Before long, the square was again deserted but for some stupefied faces poking from around every corner. But soon they were also gone. The free spectacle was over.
The Prelate turned on his heel and nearly crashed into Michal Vielholskiy, who had just become conscious that his fist was still raised in the air.
“So thank you for your help, Mr Councillor,” the Lieutenant mumbled awkwardly.
Prelate Masalskis’ brow furrowed.
“I didn’t do it for you. My servitude is for Vilnius,” he said through gritted teeth and set off in the direction of St Casimier’s Church. The Knights of the Cathedral did the same.
“Nu ty kurwa litewska,” Vielholskiy breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Misha Suslov also cursed, but in his own language. He stood in a gateway, pressing his hand to his heart. It’s been a while since he suffered two painful blows one after the other. He could have expected the industrialists of Vileisis to come up with something to ward off the strikes, but foreseeing such a tragic end to the mothers’ march fell outside his powers. It had been an incredible plan. But then the damn black-robed baldies had come along... infuriated, Suslov swung his arm in the air before landing a punch on the brick wall.
“Never mind, I will even the score during the evening carnage,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
But what should he tell Emilia? And where should he look for her?
It was nearing midday. A young woman removed a doctor’s gown and hung it in the wardrobe. She then pulled up a chair for her large bag, and sat down on a different one herself. She gracefully accepted a cup of coffee and did her best not to make a sour face, when the liquid touched her tongue. It was egregiously bad.
The Head Physician, sitting at the other side of the desk, shuffled uneasily.
“So what are your first impressions... erm... esteemed inspector?” he asked, his face covered with worry.
The inspector’s visit was a bolt from the blue for the Head Physician. Usually they gave long notice ahead of such visits, allowing ample time for him to prepare. But today events had taken a different course: an inspector, whom he had never seen before, a bag over her shoulder, appeared in his doorway without warning. Having waved some stamped papers in the air, she immediately set to work. The doctor barely had enough time to scamper to the safe for the money that they kept for such occasions.
The inspection was oddly brief. The lady rushed through several wards, peeked inside the kitchen and the canteen, in passing inventoried medical supplies – her eyes constantly turning to her papers – and then finally announced, “That’s all.“
“The bitch is after the money,” the doctor fumed in his head, but also felt relieved.
Some of the areas and objects in this hospital were so... had they been detected by inspectors, the entire contents of the safe would not be enough to get the doctor out of prison.
“Erm... not too bad,” the lady spoke, placing the cup on the desk. “No, not too bad. I would need to carry out a more thorough examination, and also examine some papers but I won’t waste any more of your time.”
“Of course, of course, my dear lady,” the Head Physician said, thinking her message was rather clear. With a sweet smile over his face he bent over, used an expert gesture to turn the protruding key and quietly opened the bottom drawer. Out of the drawer came a box with roses painted all over it, which found its way on to the desk. “Time is very precious to all of us.” With the word precious he pushed the box towards the lady. “I have to excuse myself for a minute, there’s something that can’t wait.”
He got up and left with a smile and a series of rushed bows.
As soon as the door was shut again, Emilia pulled the box closer and opened it, then inspected a tidy pile of bank notes inside.
“Nothing will ever change these racketeers,” she muttered but took the money nevertheless.
Having shoved the bank notes in her bag, she pulled out an oblong case and opened it. A single ball of black clay, the last of four, glittered dully in the daylight, sparkles bolting through the violet jelly here and there. Emilia walked around the desk and carefully placed the ball in the bottom drawer. Having locked the drawer, she tossed the key inside her bag. The empty case followed the key.
A minute later the Head Physician peeked inside.
“I do apologise for taking so long. Are you all right?” he asked, a beaming smile over his face.
“Yes, I am fine indeed,” the lady assured him, tossing her hair in a coquettish way. “I should thank you. I will be on my way.” Emilia straightened up her skirt and took the bag in her hand. “I’ll find the door myself, don’t bother seeing me out,” she said stepping out into the corridor, flashing him a tantalising smile as she walked.
