Special Assignments (20 page)

'In Moscow the law is His Excellency Prince Dolgorukoi,' Erast Petrovich answered the insolent scoundrel in the same tone. 'Or do you, Mr Jack, seriously believe in the independence of the judiciary? P-Permit me to remind you that you have offended the Governor-General most cruelly. And what are we to do with the Englishman? The city has to return his hundred thousand.'

'My dear Erast Petrovich, I really have no idea what Englishman you are talking about,' said the rescued man with a broad shrug. 'I have the most genuine and profound respect for His Excellency - and especially for his dyed grey hair. If Moscow is in need of money then see how much I have obtained for the municipal treasury - an entire sack full. It was greed that made Eropkin blurt out the money was his, but when he cools down he'll disown it again. I don't know a thing, he'll say, about anything. And a certain sum of money of unknown provenance will go to meet the needs of the city of Moscow. To be fair, I really ought to get a few per cent myself.'

'Well now, that is reasonable enough,' the Court Counsellor said thoughtfully. 'And then again, you did return Ariadna Arkadievna's things. And you didn't even forget my beads ... All right - according to the dictates of the law it is. You won't regret spurning the spirit of my justice?'

A slight hesitation was visible on the gentleman's unremarkable face. 'Thank you most kindly, but you know, I am used to relying on myself most of the time.'

'Well, as you wish,' Fandorin said with a shrug, and added without the slightest pause: 'You can g-go to the devil.'

Anisii was stunned, but the Jack of Spades hastily jumped to his feet, evidently afraid that the Governor's deputy would change his mind.

'Thank you! I swear I shall never set foot in this city again. And I'm thoroughly bored with my Orthodox homeland too. Come, Mimi, let us not detain Mr Fandorin any further.'

Erast Petrovich spread his arms wide: Alas, I cannot let your companion go. All the dictates of the law must be applied. She must answer for the lottery swindle. There are victims, there are witnesses. In this case an encounter with the courts cannot be avoided.'

'Oh!' the crop-headed girl exclaimed, so pitifully that Anisii's heart was wrung. 'Momchik, I don't want to go to prison!'

'It can't be helped, my girl; the law is the law,' the heartless swindler replied flippantly, edging gently towards the door. 'Don't you worry; I'll take care of you. I'll send you the most expensive lawyer in Russia, you'll see. May I go now, Erast Petrovich?'

'You rotter!' Mimi groaned. 'Stop! Where are you going?'

'I'm thinking of trying Guatemala,' Momos told her gleefully. 'I read in the newspapers they've had another coup. The Guatemalans have had enough of the republic; they're looking for a German prince to put on the throne. Perhaps I might suit?' And with a wave of farewell, he disappeared through the door.

The trial of the spinster Maria Nikolaevna Maslennikova, former actress of the St Petersburg Theatres, accused of fraud, criminal conspiracy and escaping from arrest, took place at the very end of April, in that blissful period after Easter when the branches are covered with succulent, swelling buds and the fresh grass is creeping untidily along the edges of roads that are still soft but beginning to dry out.

Her trial did not attract the attention of the broad public, since it was not a major case, but there were half a dozen or so reporters sitting in the courtroom - there had been vague but persistent rumours that the failed lottery swindle was connected in some way with the famous Jack of Spades, and so the editors had sent along their representatives just in case.

Anisii was one of the first to arrive and he took a place as close as possible to the dock. He was thoroughly agitated, since he had thought often during the previous two months about the jolly young lady Mimi and her unfortunate fate; and now it seemed that the final resolution had arrived.

In the meantime there had been quite a few changes in the life of the former courier. After Erast Petrovich had let the Jack go completely free, there had been an unpleasant scene at the Governor's residence. Prince Dolgorukoi had flown into an indescribable rage, refused to listen to anything and even shouted at the Court Counsellor, calling him a 'self-willed boy'. The Chief had immediately handed in his written resignation, but it had not been accepted because, when the Prince cooled down, he had realised just how much embarrassment he had been spared by the prudence of his Deputy for Special Assignments. The Jack of Spades' testimony concerning the case of Lord Pitsbrook would have shown the Prince up in an unfavourable light, not only to the people of Moscow but also to the Higher Spheres, in which the obdurate Governor-General had no few enemies who were only waiting for him to commit some blunder. And to become an object of fun was even worse than a blunder, especially if you were already seventy-six and there were others keen to take your place.

