The Coronation (36 page)

‘How do you know that the jeweller was Belgian?’

‘What?’ he asked absent-mindedly. ‘Ah, from his accent. Belgian, from Antwerp. Absolutely no doubt about it. But that is not important. Something else, however, is. What d-do you make of what Emilie said? You remember, she shouted: “And Lind’s here. He’s—” What was to come next? I have the feeling that she was about to mention a name that we know or else some distinctive or unusual characteristic. If it was a name, then whose? If itwas a characteristic, thenwhat? “He is a hunchback”? “He is Chinese”? “He is a woman”?’ Fandorin narrowed his eyes. ‘As for being Chinese or a woman, I don’t know – anything is possible – but Lind is no hunchback. I know that for certain – I would have noticed . . . Never mind, we shall find out soon enough.’

These last words were spoken with such calm conviction that I felt a stirring of hope.

‘And so, Ziukin, let us d-discuss and assess the plusses and minuses of our situation.’ Erast Petrovich sat down on the sand beside me, picked up several small stones and drew a line across the sand. ‘The boy is still in Lind’s hands. That is bad.’ One stone, a black one, was set down on the left of the line. ‘Emilie has become a hostage too. That is also bad.’ A second black stone was added to the first.

‘And what is good?’ I burst out. ‘Add to this that all the police and secret police in the empire are hunting for you and me and not Doctor Lind. That His Highness is seriously ill as a result of the ordeals he has suffered, perhaps even at death’s door. That Lind, as you said yourself, does not leave witnesses alive!’

Fandorin nodded in agreement and put down three more stones on the same side.

‘And now let us look at things from the other side. It is good that you and I have the Orlov and are willing, as a last resort, to make an exchange. That is one. It is good that Lind has lost m-most of his gang. Almost all of them, in fact. Four on the day of the kidnapping, then all of Stump’s gang, and another five yesterday. Emilie shouted, “There are three of them.” So Lind has only two men left, and to start with he had almost twenty. That is two. Finally, yesterday I managed to tell Lind my name and specify the terms of a possible exchange. That is three.’

Looking at the five black stones and the three white ones, I did not feel my spirits suddenly rise.

‘But what is the point? We do not even know where to look for him now. And even if we did, our hands are tied. We can’t even take a step in Moscow without being arrested.’

‘You have advanced two theses, one of which is unsound and the other incorrect,’ Erast Petrovich objected with a professorial air. ‘Your last thesis, that our movements are restricted, is incorrect. As I have already had the honour of informing you, it is not at all difficult to change our appearance. Lind is the one whose movements are restricted. He has a burden on his hands – two prisoners, a sick child and a woman of extremely resolute character. The doctor will not dare to kill them because he has studied me enough to know that I will not allow myself to be deceived. That, by the way, is one more plus for us.’ He put down a fourth white stone. ‘And as for your first thesis, it is basically unsound, for a very simple reason: you and I are not going to look for Lind. The oats do not go to the horse. Lind will find us himself.’

Oh howexasperating I found that imperturbable manner, that didactic tone! But I tried to control myself.

‘Permit me to enquire why on earth Lind will seek us out. And, most importantly, how?’

‘Now instead of two theses you have asked two questions.’ Fandorin chuckled with insufferable self-assurance. ‘Let me answer the first one. We and the doctor are in a classic bargaining situation. There are goods and there is a buyer. The goods that I require and Lind has are as follows: firstly, little Mika; secondly, Emilie; thirdly, Doctor Lind’s own skin. Now for my goods, the ones that my trading partner covets. Firstly, a two-hundred-carat diamond, without which the doctor’s entire Moscow escapade will end as a shameful failure, and Lind is not used to that. And secondly, my life. I assure you that the doctor has as many counts to settle with me as I have with him. And so he and I will strike an excellent bargain.’

As he said this, Erast Petrovich looked as if hewere not talking about a battle with the most dangerous criminal in theworld but some amusing adventure or a game of whist. I have never liked people who show off, especially in serious matters, and Fandorin’s bravado seemed out of place to me.

‘Now for your second question,’ he continued, taking no notice of the frown on my face. ‘Howwill Lind seek us out? Well, that is very simple. This evening you and I will look through the advertisements and personal announcements in all the Moscow newspapers. We are certain to find something interesting. You don’t believe me? I am prepared to wager on it, although I do not usually gamble.’

