, but there will be no order. Do your duty, Officer Berg.

Previously, I was not at all worried that direct work with dissidents was entirely concentrated in the hands of the War Ministry - it seemed natural. From the point of view of the official Federation, dissident worlds seem to not exist at all. These are not even rebellious provinces, but rather simply undeveloped territories where unidentified private individuals operate, who should be given a slap on the wrist. The Federation has not yet managed to call them to order, but it will definitely call them, develop the territories, and happiness will come there. There are exceptions. While we were gathering our courage, wondering how we could organize Siberia, the Russians could well become dissidents. They had everything for this, including a king, without whom they would be nowhere, but as soon as a king is formed, try to come to them. Well, we thought and thought, but the Russians themselves decided that it was more convenient for them with us - and they entered the Federation as a state, along with all their national characteristics and a sovereign who was absolutely inappropriate according to democratic concepts. And the Federation pretended that this was necessary, as long as there was no war. And recently it turned out that while we were again gathering our courage, the Chinese themselves had established order in themselves, scary, but stable, and they also have a king, even an entire emperor - no less, they picked it up from the Russians - and we are generally ready to admit this unfortunate fact is the norm, and illegitimate Shanghai is the sovereign Greater China. Because China is really big, and you can’t guess in advance who will throw hats at whom if it comes to conflict... The little border Kuashnara easily skipped the stage of recognition, everyone was so comfortable with the status of a transit zone that it was easier to graciously forgive it and call it a state than to nag parts with the same Shanghai, excuse me, China, and inevitably lose a piece to the greedy paws of Eldorado.

But we have a problem with Eldorado. From the very beginning we were quite capable of crushing them with military force. But this is expensive, fraught with losses and generally inhumane, and especially inhumane in the sense that the Chinese will immediately attack us from the flank. Therefore, before achieving lasting peace with Shanghai - something our people never dreamed of - it seemed much smarter to squeeze the dissidents into a ring of military bases and move on to secret operations. Either nurture a more or less sane dictator, or bring Eldorado to complete ruin. In words it sounded very nice, only the secret operations ended with the creation of the Order of Eve, a bloodbath in Kuashnar, massacres throughout the Federation, and now on Earth.

And whether I like it or not, if we look for someone to blame for who started the whole mess, special military intelligence should bear responsibility for such a sad outcome. And ultimately, its governing body is the Ministry of Defense, and specifically Colin Rontu and Jet Ashen. And I would think seven times who is more worthy of a demonstrative flogging. Rontu, of course, is a rare whip and a slippery type, but let's be fair, he was not yet born when the situation had already taken its worst turn. There is a lot he simply doesn't know. In addition, our minister is a civilian being, a politician whose task is to restore order in the military department. He mainly thinks about how to curry favor with the Senate. But his ninety-year-old deputy for national security, a bitter old devil, is obliged to know everything and be responsible for everything.

And he is trying to unravel what he himself helped to confuse, and it seems that he is completely confused.

Maybe I’m slowly becoming a dissident myself, or maybe it’s just my work with August and the experience of recent years that has completely dispelled many illusions. In the Federation, everything seems well thought out and generally looks good, but behind the beautiful façade, anything can turn out to be no good. We just close our eyes to some things - we’re used to it. But it shouldn't be like that. And in the situation with Eldorado, it is obvious to me: what intelligence calls “the coherence of the operation” has been violated. The Senate is confident that they know what we should do with Arrigno - hell, Arrigno will do you twice. No, with all due respect, Dr. Arrigno is not good enough to outsmart the entire Federation single-handedly. It’s just that Jet Ashen has a special opinion about him, and he will allow the dictator to play as he sees fit. By the way, Mother Valdez also has her own opinion. And Enrique's. And the one who stands behind the Order of Eve has a very special opinion. I hope, I really hope that the Siberian counterintelligence has some opinion. I just want to call Dima Pavlov and ask him to do something truly terrible so that this mess will be closed out of fright.

Sorry, but in Major Berg’s terms, this is just a mess, and not foreign policy at all. And the fate of millions of people is actually at stake. And mine too. And my son.

Like then, in Eldorado.

Part one

Golden Mexico City is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

I checked the list of orders from the free dispatch center. Nothing attractive. If I earned a little more, I would buy a subscription to Senora Perez’s control room. There are always good clients there. Señora Perez also takes care of female taxi drivers and tries to select calls for women for them. Older rich women.

