The Winter Queen (28 page)

“My lady, how old was Cunningham?” Fandorin asked with a frown.

“Thirty-three,” Lady Astair replied readily. “He would have been thirty-four on the sixteenth of October. Gerald always held a party for the children on his birthday, and they did not give him presents. It was he who gave something to everyone. I think it consumed almost his entire salary—”

“No, it doesn’t fit!” Fandorin cried out despairingly.

“What doesn’t fit, my boy?” her ladyship asked in surprise.

“Intrepide was found at sea twenty years ago! Cunningham was only thirteen then. Dobbs got rich a quarter of a century ago. Cunningham was not even an orphan then! No, he’s not the one!”

“What on earth are you trying to say?” the Englishwoman asked, blinking her clear blue eyes in bewilderment as she tried to fathom his thought.

Erast Fandorin stared back unblinkingly at her in silence, stunned by his hideous realization.

“So it wasn’t Cunningham…” he whispered. “It was you all the time…You! You were there twenty years ago and twenty-five years ago…and forty! But, of course, who else! And Cunningham really was no more than your right hand! Four thousand of your disciples, in essence your children. And for every one of them you were like a mother! It was you Morbid and Franz were talking about, not Amalia at all! You gave each of them a goal in life—you set each of them ‘on the path’! But it’s appalling, appalling!” Erast Fandorin groaned as if he were in pain. “From the very beginning you intended to use your pedagogical theory to establish a worldwide conspiracy.”

“No, not from the very beginning,” Lady Astair objected calmly. Some intangible but perfectly evident change had taken place in her. She no longer seemed to be a tranquil, agreeable old woman. A spark of intelligence, authority, and indomitable strength had appeared in her eyes. “At first, I simply wanted to save mankind’s poor, destitute children. I wanted to make them happy—as many of them as I could, whether it was a hundred or a thousand. But my efforts were a grain of sand in the desert. While I was saving one child, the bloodthirsty Moloch of society was pulverizing a thousand, a million young souls, in every one of which there burned the primordial spark of God. And I realized that my efforts were in vain. The sea cannot be emptied with a spoon.” Lady Astair’s voice grew more forceful and her stooped shoulders grew straight. “And I also realized that God had given me the strength to do more than save a handful of orphans. I could save mankind. Not in my own lifetime, perhaps, but twenty or thirty or fifty years after my death. It is my vocation, my mission. Every one of my children is a precious jewel, the crown of creation, a knight of the new humanity. Each of them will work incalculable good and change the world for the better with his life. They will write wise laws, unlock the mysteries of nature, create masterpieces of art. And year by year there are more of them—in time they will transform this vile, unjust, criminal world!”

“What mysteries of nature, what masterpieces of art?” Fandorin asked bitterly. “You are interested in nothing but power. I’ve seen them—you have nothing but generals and future ministers out there.”

Her ladyship smiled condescendingly. “My friend, Cunningham was only in charge of my category
F
, a very important category but by no means the only one.
F
stands for Force—that is, everything related to the mechanisms of direct power: politics, the state apparatus, the armed forces, the police, and so on. There is also a category
S
, for Science; a category
A
, for art; and a category
B
, for business. And there are others as well. In forty years of work as an educator I have set sixteen thousand eight hundred and ninety-three people on their way. Surely you can see how rapidly science, technology, art, legislation, and industry have developed in recent decades? Surely you can see that since the middle of this nineteenth century of ours the world has become a kinder, wiser, more beautiful place? A genuine world revolution is taking place. And it is absolutely essential. Otherwise the unjust order of society will produce a different, bloody revolution that will set mankind back by several centuries. My children save the world every day. And just wait and see what will happen in the years to come. By the way, I recall you asking me why I do not take girls. On that occasion, I must confess, I lied to you. I do take girls. Only very few, but I take them. I have a special Astair House in Switzerland where my dear daughters are educated. They are absolutely special material, perhaps even more precious than my sons. I believe you are acquainted with one of my foster daughters.” Her ladyship smiled slyly. “For the moment, to be sure, she is behaving irrationally and has forgotten her duty. That happens with young women. But she will certainly return to the fold. I know my girls.”

