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Authors: Boris Akunin

The Coronation (45 page)

BOOK: The Coronation
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Two ladies were talking to each other – in low voices, but I could hear everything quite clearly.

‘. . . and the sovereign shed a tear and said: “This is a sign from above that I should not rule. I shall set aside the crown and go into a monastery, to spend the rest of my days praying for the souls of those who have been killed,”’ said one of the women, a plump and self-important individual but, judging by her appearance, not from the very highest society. ‘My Serge heard that with his own ears because yesterday he was His Majesty’s duty orderly.’

‘Such nobility of soul!’ exclaimed her companion, a somewhat younger and simpler lady, gazing respectfully at the plump woman. ‘But what about Simeon Alexandrovich? Is it true what they say, that he was the one who persuaded the tsar and tsarina to go to that ill-fated ball?’

I cautiously stole closer, pretending to be absorbed in studying some lacy bloomers with frills and ribbons.

‘Absolutely true,’ said the first woman, lowering her voice. ‘Serge heard His Highness say: “It’s nothing important. The hoi polloi have trampled each other in the rush to get hold of something for nothing. Stop playing the baby, Nicky, and get on with ruling.”’

The fat lady seemed unlikely to have enough imagination to invent something like that. How like Simeon Alexandrovich it was to repeat word for word the phrase that was spoken to Alexander the Blessed by the killer of his father!

‘Ah, Filippa Karlovna, but why did they have to go to the French ambassador’s ball on such an evening?’

Filippa Karlovna sighed dolefully. ‘What can I tell you Polinka? I can only repeat what Serge said: “When God wants to punish someone, He takes away their reason.” You see, Count Montebello had ordered a hundred thousand roses to be brought from France especially for the ball. If the ball had been postponed, the roses would have withered. And so Their Majesties came to the rout but as a token of mourning they did not dance. And now there are rumours among the common folk that the tsar and his German woman danced with delight at knowing they had killed so many Orthodox souls. It’s terrible, simply terrible!’

Oh Lord, I thought, what inexcusable frivolity! To set the whole of Russia against oneself for the sake of some roses! The Khodynsk Field tragedy could still have been explained by some unfortunate confluence of circumstances; an exemplary trial of the organisers of the revels could have been arranged – anything at all, as long as the authority of the supreme ruler was maintained. But now universal hatred would be directed not only against the governor general of Moscow, but also against the tsar and tsarina, and everybody would say roses are more important to them than people.

We walked back along the street, carrying numerous boxes and bundles. I do not know what Fandorin was thinking about, but he had an air of concentration – probably he was making plans for further action. With an effort I also forced myself to start thinking in practical terms: how could we find the fugitive Lord Banville and Mikhail Georgievich?

Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘And Freyby?’ I exclaimed.

‘What about Freyby?’

‘We have forgotten all about him, but he is one of Lind’s men too, that is obvious! And the doctor left him in the Hermitage for a good reason – to act as his spy! Why, of course!’ I groaned, appalled at the belatedness of my realisation. ‘Freyby behaved strangely from the beginning. On the very first day he said that there must be a spy in the house. He deliberately led us astray so that suspicion would not fall on him! And there is something else. I completely forgot to tell you. When Lieutenant Endlung and I set out to follow Banville and Carr, Freyby said to me: “Look more carefully today.” I was struck by it at the time – as if he knew what I was going out to do!’

‘“Look more carefully today”? That is what he said?’ Fandorin asked in surprise.

‘Yes, with the help of his dictionary.’

We were obliged to interrupt our conversation because we were already approaching the house.

Mademoiselle greeted us still wearing the same bedspread, but with her hair neatly brushed and smelling fragrant.

‘Oh, presents!’ she exclaimed, surveying our baggage with delight. ‘Quick, quick!’

And she set about untying the ribbons and string right there in the hallway.


Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que c’est
?’
1
Emilie muttered as she extracted the pantaloons chosen by Erast Petrovich from their pink packaging. ‘
Quelle horreur
!
Pour qui me prenez vous
?’
2

Fandorin was a pitiful sight. His face fell completely when Mademoiselle declared that the pink corset with the lilac lacing was absolutely vulgar, only
coquettes
wore things like that and it exceeded her modest proportions by at least three sizes.

