A Razor Wrapped in Silk (36 page)

The study was filled with a profusion of empty chairs, as if the Tsar preferred the possibility of company to the reality of it. However, there were no doubt times when this room was crowded with ministers of state, jostling for a seat.

Porfiry bowed his gratitude and took a seat on the other side of the Tsar’s desk.

‘You are investigating the murders of those unfortunate children.’

‘That is correct, Your Majesty.’

‘I know it is correct. I am not in the habit of uttering statements that are not correct.’

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘This is a case that touches me deeply.’ Here the autocrat
struck his chest with one clenched hand. ‘As head of state, I am father to all the empire’s children. Indeed, I look upon all my subjects as my children. Can I not protect my children? That is what they will say about me now.’

‘Your Majesty, I am sure that no one would dare—’

‘Oh, they dare!’ His head shook in a tremor of self-righteousness. ‘Now they dare to say anything of me. I can do no right by them. Of course, to continue the analogy, fathers are always misunderstood by their children.’ The Tsar paused to reflect on this, then burst out bitterly with: ‘What do they want from me? Did I not free the serfs?’

‘The noble act of a generous heart.’

‘And what were the thanks I got? I didn’t go far enough, said the radicals. I went too far, said the conservatives. And the nihilists started shooting!’

‘I fear, Your Majesty, that discontent is the natural state of mankind.’

‘I am not free! I am not content!’ There was a note of personal hurt in the Tsar’s voice. His eyes for a moment lost their wariness and became wistful. ‘But do you hear me complaining?’

Porfiry suppressed the urge to answer in the affirmative. He bowed his head solemnly instead and said nothing.

‘And then there are the law courts. You’re a magistrate. You know what goes on there. Every trial is reduced to an indictment of the state, which is to say of me, because I
am
the state. It is not poor Ivan’s fault he stole the loaf of bread, it is the Tsar’s for making him hungry. That’s what they do with the freedom I gave them! I have a good mind to take it back.’

‘I am afraid, Your Majesty, you cannot take freedom back once you have given it.’

The Tsar regarded Porfiry with a steady, dangerous gaze. ‘And now this. These children. I will be blamed for this, without doubt.’

Porfiry took a moment to hold and savour a lungful of smoke, which saved him from the necessity of speaking.

‘How is your investigation progressing? You suspected that woman, I believe. Yelena Filippovna, was that not her name?’

‘No, no, no. I never suspected her. That was an erroneous story that somehow found its way into the newspapers.’

‘Really? How extraordinary. How on earth did that happen, do you know?’

Porfiry raised both arms in a despairing shrug. ‘Tittle-tattle. It may have been something that was discussed. All sorts of theories are discussed in the course of an investigation.’

‘Yes, but there must have been something linking Yelena Filippovna to those children? Something that led you to consider her as a possible murderer?’

‘There were a number of things, in fact. But everything linking her to the deaths was highly circumstantial.’

‘Please be more specific. It is essential I know everything about the case.’

‘It is?’

‘Yes. I intend to take over the supervision of the case personally. You will report to me. Is that clear?’

‘Your Majesty, surely you have other more pressing duties?’

‘There is nothing more pressing than the welfare of my children. When this case is solved and the perpetrator brought to book, you will let it be known to what extent I aided you in its solution. Until then you will say nothing of our meeting to anyone, in case … you are unsuccessful.’

‘You wish to take over the investigation?’

‘Not at all. I merely wish to take credit for it. It is not quite the same thing. Everything, of course, relies on a successful outcome. I am relying on you, Porfiry Petrovich. My children are relying on you. You must catch this monster before any more are killed.’

‘That is my earnest desire, Your Majesty.’

‘So, what led you to suspect this society woman?’

Porfiry had the sense that he was being tested. Perhaps the Tsar knew more than he was letting on. He felt the need for caution. ‘Before I answer that question, Your Majesty, I would be grateful if you would answer one from me.’

‘What’s this? Are you interrogating me, your tsar?’

‘This is a delicate matter. I merely wish to be sure of something before I proceed.’

‘I don’t like the sound of this. Very well. Ask your question.’

‘Did you know Yelena Filippovna Polenova?’

