by Boris Akunin
'Far from it,' said Erast Petrovich, almost reaching for his beads again and stopping himself with a frown of annoyance. What does this give us? Yesterday's "Count" arrived alone, without any accomplices, even though he has an entire gang of them, and all outstanding actors. They would have been able to manage the simple role of a coachman somehow. And yet the "Count" complicates the plan by involving an outsider. That is one. "Speier" was recommended to the Governor by the "Duke", but by letter, not in person. That is to say, the "Duke" and his protege were never seen together. The question is, why? Surely it would have been simpler for one member of the gang to introduce another in person? That is two. Now, gentlemen, can you explain to me why the Englishman went to see the "Notary" without "Speier"? It would have been more natural to complete the deal with both sides present. That is three. Let us go on. In the case of the lottery caper, our Jack of Spades made use of a decoy chairman who was also not a member of the gang. He was simply a pitiful drunk who had been told nothing, hired for a small fee. That is f-four. And so we see that in each of these episodes we are faced with only one member of the gang: either the "Duke" or the "Invalid" or the "Notary" or the "Constable" or the "Count". And from this I conclude that the Jack of Spades gang consists of only one individual. Probably the only permanent assistant he has is the young woman who jumped out of the window'
'Quite impossible,' rumbled the Governor-General, who had a rather strange way of dozing without missing anything of importance. 'I didn't see the "Notary", the "Constable" and the "Count", but the "Duke" and "Speier" can't be the same person. Judge for yourself, Erast Petrovich. My self-styled "grandson" was pale and puny; he had a high voice, a flat chest and a stoop, with thin black hair and a quite distinctive duck's-bill nose. Saxen-Limburg is a fine, handsome fellow: broad in the shoulders, with a military bearing and a voice trained to command. An aquiline nose, thick sandy sideburns, a rollicking laugh. Absolutely unlike "Speier"!'
And how t-tall was he?'
'Half a head shorter than me. So he was average.'
And our lanky Lord Pitsbrook described the "Notary" as being "just above his shoulder", so he was average height too. So was the "Constable". And how about the "Count", Tulipov?'
Fandorin's bold hypothesis had thrown Anisii into a fever. He leaped to his feet and exclaimed: 'I should say he was average too, Erast Petrovich. He was slightly taller than me, by about one and a half vershoks.'
'Height is the one part of a person's appearance that is difficult to alter,' the Court Counsellor continued. 'It is possible to use high heels, but that is too obvious. True, in Japan I did encounter one individual from a secret sect of professional killers who deliberately had his legs amputated so that he could change his height at will. He could run on his wooden legs better than on real ones. He had three sets of artificial limbs - short, medium and tall. However, such selflessness in one's profession is only possible in Japan. As far as our Jack of Spades is concerned, I believe I can describe his appearance to you and provide an approximate psychological portrait. His appearance, however, is largely irrelevant, since this man changes it with ease. He is a man without a face, always wearing one mask or another. Nonetheless, let me try to describe him.'
Fandorin stood up and began walking around the study with his hands clasped behind his back.
'Well then, this man's height is ...' - the Chief glanced briefly at Anisii's upright figure - '... two arshins and six vershoks. His natural hair colour is light - dark hair would be more difficult to disguise. And his hair is probably also brittle and bleached at the ends from the frequent use of colouring agents. His eye s are blue-grey rather close-set. His nose is average. The face is unremarkable, so perfectly ordinary that it is hard to remember and pick out in a crowd. This man must often be confused with someone else. And now for his voice ... The Jack of Spades controls it like a true virtuoso. To judge from the fact that he can easily mimic a bass or a tenor with any specific modulations, his natural voice must be a sonorous baritone. His age is hard to guess. He can hardly still be youthful, since he obviously has experience of life, but he is not elderly - our "constable" disappeared into the crowd very n-nimbly indeed. The ears are a very important detail. Criminological science has demonstrated that they are unique to each individual and their form is impossible to change. Unfortunately, I have only seen the Jack in the guise of the "constable", and he was wearing a cap. Tell me, Tulipov, did the "Count" remove his cocked hat?'
