Special Assignments (6 page)

'Don't write about the g-galoshes and coat,' said the Court Counsellor, glancing briefly at Anisii's notes. 'Only the physical appearance.'

Behind the door there was a perfectly ordinary office: in the reception room there was a writing desk, a safe with its door half open and shelves with files. The files were all empty, mere cardboard shells, but in the safe on the metal shelf, in the most obvious spot, there was a playing card: the jack of spades. Erast Petrovich took the card, examined it through a magnifying glass and dropped it on the floor.

He explained to Anisii: 'It's just an ordinary card, the same as they sell everywhere. I can't stand cards, Tulipov, and especially the jack of spades (which they also call Momos). I have some extremely unpleasant memories associated with it.'

From the office they went to the English consulate to meet Lord Pitsbrook. On this occasion the son of Albion was accompanied by a diplomatic translator, and so Anisii was able to record the victim's testimony himself.

The British citizen informed the Court Counsellor that the 'Mobius' notary office had been recommended to him by Mr Speier as one of Russia's most respectable and oldest legal firms. In confirmation of this assertion, Mr Speier had shown him several newspapers, each of which carried a prominent advertisement for 'Mobius'. The lord did not know any Russian, but the year of the company's foundation - sixteen hundred and something - had made a most favourable impression on him.

Pitsbrook also showed them one of the newspapers, the
Moscow Provincial Gazette
which, in his English manner, he called the
Moscow News.
Anisii stretched his neck to peer over Mr Fandorin's shoulder and saw a huge advertisement covering a quarter of the page:

MOBIUS

Notary's Office

Ministry of Justice registration certificate No. 1672

Wills and bills of sale drawn up, powers of attorney witnessed, mortgages secured, representation for the recovery of debts, and other sundry services

They took the British citizen to the office of ill-fame, and he gave a detailed account of how, having received the paper signed by 'the old gentleman' (that is, His Excellency the Governor-General) he had set out to come here, to the 'office'. Mr Speier had not gone with him, because he was not feeling very well, but he had assured him that the head of the firm had been informed and was expecting his titled foreign client. The lord had indeed been received very courteously and offered tea with 'hard round biscuits' (spice cakes, perhaps?) and a good cigar. The documents had been witnessed very promptly and the notary had taken the money - a hundred thousand roubles - for safe keeping and put it in the safe.

'Yes indeed, safe keeping,' Erast Petrovich muttered, and asked something, pointing at the safe.

The Englishman nodded, opened the unlocked iron door and hissed an oath.

The lord was unable to add anything substantial to the portrait of Ivan Karlovich Mobius; he simply kept repeating that he had a wart. Anisii even remembered the English word for it.

A distinctive feature, Your Honour. A large brown wart on the right cheek. Perhaps we'll find the rogue after all?' said Tulipov, expressing his sound idea with timid reserve. He had taken the Governor-General's words about being ground into dust very much to heart. He wanted to prove useful.

But the Court Counsellor did not take Anisii's contribution seriously and said absent-mindedly: 'That's nothing, Tulipov. A psychological trick. It's not difficult to give yourself a wart or, say, a birthmark that covers half your cheek. Usually witnesses only remember a striking feature like that, and pay less attention to the others. Let us focus instead on the protector of juvenile harlots, "Mr Speier". Did you note down his portrait? Show it to me.
Height uncertain, because in wheelchair. Dark blondish-brown hair, short at the temples. Soft, gentle expression.
(Hmm ...)
Eyes apparently light-coloured.
(That is important, we shall have to question His Excellency's secretary again.)
Open, pleasant face.
So, there is nothing to give us a lead. We shall have to trouble His Highness the Duke of Saxen-Limburg. Let us hope he knows something about this "grandson", since he provided him with a special letter of recommendation to the "grandfather".'

Erast Petrovich went to the Loskutnaya Hotel on his own, dressed up in his uniform, to see the royal prince. He was gone for a long time and returned with a face darker than a thunder cloud. At the hotel he had been told that His Highness had left the previous day to take the Warsaw train, but the tall passenger had failed to show up at the Bryansk Station.

