Special Assignments

by Boris Akunin

  'Naturally, I will give you the most flattering references possible for the chief of police and Sverchinsky. It is not your fault that I was not up to the job. I shall recommend that you be transferred to the investigative or operational unit -whichever you wish. But I also have another proposition for you, Tulipov...'

  The Chief paused and Anisii, already shaken by the brilliant prospect of a triumphant return to the gendarmerie, strained forward, sensing that something even more breathtaking was about to be said.

  '... Provided, of course, that you have nothing against working with me on a permanent basis, I can offer you a position as my assistant. My own position entitles me to a permanent assistant, but so far I have not made any use of this right and preferred to manage on my own. However, I think you would suit me. You are lacking in knowledge of people, you are inclined to ponder things for too long and have insufficient faith in your own abilities; but in our business those very qualities could be extremely useful, if they are turned in the necessary direction. Your scant knowledge of people frees you from making stereotyped judgements, and in any case it is a shortcoming that can be remedied. To hesitate before taking a decision is also useful - provided only that afterwards, once having decided, you do not delay. And lack of faith in your own abilities protects you from pointless bravado and acting heedlessly. It can develop into a salutary prudence. Your main virtue, Tulipov, is that your fear of finding yourself in a shameful situation is stronger than your physical fear, which means that in any situation you will attempt to conduct yourself in a worthy fashion. That suits me very well. And you really do think rather well for someone with five classes of ordinary secondary school. What do you say?'

  Anisii said nothing: he had been struck dumb and he was terrified even to move a muscle - what if this marvellous dream suddenly evaporated? What if he rubbed his eyes and saw his squalid little room, and Sonya snivelling because she was wet, and the cold sleet outside the window, and it was time to go running off to work and start delivering documents round the city?

  Seeming suddenly to recall something, the Court Counsellor said in a guilty voice: 'Ah, yes, I haven't named the terms; I sincerely beg your pardon. You will immediately be granted the title of collegiate registrar. Your position will have a long title: "Personal Assistant to the Deputy for Special Assignments of the Governor-General of Moscow". The salary is fifty roubles a month and some other kind of quarterly emoluments - I don't remember exactly. You will be paid moving expenses and provided with an apartment at public expense, for I shall require you to live nearby. Of course, the move might not be convenient, but I promise that the apartment will be comfortable and well suited for your family circumstances.'

  He means Sonya, Anisii guessed, quite correctly.

  'Since I am ... hmm ... returning to the bachelor life,' the Chief said with an indeterminate gesture, 'Masa has been ordered to find new servants: a cook and a maid. Since you will be living nearby, they can also serve you.'

  I mustn't start bawling now, Tulipov thought in a panic; that would be just too embarrassing altogether.

  Fandorin spread his arms wide in puzzlement: "Well, I don't know what else to tempt you with. Would you like ...'

  'No, Your Honour,' Anisii howled, coming to his senses. 'I don't want anything else. That's already more than enough for me. When I didn't say anything, I only meant...' He broke off, not knowing how to finish.

  'Excellent,' Erast Petrovich said with a nod. 'We would appear to be in agreement. And your first task will be as follows: just to be on the safe side - for God takes care of those who take care of themselves - keep a close eye on the newspapers for a week or two. And I'll give instructions for the office of the chief of police to send you the "Police Summary of Municipal Events" to look through every day. Take note of anything exceptional, unusual or suspicious and report to me. This Momos might possibly be even more impudent than we imagine.'

  A day or two after this historical conversation that marked such a decisive change in Anisii Tulipov's life, he was sitting at the writing desk in his chief’s study at the house, looking through the marks he had made in the newspapers and the 'Police Summary' as he prepared to report.

  It was already after eleven, but Erast Petrovich had still not emerged from the bedroom. Just recently he had been rather listless and taciturn in general and shown no real interest in Tulipov's discoveries. He would listen in silence, wave his hand and say: 'You can go, Tulipov. The office is closed for today'

  Today Masa had looked in to see Anisii and whisper with him. 'Ver' bad,' he said. At nigh' no sleep, in day no eat, no do zazen or rensu.'

  'What doesn't he do?' Anisii asked, also in a whisper.

  'Rensu - this ..." The Japanese made some rapid, abrupt movements with his hands and swung one foot up above his shoulder in a single movement.

  Ah, Japanese gymnastics,' said Tulipov, recalling that on previous mornings, while he was reading the newspapers in the study, the Court Counsellor and his valet would go into the drawing room, move the tables and chairs aside, and then crash and clatter for a long time, every now and then emitting harsh screeching sounds.

  'Zazen - this,' said Masa, continuing his explanation. He flopped down on to the floor, pulled his legs in under him, fixed his eyes on the leg of a chair and made an expressionless face. 'Unnerstan', Tiuri-san?'