I was indignant. This man could not be trusted to do anything! I had only been distracted for a minute, and he had spoiled everything. The silk stockings were the only purchase he had made that received approval.

But there was a shock in store for me too. When she took the wonderful hat with violets that I liked so much out of its box, Mademoiselle first raised her eyebrows in surprise and then laughed. She ran across to the mirror and turned her head this way and that.


Un vrai épouvanteil
!’
3
was her pitiless judgement.

The remarkable dress of barège and the silk shoes, the latest Parisian chic, were judged no less harshly. ‘I see, gentlemen, that in the most important things of all you are not to be trusted,’ Emilie concluded with a sigh. ‘But at least I can get to the Hermitage, and then change my clothes.’

Before he put Mademoiselle in the cab, Erast Petrovich gave her his final instructions.

‘Tell them that Ziukin and I rescued you from captivity and we are continuing our search for Lind. Do not give away our address. You do not know that we have the Orlov and the other jewels. Rest and recover your strength. And one other thing.’ He whispered although the coachman could not possibly have understood French: ‘As far as we can tell, Freyby is one of Lind’s men. Keep an eye on him and take special care. But not a word about this to Karnovich, or the colonel might spoil everything in his eagerness. Definitely do tell him about Banville. Let the police join in the search, it will make Lind’s life more difficult. Well that is all. Goodbye. If something urgent comes up, telephone. You know the number.’

He shook her hand. Ah, gloves, I thought. We had completely forgotten to buy her gloves!

‘Goodbye, my friends,’ Emilie said, fluttering her long eyelashes and switching her gaze from Fandorin to me. ‘I am eternally in your debt. You freed me from that dreadful cellar, where I was choking to death on the smell of rotten potatoes.’ Her grey eyes glinted mischievously. ‘It was very romantic, just like a novel about chivalrous knights. Although I have never heard of knights rescuing a beautiful lady from an enchanted castle with a yard keeper’s crowbar before.’

She waved to us in farewell and the carriage set off towards the Myasnitsky Gate.

We gazed after her for a long time, until the cab disappeared round a bend. I glanced sideways at Fandorin. He looked thoughtful, even rather bewildered. Could this lady’s man possibly have developed special feelings for Emilie?

‘What next?’ I asked in an emphatically cool voice.

Fandorin’s face suddenly turned gloomy and determined, but he did not answer me straight away, only after a very lengthy pause indeed.

‘Right, Ziukin, the women and the wagons are in a safe place. And we are b-back on the warpath. Doctor Lind is strolling around at liberty, and that means our mission has not been completed.’

‘The most important thing is to save His Highness,’ I reminded him. ‘I hope that the desire for vengeance will not lead you to disregard Mikhail Georgievich’s fate.’

He was embarrassed, it was quite obvious. That meant my reminder had been timely.

‘Yes, yes, of course. But in any case we first need to reach our irrepressible doctor. How are we going to do it?’

‘Through Freyby?’ I said with a shrug. ‘The butler must have some way to contact Lind.’

‘I keep thinking about Mr Freyby,’ said Erast Petrovich, climbing the steps and opening the door. ‘Something there doesn’t add up. If he really is Lind’s man, then why would he warn us about a spy? And why would he tell you to keep a sharp eye on his master? There’s something wrong here. Can you recall the exact words that he spoke?’

‘I remember them very well. “
Vy . . . smotret’ . . . luchshe . . . sevodnya.
” He fished every word out of his dictionary.’

‘Hmm. And what was it in English? “You . . . watch out today”?’

‘No, that wasn’t it.’ I wrinkled up my forehead and tried to delve into my memory. ‘It was something that began with “b”.’

‘With “b”? Better?’

‘Yes, that was it!’

‘Well then, let us try to reconstitute the English phrase.
Vy
is “you”,
smotret
’ is “see” or “look”, then comes “better”, and
sevodnya
is “today”. “You see better today” makes no sense. So it must be “You look better today.”’

‘Yes, that’s right! The very words!’ I exclaimed in delight.

Erast Petrovich shrugged.

