EF06 - The State Counsellor (36 page)

'So you told her that you and I would be in room number six?' Erast Petrovich asked, his face brightening.

But the bright little ray of hope was immediately extinguished.

'That's just the point: I didn't. I didn't tell Diana anything about that at all. But she did know about our meeting, there's no doubt at all about it. Later that night, when I went back to Diana's, ablaze with the thirst for vengeance, she gaped at me as if I had risen from hell. That was when I realised. She knew, the vile beast, she knew. But this time I acted more cleverly and left one of my men to watch her. While one was here, on guard duty with you, the other was watching Diana. But really, how
did
she find out about room number six?' Pozharsky asked, returning to the unpleasant subject. 'You didn't tell anyone in the Department or the Office, did you? She must have someone else, apart from Burlyaev and Sverchinsky.'

'No, I didn't t-tell anyone in the Department or the Office about room number six,' Fandorin replied, choosing his words carefully.

The prince inclined his head to one side: his straw-coloured hair and his coal-black eyes made him look like a performing poodle.

'Well, well. And now for my plan, in which you have been given absolutely the most pivotal part to play. Thanks to the insidious Diana, we know where the Combat Group is hiding. In fact the apartment belongs to Diana, but our collaborator has not lived there for a long time. She finds life more interesting beneath an official roof.'

'You know where the CG is hiding?' Erast Petrovich froze with his arm halfway into the sleeve of a blue frock coat that appeared to be cut to his size. 'And you haven't detained them yet?'

'Do I look to you like that idiot Burlyaev, God rest his soul?' the prince asked with a reproachful shake of his head. 'There are seven of them, all armed to the teeth. It would be another battle of Borodino; we'd have to rebuild Moscow again afterwards, like they did in the twelfth century. No, Erast Petrovich. We'll take them nice and neatly, and choose a time and place that suit us.'

Having finished dressing, Fandorin sat down on the bed, facing the enterprising deputy director of police, and prepared to listen.

'This evening, about three hours ago, another note was left at our partisans' apartment. What it said was: "You botched it. You let them both get away. But you have a chance to redeem your error. Pozharsky and Fandorin are having another secret meeting tomorrow. In Briusov Square, at nine in the morning." After the miraculous agility that you and I demonstrated at the baths, Mr Green will throw his entire army against us, we need have no doubt about that. Do you know Briusov Square, with the public park?'

'Yes. An excellent place f-for an ambush,' the State Counsellor admitted. 'In the morning it is empty; no innocent bystanders will be hurt. Blank walls on three sides. The marksmen can be positioned on the roofs.'

And on the battlements of the St Simeon Monastery - the archimandrite has already given his blessing for such a godly cause. As soon as they enter the square, we seal off the street too. We'll manage without any gendarmes. At dawn the Flying Squad arrives from St Petersburg, I've summoned them. They're genuine Mamelukes, the cream of the Police Department, the best of the best: Not a single terrorist will get away; we'll wipe them out to the last man.'

Erast Petrovich frowned: 'Without even t-trying to arrest them?'

Are you joking? We have to fire without warning, in salvoes. Shoot them all, like mad dogs. Otherwise we'll lose some of our men.'

'It's our men's job to risk their lives,' the State Counsellor declared obstinately. And it's illegal to carry through an operation like this without giving them a chance to lay down their arms.'

'Damn you, then we'll give them a chance. Only you must realise that the risk to you will be greater as a result.' Pozharsky smiled mischievously and explained: 'Under the plan of action you, my dearest Erast Petrovich, have been awarded the honourable role of the live bait. You will sit on a bench, supposedly waiting for me. Let the CG start to nibble and move in a bit closer to you. They won't kill you before I put in an appearance. After all - pardon my lack of modesty - for them the deputy director of police is a daintier morsel than a Moscow functionary, even if he does deal with special assignments. But I shall not present myself to their gaze until the trap has snapped shut. I shall observe all the requirements of the law. Of course, they won’t even think of surrendering, but my announcement will be the signal for you to jump up and take shelter’

T-Take shelter? Where?' asked Fandorin, screwing up his blue eyes. He had found Gleb Georgievich's plan excellent in absolutely every respect, except one: for a certain State Counsellor the road from the park in Briusov Square would lead directly to the cemetery.

'Did you think I'd decided to leave you there, facing a hail of bullets?' Pozharsky asked in an offended tone. 'All the preparations have already been made; they couldn't possibly be improved upon. You sit on the third bench from the entrance to the square. To the right of it is a snowdrift. And under the snow is a pit. In fact, it's the beginning of a trench that leads back all the way to the street. They're going to lay sewer pipes in it. I ordered the trench to be covered over with boards and then piled over with snow, it's invisible now. But there's only thin plywood under the snowdrift beside the bench. As soon as I appear in the square, you jump straight into the snow and astound the watching terrorists by disappearing through the ground. Then you make your way along the trench under the battlefield to the street and climb out, without a scratch. How's that for a plan?' the prince asked proudly, and then suddenly became concerned. 'Or perhaps you're not well after all? Or you don't wish to expose yourself to such a risk. If you are afraid, then speak out. No need to put on a brave face.'

'It's a good p-plan. And the risk is quite moderate.'

Fandorin was in the grip of a feeling stronger than fear. The imminent operation, the risk, the shooting - they were all trifles in comparison with the weight that had suddenly come crashing down on Erast Petrovich: the terrorists had burst into room number six, not any other, and there could be only one explanation ...

'I have a suggestion,' said the prince, pulling his watch out of his waistcoat pocket by the chain. The hour is already late, but I assume you have slept your fill, and I can never get to sleep before a serious operation. Nerves. Why don't we pay a visit to our lovely little recluse? I'll show her to you in the light. I can promise you will find the effect most impressive.'

