The Coronation (19 page)

There were two figures that I could only vaguely make out in the twilight, one standing on my left and one on my right. Right in front of my eyes an icy spark glinted on a strip of steel, and I felt the strange sensation of my knees turning soft, as if they might suddenly bend in the wrong direction, in defiance of all the laws of anatomy.

‘Lookee ’ere,’ hissed a different voice, a bit older and hoarser. ‘A wallet.’

The pocket in which my
porte-monnaie
was lying suddenly felt suspiciously light, but I realised it would be best not to protest. In any case, the noise might bring Fandorin, and my surveillance of him would be exposed.

‘Take it quickly and leave me in peace,’ I declared quite firmly, but then gagged on my words because a fist came hurtling out of the gloom and struck me on the base of the nose, so that I was immediately blinded, and something hot ran down my chin.

‘Well, isn’t he the feisty one?’ I heard someone say as if he was speaking through a pane of glass. ‘And the skins, look at the skins, with gold trimmints.’

Someone’s hands grabbed hold roughly of my shirt and pulled it out from under my belt.

‘You did wrong to bloody his snout, Seka. That shirt of his is pure cambric, and now look, the whole front’s spattered something rotten. And his pants are good too.’

It was only then I realised that these criminals intended to strip me naked.

‘Them’s women’s pants, but the cloth’s right enough,’ the other voice said and someone tugged at the edge of my culottes. ‘They’ll do Manka for pantaloons. Get ’em off, Mister, get ’em off.’

My eyes had grown accustomed to the dull light, and now I could make out my robbers better.

It would have been better if I hadn’t – the sight was nightmarish. Half the face of one of them was swollen up and covered by a bruise of monstrous proportions, the other was wheezing through a damp, sticky collapsed nose.

‘Take the livery, but I won’t give you the breeches and the shoes,’ I said, for the very idea that I, the butler of the Green Court, might go wandering around Moscow in the nude, was inconceivable.

‘If you don’t get ’em off, we’ll pull ’em off yer corpse,’ the hoarse one threatened and pulled a razor out from behind his back – a perfectly ordinary razor, the same kind that I shave with, except that this one was covered in rust and badly notched.

I began unbuttoning my shirt with trembling fingers, cursing my own folly. How could I have got into such a loathsome mess? I had let Fandorin get away, but that was the least of my worries now – I would be lucky to get out of there alive.

Another shadow appeared behind the backs of the Khitrovka savages and I heard a lazy, sing-song voice say: ‘And what’s this little comedy we ’ave ’ere, then? Right, shrimp, scarper, and quick.’

Erast Petrovich! Butwhere had he come from? He hadwalked away!

‘You what? You what?’ the young robber shrieked, but his voice sounded nervous to me. ‘This here’s our sheep, mine and Tura’s. You live your life, toff, and let honest dogs live too. There’s no law says you can take a sheep off us dogs.’

‘I’ll give you a law,’ Fandorin hissed, and put his hand inside his jacket.

The robbers instantly pushed me away and took to their heels. But they took with them the livery and my wallet – with forty-five roubles and small change inside it.

I did not know if I could consider myself saved or, on the contrary, I had simply fallen out of the frying pan into the fire, as they say. That wolfish grin distorting Fandorin’s smooth features could hardly bode me any good, and I watched in horror as his hand drew something out of his inside pocket.

‘Here, take that.’

It was not a knife or a pistol, merely a handkerchief.

‘What am I going to do with you, Ziukin?’ Erast Petrovich asked in his normal voice and the appalling grimacewas replaced by a crooked smile which, to my mind, was equally repulsive. ‘Of course, I spotted you back at Neskuchny Park, but I didn’t expect you to stay in Khitrovka – I thought you would take fright and retreat. However, I see you are not a man who frightens easily.’

I did not know what to say to that, so I said nothing.

‘I ought to leave you here wandering around naked. It would be a lesson to you. Explain to me, Ziukin, what on earth made you come traipsing after us?’

The fact that he was no longer speaking like a bandit but in his usual gentleman’s voice made me feel a bit calmer.

‘What you told me about the boy was not convincing,’ I replied. I took out my own handkerchief, threw my head back and squeezed my bloodied nose. ‘I decided to check on you.’

Fandorin grinned.