From these words Fandorin realized that Hippolyte had not killed Amalia after all, but had evidently carried her off somewhere. However, the reminder of Bezhetskaya opened old wounds and weakened somewhat the impression (which must be admitted to be quite considerable) that the baroness’s reasoning had made on the young man.

“A noble goal is a great thing, no doubt!” he exclaimed vehemently. “But what about the means? For you, killing a man means no more than swatting a mosquito.”

“That is untrue!” her ladyship objected heatedly. “I genuinely regret every life that has been lost. But one cannot clean out the Augean stables without soiling one’s hands. One man’s life saves thousands, millions of other people.”

“And who did Kokorin save?” Erast Fandorin inquired sarcastically.

“I shall use the money of that worthless bon vivant to raise thousands of brilliant minds for Russia and the world. It cannot be helped, my boy. It was not I who arranged this cruel world so that there is a price to be paid for everything. It seems to me that in this case the price is quite reasonable.”

“Well, and what of Akhtyrtsev’s death?”

“Firstly, he talked too much. Secondly, he plagued Amalia to excess. And thirdly—you yourself mentioned it to Ivan Brilling—the Baku oil. No one will be able to contest the will that Akhtyrtsev wrote. It remains valid.”

“And what of the risk of a police investigation?”

“A trifling matter,” said her ladyship with a shrug. “I knew that my dear Ivan would arrange everything. Even as a child he was distinguished by a brilliant analytical mind and great organizational talent. What a tragedy that he is no longer with us! Brilling would have arranged everything quite perfectly if not for a certain extremely persistent young gentleman. We have all been very, very unlucky.”

“Wait a moment, my lady,” said Erast Petrovich, finally realizing the need for caution. “Why are you being so frank with me? Surely you do not hope to win me over to your camp? If not for the blood that has been spilt, I would be wholeheartedly on your side, but your methods—”

Lady Astair interrupted him with a serene smile. “No, my friend, I am not hoping to win you over with propaganda. Unfortunately we became acquainted too late. Your mind, your character, and system of moral values were already formed, and now it is almost impossible to change them. There are three reasons why I am being so frank with you. Firstly, you are a very bright young man and I find you genuinely likable. I do not wish you to believe I am a monster. Secondly, you committed a serious blunder by coming straight here from the station without informing your superiors. And thirdly, it was not by chance that I induced you to sit in that extremely uncomfortable armchair with such a strangely curved back.”

She made a movement with her hand, and two steel bands quickly slid out of the high armrests, pinning Fandorin tightly against the back of the chair. Still not fully aware of what had happened, he tried to leap to his feet with a jerk, but he could not even really move, and the legs of the armchair seemed to be rooted to the floor.

Her ladyship rang a bell and Andrew instantly entered the room, as if he had been eavesdropping outside the door.

“My splendid Andrew, please bring Professor Blank here as quickly as you can. Oh, and tell him to bring the chloroform. And tell Timofei to deal with the coachman.” She sighed sadly. “There is nothing to be done about it.”

Andrew bowed without speaking and left the room. Silence hung heavy in the study. Erast Fandorin puffed and panted as he floundered in the trap, attempting to twist himself around in order to reach the lifesaving Herstal behind his back, but the confounded hoops had clamped him so tightly that he had to abandon the idea. Her ladyship observed the young man’s movements with a sympathetic eye, occasionally shaking her head.

Soon there was the sound of rapid steps in the corridor and two people entered the room: the genius of physics Professor Blank and the silent Andrew.

Casting a quick glance at the prisoner, the professor asked in English, “Is this serious, my lady?”

“Yes, it is rather.” She sighed. “But rectifiable. Of course, it will cost us a little fuss and bother. I do not wish to resort to extreme measures unless it is absolutely necessary. I remembered, my boy, that you had been dreaming for a long time of experimenting on human material. It would appear that an opportunity has arisen.”

“But I am not yet entirely ready to work with a human brain,” said Blank uncertainly, scrutinizing Fandorin, who was now calm. “On the other hand, it would be a shame to squander such an opportunity…”

“In any case he has to be put to sleep,” remarked the baroness. “Did you bring the chloroform?”

“Yes, yes, just a moment.” The professor extracted a small bottle from a capacious pocket and splashed its contents generously onto a handkerchief. Erast Fandorin caught the harsh, medicinal smell and was about to protest, but in two swift bounds Andrew was standing by the armchair and pressing his arm across the prisoner’s throat with incredible strength.