Anyone who knew Emilia well would have told him that a smile of this nature from her was a bad omen, but the doctor was totally oblivious to that. He rushed to the wooden box.
“What a bitch,” he hissed realising that its entire contents were gone. “They have it too good, bastards.”
He looked outside the window then returned to his desk and began to look through some papers. A few minutes later the odd inspector was completely gone from his head.
A perfumed silk handkerchief pressed to her nose, Emilia walked out of the hospital and stepped up into her carriage. A long happy sigh escaped her lips. The hospital was the last stop on the itinerary of her “inspections”. Prior to that she had also gone to the ammunition store, rail-track factory and a large common-use house. Each of these places was now in possession of her small gifts: a dark clay ball with a glass tube, violet jelly wobbling inside. What she had to do now was find a spot in the middle of all these four objects and wait for the fateful hour.
A happy smile lit Emilia’s face. Her fire show would be by far more impressive than the one Vilnius Alchemists had been boasting about.
“Let’s go,” she ordered the driver – a reliable and quiet agent, as silent as a fish.
* * *
The heated arguments in the Town Hall subsided even if only for a brief moment. The members of the Summit unanimously decided it being the right moment to retire for lunch. They got into their stagecoaches under the thorough supervision of the vigilant Legionnaires and trundled away towards Green Bridge to watch the fearless flight of daredevil Adam Gaber-Volynskiy. But Baron Nathan Rothschild chose a different route: past St Casimier’s Church he dived left into the maze of narrow alleyways called the Blots, winding down the hill as far as the Vilnele and Mirth City. Here he came on a noble mission – to inaugurate the opening of yet another yeshiva, funded from the Rothschilds’ fortune. This he carried out by cutting a ceremonial ribbon amidst the happy onlookers cheering mazel tov.
Hit suddenly by an awareness that his shoe sole had become detached, he requested to be taken to a reputable shoe-mender. Efraim, back from the Town Square already, was pleased to serve a man of such high calibre, while Rothschild was kind enough to exchange a few words with the old man – a true honour for the poor pauper.
Chapter XXXVII
Vilnius, Before 11:00 am
26 04 1905
Since time immemorial a bad reputation had hung over the couriers of free Vilnius. They were lazy and unreliable, and enjoyed getting drawn into never-ending street brawls or loitering around in queues for beer. Mr Scherbakov had more than once called upon the good will of Jonas Basanavicius and Petras Vileisis to create postal automatons who wouldn’t overindulge in drinking, fight or get lost, but their efforts had yielded little progress, and the city had to continue using the services of live couriers. During the most important occasions, such as the Summit, people tried to refrain from sending anything at all, as the letters would usually go missing. Or the courier would disappear off the face of the earth.
But this courier, elbowing his way through the crowd now, was nothing like that. He did not stop for refreshments or to gape at the acrobats, and walked around the Exhibition Dome in Lukiskes Square in a large circle.
A young stranger whom he had met in a Blots inn that morning had paid him so handsomely that the courier had decided to renounce all temptations at once. But the jingling coins were not the only thing that was pushing the lad ahead. The message in the young master’s eyes was clear as day: if the note was not delivered at the exact time specified, he would be fishing in troubled waters.
The courier nodded to the volunteers guarding the Zverynas Bridge and once on the other side of the river, began to search for the street and the house. The order was crystal clear – Miss was the only person who could lay her hands on the note. He should not wait for a reply.
The gate was opened by Morta. As soon as she realised he was a courier, she was about to grab the note and ask the stranger to leave, but the visitor proved to be stubborn and demanded to see Miss himself, even raising his voice. Worried that his yelling might cause the sleeping host to rise from his sleep, Morta gave in and bustled off to wake Mila. The courier followed behind her, and a few minutes later was already on his way out, munching on a steaming hot pancake, pinched from Morta’s kitchen.
Combing her hair, Mila pondered over the short message for the third time.
“Last night was incredible. I cannot wait to see you again. Come to the Hill of Tauras at twelve. It is very important. I beg you. Sincerely yours, Charles.”