‘Then I’m afraid that I must disappoint you, Ziukin. That is by no means a recommendation to keep a closer eye on Lind, but an expression that means, “You
are looking
better today.”’

‘Is that all?’ I asked, disappointed.

‘I’m afraid so. You and Mr Freyby have fallen victim to literal translation.’

Fandorin seemed proud of his little victory. Naturally. The previous day’s embarrassment over Banville had left his glorious reputation as an analytical genius badly tarnished.

‘You should never place too much confidence in dictionaries. But he gave you very good advice about the spy. I should have thought about that from the very beginning. There was definitely someone in the Hermitage spying for Lind. The doctor knew everything: the times of arrivals, the daily routine, even where you went for a walk and who was in the company. Banville, Carr and Freyby arrived too late. They simply could not have found out all those things in time.’

‘Then who is the spy?’

‘Let us think.’ Erast Petrovich sat down on a couch in the drawing room and crossed one leg over the other. ‘Wait . . . Why, of course!’ He slapped himself on the knee. ‘Did you hear the Postman call out “Ziukin” yesterday at the Khodynka?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘But how did he know that you were Ziukin? Were you acquainted with him?’

‘No, but he saw me at the post office, and naturally he remembered me.’

‘Who did he see at the post office’ asked Erast Petrovich, jumping to his feet. ‘An official of the Ministry of Agriculture and State Lands. The Postman was supposed to think you were Fandorin in disguise, but somehow or other he realised who you were, although he had never seen you before. Just what is the source of such incredible astuteness?’

‘Well, obviously Lind explained it to him later,’ I suggested.

‘Very well, that is also possible. But how did the doctor know that you were involved in the operation? The letter in which I arranged the meeting was written in my name, without any mention of you. Did you tell anyone that you were now assisting me in this risky business?’

I hesitated for a moment, and then decided there was no point in being secretive in such important matters.

‘When we were in the Hermitage I told two people about our plans. But when I explain how it happened, you will understand I had no other—’

‘Who?’ Erast Petrovich asked quickly. ‘The names!’

‘Her Highness—’

‘You saw Xenia?’ he interrupted excitedly. ‘What did she say?’

I replied coolly: ‘Nothing. She hid me, and that was enough.’

‘And who was the other person?’ Fandorin asked with a sigh.

‘My Moscow assistant, Somov. He proved to be an honourable man. Not only did he not give me away, he even promised to help . . .’

I related the content of my conversation with Somov, trying to recall everything in precise detail.

‘Well then, Somov is our spy,’ Erast Petrovich said with a shrug. ‘That is as clear as day. He was based at the Hermitage before you arrived from St Petersburg. He had a thorough knowledge of the house and the disposition of the rooms. He must have made a careful study of the park and identified the spot for the ambush. It was easy to guess that after an exhausting journey the child would be taken out for a walk. And apart from Somov no one could have informed Lind that you were working for me.’

I said nothing. There were no objections I could raise against what Fandorin had said, but I had already formed an opinion of Somov that I was reluctant to abandon.

‘I see you are doubtful. Very well, let us make certain. You told me that Somov had moved into your room? That means he has a telephone there. Telephone him. Say we are in a desperate situation and need his help.’

‘And then what?’

‘And then g-give the phone to me.’

I told the lady operator the number, Erast Petrovich pressed the second earpiece to his ear and we waited. For a very long time there was nothing but the ringing tone, and I had already decided that Kornei Selifanovich must be busy dealing with household matters in some distant corner of the palace, but after about three minutes there was a click and Somov’s breathless voice.

‘Hermitage. What can I do for you?’

‘Listen and do not say a word,’ I said. ‘Do you recognise me?’

‘Yes,’ he replied after a pause.

‘Are you still prepared to help us?’

‘Yes.’ This time there was not the slightest delay.

‘We have to meet.’

‘I . . . I can’t just now. You can’t imagine what’s going on here. Mr Carr has been found dead! Just now! I walked in and he was lying in his room with a knife stuck in his chest. A kitchen knife, for filleting white fish. The police have turned the entire house upside down and they’re scouring the garden!’

BOOK: The Coronation
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