  When Anisii shook his head, the Japanese made no attempt to explain any more. He said anxiously: 'Need woman. With woman bad, without woman worse. I think go good brothel, talk with madam.'

  Tulipov also felt that Erast Petrovich's melancholy was connected with the disappearance of Countess Addy from the house, but in his opinion it would be best to refrain from such a radical measure as appealing for help to the madam of a brothel.

  Just as the consultation in the study was at its height, Fandorin entered. He was in his dressing gown, with a smoking cigar clenched in his teeth. He sent Masa to bring coffee and asked Anisii in a bored voice: 'Well, what have you got there, Tulipov? Are you going to read me the advertisements for the latest technical wonders again? Or about the theft of a bronze lyre from the tomb of Count Khvostov, like yesterday?'

  Anisii hesitated in embarrassment, because he actually had marked out a suspicious advertisement in the Week that glorified the properties of a 'self-propelled wonder-bicycle' with some mythical kind of'internal combustion engine'.

  'Oh, no, Erast Petrovich,' he protested with dignity seeking out something more impressive. 'There's a curious announcement here in yesterday's "Summary". They say there are rumours going round Moscow of some magical black bird that flew down from the heavens to Full State Counsellor Eropkin, gave him a gold ring and spoke with him in a human voice. And they also mention some holy fool, a miraculous boy whom they call either Paisii or Pafhutii. There's a note from the chief of police: "Inform the Consistory, so that the parish priests can explain to their flocks the harmfulness of superstitious beliefs."'

  'Eropkin? A blackb-bird?' the Chief asked in surprise. 'Samson Kharitonovich Eropkin himself? Strange. Very strange. And tell me, is it a persistent rumour?'

  'Yes, it says here that everyone mentions the Smolensk Market.'

  'Eropkin is a very rich and very superstitious man,' Erast Petrovich said thoughtfully. 'I would suspect some kind of swindle in this, but Eropkin has such a reputation that none of the Moscow rogues would dare to tangle with him. He's as vicious a villain as the world has ever seen. I've had him in my sights for a while, but unfortunately Vladimir Andreevich has ordered me not to touch him. He says there are plenty of villains, you can't put them all in jail, and this one gives generously to the municipal budget and charity. So a bird spoke to him in a human voice? And it had a gold ring in its beak? Let me have a look'

  He took the 'Police Summary of Municipal Events' from Tulipov and started reading the circled article.

  'Hmm. In every case mention is made of a "blessed youth, with a, bright, clean face and golden hair, in a shirt whiter than snow". When did
you ever hear of a holy fool with a bright, clean face and a shirt whiter than snow? And look at this, what it says here: "It is difficult to dismiss this rumour as a total invention in view of the remarkable amount of detail, which is not usually typical of such idle inventions." I tell you what, Tulipov: you take two or three agents from Sverchinsky and put Eropkin's house and his movements under secret surveillance. Don't explain the reason why; just say it's an order from His Excellency. Jack or no Jack, I sense some cunning intrigue in this. Let's get to the bottom of these holy miracles.'

  The Court Counsellor pronounced this last phrase in a distinctly major key. The news of the magical black bird had produced a miraculous effect on Erast Petrovich. He stubbed out his cigar, and when Masa came in with the coffee things, he said: 'Give the coffee to Tulipov over there. You and I haven't done any sword training for a long time.'

  The Japanese beamed brightly, dumped the tray on the desk, sending drops of black liquid flying into the air, and rushed headlong out of the study.

  Five minutes later Anisii was standing at the window and wincing as he observed two figures, naked except for loincloths, trampling through the snow in the courtyard on slightly bent legs. The Court Counsellor was slim and muscular; Masa was as solid as a barrel, but without a single fold of fat. Each opponent was holding in his hands a stout stick of bamboo with a round guard on the hilt. You wouldn't kill anyone with a thing like that, of course, but you could very easily cripple them.

  Masa held his hands out with his 'sword' pointing upwards, gave a blood-curdling howl and jumped forward. A loud crack of wood against wood, and once again the opponents were circling through the snow. 'Br-r-r-r-r,' Anisii said with a shudder, and took a sip of hot coffee.

  The Chief dashed at the short Japanese, the clash of the sticks fused into a continuous crackling, and they began flashing about so fast that Tulipov's eyes were dazzled.

  However, the fight did not last long. Masa slumped down on to his backside, clutching the top of his head, with Fandorin standing over him, rubbing a bruised shoulder.

  'Hey, Tulipov,' he shouted merrily, turning towards the house, 'how would you like to join us? I'll teach you Japanese fencing!'

  Oh no, thought Anisii, hiding behind the curtain. Some other time.