The girl bit her lip as if re-enacting last night’s sweet kiss. She cast a quick glimpse at her watch. It was approaching twelve and she had no time to waste. She only had a few minutes to decide what to wear on such a mysterious rendezvous. She picked a tailored beige skirt with pockets, the same colour blouse and a light jacket in dark cherry.
Suddenly the yard drowned in the sound of the blacksmith pounding his hammer again – the arrival of yet another guest was announced.
“Is that him?” – with the note quickly shoved in her pocket, the startled girl dashed out of the room and ran downstairs. But in the hall, just let in by Morta, was Edward O’Braitis. Dressed in his adjutant’s uniform with a long-barrelled pistol attached to his belt, both his hands were awkwardly squeezing his hat, decorated with a red bow.
“I am awfully sorry to bother you so early in the morning,” he said, his voice sounding timid. “But Charles did not report for duty today, and neither he is at the hotel, so I thought maybe...”
“Am I right to assume the young master thinks that the other one could have spent a night here?” Morta took up a defensive position with her hands on her hips. “Have you no shame? Have you got no shame to come all the way down here to suggest such a horrible thing? It is just as well the host is asleep, otherwise...”
“Morta, Morta, it’s all right,” Mila comforted the lady before turning to the young man. “No, I can assure you that Charles did not sleep here. He brought me back in a carriage before midnight and we...” Mila’s face turned red. “We said goodbye to each other. If you don’t mind, however, I would like to have a word with you alone. Let’s go to the garden.”
Clearly disapproving of the idea Morta cleared her throat, but otherwise kept quiet.
A minute later Edward and Mila were sitting comfortably in the gazebo by the pond.
“But what could have happened to him, Edward?” the girl said, sounding greatly worried. “I don’t understand. I have just received a note from Charles.”
O’Braitis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“A note? Would you... would you allow me to have a quick look at it?” he asked.
Mila produced the paper out of her pocket.
Once O’Braitis’ finished looking over the message, he extended it back to the girl.
“Strange,” he muttered. “Charles is fully aware that failure to report to The Star by midday spells serious trouble with the captain. Where could he possibly have spent last night? Another thing – he asked you on a rendezvous to the Hill of Tauras. I had no idea he even knew it existed.”
“There is only one way to find out,” Mila took O’Braitis’ arm. “Would you be so kind and walk the girl to her meeting? You never know – we might solve the riddle.”
Shortly after Mila and Edward were rolling in the direction of the Hill of Tauras in the same carriage that O’Braitis had arrived in.
Dressed in a dotted navy silk gown Tvardauskis appeared in the doorway of his bedroom and was about to go down to the laboratory, when he suddenly remembered that he had not had a chance to speak to Mila about yesterday.
He glanced over at the wall clock and began to climb to the first floor. It was slightly after eleven. Tvardauskis had said a firm no to his friend Basanavicius, who tried to talk him into taking a promenade in the city. He had no desire to take any part in any celebratory events of that Summit of madness, and opted to do some quiet work in his underground temple instead.
Tvardauskis raised his hand to tap on Mila’s door, but then observed that it was slightly ajar. He cautiously poked his head inside. Mila’s bed was empty, while her toys were lined up on the shelf.
“What is this?” Tvardauskis was clearly taken unawares.
According to the punched cards ejected by Elektrolab, Mila had kept her promise and was home before midnight. Besides, wherever the girl went, she nearly always carried one of her darlings with her. She would not be so stone-hearted as to abandon them two days in a row.
“Morta!” Tvardauskis shouted, looking out into the corridor. “Have you seen Mila anywhere?”
Suddenly he heard a thud coming from Mila’s room. The scientist looked back to see that Pierrot had fallen off the shelf. Columbina and Scaramuccia stared at their friend in disbelief: what has come over you?
“Morta!” Tvardauskis added more weight to his voice, before walking over to Pierrot and placing him back on the shelf. “Did you hear my question?”
