by Boris Akunin
CHAPTER 16
The flash
Green would have to leave immediately after Pozharsky's execution. He had already decided how: by cab to Bogorodsky, get hold of some skis and cut across Losinoostrovsky Forest, bypassing the turnpikes, to Yaroslavl Highway. If he could just get out of Moscow, after that it was easy.
He regretted the wasted work. The bombs would have to be left behind again: the jar of explosive mixture was still half full, the tins were standing there, equipped with detonators and charged with shrapnel but not yet closed. They would only be an unnecessary burden.
His travelling bag contained nothing but the bare essentials: false documents, underwear, a spare revolver.
Needle was looking out of the window at the boarded-up palace. In a few minutes she would be leaving the house where she had grown up. Probably leaving it for ever.
Before she phoned the head police-master for a second time, Julie looked into his eyes and asked: 'Green, do you promise not to kill me?'
'If he comes.'
She crossed herself and called the exchange. 'Hello, Central? Forty-four twenty-two.'
This time Pozharsky was there.
'Gleb,'Julie said to him in a voice trembling with excitement. 'Darling, come here quickly, quickly. I only have one little moment, no time to explain. Prechistenka Street, the Dobrinsky estate, the wing with a mezzanine - you'll see it. Only come alone, you must be alone. I'll open the door for you. You simply can't imagine what I've got here. You'll kiss my pretty little hands. That's all, no more, I can't say any more!' And she cut off the phone.
'He'll come,' she said confidently. 'He's bound to come running. I know him.' She took hold of Green's hand and said imploringly: 'Greeny, you promised. What are you going to do with me?'
A promise is a promise,' he said, freeing his hands in disgust. 'You'll see him die. Then I'll let you go. Let the party decide. You know the sentence. They'll declare you an outlaw. Everyone who sees you is obliged to kill you, like vermin. Run to the end of the world, hide away in a deep hole.'
'Nevermind,' said Julie, shrugging frivolously. 'There are men everywhere. I'll get by; I've always dreamed of seeing the New World.'
Perfectly calm now, she shifted her gaze from Green to Needle and sighed in sympathy. Ah, you poor, poor things. Give up all this damned nonsense. She loves you, I can see that. And you love her. You could just live and be grateful for such happiness. Stop all this killing. You'll never build anything good on it anyway.'
Green didn't answer, because he was thinking of what he was about to do, and because discussion was pointless. But Needle, examining the double traitor with contemptuous incomprehension, was unable to restrain herself: 'Don't you say anything else about love. I haven't made you any promises. I might shoot you.'
Julie wasn't frightened in the slightest, especially since Needle's hands were empty.
'Do you despise me because I didn't want to die for Gleb? You're wrong. I didn't betray my love -I listened to my heart. If it had told me, "Die," I would have died. But it said: "You can survive even without Gleb." I can pretend to any one else, but not to myself'
'Your heart could never have said anything else,' Needle declared with loathing in her voice, and after that Green stopped listening.
He went out into the corridor and stood beside the kitchen window to keep an eye on the street. Pozharsky should turn up any moment now. Justice would be done, his comrades would be avenged: Bullfinch, Emelya, Beaver, Marat, Nobel, Schwartz. And Nail as well.
His eye suddenly spotted something strange: the print of a sole on the window sill, direcdy under the small open frame. There was some disquieting meaning in this sign, but Green had no time to think about it - the door bell rang.
Julie went to open the door. Green stood behind it with his Colt at the ready.
'Don't try anything,' he whispered.
'Oh, shut up,' she said dismissively, then drew back the bolt and spoke to someone invisible. 'Gleb, darling, come in, I'm alone.'
The man who came into the hallway was wearing a dark-grey coat and a pine-marten cap. He didn't notice Green and stood with his back to him. Julie gave Pozharsky a quick kiss on the ear and the cheek and winked at Green over his shoulder.
'Come on, I'll show you.'
She took the head police-master by the hand and pulled him after her into the room. Green followed them silently.