‘A wager?’ I asked spitefully, finally losing patience with his bragging. ‘By all means. If you lose, we shall go and give ourselves up to the police today.’

He laughed light-heartedly. ‘And if I win, you will shave off your celebrated sideburns and moustache. Shall we shake on it?’

The bargain was sealed with a handshake.

‘We have to pay a visit to the Hermitage,’ said Fandorin, growing more serious. ‘To collect Masa. He will be very useful to us. And also to pick up a fewessentials. M-money, for example. I did not bring my wallet with me on this operation. I foresaw that the meeting with Lind was certain to involve jumping, brandishing fists, running and all kinds of similar activities, and any superfluous weight, even the slightest, is a hindrance to that. There you have one more proof of the old truth that money is never a superfluous burden. How much do you have with you?’

I put my hand into my pocket and discovered that in one of my numerous tumbles during the night I had dropped my purse. If I was not mistaken, it had contained eight roubles and some small change. I took out a handful of tarnished silver coins and gazed at them ruefully.

‘Is that all that you have?’ Erast Petrovich asked, taking one of the irregular round objects and twirling it in his fingers. ‘A Peter the Great
altyn.
We are not likely to be able to buy anything with that. Any antique shop would be glad to take your t-treasure, but it is too risky for us to appear in crowds with our present appearance. So, this is a strange situation: we have a diamond that is worth goodness knows how many millions but we can’t even buy a piece of bread. That makes a visit to the Hermitage all the more necessary.’

‘But how is that possible?’ I asked, raising my head above the grass growing on the riverbank. There was a line of soldiers and police standing right round the pond and the open field. ‘Everything here is cordoned off. And even if we broke out of the cordon, there is no way that we can walk right across the city in broad daylight!’

‘It’s easy to see that you know nothing of the geography of the old c-capital, Ziukin. What do you think that is?’ Fandorin jerked his chin towards the river.

‘What do you mean? The Moscow River.’

‘And what do you see every day from the windows of the Hermitage? That wet, g-greenish thing flowing slowly towards the Kremlin? We shall have to commit yet another crime, although not as serious as the theft of the Orlov.’

He walked over to a flimsy little boat moored to the bank, looked it over and nodded.

‘It will do. Of course there are no oars, but I think that p-plank over there will suit perfectly well. Get in, Ziukin. They won’t think of looking for us on the river, and we don’t have very far to sail. I feel sorry for the boat’s owner. The loss will probably be more ruinous for him than the loss of the Orlov would be for the Romanovs. Right then, let’s have your treasure trove.’

He delved into my pocket unceremoniously, clawed out the coins, put them beside the small stake to which the boat was moored and sprinkled a little sand over them.

‘Well, why are you just standing there? Get in. And be careful or this battleship will capsize.’

I got in, soaking my shoes in the water that had accumulated in the bottom of the boat. Fandorin pushed off with the plank, andwe drifted out very, very slowly. Heworked away desperately with his clumsy oar, delving alternately on the left and the right, but despite these Sisyphean labours our bark barely moved at all.

Ten minutes later, when we had still not even reached the middle of the river, I enquired: ‘But just how far do we have to sail to reach the Neskuchny Park?’

‘I th-think about . . . three v-versts,’ Fandorin replied with an effort, bright red from his exertions.

I could not resist a sarcastic comment: ‘At this speedwe should probably get there by tomorrow morning. The current is slow here.’

‘We don’t need the current,’ Erast Petrovich mumbled.

He started brandishing his plank even more vigorously, and the bow of our boat struck a log. A steam tug was passing by, towing a string of logs after it. Fandorin tied the mooring rope to a trimmed branch, dropped the plank in the bottom of the boat and stretched blissfully.

‘That’s it, Ziukin. We can take half an hour’s rest, and we’ll be at our destination.’

Grassy fields and market gardens drifted by slowly on the left; then came thewhitewalls of the Novodevichy Convent, the sight of which I was thoroughly sick by now. On the right there was a tall wooded bank. I saw a white church with a round dome, elegant arbours, a grotto.