However, there is an order. A lady with a teenage son, space for a cage with a cat and two pieces of luggage. From Center to Hollow. Seventy-five kilometers one way. I have time to leave the city limits before seven in the morning. If the client is not transported with loading. After seven in the morning I have no right to take clients in the city. If caught, the fine would wipe out all my rainy day savings. Of course, I don’t need to save for my old age, but with my lifestyle, a rainy day can happen once a week, and here I am self-sufficient. Besides, I can't stand the Hollow, its arrogant women, its pompous men, its cruel children. I will not go. Let the lady be carried by someone less sensitive to humiliation. And I'm going home. It is unlikely that there will be another order that I will have time to complete before seven in the morning.

And I turned onto the General Franz embankment.

I really love this place. Promenade Franz is not the most luxurious in Mexico City. There are no fountains and five-meter-high openwork stands entwined with tropical flowers, like on the embankment of St. Queen Isabella. There are no temples and arches in the Roman style, as in the Hidalgo Memorial Square. There are no luxurious restaurants, a theater and a square, like in Prince Felipe Square. There is only an endless, entire length of the embankment, plane tree alley - the border of the city park - and a beautifully trimmed lawn. But it’s from here best view to the Saint Dominic Bridge. Just a sight for sore eyes.

It was starting to get light, so I saw a mysterious group of people from afar. A car at the side of the road, abandoned in violation of parking rules, and four men at the very parapet. The car is expensive, a Seville, and the men are typical regulars of working-class clubs. Strange. Only one is well dressed.

A second later I realized it was a robbery. I have no idea why the rich guy stopped and came out to talk to the bandits. I slowed down, changed lanes so that I could drive up close, and with my left hand I automatically touched the baseball bat attached to the side of the seat.

I didn't have to fight. Seeing my car, one bandit ran to the Seville, another hit the rich man in the face so that he went limp, and together with the third he threw his body over the parapet. I gasped - this is murder! But three of them jumped into the Seville and took off exactly when I was fifty meters away from them.

Of course, I didn't chase them. I sent an SOS to the police, along with a photo of the Seville, and jumped out to see if I could help the man in the river.

I didn't see the body. The current here was weak and the depth was not very deep. It seemed like they didn’t tie anything heavy to his legs... I grabbed the tow rope, fastened it to the car and jumped into the water.

Luckily, I found the body right away. If it had been a little brighter, I would have seen him from the parapet. But this would not have saved the man - he fell face down. I turned him over and pushed him towards the very facing, where, under the water, I knew there was a small ledge. In the summer, when the heat set in, children from poor families, those whose parents could not buy a ticket to the beach, sunbathed on these ledges along the entire river. I sat the man on this ledge, wrapped him in a rope - fortunately, the length was literally enough - and checked how firmly he was sitting. The nearest staircase from the embankment to the water was about a hundred meters away, I swam them in one fell swoop.

At the top, a wave of chills covered me - a light breeze cut to the bones, and wet clothes and hair added to the unpleasant sensations. I plopped into the car, trying not to think about the fact that I wasn’t destined to sleep today, and in general the day was wasted, because I would have to dry the interior. She carefully moved away, looking around all the time. When a limp body appeared at the parapet level, she stopped.

I broke three nails while dragging a man over the parapet. Damn it, where are the police? They should have arrived a long time ago! In theory, we should call the doctors, but they will appear even later, and now every minute counts. Looks like I'll have to pump it out myself.

When the police finally arrived, the man was already coughing. Very young, I involuntarily noted. Quite handsome. Well maintained. Obviously not a military man. He blinked, looked at me in confusion with dark brown, almost black eyes and did not understand anything.

Who you are? - he asked finally.

Dolores Castro,” I answered. - Taxi driver. I saw you thrown into the river and helped you get out.

He closed his eyes martyrically. I wanted to say something, but I started coughing again.

The police pushed me away from him. I didn't hear what they were talking about. Then they took care of me. I gave them a copy of the recording from my registrar, and basically that was the end of their interest in me. It is clear that later they will drag me to the police several more times to give oral testimony, but right now I was allowed to go home.