'No,' Anisii replied curtly. He tended to take any reference to the subject of ears - especially to their uniqueness - personally
'And you, Your Excellency - did you pay any to attention to what kind of ears the "Duke" and "Speier" had?'
Dolgorukoi answered sternly: 'Erast Petrovich, I am the Governor-General of Moscow, and I have plenty of other matters to concern me apart from examining someone's ears.'
The Court Counsellor sighed: A pity. That means we won't be able to squeeze much out of his appearance ... Now for the criminal's personality traits. He comes from a good family; he even knows English. He is an excellent psychologist and a talented actor - that much is obvious. He possesses uncommon charm and is very good at winning the trust of people he hardly even knows. He has lightning-fast reactions and is very inventive. An original sense of humour.' Erast Petrovich glanced severely at Vedishchev to make sure he didn't giggle. 'In general, clearly an exceptional and highly talented man.'
'We could use talents like that to populate Siberia,' Prince Dolgorukoi muttered. Why don't you stick to the point, my dear chap, without the glowing testimonials? We're not proposing Mr Jack of Spades for a decoration. Can he be caught - that's the important question.'
'Why not? - anything is possible,' Fandorin said thoughtfully. 'Let us size things up. What are our hero's vulnerable points? He is either excessively greedy or fantastically extravagant - no matter how much he gets away with, it is never enough for him. That is one. He is vain and longs for admiration. That is two. The third point- and the most valuable for us - is his excessive self-assurance and tendency to underestimate his opponents. That gives us something to work on. And there is a fourth point. Despite the precision with which he acts, he still sometimes makes mistakes.'
'What mistakes?' the Governor asked quickly. 'He seems as slippery as an eel to me - no way to grab hold of him.'
'There have been at least two mistakes. Why did the "Count" mention the Knight of the Orders of Chrysanthemums to Anisii yesterday? I do happen to be a Knight of the Japanese Orders of the Greater and Lesser Chrysanthemums; however, in Russia I do not wear them, I do not boast about them to anyone, and you will not learn anything about these regalia of mine from my servants. Certainly, the genuine Count Opraksin, as a man of some standing in the state who has access to higher spheres, might have been able to discover such details, but the Jack of Spades? Where from? Only from my personal file and service record, which lists my decorations. Your Excellency, I shall require a list of all the functionaries in the secret section of your chancellery, especially those who have access to p-personal files. There are not so very many, are there? One of them is connected with the Jack. I think an internal informant must also have been required in the fraudulent transaction with the English lord.'
'It's unimaginable,' Prince Dolgorukoi exclaimed indignantly, 'for one of my people to play me such a dirty trick!'
'Nothing easier, Vladim Andreich,' Vedishchev put in. 'How many times have I told you you've got a fine crop of spongers and toadies.'
Unable to restrain himself, Anisii asked quietly: And what was the second mistake, Chief?'
Erast Petrovich answered in a steely voice: 'Making me really angry. This was a professional matter, but now it's personal'
He strode along the front of the desk with a springy step, suddenly reminding Tulipov of the African leopard in the cage beside the unforgettable chimpanzee.
But then Fandorin stopped, took hold of his own elbows and started speaking in a different tone of voice, thoughtfu
l and even rather dreamy: 'Why don't we play M-Mr Jack of Spades, alias Momos, at his own game?'
We could play him all right,' commented Frol Grigorievich, 'only where are you going to find him now? Or do you have some idea where he is?'
'No, I don't,' the Chief snapped, 'and I don't intend to go looking for him. Let him come and seek me out. It will be like a grouse hunt with a decoy. You put a plump papier-mache grouse hen in a spot where it's easy to see, the male grouse c-comes flying up and - bang! - it's all over.'
'Who's going to play the grouse hen?' asked Dolgorukoi, half-opening a cautious eye. 'Could it perhaps be my favourite Deputy for Special Assignments? After all, you are also a master of disguise, Erast Petrovich.'
It suddenly struck Tulipov that the few comments the old prince made were almost always exceptionally precise and to the point. Erast Petrovich, however, did not seem to find Dolgorukoi's perspicacity surprising in the least.