'Who's this?' Pozharsky asked when he saw Needle. 'Just a moment, don't introduce yourself, I'll get it... Ah, I've guessed! What a pleasant surprise. What does this mean, Julie? Have you managed to incline Mademoiselle Needle to the side of law and order? Clever girl. But where is the idol of my heart, the valorous knight of the revolution, Mr Green?'
At this point Green stuck a gun barrel between his shoulder blades. 'I'm here. Keep your hands where I can see them. Over to the wall, turn to face me slowly'
Pozharsky held his hands out to the sides, level with his shoulders, took ten steps forward and turned round. His face was tense, his brows were knitted sternly.
A trap,' he said. 'It's my own fault. I thought you loved me, Julie. I was wrong. Well, everyone makes some mistakes.'
'What does TG mean?' Green asked, keeping his finger on the trigger.
The head police-master laughed quiedy. 'So that's it. I was wondering why Mr Green didn't simply put a bullet in the back of my head. Well, well, a few aspects of humanity are not alien to you after all? Curious, are we? All right then. For the sake of our old friendship, I'll answer all your questions. At least that way I'll keep breathing for another couple of minutes. I'm very pleased to meet my long-time correspondent face to face at last. You're exactly as I imagined you. So ask whatever you like, please don't be bashful.'
'TG,' Green repeated.
'Nonsense, a joke. It stands for "tertiusgaudens", a Latin phrase meaning "the joyful third party". The police kill you, you kill the people who stand in my way, I watch your fun and games and rejoice. I think it's rather witty'
'Stand in your way? Why? Governor Bogdanov, General Selivanov, the traitor Stasov
'Don't bother, I remember them all very well,' Pozharsky interrupted. 'Bogdanov? That was not so much business, more a personal matter. I needed to do a favour for the deputy director of the Department, my predecessor in that post. He was involved in a long-standing affair with the Governor of Ekaterinburg's wife and he dreamed of her being widowed. His dreams were entirely platonic, but one day a rather incautious little note that His Excellency had written to his passion happened to come into my possession: "How I wish the terrorists would reach your better half soon. I would gladly help them." I simply had to make use of it. After you shot Bogdanov so heroically, I had a confidential talk with the enamoured dreamer, and the position of deputy director became vacant. Lieutenant General Selivanov? Oh, that was quite different. He was a man of very keen intellect, pursuing the same goals as I was, but he was already several steps ahead of me. He was getting in my light and that's a risky thing to do. I am tremendously grateful to you for Selivanov. When you despatched him to the realm of Hades, the throne's most promising defender became your devoted servant. Next, I think, came the Aptekarsky Island incident, the attack on me and the collaborator Stasov? There was a double goal involved that time: firstly, to enhance my professional reputation. If the C G was hunting me, it meant the group appreciated my professional qualities. And secondly, Stasov had outlived his usefulness and asked to be set free. Of course, I could have let him go, but I decided it would be more useful for him to die. Once again it would mean more prestige for our Combat Group.
Green's face contorted as if he were struggling to suppress pain, and Pozharsky laughed in satisfaction.
'Now for your most important achievement, the murder of Khrapov. You must admit that I handed you a wonderful little idea, without forcing it on you at all. And for my part I admit that you managed the business brilliantly. The ruthless execution of a heartless satrap, whose very worst atrocity was that he could
not stand the sight of me and did absolutely everything he could to hinder my career... Here in Moscow you caused me no end of trouble, but eventually eveiything could not possibly have turned out better. Even your little trick with the expropriation came in useful. Thanks to our feather-brained friend Julie, I found out who the new party treasurer was, and very soon I was ready to take back the state treasury's money. That would have been an especially impressive thing to do in my new post as Moscow's head police-master: Look, I may not be in the capital, but I sit high and see far! What a shame. Clearly it was not meant to be,' Pozharsky said with a fatalistic sigh. 'But you must at least appreciate the elegance of the conception ... What else was there? Colonel Sverchinsky? A scoundrel, an odious trickster. You helped me get even with him for a certain vile joke. Burlyaev? I helped you out there, just as I did with Rahmet. The last thing I needed was for my beloved brainchild, the CG, to be neutralised by the head of the Moscow Okhranka. That wouldn't have been fair. The person who plants the seed should reap the harvest. So well done for finishing off Burlyaev! His department came under my total control. Only you messed things up with Fandorin, and he kept on getting under my feet in a most annoying manner. But I don't blame you for Fandorin, he's a special case ... Well, and then the time came to round off our epic adventure together. Alas, all good things come to an end. I thought out the operation down to the finest detail, but chance intervened. Annoying. I was just beginning to gather speed; a little bit longer, and it would have been impossible to stop me ... Destiny' Julie sobbed.