Meanwhile, the man rose to his feet. The police urged him to go to the hospital, but he refused. I heard: “...I’ll call a taxi, it’s not that difficult.” Of course, I couldn’t resist:

Senor, why call, I’m already here and I still have a whole hour to work. If the seigneur lives nearby, I will be happy to take him. Besides, it will be better than waiting for another car. The senor had better not stand in the wind, he might catch a cold.

Strictly speaking, this was pure rudeness on my part. Men of this circle do not take cheap taxis. And even offering them your services is not recommended. We, taxi drivers in rented cars, clients of the free dispatch service, are no better to them than beggars or women of easy virtue. In case of trouble, such a person can be easily transported by the police. But I saw that he was disgusted by the police. He disdained them.

Of course, they taunted me. They even wanted to explain where my place was. But the man stopped talking with one imperious gesture and went to the car:

Fine. Not far to go.

I opened the door for him. He froze:

Sorry, my clothes are wet.

How polite! And not at all arrogant.

Don't worry, sir, I do too. Sit down, I'll turn on the heating now to keep you warm.

He sat in the back seat. And he stared into my face so surprised, so intently that I felt uneasy. Maybe he saw me somewhere? God forbid, of course. In my profession, such chance encounters are a definite failure.

Is something wrong, sir?

You're a very beautiful girl.

I smiled:

So are you ready to go?

Oh yes, of course.

He just stared at me when I pulled out onto the roadway.

You too... in wet clothes.

He said it with such effort that I almost laughed. This is what a well-mannered boy means! He is embarrassed to show that the girl is not in proper shape, but he noticed it. Besides, the wet cloth clung to my body, and the boy probably never pestered the maids in his house. And the poor girl is also a person for him.

He asked to be taken to the Springs - the oldest quarter of Mexico City. According to legend, the camp of the first colonists who discovered the wonderful planet was located there, and in the middle of the quarter there was still a patch of scorched earth - supposedly a landing site for ships. I knew for sure that the three ships of the first expedition landed on a low plateau one hundred and fifty kilometers from here, in the foothills, and only ten years later they moved here to the river bank. And the scorched patch remained from the bandit war, when three groups of colonists divided the right to the capital. Actually, in the annals of Eldorado, that war is listed as the First Civil War, but, it seems to me, there is a lot of honor in calling it a Civil War, in which all participants, including non-combatants, numbered about twelve thousand, and the total number of victims killed and wounded did not reach fifty people. Well, it lasted two weeks, until one of the three parties to the conflict obtained several missiles, through which they forced the opponents to capitulate. General Franz, whose embankment I love to visit, was originally an American sergeant of Mexican descent. When the Scattering began, he decided that he was wasting his time in the service, quickly shot down the gang, captured the ship and went in search of a better life. A better life found in Eldorado. Having defeated his competitors, he became the first mayor of Mexico City, then consisting of barracks and tents, and his accomplices became the founders of most of the families that supplied the junta with new generals and dictators. Franz is sometimes called the first dictator, although the dictatorship emerged as an institution eighteen years after his death. Franz died at the age of thirty-nine from a helminthic infestation, which is called “Nile fever” here. He left no descendants or good memories. Actually, that’s why in Golden Mexico they gave his name to a modest embankment - it’s impossible not to honor him at all, but this pathologically cruel man did not deserve admiration.

As for Springs, the most influential people initially settled here - near springs with clean water, not contaminated with worms. Today Rodniki was known as a truly aristocratic quarter, although due to its cramped space and “natural” layout it was inconvenient to live here.

I only knew this place from the map, but it was my first time visiting. We stopped in front of a high gate. A security guard in a sergeant's uniform approached and bent towards the window. I knew what he wanted to say: get out of here before the wheels fall off. Therefore, I immediately leaned away so that my passenger could be seen.

Let him through,” the passenger ordered him.

The guard changed his face and ran to open it.

Should I drive up to the house? - I clarified.

Yes please. I would like to thank you.

Well, sir! This is completely useless.

No no. Your seats are wet, you won't be able to work. I'll tell the mechanic to fix the car. And you need dry clothes, otherwise you will get sick. I can't let this happen.

“Come out,” the lieutenant ordered, however, in a rather soft tone. Well, a person is used to being in charge, so what now. - You will be escorted into the house.

The car was taken away, and under the watchful eye of the sergeant, I was allowed into the hall. They immediately showed me the side door. That's right, don't lead me up the main staircase, the gentlemen might be upset.

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