There was no reply. Tvardauskis shrugged and began to leave the room but was held up by Pierrot, who dropped down to the floor again.
Tvardauskis stopped in his tracks.
He was no ordinary wise man or conventional scientist, but a true genius with an astute sixth sense and the ability to notice the tiniest of details. And that was why he picked Pierrot up to question him with his eyes. The toy had not been warmed up and his energy was almost fully depleted, and so he summoned all his remaining dregs of strength to blink a few more times before freezing.
“Do you have something to tell me, dear boy?” Tvardauskis looked at him closely. “Mila should be warming you up. Although...” he scratched his head. “If the message has been saved in your memory, if we connected you... even for a brief moment...” he mumbled under his breath before sticking Pierrot under his arm and striding over to the laboratory.
“Mila has just left. She didn’t say where she was going,” Morta’s voice caught up with him as he was walking past the kitchen. But Tvardauskis didn’t pause. There was something else on his mind now.
In the lab he connected the automaton to the Babbage Engine, just as he used to with Sauvaldas and Lakstukas, filling him with some of the solar energy he constantly stored. The toy came to life. It was indeed nothing like Mila’s warmth, but it was enough to gain access to the information stored in Pierrot’s mind.
The automaton’s large eyes began to blink rapidly, then darted around the room as if trying to figure out where he was. His little mouth gaped open, but didn’t produce a single sound.
“Mila will kill me,” Tvardauskis mumbled, causing the tension around him to rise even more.
It was hellishly risky – were he to overdo it, a pile of springs and metal bits and pieces could be all that was left of the automaton. But the scientist felt that Pierrot wanted to tell him something significant. And he was right.
The toy shivered. Tvardauskis could swear he saw fear and terror in the depths of his eyes.
“It’s him! Him!” the doll wailed in a thin voice. “Him! Danger! Help! Mama!”
“Who is he? Who?” Tvardauskis felt the first signs of nervous tingling in his hands and feet.
“Him! Danger! Prot
ect her! He came here! He is not a man!”
“But we have checked him, Pierrot. With the truth serum. It is all right. Edward does not mean to harm Mila,” Tvardauskis tried to calm the raving doll.
“Not him! Not him!” Pierrot squealed. “He is not a man! The other! Danger! Mama! Help!” he screamed before helplessly collapsing in a heap, his little mouth agape, eyes closed.
Tvardauskis swiftly disconnected the wires and, leaving the little toy behind, rushed outside.
“How could I be so foolish?” he growled under the breath. “We checked Edward but forgot about the other one. We were such fools. Of course, the Lithuanian had seemed suspicious. But we should have realised it was just a trap. We – the stars of the Alliance with brains made out of cow dung. “Morta, where did Mila go?” he roared in the kitchen.
“I don’t know, Master. Young Miss did not tell me,” the trembling lady said, nearly dousing herself with boiling broth.
“Damn it!” yelled Tvardauskis, turned on his heel and took four long leaps to arrive at his laboratory.
The secret room was filled with a quiet droning of the Elektrolab. Tvardauskis darted towards it, riveting his eyes on the map.
What Morta saw a few minutes later was respectable scientist Nikodemas Tvardauskis – his feet slid into a pair of sandals and a long sturdy stick clutched in his hand – dash out of the door, open the gate and run off along the street, his navy spotted silk gown flailing in the wind. If truth be told, the woman was used to her master’s oddities, but today she did not conceal her shock very well – alongside slices of carrots, her boiling broth became spiced with the whole knife as well.
The carriage chugged up the Hill of Tauras. Having asked the driver to wait, O’Braitis jumped out first before helping Mila to do the same. He looked around.
A long time ago people had called this place the Hill of Bauffał, the name of the owner of a boisterous inn which once stood here. The inn went up in flames, but its name remained and was later translated into Lithuanian, thus becoming the Hill of Tauras[40]. The true story behind the origin of the name was soon forgotten, while the hill became associated with an enchanting legend about Duke Gediminas and a hunted buffalo.
Hour of the Wolf Page 40