In fact, the Governor had come to the house on Malaya Nikitskaya Street, begged Erast Petrovich's pardon and even recommended him for yet another Order of St Vladimir - not for the Jack of Spades, of course, but for 'outstandingly zealous service and special work'. The Prince's generosity had even extended to Anisii: he had received a substantial financial reward, enough to settle into the new apartment, get a few treats for Sonya and acquire a complete set of uniforms. He had used to be plain, simple Anisii, but now he was His Honour Collegiate Registrar Anisii Pitirimovich Tulipov.

Today he had come to the court in his brand-new summer uniform, never worn before. Summer was still a long way off, but Anisii looked very impressive in his high-collared white jacket with gold trimming on the buttonholes.

When the accused was brought in, she noticed the white uniform immediately, smiled sadly, as if to an old acquaintance, and sat down with her head lowered. Mim-ochka's hair (Mimochka - that was how Anisii thought of her to himself) had not yet grown back properly and it was gathered into a simple little knot at the back of her head. The accused had put on a simple brown dress and she looked like a small grammar-school girl facing a strict school-council meeting.

When Anisii saw the jurors glancing sympathetically at the modest girl, his spirits rose slightly. Perhaps the sentence would not be too severe?

However, the prosecutor's opening address left him horrified. The counsel for the prosecution - a rubicund, heartless careerist - painted Mimochka's character in the most scandalous colours, described in detail the revolting cynicism of the 'charitable lottery' and demanded three years of penal servitude for the spinster Maslennikova, plus five years of exile in the less distant regions of Siberia.

The alcoholic actor who had played the part of the chairman of the lottery was released by the court because his guilt was so insignificant and he appeared as a witness for the prosecution. It looked as if Mimochka was destined to carry the can alone for everyone. She lowered her little golden head on to her folded hands and began crying silently.

Then Anisii took a decision. He would follow her to Siberia, find some place to live there and provide the poor girl with the moral support of his faithful devotion. Then, when she was released early, they would marry and then ... and then everything would be just fine.

And what about Sonya?' his conscience asked. 'Will you put your only sister, an invalid needed by no one, in the poorhouse?'

'No,' Anisii answered his conscience. ‘I’ll throw myself at Erast Petrovich's feet - he's a noble man; he will understand.'

Things had worked out quite well for Sonya. Fandorin's new maid, the big-bosomed Palasha, had become very fond of the cripple. She looked after her and kept an eye on her, and wove her plaits for her. Sonya had even started saying a few words: 'ribbon' and 'comb'. The Chief would surely not abandon the helpless creature, and afterwards Anisii would take her to his place, just as soon as he was settled ...

At this point the judge gave the floor to the counsel for the defence and for the time being Tulipov set aside his desperate thoughts and gazed hopefully at the barrister.

To be quite honest, he did not look very promising: swarthy-skinned, with a long, drooping nose and a stoop. They said he had been hired from the famous St Petersburg firm of Rubinstein and Rubinstein by a person unknown and had the reputation of an expert in criminal matters. However, the defender's appearance was distinctly unprepossessing. When he stepped out to the front, sneezed loudly into a pink handkerchief and then hiccupped as well, Anisii was seized by foreboding. Oh, that mean rogue Momos had been too miserly to hire a good lawyer; he'd sent some mangy scruff, and a Jew into the bargain. Just look at the way those anti-Semitic jurors were glowering at him; they wouldn't believe a single word he said.

Tulipov's neighbour on the left, an impressive gentleman with a bushy beard and gold-rimmed spectacles who looked like a Kalmyk, examined the lawyer, shook his head and whispered conspiratorially to Anisii: 'He'll ruin the whole case, you'll see.'

The defender stood facing the jurors, pressed his hands to his sides and declared in a sing-song accent: 'Ah, Mr Judge and gentlemen of the jury, can you explain to me what this man has been talking about for the best part of an hour?' He jabbed his thumb derisively in the direction of the prosecutor. 'I would be interested to learn what all the commotion is about. On what is the money of honest taxpayers, such as you and I, being spent?'