'Who else should dress up as the stuffed bird, if not me, Your Excellency. After what happened yesterday, I will not yield that honour to anyone.'
And just how is he going to find the grouse hen?' Vedishchev asked with lively curiosity.
'Just as he should in a grouse hunt: he will hear the call of the hunter's whistle. And for our hunter's whistle, we shall employ the same means as Momos himself
'If a man is accustomed to duping everyone he wishes, it is not so very difficult to trick him too,' the Chief said to Anisii when they had returned to Malaya Nikitskaya Street and secluded themselves in the study for an 'analysis'. 'It simply never occurs to a swindler that anyone would have the nerve to out-trick the trickster and rob the thief. And in particular he can scarcely anticipate such perfidious guile from an official personage, especially one of such high rank.'
As he listened reverently, Anisii thought at first that by 'an official personage of high rank', the Court Counsellor meant himself. However, as subsequent events demonstrated, Erast Petrovich was aiming far higher than that.
Having propounded his initial, theoretical thesis, Fandorin paused for a while. Anisii sat there motionless - God forbid that he might interrupt his superior's thinking process.
'We need the kind of decoy that will have Momos drooling at the mouth and also - even more importantly - provoke his vanity. He has to be lured not just by a large haul, but also by the prospect of great fame. He is far from indifferent to fame.'
The Chief fell silent again, pondering the next link in the chain of logic. After seven and a half minutes (Anisii counted them on the huge clock, obviously an antique, in the form of London's Big Ben) Erast Petrovich declared: 'Some gigantic precious stone ... Say, from the legacy of the Emerald Rajah. Have you ever heard of him?'
Anisii shook his head, looking his chief straight in the eye.
For some reason the Court Counsellor seemed disappointed: 'Strange. Of course, that business was kept secret from the general public, but some rumours did leak out into the European press. They must have reached Russia, surely. But then, what am I thinking of? When I took that memorable voyage on the Leviathan, you were still a child.'
'Did you say you took a voyage on a leviathan?' asked Anisii, unable to believe his ears, picturing Erast Petrovich sailing across the stormy waves on the broad back of the legendary whale-fish monster.
'It doesn't matter,' Fandorin said dismissively. 'Just an old investigation that I was involved in. It's the idea that's important here: an Indian rajah and an immense diamond. Or a sapphire or emerald? It doesn't matter which. That will depend on the mineralogical collection,' he muttered in a totally incomprehensible closing remark.
Anisii blinked in puzzlement, and the Chief felt it necessary to add something (which still failed to introduce any clarity): 'It's a bit crude, of course, but for our Jack it ought to b-be just the thing. He should take the bait. Right then, Tulipov, enough idle gaping. To work!'
Erast Petrovich opened the latest number of the Russian Word, immediately found what he wanted and started reading out loud:
A Visitor from India
Truly there is no counting the diamonds that lie concealed in the caves of stone, especially if those caves lie on the lands owned by Ahmad-Khan, the heir to one of Bengal's richest rajahs. The prince has arrived in old Mother Moscow on his way from Teheran to St Petersburg and will be a guest of the city of golden domes for at least a week. Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi is according our high-ranking visitor every appropriate honour. The Indian prince is staying at the Governor-General's villa on the Sparrow Hills and tomorrow evening the Assembly of Nobles is hosting a ball in his honour. The cream of Moscow society is expected to gather, eager for a glimpse of the prince from the East, and even more of the famous 'Shakh-Sultan' emerald that adorns Prince Ahmad's turban. It is said that this gigantic stone once belonged to Alexander the Great himself. We have been informed that the prince is travelling unofficially and almost incognito, with no retinue or pomp and ceremony. He is accompanied only by his devoted old wet-nurse Zukhra and his personal secretary Tarik-bei.
The Court Counsellor nodded in approval and put the newspaper down.
'The Governor-General is so angry with the Jack of Spades that he has sanctioned the holding of a b-ball and will take part in this performance himself. I believe he will actually quite enjoy it. For the "Shakh-Sultan" they have issued us a faceted beryl from the mineralogical collection of Moscow University. It is impossible to distinguish it from an emerald without a special magnifying glass, and we are not likely to allow anyone to inspect our turban through a special magnifying glass, are we, Tulipov?'