‘Bravo, Ziukin, b-bravo. I had not expected such perspicacity from you. You are quite right. Senka Kovalchuk told me everything he knew, and he’s an observant boy – it’s part of his p-profession. And he’s bright – he realised that I wouldn’t let him go otherwise.’

‘And he told you how to find the “bold face” who hired him?’

‘Not exactly, for that of course is something that our young acquaintance does not know, but he gave an exhaustive description of his employer. Judge for yourself: a bold face, slit eyes, clean-shaven, thick lips, a “general’s” cap with a lacquer peak, a red silk shirt, boots with a loud squeak and lacquer galoshes . . .’

I looked at Fandorin’s own attire and exclaimed: ‘That’s amazing, you’re dressed in exactly the sameway. There are plenty of young fellows like that around in Moscow.’

‘By no means,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You certainly won’t see them around Moscow very often, but in Khitrovka you can meet them, although not in such v-very large numbers. It’s not just a matter of clothes, this is the supreme Khitrovka chic – the red silk and the lacquer galoshes. Only the toffs, that is bandits at the very top of the hierarchy, can presume to wear this outfit. To make it easier for you to understand, Ziukin, to them it is something like a gentleman-in-waiting’s uniform. Did you see the way those d-dogs scarpered at the sight of me?’

‘Scarpered’, ‘dogs’ – what sort of way is that to talk? I could see that there was very little of the state counsellor left in Fandorin. This man rather reminded me of cheap gilded tableware from which the upper layer has peeled away, exposing the vulgar tin.

‘What “dogs” do you mean?’ I asked, to make it clear that I would not agree to converse in criminal argot.

‘“Dogs”, Ziukin, are petty thieves and ruffians. For them, toffs like me are b-big bosses. But you interrupted me before I could tell you the bold face’s most important characteristic.’ He paused and then, with a pompous air, as if he were saying something very important, he said: ‘All the time he was talking to Senka – and he spoke to him for at least half an hour – this individual never took his right hand out of his pocket and kept jingling his small change.’

‘You believe that this habit is enough for you to find him?’

‘No,’ Fandorin sighed. ‘I believe something quite different. But anyway it will soon become clear whether my assumption is correct or not. Masa has to establish that. And if I am right, we intend to look for Mr Bold Face while Doctor Lind is playing cat and mouse with the police.’

‘And where is Mr Masa?’

Erast Petrovich waved his hand vaguely.

‘Not far from here, in a basement, a secret Chinese opium den. It moved from Sukharevka to Khitrovka after a police raid the year before last. Those people know all sorts of things.’

‘You mean that Mr Masa can speak Chinese?’

‘A little. There are many Chinese in his home town of Yokahama.’

Just then we heard an intricate bandit-style whistle from around the corner and I cringed.

‘There he is now,’ Fandorin said with a satisfied nod. He folded his fingers together in some special manner and whistled in exactly the same way, only even more piercingly – it actually left me deaf in one ear.

We walked on along the narrow side street and very soon met the Japanese. He was not at all surprised to see me and merely bowed ceremonially. I nodded, feeling extremely stupid without my livery and with blood spattered on my shirt.

They babbled away to each other in some incomprehensible language – I don’t know whether it was Japanese or Chinese – and all I could make out was the constant repetition of the word stump, which failed to make anything clearer to me.

‘I was right,’ Fandorin eventually condescended to explain. ‘It really is Stump – he has lost one hand and is in the habit of holding the stump in his pocket. He is a very serious bandit, the head of one of the new and most dangerous gangs in Khitrovka. The Chinese say their hideout is on Podkopaevka Street, in an old wine warehouse. It won’t be easy to get in there – they post sentries as if it was an army barracks, and they have even introduced a “scrip”, that is a password . . . That’s all very well, but what am I going to do with you, Ziukin? You’ve made yourself a real problem now. I can’t let you go wandering round Khitrovka on your own. You never know, you could get your throat cut.’

I was greatly piqued by these words and was on the point of saying that I would manage very well without anyone else looking after me – although, I must admit, I did not find the thought of a solitary stroll through the Khitrovka evening very attractive – when he asked: ‘Tell me, Ziukin, are you a physically robust man?’

