Special Assignments (3 page)

In a spacious hall that was completely deserted but had armchairs standing along the walls, the Court Counsellor said: 'Sit here. And hold the folder.'

He set off towards the tall, gilded doors, but they suddenly swung open to meet him. First there was a confused hubbub of voices in heated conversation, and then four men came out into the hall: a stately general, a lanky individual who did not look Russian wearing a check coat with a cape, a bald, skinny old man with absolutely immense sideburns and a civil functionary in uniform, wearing spectacles.

Recognising the general as Prince Dolgorukoi himself, Anisii quivered and drew himself up to attention.

From close up His Excellency did not look as fresh and sprightly as he appeared when viewed from a crowd: his face was covered with immensely deep wrinkles, his curls were unnaturally luxuriant, and the chestnut-brown of his long moustache and sideburns was too rich for a man of seventy-five.

'Erast Petrovich, just in time!' exclaimed the Governor. 'He mangles his French so badly you can't understand a thing, and he hasn't got a single word of Russian. You know English. So please explain what he wants from me! And how he was ever admitted! I've been trying to make sense of him for the best part of an hour, but it's a waste of time!'

'Your Excellency, how could we not have admitted him, when he's a lord and he visits the house,' the functionary in spectacles whined plaintively, clearly not for the first time. 'How could I have known ...'

At this point the Englishman also started speaking, addressing the new man and indignantly waving some piece of paper covered with seals in the air.

Erast Petrovich began translating dispassionately: 'This is a dishonest game; they don't do things like this in civilised countries. I was with this old gentleman yesterday; he signed a bill of sale for the house and we sealed the agreement with a handshake. And now, you see, he has decided not to move out. His grandson, Mr Speier, told me that the old gentleman was moving to a home for veterans of the Napoleonic Wars; he will be more comfortable there, because the care is good, and this mansion was for sale. This kind of dithering does him no credit, especially when the money has already been paid. And a large sum, too - a hundred thousand roubles. Here is the bill of sale!'

'He's been waving yon piece of paper around for ages, but he won't let us have it,' remarked the bald old man, who had so far remained silent. Obviously he must be Frol Grigorievich Vedishchev.

I'm Speier's grandfather?' the Prince babbled. 'They're putting me in an almshouse?'

The functionary stole up to the Englishman from behind, stood on tiptoe and managed to sneak a glimpse at the mysterious sheet of paper.

'It really does say a hundred thousand, and it's been witnessed by a notary' he confirmed. And it's our address: the house of Prince Dolgorukoi, Tverskaya Street.'

Fandorin asked: 'Vladimir Andreevich, who is this Speier?'

Prince Dolgorukoi mopped his scarlet brow with a handkerchief and shrugged. 'Speier is a very pleasant young man with excellent references. He was presented to me at the Christmas ball by ... mmm ... who was it now? Ah, no, now I remember. It wasn't at the ball. He was recommended to me in a special letter by His Highness the Duke of Saxen-Limburg. Speier is a very fine, courteous young fellow, with a heart of gold, and very unfortunate. He was in the Kushka campaign, wounded in the back, and since then he can't move his legs. He gets around in a wheelchair, but he hasn't let it get him down. He does charitable work, collects contributions for orphans and contributes huge sums himself. He was here yesterday morning with this mad Englishman, who he said was the well-known British philanthropist Lord Pitsbrook. He asked me to allow him to show the Englishman round the mansion, because His Lordship is a connoisseur and lover of architecture. How could I refuse poor Speier such a trifling request? Innokenty here accompanied them.' Dolgorukoi jabbed his finger angrily towards the functionary, who threw his hands up in the air despairingly.

'Your Excellency, how could I have ... You told me yourself to be as helpful as I possibly could

'Did you shake Lord Pitsbrook's hand?' asked Fandorin, and Anisii thought he caught the glint of a spark in the Court Counsellor's eyes.

'Why, naturally,' the Prince said with a shrug. 'First Speier told him something about me in English, then the lanky fellow beamed and reached for my hand to shake it.'

'And d-did you sign some kind of document before that?'

The Governor knitted his brows as he tried to remember. 'Yes, Speier asked me to sign the speech of welcome for the newly re-opened Catherine the Great Girls' Home. Such sacred work - re-educating juvenile harlots. But I didn't sign any bill of sale! You know me, dear fellow: I always read everything I sign very carefully'

And then what did he do with the address?'