The State Counsellor gritted his teeth. These final words, which seemed to him to be spoken in a deliberately casual manner, had finally torn the veil away from poor Erast Petrovich's eyes.

Oh God! How could You be so cruel"?

That was the reason for the darkness and the veil, the reason for the whispering!

And Pozharsky's behaviour finally made sense. Why would such an ambitious man have waited until his colleague finally came round? He could have invented a different plan of operations, without involving the Moscow functionary at all. Then he would not have had to share the glory. But apparendy he would not have to anyway. The last thing Fandorin would be interested in was glory.

Pozharsky was not merely a careerist. Success in his job was not enough for him: he needed the feeling of victory over everything and everyone. He always had to be the first. And now he had an excellent opportunity to trample down and destroy a man whom he was bound to see as a serious rival.

And there was nothing with which Fandorin could reproach the prince - except perhaps excessive cruelty; but that was an intrinsic feature of his character.

The doomed State Counsellor got to his feet, ready to drain the cup of humiliation to the dregs.

'Very well, let's go.'

The door of the Arbat Street townhouse opened as they approached. A quiet gentleman, who looked very much like the one who had been sitting by the bed, bowed briefly and announced: 'She's in the study. I locked the door. I took her to the water closet once. She asked for water twice. That's all.' 'I see, Korzhikov. You can go back to the hotel. Catch up on your sleep. His Excellency and I will manage on our own here.' And he winked conspiratorially at Erast Petrovich, provoking in him a fleeting but very powerful desire to take the scoffer's neck in both hands and snap the vertebrae that link together body and soul.

'Now, I shall introduce you anew to the celebrated breaker of men's hearts, actress of unsurpassed talent and mysterious beauty' Pozharsky laughed malevolently as he set off up the stairs first.

He unlocked the familiar door, stepped inside and turned the lever of the gas bracket. The room was flooded with gently flickering light.

'Well, mademoiselle, why don't you turn round?' Gleb Georgievich asked derisively, addressing an individual whom Fandorin, still in the corridor, could not see.

'What!' the prince suddenly roared. 'Korzhikov, you dolt, I'll see you in court for this!'

He darted into the room and from the doorway the State Counsellor saw a slim female figure standing motionless, facing the window. The woman's head was inclined melancholically to one side, and the figure only appeared motionless at first glance. A second glance revealed that it was swaying slightly from side to side, and the feet were not quite touching the floor.

'Esfir...' Erast Petrovich whispered, overcome. 'Oh God ...'

The prince took a knife out of his pocket, slashed the rope, and the body slumped to the floor, flapping its arms with the inanimate grace of a rag doll and banging its forehead against the parquet floor before becoming truly motionless.

Ah, damn.' Pozharsky squatted down and clicked his tongue in annoyance. 'She had outlived her usefulness, but even so it's a pity. She was a quite remarkable character. And I wanted to give you a little treat ... Well, now's there's nothing to be done, you'll see this beauty already withered and faded.'

He took the dead woman by the shoulders and turned her on to her back.

Erast Petrovich involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut, but then, ashamed of his own weakness, he forced himself to open them.

The sudden shock of what he saw made him squeeze them shut again. And then he began fluttering his eyelashes in consternation.

Fandorin had never seen the woman lying on the floor before -once seen, a face like that could never be forgotten. One half of it was perfectly normal and even rather pretty in a way, but the features of the other half were flattened and squashed, so that the slit of the eye was set almost vertically, and the cheek bone overlapped the ear.

Pozharsky laughed, very pleased with the effect produced.

'Lovely, isn't she, the she-devil? A birth trauma. The obstetrician grabbed her clumsily with the forceps. Now do you understand Mademoiselle Diana's reason for behaving the way she did? What else could she feel for the men who recoiled from her in horror in the light of day? What else but hate? That's why she liked to live in this enchanted castle, this realm of gloom and silence. Here she was not an unfortunate freak, but the most radiant beauty that any man's imagination could possibly conjure up. Brrrr!' Gleb Georgievich shuddered as he looked at that terrible mask and complained. 'It's all very well for you, but when I think that I spent half of yesterday gratifying a monster like that, it gives me the shivers.'

Erast Petrovich stood there in state of total emotional numbness, still stunned by the shock, but he already knew that the first emotion he would feel as soon as his heart recovered slightly would be acute shame.

'But then, it's quite possible that in hell, where the newly departed has undoubtedly gone, it is precisely her kind that are regarded as the foremost beauties,' the prince remarked philosophically. Anyway, our plan remains in force, Erast Petrovich. Don't forget: the snowdrift is on the right.'

CHAPTER 14

The pit

Pozharsky was late.

Six minutes past nine. Green put his watch back in the pocket of his greatcoat. His Colt was in there too, and his fingers folded firmly round the comfortably fluted butt.

The revolution wasn't in such a bad way after all, if the top brass of the criminal investigation authorities were obliged to meet like conspirators, in secret from their own subordinates. The enemy's camp had been plunged into alarm and uncertainty; everyone there was afraid of his own shadow; they didn't trust anyone. And they were right not to.

Or did they have their suspicions about TG?

It was all very simple. No cause could ever triumph if its supporters were more concerned for their own well-being than anything else. That was why the victory of the revolution was inevitable.

Only you won't live to see it,
Green reminded himself, in order to drive that azure blue back deep inside, the azure that had been struggling so hard to rise to the surface after what had happened yesterday.
You are a match, and. you've already been burning for longer than usual. And you yourself excluded the joys of life from your own existence.

State Counsellor Fandorin was sitting on the next bench, tapping one glove on his knee in his boredom, gazing at the jackdaws hopping about in the branches of an old oak tree.

This handsome, foppishly dressed man was about to die. And it would be impossible ever to find out what he had been thinking about during the final minutes of his life.