I straightened my shoulders and replied with dignity: ‘I have served at court as a footman and postilion and on excursions. I do French gymnastics every morning.’

‘All right then, we’ll s-see,’ said Fandorin, with an insulting note of doubt in his voice. ‘You’ll come with us. Only on one condition: don’t take any action on your own; you must obey Masa and myself unquestioningly. Do you give me your word?’

What else could I do? Go back with nothing, as they say, for all my pains? And would I be able to get out of this cursed place on my own? And then it would be verymuch to the point to find this Stump. What if Fandorin was right, and the police operation on Arbat Street failed to produce any results?

I nodded.

‘Only your appearance isn’t really suitable for Khitrovka, Ziukin. You could compromise Masa and myself. Who can we turn you into? Well, at least a servant from a good house who has taken to drink.’

And, so saying, Fandorin leaned down, scooped up a handful of dust and poured it on the crown of my head, then wiped his dirty hand on my shirt, which was already stained with red blotches.

‘Ye-es,’ he drawled in satisfaction. ‘That’s a bit better.’

He squatted down and tore the gold buckles off my shoes, then suddenly took hold of my culottes and jerked hard, so that the seam at the back split and parted.

‘What are you doing?’ I cried in panic, jumping back.

‘Well, how’s that, Masa?’ the crazed state counsellor asked the Japanese, who inclined his head, looked me over and remarked: ‘Stockings white.’

‘Quite right. You will have to t-take them off. And you are far too clean-shaven, that is not
comme il faut
around here. Come on . . .’

He stepped towards me and, before I could even protest, he had smeared dust from the crown of my head right across my face.

I gave up. I took off my white silk stockings and put them in my pocket.

‘All right, that will do in the dark,’ Fandorin said condescendingly, but his valet actually favoured me with praise: ‘Ver’ good. Ver’ beeutfuw.’

‘Now where? To this Stump?’ I asked, burning with desire to get down to business.

‘Not so f-fast, Ziukin. We have to wait for night. Meanwhile, let me tell you what is known about Stump. He has the reputation of a mysterious individual with a big future among the criminals of Moscow. Rather like Bonaparte during the Directoire period. Even the King himself is rather afraid of him, although no state of war has been declared between the two of them. The one-armed bandit’s gang is small but select – everyone pulls their weight. Nothing but toffs, all well tried and tested. My man in the criminal investigation department, a highly authoritative professional, believes that the future of the Russian criminal world belongs to leaders like Stump. There are no drinking binges or fights in his gang. They won’t touch any small-time business. They plan their raids and robberies thoroughly and execute them cleanly. The police do not have a single informer among Stump’s men. And this gang’s hideaway, as I have already had the honour of informing you, is guarded with great care, military fashion.’

This all sounded most discouraging.

‘But how are we going to reach him, if he is so cautious?’

‘Over the rooftops,’ said Fandorin, gesturing for me to follow him.

We made our way through dark, dismal, foul-smelling courtyards for a while, until eventually Fandorin stopped beside a blank windowless wall that was indistinguishable from the others beside it. He took hold of a drainpipe, shook it hard and listened to the rattling of the tin plate.

‘It will hold,’ he muttered as if he were talking to himself, and then suddenly, without the slightest apparent effort, he started climbing up the flimsy structure.

Masa thrust his bowler further down onto his head and climbed after him, looking like a fairground bear who has been taught to scramble up a pole to get a sugarloaf.

As the common people say, in for a kopeck, in for a rouble. I spat on my hands the way our kitchen servant Siavkin doeswhen he is chopping firewood, crossed myself and took hold of an iron bracket. Right, one foot on the step in the wall, now the other – hup! Reach up to that hoop, now get my other arm over that ledge . . .

In order not to feel afraid, I started adding up my financial losses over the last fewdays. The day before before I had lost fifty roubles on the bet with Masa, today I had spent two and a half roubles on a cab in the morning and five in the evening, making seven and a half in all, and then the Khitrovka ‘dogs’ had gone off with my
porte-monnaie
and forty-five roubles. Then add to that my ruined clothes – they might only be my official uniform, but even so it was upsetting.

At this point I accidentally looked down and immediately forgot all about my losses because the ground was a lot further away than I had thought. The wall had not seemed all that high from below, only three storeys, but looking down made my heart skip a beat.