The Coronation: The Further Adventures Of Erast Fandorin (Erast Fandorin 7)

by Boris Akunin

  ‘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 th
ere 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!’

  ‘Ask how long ago he was killed,’ Erast Petrovich whispered.

  ‘How long ago was he killed?’ I asked.

  ‘What? How should I know? Wait, I do know! I heard the gentlemen from the court police say that the body was still very warm.’

  ‘That Lind is no man, he’s a devil!’ I whispered with my hand over the receiver. ‘He carries on settling scores, no matter what!’

  ‘Ask if Emilie has got back.’

  ‘Tell me, Kornei Selifanovich, has Mademoiselle Declique shown up yet?’

  ‘Mademoiselle? Why, has she been found?’ Somov’s voice trembled. ‘Do you know something about her?’

  There had to be some reason why he was so agitated, there had to be. I immediately recalled how he had pestered Emilie with his French lessons. Perhaps Fandorin was not so far wrong in suspecting him!

  ‘Surely Banville would not have dared to go back into the Hermitage?’ I asked Erast Petrovich. ‘That’s simply incredible!’

  ‘Of course it’s incredible,’ he remarked coolly. ‘Carr was stabbed by Somov. He certainly knows all about kitchen knives.’

  ‘I can’t hear anything!’ said the voice in the receiver. ‘Afanasii Stepanovich, where are you? How can I find you?’

  Fandorin took the mouthpiece from me.

  ‘This is Fandorin here. Hello, Somov. I would like to see you. If you value the life of His Highness, leave the house immediately by the back entrance, walk through the park and in thirty minutes, no later, be at the Donskoi Cemetery, by the wall opposite the entrance. Delay may be fatal.’

  And he hung up, without waiting for a reply.

  ‘Why such a rush?’ I asked.

  ‘I do not want him to meet Emilie, who will reach the Hermitage at any moment now. We don’t want Somov to get the idea of eliminating a dangerous witness. You heard how agitated he was. If the audacity with which Somov killed Carr is anything to go by, your estimable assistant was planning to make a run for it in any case.’

  I shook my head, far from convinced that it was Somov who had killed Carr.

  ‘Right, Afanasii Stepanovich,’ said Fandorin, putting his little revolver in his pocket. Then he took another pistol of rather more impressive proportions out of his travelling bag and stuck it into his belt. ‘This is where our p-paths part. I shall meet Somov and have a good talk with him.’

  ‘What does “a good talk” mean?’

  ‘I shall tell him that he has been discovered and offer him a choice: to serve hard labour for life or to help catch Lind.’

  ‘And what if you are mistaken, and he is not guilty of anything?’

  ‘I shall understand that from the way he behaves. But Somov is the spy, I am certain of it.’

  I followed Erast Petrovich round the room, observing his preparations. Everything was happening too fast. I had no time to gather my thoughts.

  ‘But why do we have to separate?’

  ‘Because if Somov is Lind’s man, it is highly likely that at this very moment he is telephoning his boss, and the welcome awaiting me at the cemetery will be somewhat hotter than I was counting on. Although of course they have no time at all to prepare. But it’s a convenient spot, isolated.’

  ‘All the more reason why I must go with you!’

  ‘No, Ziukin. You must stay here and guard this.’

  Erast Petrovich put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the diamond, wrapped in his handkerchief. I held out my hand reverently and felt the strange warmth radiating from the sacred stone.

  Fandorin swung round on his heels and went out into the corridor. I stayed close behind. In the kitchen doorway Erast Petrovich squatted down on his haunches, hooked up one of the floorboards, and a moment later he was holding the familiar casket.

  ‘There you are, Ziukin, now I d-do not owe the House of Romanov anything. You can be regarded as a plenipotentiary representative of the royal family, surely?’ He smiled briefly. ‘The important thing is, never leave the telephone. I shall definitely call you.’

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘I do not know yet. From some hotel, restaurant or post office.’

  In the doorway Fandorin turned and looked back at me. His glance seemed strange, as if there was something he could not bring himself to tell me, or he was hesitating over what to do next. I did not like this at all; in fact, to tell the truth, I was frightened that he might have changed his mind and intended to take the jewels with him.

  I took a step back, tightening my grip on the casket, and said: ‘You’ll be late. It’s a long way. What if Somov doesn’t wait for you?’