That evening the Court Counsellor held a consultation with Anisii, which he called an 'operational analysis', to sum up the results of the long day. This procedure was new to Tulipov. Later on, when he was already used to the idea that every day concluded with an 'analysis', he began to get a little bolder, but that first evening he said nothing for most of the time, afraid of blurting out something stupid.

'Right, let's be rational about this,' the Court Counsellor began. 'The notary Mobius, who is not a notary at all, has gone, evaporated. That is one.' A jade bead on the rosary clicked loudly. 'The invalided philanthropist Speier, who is not a philanthropist at all, and unlikely to be an invalid, has also gone, disappeared without trace. That is two. (And once again - click!) What is especially intriguing is that the duke has also mysteriously disappeared, and unlike the "notary" and the "invalid", he would appear to have been genuine. Of course, Germany is just full of little crowned princes, far too many to keep track of, but this one was received in Moscow with full honours, the n-newspapers wrote about his arrival. And that is three (click!). On the way back from the station I dropped into the offices of
The Week
and the
Russian Herald
and asked how they had heard about the forthcoming visit by His Highness the Duke of Saxen-Limburg. It turned out that the newspapers had received the information in the usual manner, by telegraph from their St Petersburg correspondents. What do you make of that, Tulipov?'

Anisii immediately broke into a nervous sweat and said uncertainly: 'Who knows, Your Honour, who it was that actually sent them - those telegrams.'

'That's what I think too,' the State Counsellor said approvingly, and Tulipov instandy breathed a sigh of relief. Anyone at all who knew the names of the St Petersburg correspondents could have sent a telegram from anywhere at all... Oh, and by the way. Don't call me "Your Honour"; we're not in the army, after all. First name and patronymic will do, or ... or just call me "Chief" - it's shorter and easier.' Fandorin smiled grimly at something or other and continued with the 'analysis'. 'Look here - we're getting somewhere. A certain cunning individual, who has simply found out the names of a few correspondents (which requires no more than leafing through the newspapers), sends off telegrams to the newspaper offices about the arrival of a German prince, and after that everything simply follows its own course. Reporters meet "His Highness" at the station,
Russian Thought
prints an interview, in which the honoured guest expresses extremely bold opinions on the Baltic question, categorically distancing himself from Bismarck's political line, and there you have it. Moscow is conquered, our patriots accept the duke with open arms. Ah, the press - how few people in Russia realise how powerful it really is ... Right, then, Tulipov; now we move on to our conclusions.'

When the Court Counsellor, or 'Chief, paused, Anisii felt afraid that he would have to draw the conclusions, and the poor courier's head was suddenly full of formless mist.

But no, Mr Fandorin managed without Anisii's assistance. He strode energetically across the study, clattered his beads rapidly and then clasped his hands behind his back.

'The membership of the Jack of Spades gang is unknown. There are at least three men involved: "Speier", the "Notary" and the "Duke". That is one. They are brazenly insolent, highly inventive and incredibly self-assured. That is t-two. There are no tracks to follow. That is three . . .' Erast Petrovich paused for a moment and concluded quietly, almost even stealthily: 'But there are certain clues, and that is four.'

'Really?' Anisii asked eagerly. He had been feeling dejected, expecting a quite different conclusion:
This is hopeless, Tulipov, so you can go back to your courier's job.

'I think so. The "jacks" are firmly convinced that they have got away with it, and most likely that means they will want to play another prank or two. That is one. Even before this business with Lord Pitsbrook they managed to pull off two highly successful and extremely daring hoaxes. Both times they came away with plenty of money, both times they had the effrontery to leave their calling card, but they never even thought of gathering up their substantial trophies and leaving Moscow. So now ... Would you like a cigar?' The Court Counsellor clicked open the lid of an ebony casket standing on the desk.

Although, for reasons of economy, Anisii did not use tobacco, he could not resist and took one - the slim, neat, chocolate-coloured cigars looked so very appetising, with their red and gold labels. Imitating Erast Petrovich, he smacked his lips as he kindled the flame into life and prepared to experience a heavenly bliss that was the exclusive prerogative of rich gentlemen. He had seen cigars like this on Kuznetsky Most, in the window of Sychov's Colonial Shop - at one and a half roubles apiece.