'I think he showed it to the Englishman, said something and put it in a folder. The folder was lying in his wheelchair.' Dolgorukoi's face, already menacing, turned as dark as a storm cloud. Ah,
merde!
Could he really ...'

Erast Petrovich addressed the lord in English, apparently succeeding in winning the son of Albion's complete confidence, because he was given the mysterious sheet of paper to study.

All drawn up in due form,' the Court Counsellor muttered, running his glance over the bill of sale. "With an official seal and a stamp from the "Mobius" notary's office and the signature ... What on earth!' An expression of extreme perplexity appeared on Fandorin's face. 'Vladimir Andreevich, look here! Look at the signature!'

The Prince took hold of the piece of paper disdainfully, as if it were a toad, and held it as far away as he could from his longsighted eyes. He read out loud: '"Jack of Spades" ... I beg your pardon, what does this "Jack" mean?'

'Well, well, well...' Vedishchev drawled. 'That's clear then. The Jack of Spades again. Well, well. Our Lady in Heaven, what a turn-up this is.'

'The Jack of Spades?' said His Excellency, still unable to make any sense of anything. 'But that's the name of a band of swindlers - the ones who sold the banker Polyakov his own trotters last month, and helped the merchant Vinogradov pan for gold dust in the River Setuni at Christmas. Barabanov reported to me about them. We're looking for them, he said, the villains. I laughed at the time. But have they really dared try to swindle me - me, Dolgorukoi?' The Governor-General tore open his gold-embroidered collar and his face took on such a terrible expression that Anisii pulled his head back down into his shoulders.

Vedishchev fluttered across to the furious Prince like a startled hen and started clucking: 'Vladim Andreich, everyone makes mistakes sometimes; why distress yourself so? I'll get your valerian drops and call the doctor to let your blood! Innokenty give me a chair!'

However, Anisii was first to reach the Governor with a chair.

They sat the overwrought Prince down on the soft seat, but he kept struggling to stand up and pushing away his valet.

'Like some petty merchant or other! Do they take me for a boy? I'll give them the almshouse!' he cried incoherently. Vedishchev made all sorts of reassuring sounds and once even stroked His Excellency's dyed - or perhaps false - curls.

The Governor turned to Fandorin and said plaintively: 'Erast Petrovich, my friend, what is going on here? They've got completely out of hand, these bandits. In my person they have insulted, abased and mocked the whole of Moscow. Call out all the police and the gendarmes, but find the villains. I want them tried! Sent to Siberia! You can do anything, my dear fellow. From now on, regard this as your most important job, a personal request from me. Baranov won't be able to manage on his own; he can assist you.'

'We can't possibly use the police,' the Court Counsellor replied thoughtfully. There were no sparks glittering in Fandorin's eyes now; his face expressed nothing except concern for the reputation of the authorities. 'If the word spreads, the entire c-city will split its sides laughing. We can't allow that to happen.'

'I beg your pardon,' said Dolgorukoi, growing furious again. 'Then what are we supposed to do - just let these "Jacks" get away with it?'

'Under no circumstances. I shall handle this m-matter. But confidentially, with no publicity.' Fandorin thought for a while and continued: 'Lord Pitsbrook's money will have to be repaid out of the municipal t-treasury and we shall have to apologise to him, but not explain anything about the "Jack". We'll say it was all a misunderstanding. Your grandson took too much upon himself.'

On hearing his name mentioned, the Englishman agitatedly asked the Court Counsellor about something.

Fandorin replied briefly and turned back to the Governor: 'Vedishchev will think of something that will satisfy the servants' curiosity. And I'll start searching.'

'But how can you find such a set of rogues all on your own?' the valet asked doubtfully.

'Yes, it will not be easy. But it is not desirable to extend the circle of people who know about this.' Fandorin glanced at the secretary in spectacles, whom the Prince had called Innokenty and shook his head. Innokenty was obviously not suitable as an assistant. Then he turned towards Anisii, and Anisii's blood ran cold at the sudden keen awareness of how unpresentable he appeared: young and skinny with ears that jutted out, and covered in pimples as well.

'I won't ... I won't say a word,' he babbled. 'My word of honour.'