Erast Petrovich opened a hat box and took out a white brocade turban with an absolutely immense green stone and turned it this way and that, so that the facets glinted blindingly.
Anisii smacked his lips together admiringly - the turban really was a joy to behold. 'But where are we going to get Zukhra from? And that secretary - what's his name - Tarik-bei. Who's going to be them?'
The Chief looked at his assistant with something between reproach and pity, and Anisii suddenly understood. 'No, how could you?' he gasped. 'Erast Petrovich, have mercy! What kind of Indian would I make! I'll never agree, not even to save my life!'
'I think we can assume that you will agree, Tulipov,' sighed Fandorin, 'but Masa will require a little more persuasion. He's not likely to find the role of an old wet-nurse to his liking
On the evening of 18 February the whole of Moscow high society really did convene at the Assembly of Nobles. In the jolly, devil-may-care atmosphere of Pancake Week, the people of the city weary after the long, cold winter, celebrated almost every day, but the organisers of today's festivities had made a really special effort. The snow-white staircase of the palace was entirely covered in flowers, the footmen in powdered wigs and pistachio camisoles positively flung themselves at people to catch the fur coats and cloaks as they slipped off the ladies' and gentlemen's shoulders, and from the dining room there came the alluring tinkle of crystal and silver as the tables were laid for the banquet.
In his role as host of the ball, the Lord of Moscow, Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi, was smart and fresh, genial with the men and gallant with the ladies. However, the genuine centre of gravity in the marble hall today was not the Governor-General but his Indian guest.
Everyone took a great liking to Ahmad-Khan, especially the ladies, young and old. The nabob was wearing black tails and a white tie, but his head was crowned by a white turban with a quite immense emerald. The oriental prince's jet-black beard was trimmed in the latest French fashion and his brows were pointed arches, but the most impressive features of his swarthy face were the bright-blue eyes (it had already been ascertained that His Majesty's mother was French).
Standing modestly slightly behind and to one side of him was the prince's secretary, who also attracted no small attention. Tarik-bei was not as handsome as his master, and his figure was not very impressive, but on the other hand, unlike Ahmad-Khan, he had come to the ball in genui
ne eastern costume: an embroidered robe, white shalwars or loose trousers and golden slippers with curving, pointed toes and open backs. It was a pity that the secretary did not speak a single civilised language and his only reply to all questions and greetings was to press his hand either to his heart or to his forehead and give a low bow.
All in all, the two Indians were quite wonderfully fine.
Anisii, who had not hitherto been unduly spoiled by the attentions of the fair sex, froze completely rigid on finding himself at the centre of a bevy of beauties. The young ladies twittered gaily, discussing the details of his costume without the slightest embarrassment, and one, the extremely pretty Georgian Princess Sofiko Chkhartishvili, even called Tulipov 'a lovely little Moor'. A phrase that was often repeated was 'poor thing', which set Anisii blushing deeply (thank God, no one could see that under his Brazil-nut make-up).
In order to clarify the matter of the make-up and the comments about the 'poor thing', we shall have to turn the clock back a few hours, to the moment when Ahmad-Khan and his faithful secretary were preparing for their first grand social entrance ...
Erast Petrovich, already sporting a pitch-black beard, but still in his household dressing gown, made Anisii up himself. First he took a little bottle of dark chocolate-coloured liquid and explained that it was an infusion of Brazil nut. He rubbed the thick, odorous oil into the skin of Anisii's face, ears and eyelids. Then he glued on a thick black beard and pulled it off again. He stuck on a different one, something like a goatee, but rejected that too.
'No, Tulipov, we can't make a Moslem out of you,' the Chief told him. 'I was too hasty with Tarik-bei. I should have said you were a Hindu. Some kind of Chandragupta or other.'
'Can't I just have a moustache, without a beard?' asked Anisii. It was an old dream of his to have a moustache, but the way his own grew was unconvincing somehow, in little clumps.