'The next point,' Fandorin continued, 'is that the "jacks" use the same methods repeatedly. That is two. In both the business with the "Duke" and the episode with the "notary" they exploited the natural human propensity to trust the printed word. Well, all right, never mind His Lordship. The English are used to t-trusting everything that
The Times
p-prints. But look what fine informants our Moscow newspapers are ... First they inform the citizens of Moscow about "His Highness's" arrival, then they go on to create a ballyhoo and fill everyone's head with nonsense ... Tulipov, you don't inhale a cigar!'

But it was too late. Having completed his thoroughgoing preparations Anisii breathed in and filled his chest with the astringent smoke that was prickling the roof of his mouth. The light dimmed and poor Tulipov felt as if his insides had been ripped open with a file. He doubled up, coughing and choking and feeling that he was about to die on the spot.

Having revived him (with the help of water from the carafe and energetic slaps to Anisii's skinny back), Fandorin summed up briefly: 'Our job is to keep our eyes peeled.'

And now Tulipov had been keeping his eyes peeled for a week. In the morning, on the way to his most enviable job, he bought a full set of Moscow's various newspapers. He marked everything that was remarkable or unusual in them and reported to his 'chief over lunch.

Lunch deserves a special mention. When the Countess was in good spirits and came to the table, the food served was exquisite -dishes delivered from the Ertele French restaurant: some kind of
chaud-froid
with snipe and truffles,
salat Romain,
macedoine in melon and other culinary miracles that Anisii had never even heard of before. But if Addy had spent the morning feeling miserable in her boudoir or had gone out to unwind in the haberdashery and perfumery shops, then Masa seized power in the dining room, and things assumed a quite different complexion. Fandorin's valet went to the Japanese and Chinese shop on the Petrovsky Lanes and brought back unsalted rice, marinated radishes, crunchy seaweed that tasted like paper and sweet fried fish. The Court Counsellor ate all this poison with obvious relish, and Masa gave Anisii tea, a fresh bagel and sausage. To tell the truth, Tulipov greatly preferred this kind of meal, because in the presence of the lovely but capricious Countess, he was so completely overwhelmed that he was unable to appreciate the wonderful delicacies properly anyway.

Erast Petrovich listened attentively to the results of Tulipov's morning research. He dismissed the greater part out of hand and agreed to bear the remainder in mind. In the afternoon they separated to verify the facts: Anisii checked the suspicious announcements and his chief checked the important individuals who had arrived in Moscow (on the pretext of bringing them greetings from the Governor-General; he took a close look to make sure they were not impostors).

So far it had all come to nothing, but Anisii was not dispirited. He would gladly have carried on working like this for ever.

That morning Sonya had a stomach ache - she must have been gnawing the lime from the stove again - and so Tulipov had no time for breakfast at home. He wasn't given any coffee in the Chief's house either - it was a 'loud' day. Anisii sat quietly in the study, leafing through the newspapers and, as luck would have it, his eyes kept stumbling across advertisements for all kinds of food.

'Safatov's shop on Sretenka Street has received a delivery of the exceptionally tender salted beef known as "Entrecote", he read, even though the information was of no use to him. At 16 kops a pound, all lean meat, it can replace ham of the very highest sort.'

All in all, he barely survived until lunch, and he wolfed down his bagel as he reported on the day's catch to Erast Petrovich.

On that day, 11 February 1886, the number of new arrivals was small: five military generals and seven counsellors of state. The Chief marked down two to be visited: the head of the naval quartermaster service, Rear-Admiral von Bombe, and the head of the state treasury, Privy Counsellor Svinin.

Then Tulipov moved on to the more interesting subject of unusual announcements.

'By decision of the Municipal Duma,' he read out, with significant pauses, 'two shop-owners from the Municipal Arcade on Red Square are to be invited to a consultation on the establishment of a joint-stock company for the purpose of rebuilding the Municipal Arcade and erecting on its current site an emporium with a glass dome.'

'Well, what do you f-find suspicious about that?' asked Fandorin.