And who is this?' roared His Excellency the Governor, who had apparently only just noticed the pitiful figure of the courier. 'Why is he here?'

'This is Tulipov,' explained Fandorin, 'from the Department of Gendarmes. An experienced agent. It is he who is going to assist me.'

The Prince ran his glance over the cowering Anisii and knitted his brows menacingly. 'Now, you listen here, Tulipov. Make yourself useful, and I'll make a man of you. Make a mess of things and I'll grind you into dust.'

As Erast Petrovich and the dumbfounded Anisii walked towards the stairs, they heard Vedishchev say: As you wish, Vladim Andreich, but there's no money in the treasury A hundred thousand is no joke. The Englishman will have to make do with an apology'

Outside there was another shock in store for Tulipov. As he pulled on his gloves, the Court Counsellor suddenly asked him: 'Is it true what I've been told - that you support an invalid sister and have refused to give her into public care?'

Anisii had not expected such detailed knowledge of his domestic circumstances, but in his stunned condition, he was less surprised than he ought to have been. 'She can't go into public care,' he explained. 'She'd pine away. The poor simpleton is far too used to me.'

That was when Fandorin really astounded him. 'I envy you,' he sighed. 'You're a fortunate man, Tulipov. At such a young age you already have reason to respect yourself - something you can be proud of. The Lord has given you a firm core for the whole of your life.'

Anisii was still trying to grasp the meaning of these strange words when the Court Counsellor continued: 'Do not be concerned about your sister. Hire a nurse for her for the period of the investigation. At public expense, naturally. From this moment on until the case of the Jack of Spades is closed you will be at my disposal. We shall be working together for a while. I hope you won't find it too b-boring.'

This was his unexpected happiness, Tulipov suddenly realised. This was his good fortune.

Praise be for the white dove!

CHAPTER 2

The Science of Life According to Momos

In recent years he had changed his name so often that he had almost forgotten the original one, the one he had been born with. And in his own mind he had long since referred to himself as 'Momos'.

Momos is the name of a spiteful ancient Greek jester, the son of Nyx, the goddess of night. In a prophecy of the 'Egyptian Pythia', the same name is given to the jack of spades, a bad card that promises a meeting with a scoffing fool or a malicious trick of fortune.

Momos was fond of cards and even had a profound respect for them, but he didn't believe in fortune-telling and the meaning he invested in his chosen name was quite different.

It is well known that every mortal plays a game of cards with destiny. The cards that are dealt do not depend on man; you have to take what you are given: some will get nothing but trumps, others nothing but twos and threes. Nature had dealt Momos middling cards - rubbish, you could say: tens and jacks. But a good player will make a fight of it even with cards like that.

In terms of the human hierarchy, too, it was the jack that suited him best. Momos's assessment of himself was a sober one: he was no ace, of course, and no king, but he was no worthless card either. So he was a jack. But not some boring old jack of clubs or respectable jack of diamonds or - God forbid -sentimental, drooling jack of hearts, but a special jack, the jack of spades. Spades were a complex suit, the most junior suit in all the games except for bridge, in which they outranked clubs and hearts and diamonds. The conclusion was: decide for yourself what game you are going to play with life, and your suit will be the main one.

In his early childhood Momos had been obsessed by the Russian saying about chasing two hares at once. Why, he used to wonder in bewilderment, was it not possible to catch both of them? Did you just have to abandon one of them, then? Little Momos (he wasn't Momos yet; he was still Mitenka Sawin) definitely did not agree with that. And he had turned out to be absolutely right. The saying had proved to be a stupid one, designed for the dull-witted and lazy. On occasions Momos had managed to catch not just one or two long-eared, fluffy grey animals at once, but many of them. For that he had his own psychological theory, which he had developed specially.

People had invented many sciences, and most of them were of no benefit to a normal man, but they carried on writing treatises, defending their master's and doctoral dissertations, becoming members of academies. Ever since he was very little, Momos had been able to sense with his very skin, his bones, his spleen that the most important branch of learning was not arithmetic or Latin, but
the ability to please.
That was the key with which it was possible to open any door. It was strange, though, that this most important knowledge was never imparted by tutors or grammar-school teachers. He had had to discover its laws for himself. But if you thought about it for a moment, that was actually to his advantage. The boy had shown a talent for this most important branch of learning early on, and he could only thank God that others were unaware of the advantages of this discipline.