‘You see before you Vorobyovsky Park, laid out in the English manner in imitation of a n-natural forest,’ Fandorin told me in the voice of a true guide. ‘Note the hanging bridge across that ravine. I saw a bridge exactly like it in the Himalayas, only it was woven out of shafts of bamboo. Of course, the drop below it was not twenty
sazhens
, it was a gulf of two versts. But then, for anyone who falls, the difference is immaterial . . . And what have we here?’

He leaned down and took a simple fishing rod out from under the bench. He examined it with interest, then turned his head this way and that and picked a green caterpillar off the side of the boat with an exclamation of joy.

‘Right, now, Ziukin, here’s to luck!’

He tossed the line into the water and almost immediately pulled out a silver carp the size of an open hand.

‘How about that, eh?’ Erast Petrovich exclaimed, thrusting his trembling prey under my nose. ‘Did you see that? It took l-less than a minute! A very good sign! That’s the way we’ll hook Lind!’

A perfect little boy! A boastful irresponsible boy. He put the wet fish in his pocket and it began moving as if his coat were alive.

A familiar bridge appeared ahead of us, the same one that could be seen from the windows of the Hermitage. Soon I spotted the green roof of the palace itself beyond the crowns of the trees.

Fandorin cast off from the log. When the rafts had drifted past us, we set a course for the right bank, and a quarter of an hour later we were at the railings of the Neskuchny Park.

This time I surmounted the obstacle without the slightest difficulty, thanks to the experience I had accumulated. We made ourway into the thickets, but Fandorinwaswary of approaching the Hermitage.

‘They certainly won’t be looking for us here,’ he declared, stretching out on the grass. ‘But it would still be best t-to wait until dark. Are you hungry?’

‘Yes, very. Do you have some provisions with you?’ I asked hopefully because, I must confess, my stomach had been aching from hunger for a long time.

‘Yes, this.’ He took his catch out of his pocket. ‘Have you never tried raw fish? In Japan everybody eats it.’

Naturally I declined such an incredible meal, and watched with some revulsion as Erast Petrovich gulped down the cold slippery carp, daintily extracting the fine bones and sucking them clean.

After completing this barbarous meal, he wiped his fingers on a handkerchief, took out a box of matches and then extracted a cigar from an inside pocket. He shook the matchbox and announced delightedly: ‘They have dried out. You don’t smoke, do you?’

He stretched contentedly and put one hand under his head.

‘What a picnic we are having, eh? Wonderful. Real heaven.’

‘Heaven?’ I half-sat up at that, I felt so indignant. ‘The world is falling apart before our very eyes, and you call it “heaven”?The very foundations of the monarchy are trembling; an innocent child has been tormented by fiends; the most worthy of women is being subjected, perhaps, at this very moment to . . .’ I did not finish the sentence because not all things can be said aloud. ‘Chaos, that is what it is. There is nothing in the world more terrible than chaos, because from chaos comes insanity, the destruction of standards and rules . . .’

I was overcome by a fit of coughing before I had fully expressed my thoughts, but Fandorin understood me and stopped smiling.

‘Do you know where your mistake lies, Afanasii Stepanovich?’ he said in a tired voice, closing his eyes. ‘You believe that theworld exists according to certain rules, that it possesses m-meaning and order. But I realised a long time ago that life is nothing but chaos. It possesses no order whatever, and no rules either.’

‘And yet you yourself give the impression of a man with firm rules,’ I said, unable to resist the jibe as I looked at his neat parting, which had remained immaculate despite all our alarming adventures.

‘Yes, I do have rules. But they are my own rules, invented by myself for myself and not for the wholeworld. Let theworld suit itself, and I shall suit myself. Insofar as that is possible. One’s own rules, Afanasii Stepanovich, are not the expression of a desire to arrange the whole of creation but an attempt to organise, to at least some degree, the space that lies in immediate proximity to oneself. And I do not manage even a trifle like that very well . . . All right, Ziukin. I think I’ll have a sleep.’

He turned over on to one side, cradled his head on one elbow and fell asleep immediately. What an incredible man!

I cannot say what I found more painful: my hunger, my anger or the awareness of my own helplessness. And yet I do know – it was the fear. Fear for the life of Mikhail Georgievich, for Emilie, for myself.