“Good-bye, my poor boy,” her ladyship said, turning her face away.

Blank took a gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket, glanced at it over the top of his spectacles, and pressed the odorous white rag firmly over Fandorin’s face. And that was when Erast Fandorin was able to put the lifesaving teachings of the incomparable Chandra Johnson to good use! The young man did not breathe in the treacherous fumes, which obviously contained no prana. The moment had come to practice the exercise of holding his breath.

“One minute will be more than adequate,” the scientist declared.

A-and eight, a-and nine, a-and ten, Erast Fandorin counted mentally, not forgetting to open and close his mouth spasmodically, roll his eyes, and mimic convulsions. As a matter of fact, even if he had wished to breathe in, it would not have been easy, since Andrew was pressing down on his throat with a grip of iron.

Fandorin’s count had exceeded eighty, his lungs were almost exhausted in their struggle with the desire to breathe in air, and still the moisture of that foul rag continued to chill his flaming face. Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven—he began counting with dishonest rapidity, attempting to fool that unbearably slow-moving second hand with his last ounce of strength. Suddenly he realized that he should have stopped twitching and lost consciousness long ago, and he went limp and still, allowing his lower jaw to drop in order to make the trick look more convincing. On the count of ninety Blank removed his hand.

“Well, well,” he said, “what remarkable resistance. Almost seventy-five seconds.”

The ‘insensible’ prisoner allowed his head to loll to one side and pretended to be breathing smoothly and deeply, although he desperately wanted to gulp in air with a mouth hungry for oxygen.

“Ready now, my lady,” the professor announced. “We can commence the experiment.”

in which a great future is predicted for electricity

“TAKE HIM TO THE LABORATORY,” SAID HER ladyship, “but you must hurry. In twenty minutes the break will begin. The children must not see this.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Timofei, is that you?” the baroness asked in accented Russian, before switching into English. “Come in!”

Erast Fandorin did not dare to peep, not even through his eyelashes. If anyone were to notice, he would be done for. He heard the doorkeeper’s heavy footsteps and his voice speaking loudly, as if the people he was addressing were deaf. “So everything’s in the very best order, Your Excellency. Oil right.” He put in this last phrase in English. “I offered the driver a drink of tea. Tea! You drink!”—again in English. “He turned out to be a tough old devil all right. Keeps on drinking away and still fresh as a daisy. Drink, drink—nossing! But then it was all right. He dozed off. And I drove his cab ‘round the back of the house. It can stand there for a bit. I’ll deal with it later. You don’t need to concern yourself about it, madam.”

Blank translated what he had said to the baroness.

“Fine,” she responded in English and then added in an undertone, “Andrew, just make sure that he doesn’t try to make a profit selling the horse and the carriage.”

Fandorin did not catch any reply. No doubt the taciturn Andrew had merely nodded.

Get on with it, you reptiles, unfasten me
, thought Erast Fandorin, mentally urging his malefactors on.
The school break’s starting soon. I’ll show you an experiment. Just as long as I don’t forget about the safety catch
.

However, there was a serious disappointment in store for Fandorin—no one began to unfasten him. Someone breathed loudly right into his ear, and he caught a whiff of onions. Timofei, the captive guessed with unerring perspicacity. Then there was a low rasping sound that was repeated a second time, then a third and a fourth.

“That’s it. I’ve unscrewed it,” the doorkeeper announced. “Catch hold, Andriukha, and away we go.”

They lifted up Erast Fandorin together with the armchair and bore him away. Opening his eyes very slightly, he glimpsed the gallery and the Dutch windows illuminated by the sun. Everything was clear now: they were taking him to the main building, to the laboratory.

When his bearers stepped carefully into the recreation hall, trying to avoid making any noise, Fandorin thought seriously about whether he should suddenly come to and disrupt the educational process with bloodcurdling screams. Let the little children see the sort of business their kind ladyship was involved in. But the sounds coming from the classrooms conveyed such a feeling of peace and comfort—the measured bass of the teacher’s voice, a peal of boyish laughter, a phrase of music from a choir—that Fandorin did not have the heart to do it. Never mind, in any case it was still too early to show his hand, he thought in justification of his own spinelessness.