  ‘He will,’ Fandorin replied absent-mindedly, clearly thinking about something else. Could that possibly be pity in his eyes? ‘Listen, Afanasii Stepanovich . . .’

  ‘What?’ I asked cautiously, sensing that he was about to tell me something very important.

  ‘No . . . never mind. Wait for my call.’

  He turned and left.

  What an abominable way to behave!

  I made myself as comfortable as possible beside the telephone.

  Judging that Fandorin could not call me during the next hour in any case, I took some money (Erast Petrovich had left an entire wad of banknotes on the table), went to Myasnitskaya Street and bought fresh cod, some remarkable Moscow ham and newspapers. I took the casket with me, pressing it close to me with my elbow and keeping a keen lookout to spot any thieves who might be loitering nearby. The Orlov was hanging round my neck, in a bag specially made out of a woollen sock.

  Weary of all the shocks it had endured, my heart had also been tempered and toughened by them. Only a few days earlier I would scarcely have been able to sit there so calmly, drinking tea, eating and looking through the newspapers. As the common folk would say, a few of my corners had been knocked off.

  The Moscow newspapers did not exactly pass over the Khodynsk Field disaster in silence – how could they, when the entire city was filled with wailing and weeping? But they wrote evasively, laying the greatest emphasis on the charitable actions of members of the imperial family. A certain fitting delicacy and concern for the authority of the dynasty could be discerned in that.

  For example, the Moscow Gazette gave a highly detailed description of a visit to the Staro-Ekaterinskaya Hospital by the dowager empress, during which Her Majesty gave each of the victims a bottle of Madeira. The emperor and empress had given instructions for the funerals to be paid for by the treasury and families who had lost their breadwinner were awarded compensation. This was indeed a most noble gesture, but it seemed to me that the newspaper was excessively admiring of Their Majesties’ generosity, making no comment on the reason for the royal benefaction. The people of Moscow were unlikely to find the tone of the article to their taste. And I was totally dismayed by the Moscow Illustrated Newspaper, which could think of nothing better than to reproduce the artistically designed menu for the forthcoming supper for three thousand in the Faceted Palace:

  LUCULLAN BOUILLON

  ASSORTED PIES

  COLD HAZEL GROUSE Á LA SUVOROV

  CHICKENS ROASTED ON THE SPIT

  SALAD

  WHOLE
ASPARAGUS

  ICE CREAM

  DESSERT

  That is to say, I could see perfectly well that, owing to the sad events, the menu that had been drawn up was modest in the extreme, with no extravagances at all. Only a single salad? No sturgeon, no stuffed pheasants or even black caviar! A truly spartan meal. The highly placed individuals who had been invited to the supper would appreciate the significance of this. But why print such a thing in a newspaper that had many readers for whom ‘dog’s delight’ sausage was a treat?

  On sober consideration, what I detected in all of this was not concern for the prestige of the authorities but rather the diametrical opposite. Obviously, Simeon Alexandrovich and the high police master had forbidden the newspapers to write openly about what had happened, and so the editors were doing their best, each in his own way, to inflame the resentment of the common people.

  Feeling very upset, I put the newspapers aside and gazed out of the window. This occupation, which appears so pointless at first glance, is excellent for calming agitated nerves, especially on a clear May evening, when the shadows are so soft and golden, the trees are still growing accustomed to their newly acquired foliage and the sky is clear and serene.

  I spent a rather long time in quiet contemplation free of all thoughts. And when the outlines of the houses were completely blurred and then effaced by the twilight, and the street lamps came on, the telephone rang.

  ‘Listen carefully and d-do not interrupt,’ I heard Fandorin’s voice say. ‘Do you know the Vorobyovsky Hills?’

  ‘Yes, they’re not far from—’

  ‘There’s a decorative p-park there. We saw it from the boat, remember? Do you remember the bridge suspended on cables over the ravine? I told you I had seen one almost exactly like it in the Himalayas?’

  ‘Yes, I remember, but why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘Be there tomorrow morning. At six. Bring the stone and the casket.’

  ‘Why? What has ha—’

  ‘Yes, and one more thing,’ he said, interrupting me unceremoniously. ‘Do not be surprised as I shall be dressed as a monk. I might well be late, but you, Ziukin, be there on time. Do you understand all that?’