‘Did I know her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Am I somehow now a suspect in your investigations? Do you realise how impertinent your question is?’

‘As I came in, Prince Naryskin was leaving your study. You will know that Yelena Filippovna was murdered at the Naryskin Palace.’

‘And so I am implicated? I was not there!’

‘You were not, although your son was.’

‘What has this to do with the children? I brought you here to discuss the children.’

‘One of the things linking Yelena Filippovna to the murdered children was a ring she wore on her thumb. We found marks on the children’s necks that correspond to a design embossed on the face of that ring.’

‘Yes, I have heard of this ring.’ The Tsar missed a beat, before explaining: ‘They mentioned the ring in the newspaper.’

‘The newspaper did not mention that the design in question is the emblem of the House of Romanov. The double-headed eagle.’

This information did not seem to surprise the Tsar. His response to it came quickly, without undue thought, as if rehearsed. ‘I know nothing of the existence of this ring.’

‘But what of your son? Might he have given the ring to Yelena Filippovna?’

‘I cannot speak for the Tsarevich.’ The Tsar crimped his brows angrily. ‘This line of investigation will not result in the desired outcome, that is to say, the discovery of the children’s murderer. I command you to abandon it. Besides, as you have now admitted, you no longer suspect Yelena Filippovna. And so her possession of this ring is irrelevant. You must concentrate your efforts on solving the murders of these innocents and forget all about this ring. I would not be surprised, in fact, if the ring was not what you imagine it to be.’

‘I don’t quite understand, Your Majesty.’

‘Anyone may make and sell a ring bearing the emblem of a double-headed eagle – it implies no direct contact with myself or any member of my family.’

‘Very true, Your Majesty. However, I fear that the symbolism may still have a bearing on the case. The latest victim bears the mark too. He cannot have been killed by Yelena Filippovna. But indubitably he was killed by someone. Either by someone who inadvertently wore a Romanov ring, not realising that it would leave an imprint. Or by someone who wishes to generate a rumour that a series of children have been mercilessly
killed by a Romanov. In short, Your Majesty, the case may yet prove to have a political aspect.’

‘There will be no rumour. You will see to it. If I do hear of any rumour, I will hold you accountable.’

Porfiry felt the tightening of a vice around his heart. ‘Naturally I shall do all in my power to keep the specific design of the ring out of the newspapers, while continuing to pursue a vigorous investigation. However, it is in the nature of rumour—’

‘Do not seek to make excuses in advance. Oh, I understand your trepidation. You are right to feel it. You will incur my most violent displeasure should this detail find its way into common currency. I understand too that you are concerned because – by your own admission – there is one in your department privy to the secrets of the case who is in the habit of talking to newspapermen. A loose tongue is more dangerous than a loose cannon. I warn you, your toleration of this person reflects badly on you, Porfiry Petrovich. If you have any suspicions as to who it might be, I advise you to come down heavily on them. Crush them, if necessary. There are rooms in the Peter and Paul Fortress where such a disloyal individual may be held indefinitely, at least until you have solved the case, free from their destructive involvement.’

‘I confess that I have no clear suspicions at this moment.’ Porfiry did not look at the Tsar as he said this.

‘Then form some. It cannot be so difficult. Your suspects are limited to those who know of the distinctive bruises on the children’s necks and also of the ring found on Lena’s thumb.’

‘Lena?’

‘Yelena Filippovna, I mean. I am beginning to think quite fondly of her now that I know she is not a murderer.’

‘But you did not know her when she was alive?’

The Tsar gave no indication of hearing the question. ‘I shall help you if you like. Let us run through the names of your staff and you will provide me with character sketches. I will be able to tell, I am sure, who is the most likely to betray the confidence of your office.’

Fortunately for Porfiry Petrovich there was a knock at the door. He had no wish to engage in this tedious exercise with the Tsar, and besides, his suspicions, he always felt, were his own affair.

Prince Shchegolskoy poked his head around the edge of the door. ‘The Foreign Minister is here to see you, Majesty. The situation in the Balkans requires your urgent attention.’

