Murder on the Leviathan (22 page)

'That's right!' exclaimed Renier, incensed, and Dr Truffo supported him wholeheartedly.

'After that everything was very simple,' Gauche continued. 'Once he was sure that the poisonous injections had plunged the servants into a sleep from which they would never wake, the murderer walked calmly up the stairs to the second floor and into the hall where the collection was kept, and there he began helping himself to what he wanted. After all, he was certain that the master of the house was away. But an attack of gout had prevented Lord Littleby from travelling to Spa and he was still at home. The sound of breaking glass brought him out into the hall, where he was murdered in a most barbarous manner. It was this unplanned murder that shattered the killer's diabolical composure. He had almost certainly planned to take several items from the collection in order not to draw attention to the celebrated shawl, but now he had to hurry. We do not know, but perhaps his Lordship called out before he died and the killer was afraid his cries had been heard in the street. For whatever reason, he took only a golden Shiva that he did not need and beat a hasty retreat, without even noticing that his Leviathan badge had been left behind in the hand of his victim. In order to throw the police off the scent, Aono left the house through the window of the conservatory . . . No, that was not the reason!' Gauche slapped himself on the forehead. 'Why did I not think of it before? He could not go back the way he had come if his victim had cried out! For all he knew, passers-by were already gathering at the door of the mansion! That was why Aono smashed the window in the conservatory, jumped down into the garden and then made his escape over the fence. But he need not have been so careful - at that late hour the rue de Grenelle was empty. If there were any cries, no one heard them . . .'

The impressionable Mme Kleber sobbed. Mrs Truffo listened to her husband's translation and blew her nose with feeling.

Clear, convincing and unassailable, thought Gauche. The evidence and the investigative hypotheses reinforce each other perfectly. And old papa Gauche still hasn't finished with you yet.

'This is the appropriate moment to consider the death of Professor Sweetchild. As the accused has quite rightly observed, in theory the murder could have been committed by six other people apart from himself. Please, do not be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen!' The commissioner raised a reassuring hand. 'I shall now prove that you did not kill the professor and that he was in fact killed by our Japanese friend here.'

The blasted Japanese had completely turned to stone. Was he asleep? Or was he praying to his Japanese god? Pray as much as you like, my lad, that old slut Mme Guillotine will still have your head!

Suddenly the commissioner was struck by an extremely unpleasant thought. What if the English nabbed the Japanese for the murder of Sweetchild? The professor was a British subject after all. Then the criminal would be tried in an English court and he would end up on a British gallows instead of a French guillotine! Anything but that! The 'Crime of the Century' could not be tried abroad! The trial must be held in the Palais de Justice and nowhere else! Sweetchild may have been killed on board an English ship, but there were ten bodies in Paris and only one here. And in any case the ship wasn't entirely British property, there were two partners in the consortium!

Gauche was so upset that he lost track of his argument. Not on your life, he thought to himself, you will not have my client. I'll put an end to this farce and then go straight to the French consul. I'll take the murderer to France myself. And immediately he could see it: the crowded quayside, the police cordons, the journalists . . .

But first the case had to be brought to a conclusion.

'Now Inspector Jackson will tell us what was found when the defendant's cabin was searched.'

Gauche gestured to Jackson to say his piece.

Jackson launched into a monotonous rigmarole in English, but the commissioner soon put a stop to that:

'This investigation is being conducted by the French police,' he said sternly, 'and the official language of this inquiry is also French. Apart from which, monsieur, not everyone here understands your language. And most importantly of all, I am not sure that the accused knows English. And you must admit that he has a right to know the results of your search.'

The protest was made as a matter of principle, in order to put the English in their place from the very beginning. They had to realize that they were the junior partners in this business.

Renier volunteered to act as interpreter. He stood beside the inspector and translated phrase by phrase, enlivening the Englishman's flat, truncated sentences with his own dramatic intonation and expressive gestures.

'Acting on instructions received, a search was carried out. In cabin number twenty-four. The passenger's name is Gintaro Aono. We acted in accordance with the Regulations for the Conduct of a Search in a Confined Space. A rectangular room with a floor area of two hundred square feet. Was divided into twenty squares horizontally and forty-four squares vertically.' The lieutenant asked what that meant and then explained to the others. 'Apparently the walls also have to be divided into squares - they tap on them in order to identify secret hiding places. Although I can't see how there could be any secret hiding places in a steamship cabin . . . The search was conducted in strict sequence: first vertically, then horizontally. No hiding places were discovered in the walls ..." At this point Renier gave an exaggerated shrug, as if to say: who would ever have thought it? 'During the examination of the horizontal plane. The following items relevant to the case were discovered. Item one: notes in a hieroglyphic script. They will be translated and studied. Item two: a long dagger of oriental appearance with an extremely sharp blade. Item three: a sack containing eleven Egyptian gourds. And finally, item four: a bag for carrying surgical instruments. The compartment for holding a large scalpel is empty.'

The audience gasped. The Japanese opened his eyes and glanced briefly at the commissioner, but still did not speak.

He's going to crack any moment, thought Gauche, but he was wrong. Without getting up off his chair, the Oriental swung round to face the inspector standing behind him and struck the hand holding the revolver a sharp blow from below. While the gun was still describing a picturesque arc through the air, the athletic Japanese had already reached the door, but when he jerked it open the two policemen standing outside jammed the barrels of their Colts into his chest. A split second later the inspector's weapon completed its trajectory, crashed onto the centre of the table and detonated with a deafening roar. There was a jangling sound and the air was filled with smoke. Someone screamed.