The 'honest taxpayers' looked at this over-familiar windbag with evident distaste, but the barrister was not embarrassed in the least.

'What does the prosecution have?' he inquired sceptically. A certain swindler, whom, just between you and me, our valiant police have failed to find, organised a fraud. He hired this sweet, modest young lady to give out tickets, saying that the money would go to a good cause. Look at this young woman, gentlemen of the jury. I appeal to you: how is it possible to suspect such an innocent creature of such villainy?'

The jurors looked at the accused. Anisii looked too, and sighed. The case looked hopeless. Perhaps somebody else might have moved the court to pity, but not this hook-nose.

'Come now,' said the defender with a wave of his hand, 'she is as much a victim as the others. Even more so than the others, since the cashbox of the so-called lottery was arrested and all those who presented a ticket were given their money back. Do not ruin the life of this young creature, gentlemen of the jury; do not condemn her to a life among criminals.'

The lawyer sneezed again and pulled a heap of papers out of his briefcase.

'That's pretty feeble,' Anisii's bearded neighbour commented with cool, professional confidence. 'They'll find the girl guilty. How would you like a wager?' And he winked from behind his spectacles.

A fine sense of humour! Anisii moved away angrily, preparing for the worst.

But the defender had not finished yet. He pinched at his goatee beard in the manner of Lord Beaconsfield and genially pressed one hand to a shirt that was none too fresh.

'That is approximately the speech that I would have made to you, gentlemen of the jury, if there were anything to discuss here. But there is nothing to discuss, because I have here' - he shook the papers in the air - 'statements from all the plaintiffs. They are withdrawing their suits. Close the proceedings, Mr Judge. There is no case to be tried.' The barrister approached the judge and slapped the statements down on the table in front of him.

'But that's smart,' Anisii's neighbour whispered, growing excited. 'What will the prosecutor have to say to that?'

The prosecutor sprang to his feet and began shouting in a voice breaking under the weight of righteous indignation: 'This is plain bribery! And I shall prove it! The proceedings cannot be stopped! This is a case of public importance!'

The defender turned to the shouting man and began taunting him: '"Plain bribery"? What new Cato do we have here? It would have been cheaper to bribe you, Mr Prosecutor. Everybody knows that your rate is not very high. As it happens, by the way, I have one of your receipts here. Where is it now? Ah, here!' He pulled some other piece of paper out of his briefcase and thrust it under the judge's nose. 'For a mere one and a half thousand our prosecutor cancelled the bigamist Brutyan's sentence, and Brutyan fled.'

The prosecutor clutched at his heart and slumped down on to his chair. A hubbub broke out in the hall and the correspondents, who had so far been feeling bored, came to life and started scribbling in their notepads.

The judge rang his bell and gazed in confusion at the compromising receipt, as the disagreeable attorney turned awkwardly, and several photographic prints fell out of his inexhaustible briefcase, scattering on to the table.

Anisii could not see what was in those photographs, but the judge suddenly turned as white as chalk and gaped at them, his eyes wide in horror.

'I do apologise,' said the defender, and yet he appeared in no hurry to gather up the photographs from the table. 'They have absolutely nothing to do with our case here today. They are from another case, concerning the corruption of young boys.'

It seemed to Anisii that the barrister emphasised the words 'today' and 'another' in a somewhat strange manner, but then he did speak with a rather distinctive intonation, and Anisii could have imagined it.

'Well now, shall we close the case?' the advocate asked, looking the judge straight in the eye as he gathered up the photographs. 'On the basis that no crime has been committed, eh?'

A minute later the proceedings were declared concluded.

Anisii stood on the porch in a state of terrible agitation, waiting for the miraculous advocate to lead out his acquitted client.

And there they were: Mimochka was smiling to the left and the right, not looking miserable and pitiful any more. The stooping advocate was leading her along, arm in arm, and waving away the reporters with his other hand, which held the briefcase.

Ah, I'm fed up with you all!' he exclaimed angrily as he helped his companion into the phaeton.