‘Ah yes, of course. I am afraid, Porfiry Petrovich, that I cannot offer you my assistance, after all. Affairs of state, you understand. If only my detractors could see how hard I work, would they attack me so? There is not a man among them who would willingly shoulder the burden I bear. My life is not my own.’

Porfiry gave a tense smile, which he hoped expressed his sympathy.

‘And remember,’ continued the Tsar, bringing his fist down heavily on his desk. ‘Clamp down and crush the snake in the grass. A room in the Fortress awaits. It may just as easily be put at your disposal if you fail to find another to occupy it.’

‘I will bear that in mind, Your Majesty.’ Porfiry stubbed out his cigarette in a heavy onyx ashtray on the Tsar’s desk and rose to his feet. ‘I am grateful to you for the condescension you have shown in assisting me in my enquiries. May I ask one final question, Your Majesty?’

The Tsar looked uncertainly towards Prince Shchegolskoy. ‘Please be so good as to ask the Foreign Minister to wait.’

‘Very good, Your Majesty.’ The prince backed out of the room, bowing as he went.

The Tsar turned expectantly to Porfiry Petrovich.

‘How am I to communicate with you, Your Majesty? You said that you wish to supervise the conduct of this case. If you are to do so, you must be kept informed.’

‘You are to present yourself here at this time every day to brief me on the progress of the case. Prince Shchegolskoy will supply you with a pass that will allow you access to the palace and my private quarters.’

‘There may be times when we are required to act quickly. Given your many duties it may prove impossible to attain your approval for a decisive course of action.’

‘In that eventuality, you must do what you judge best, and answer for the consequences later. This murderer must be brought to book. That is my first command to you. Everything else is subordinate to that and must work towards its execution. If it is necessary to act decisively, you must act decisively. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Pre-eminently so, and I am grateful to you.’

‘Till this time tomorrow then.’

‘If I may just impose on your indulgence for one moment longer, Your Majesty.’

‘Good heavens! You really are an exceptionally trying individual.’

‘Forgive me. But it appertains to the case. There is one other thing linking the dead children to Yelena Filippovna – and, incidentally, linking them to one another. They were all pupils at a charitable school – the Rozhdestvenskaya Free School.
Yelena Filippovna was taking part in a fund-raising gala at the Naryskin Palace the night she was murdered. The Tsarevich was in attendance, as I have already intimated.’

‘You are determined to bring the Tsarevich into your investigation, I see.’

‘I am afraid to say that he brought himself into it.’

‘My son and I do not see eye to eye on many things. When I am dead, and he is tsar, you may be sure that his very first act will be to undo as much as he can of my life’s work. My rule has been based on a belief in the necessity of reform. Much good it has done me personally, but still … I have come to realise that the only way to ensure the survival of the Russian monarchy – indeed, of Russia – is to grant the people as many of their aspirations as is safe and reasonable. The path I have set out upon is one that leads eventually to democracy, I know. Better a managed and measured approach to democracy than its alternative: revolution. My son would have us turn back. In fact, he would rather we had never set foot on this path. To cede one inch to the democrats is to give up everything, he says. The Russian people are not ready for democracy. More than that: they never will be. It is not in their nature. They crave a strong leader. A father. He says that I have failed the Russian people with my weakness. When he is tsar, he says, they will feel again the firm hand of a stern father. No doubt he is impatient to begin. Every day that I am on the imperial throne weakens the power that will come to him – or so he sees it. In our family history, it is not unheard of for such generational differences to be resolved through bloody violence. Fortunately for my son, there is no shortage of individuals ready to do his dirty work for him without his even having to ask. What he fails to understand is that the same individuals
will be on hand to mete out the same fate to him once he inherits. Unless, that is, I succeed in removing all vestige of popular support for these terrorists by giving the people what they want. What need for revolution when there is nothing to revolt against? But my son is not very bright. Even the slightest paradox baffles him. Certainly the notion that to hang on to power one must cede power is beyond his comprehension. He is driven by instinct, appetite and passion, rather than by intellect. That will make him a dangerous autocrat. But does it make him a child murderer? I do not believe so. Do not allow misguided ambition to lead you into making a monstrous mistake, Porfiry Petrovich.’