Gauche quickly summed up the situation: the prisoner was backing towards the table; Mrs Truffo was in a dead faint; there seemed to be no other casualties; there was a hole in Big Ben just below the dial and its hands weren't moving. The clock was jangling. The ladies were screaming. But in general the situation was under control.

The Japanese was returned to his seat and shackled with handcuffs; the doctor's wife was revived and everyone went back to their places. The commissioner smiled and began talking again, demonstrating his superior presence of mind.

'Gentlemen of the jury, you have just witnessed a scene that amounts to a confession of guilt, even though it was played out in a somewhat unusual manner.'

He'd made that slip about the jury again, but he didn't bother to correct himself. After all, this was his dress rehearsal.

'As the final piece of evidence, it could not possibly have been more conclusive,' Gauche summed up smugly. 'And you, Jackson, may consider yourself reprimanded. I told you that he was dangerous.'

The inspector was as scarlet as a boiled crayfish. That would teach him.

All in all, everything had turned out quite excellently.

The Japanese sat there with three guns pointing at him, pressing his shackled hands to his chest. He had closed his eyes again.

'That is all, Inspector. You can take him away. He can be kept in your lock-up for the time being. When all the formalities have been completed, I shall take him to France. Goodbye, ladies and gentlemen, old papa Gauche is disembarking, I wish you all a pleasant journey.'

'I am afraid, Commissioner, that you will have to travel with us a little further,' the Russian said in that monotonous voice of his.

For a moment Gauche thought he had misheard. 'Eh?'

'Mr Aono is not guilty of anything, so the investigation will have to be continued.'

The expression on Gauche's face must have looked extremely stupid - wildly staring eyes and bright scarlet cheeks . . .

Before the outburst of fury came, the Russian continued with quite astonishing self-assurance:

'Captain, on b-board ship you are the supreme authority. The commissioner has just acted out a mock trial in which he took the part of prosecutor and played it with great conviction. However, in a civilized court, after the prosecution has made its case the defence is offered the floor. With your permission, I should like to take on that assignment.'

'Why waste any more time?' the captain asked in surprise. 'It all seems cut and dried to me. The commissioner of police explained everything very clearly.'

'Putting a passenger ashore is a serious m-matter, and the responsibility is ultimately the captain's. Think what damage will be done to the reputation of your shipping line if it turns out that you have made a mistake. And I assure you,' said Fandorin, raising his voice slightly, 'that the commissioner is mistaken.'

'Nonsense!' exclaimed Gauche. 'But I have no objections. It might even be interesting. Carry on, monsieur, I'm sure I shall enjoy it.'

After all, a dress rehearsal had to be taken seriously. This boy was no fool, he might possibly expose some gaps in the prosecution's logic that needed patching up. Then if the prosecutor made a mess of things during the trial, Commissioner Gauche would be able to give him a hand.

Fandorin crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands around his knee.

'You gave a brilliant and convincing speech. At first sight your arguments appear conclusive. Your logic seems almost beyond reproach, although, of course, the so-called "circumstantial evidence" is worthless. Yes, Mr Aono was in Paris on the fifteenth of March. Yes, Mr Aono was not in the saloon when the p-professor was killed. In themselves these two facts mean nothing, so let us not even take them into consideration.'

'Very well,' Gauche agreed sarcastically. 'Let us move straight on to the hard facts.'

'Gladly. I counted five more or less significant elements. Mr Aono is a doctor, but for some reason he concealed that from us. That is one. Mr Aono is capable of shattering a hard object such as a gourd - and perhaps also a head - with a single blow. That is two. Mr Aono does not have a Leviathan emblem. That is three. A scalpel, which might be the one that killed Professor Sweet-child, is missing from the defendant's medical bag. That is four. And finally, five: we have just witnessed an attempted escape by the accused, which sets his guilt beyond all reasonable doubt. I don't think I have forgotten anything, have I?'

'There is a number six,' put in the commissioner. 'He is unable to offer an explanation for any of these points.'

'Very well, let us make it six,' the Russian agreed readily.

Gauche chuckled.

‘I’d say that's more than enough for any jury to send our little pigeon to the guillotine.'

Inspector Jackson jerked his head up and growled in English: 'To the gallows.'

'No, to the gallows,' Renier translated.

Ah, the black-hearted English! He had warmed a viper in his bosom!

'I beg your pardon,' fumed Gauche. 'The investigation has been conducted by the French side. So our villain will go to the guillotine!'

'And the decisive piece of evidence, the missing scalpel, was discovered by the British side. He'll be sent to the gallows,' the lieutenant translated.

'The main crime was committed in Paris. To the guillotine!'

'But Lord Littleby was a British subject. And so was Professor Sweetchild. It's the gallows for him.'

The Japanese appeared not to hear this discussion that threatened to escalate into an international conflict. His eyes were still closed and his face was completely devoid of all expression. These yellow devils really are different from us, thought Gauche. And just think of all the trouble they would have to take with him: a prosecutor, a barrister, a jury, judges in robes.

Of course, that was the way it ought to be, democracy is democracy after all, but this had to be a case of casting pearls before swine.

When there was a pause Fandorin asked:

'Have you concluded your debate? May I p-proceed?'

'Carry on,' Gauche said gloomily, thinking about the battles with the British that lay ahead.

'And let us not d-discuss the shattered gourds either. They also prove nothing.'

This whole comedy was beginning to get on the commissioner's nerves.

'All right. We needn't waste any time on trifles.'

'Excellent. Then that leaves five points: he concealed the fact that he is a doctor; he has no emblem; the scalpel is missing; he tried to escape; he offers no explanations.'

'And every point enough to have the villain sent ... for execution.'