'Never mind,' the head police-master told her with a smile. 'I bear no grudge against you, only destiny. You made me feel happy and light-hearted, and as for betraying me, well, there was evidently nothing that could have been done about that.'
Incredibly enough, there were tears streaming down Julie's face. Green had never seen this carefree, frivolous woman cry before. But there was no sense in continuing the conversation. Everything had been explained already. Not even during the pogrom had Green ever felt so miserable as he did during these few minutes that had cancelled out the entire meaning of a long, hard struggle full of sacrifices. How would he carry on living? -that was the question he had to think about, and he knew it would not be easy to find an answer. But one thing was absolutely clear: this smiling man must die.
Green aimed the gun barrel at the manipulator's forehead.
'Hey, my dear chap!' Pozharsky exclaimed, throwing up one hand. 'What's the hurry? We were having such a wonderful chat. Don't you want to hear about Julie and our love? I assure you it is far more absorbing than any novel.'
Green shook his head and cocked the hammer: 'It's not important.'
'Gleb! No-o-o-o!'Julie screamed. She pounced on Green like a cat and hung on his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong and her sharp teeth sank into the wrist of the hand holding the Colt.
Green shifted the revolver to his left hand, but it was too late: Pozharksy put his hand in his pocket and fired through the flap of his coat.
I'm hit, thought Green as his back struck the wall and he slid towards the floor. He tried to raise the hand holding the revolver, but it wouldn't obey him.
Julie sent the Colt flying with a kick of her shoe.
'Bravo, little girl,' said Pozharsky 'You're simply wonderful. I dragged things out for about as long as I could, but it still wasn't long enough. I told my men to wait for exactly ten minutes and then break in. He would have finished me by then.'
Something was roaring and howling in Green's ears and the room was swaying, first to the right, then to the left. He couldn't understand how the two men who came running in from the corridor managed to stay on their feet.
'You heard the shot?' the head police-master asked. 'Well done. I've downed this one, he's dying. The woman's for you; she's the famous Needle. She can't be left alive; she heard too much.'
The light began to dim. Pozharsky's face must not be the last thing he saw as his life drained away. Green ran his fading gaze round the room, searching for Needle. She was standing with her hands clasped together and looking at him without speaking, but he couldn't make out the expression in her eyes.
What was that glint between her fingers, that slim, bright thing?
A detonator - it's a detonator, Green realised.
Needle turned towards the vessel with the explosive mixture and snapped the narrow glass tube over it.
Life ended just as it was supposed to - in an instant flash of flame.
Epilogue
At the Kutafya Tower he had to let the cabby go and continue on foot. The new order of things was not yet obvious in the city, but here in the Kremlin things were no longer what they used to be: everything disciplined and carefully tended, patrols everywhere, and not a day that passed without the ice and snow being scraped off the cobblestones - you couldn't get through on a sleigh. Supreme authority had set up its home here now - the new master of the old capital had decided it was beneath him to live in the Governor General's residence and moved into the Maly Nikolaevsky Palace behind the tall red-brick walls.
Erast Petrovich walked uphill across the Trinity Bridge, one hand holding down his sword, the other clutching his cocked hat. Today was a most solemn day: the officials of Moscow were being presented to His Imperial Highness.
The old prince, Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi, had departed to live out his remaining years in the odious leisure of Nice, and fundamental changes were afoot in the lives of his former subordinates - some would be elevated, some would be transferred to new positions, some would be retired altogether. An experienced man immediately took note of the time of day appointed for his reception or his department's. The earlier it was, the more alarming the implications. Everyone knows that a new broom sweeps briskly at first and its first priority is to be strict. There is a double purpose here: on the one hand, to instil the appropriate fear and trepidation in others, and on the other hand, to commence with punishments and conclude with favours. And again, it had been well known for a long time that the worst jobs - the district councils, the land-use committee, the orphans' trusteeship and all sorts of insignificant departments -were usually disposed of first of all, while the truly important positions were left until last.
Both of these signs indicated that State Counsellor Fandorin was an important individual, marked out for special attention. He had been invited to present himself to the clear gaze of the grand duke's eyes last of all, at half past five in the afternoon, even later than the commander of the military district and the top gendarme officers. This distinction, however, could signify absolutely anything, in either a flattering or an alarming sense, and therefore Erast Petrovich had not indulged in empty surmise but decided to entrust himself entirely to destiny. It has been said: 'The superior man meets wrath and favour with equal dignity'
Beside the walls of the Chudov Monastery, the State Counsellor ran into Lieutenant Smolyaninov, also in dress uniform and looking even more flushed than usual.
'Good afternoon, Erast Petrovich!' he exclaimed. 'On the way to your reception? He's seeing you very late. You must be due for promotion.'
Fandorin shrugged and asked politely: 'Have your people already been received? What happened?'
'There are changes at the Okhranka. Mylnikov has been kept in his old position, and Zubtsov has been appointed head of department. And still only a titular counsellor - how do you like that? They're sending us someone from St Petersburg for the Office of Gendarmes. But it's all the same to me. I'm putting in an application, Erast Petrovich. Moving from the Corps of Gendarmes to the Dragoons. I've finally made up my mind.'
Erast Petrovich was not at all surprised, but he asked anyway: 'Why so?'
'I didn't like the way His Highness spoke about the tasks of the state police,' the Lieutenant declared ardently '"You", he said, "must inspire the inhabitants with the fear and awe of authority. Your task is to spot the weeds in good time and eradicate them up without mercy, in order to educate and encourage the others." He said the ma
n in the street should be petrified by the very sight of a blue uniform. That we have to strengthen the foundations of the Russian state, otherwise nihilism and permissiveness will finally erode it completely'
'Perhaps that's right?' Fandorin put in cautiously.
'Very possibly. Only I don't want anyone to be petrified at the very sight of me!' Smolyaninov tugged testily at his sabre knot. 'I was taught that we must eradicate lawlessness and protect the weak, that the Corps of Gendarmes is the spotless handkerchief with which the supreme power wipes away the tears of the suffering!'
The State Counsellor shook his head in sympathy: 'You'll f-find it hard in the army. You know yourself what the officers think of gendarmes.'
'Never mind,' the rosy-cheeked gendarme replied with a stubborn shake of his head. 'At first, of course, they'll turn their noses up, but then they'll see that I'm not any sort of police sneak. I'll fit in somehow.'
'I don't doubt it.'
After taking his leave of the obdurate adjutant, Erast Petrovich lengthened his stride, because there were only ten minutes left to his appointed time.
The audience did not take place in the study but in the formal drawing room - evidendy so that those being presented would appreciate the great significance of the moment. At precisely half past five two solemn footmen with long ringlets opened the double doors and a butler with a gilded mace went in first and announced in a thunderous voice: 'His Honour State Counsellor Fandorin.'
Erast Petrovich bowed respectfully from the doorway and only then took the liberty of examining the most august member of the royal household. Simeon Alexandrovich was strikingly unlike his bullish brother. Gaunt and clean-limbed, with a long, haughty face, a sharp little beard and pomaded hair, he looked more like some Hapsburg prince from the times of Velasquez.