  'You don't want to?' asked Erast Petrovich, scooping up a handful of snow and rubbing it into his sinewy midriff with evident pleasure. 'Off you go then; get on with the job. No more time-wasting!'

  How do you like that? As if Tulipov had spent two days in a row sitting around in his dressing gown!

  His Honour Mr Fandorin

  26 February, second day of observation

  I apologise for my handwriting - I am writing with a pencil and the sheet of paper is on agent Fedorov's back. The note will be delivered by agent Sidorchuk, and I have put the third agent, Latzis, on watch in a sleigh in case the mark departs suddenly.

  Something strange is happening to the mark.

  He has not been in his office either yesterday or today. We know from his cook that the holy fool, the boy Paisii, has been living in the house since yesterday morning. He eats a lot of chocolate and says that's all right, chocolate is not forbidden during the fast. Early this morning, when it was still dark, the mark went somewhere on his sleigh, accompanied by Paisii and three servants. On Yakimanka Street he got away from us and left in the direction of the Kaluga Gates - he has a very fine troika. We don't know where he went. He came back soon after seven, carrying an old copper saucepan that he held at arm's length. It looked quite heavy. The mark appeared agitated and even frightened. According to information received from the cook, he took no breakfast but locked himself in his bedroom and made jangling sounds there for a long time. There are whispers in the house about some 'huge great treasure' the master is supposed to have found. And a piece of total nonsense about the Holy Virgin herself supposedly appearing to E., or a burning bush speaking to him.

  Since midday the mark has been here, in the Church of the Mother of God of Smolensk, praying furiously, bowing down to the ground in front of the Holy Icon. The boy Paisii is with him. The holy fool looks exactly as he was described in the summary. I would only add that he has a keen, lively gaze, not like holy fools have. Come quick, Chief, something is going on here. I'll send Sidorchuk now and go back into the church for communion.

  Written at five hours forty-six and a half minutes in the afternoon.

  A.T.

  Erast Petrovich appeared in the church soon after seven, when the interminable 'Most Blessed Among Women' was already coming to an end. Tulipov (wearing blue spectacles and a ginger wig, so that he wouldn't be taken for a Tatar because of his shaved head) felt a touch on his shoulder. It was a swarthy-faced, curly-haired gypsy in a long fur coat, with an earring in his ear.

  'Right, son, hand on the light of God,' the gypsy said, and when Anisii, astounded at such familiarity, took the candle from him, he whispered in Fandorin's voice: 'I see Eropkin, but where's the boy?'

  Tulipov blinked, recovered his wits and pointed carefully.

  The mark was kneeling on the floor, muttering prayers and bowing incessantly. There was a black-bearded man who looked like a bandit kneeling behind him but not crossing himself, just looking bored. Once or twice he even yawned widely, exposing the glint of his handsome white teeth. A pretty-looking youth was sitting to the right of Eropkin, with his hands folded into a cross and his eyes raised in sorrow, singing something in a thin voice. He was wearing a white shirt, but not actually as snow-white as the rumours had claimed - he clearly had not changed it for a long time. Once Anisii saw the holy fool fall face down on the floor in the ecstasy of prayer and quickly stuff a chocolate into his cheek. Tulipov was terribly hungry himself, but duty is duty. Even when he went outside to write his report he hadn't allowed himself to buy a smoked-sturgeon-belly pie on the square, although he had really wanted to.

  'Why are you made up as a gypsy?' he asked the Chief in a whisper.

  And who else do you think I can make myself up as with that Brazil-nut infusion still on my fizzog? A Moor, perhaps? A Moor has no business with the Mother of God of Smolensk.'

  Erast Petrovich looked at Anisii reproachfully and suddenly, without the slightest stammer, he said something that made poor Tulipov's jaw drop: 'I forgot one substantial failing that is hard to transform into a virtue. You have a weak visual memory. Don't you see that the holy fool is a close, one might even say intimate, acquaintance of yours?'

  'No!' exclaimed Anisii, clutching at his heart. 'It can't be!'

  'Just look at her ear. I told you that every person's ears are unique. You see that short pink lobe, and the general outline -a perfect oval: that's rare, and the most distinctive detail - the slightly protruding antitragus. It's her, Tulipov, it is: the Georgian Princess. That means the Jack really is more impudent than I thought.'

  The Court Counsellor shook his head as if in amazement at the mysteries of human nature. Then he began speaking curtly, in brief fragments: 'The very best agents. Definitely Mikheev, Subbotin, Seifullin and another seven. Six sleighs and horses good enough not to fall behind Eropkin's sleigh again. The strictest secrecy, following the "enemies all around" system, so that the pursuit will not be evident to the mark, or even to the public. It's quite possible that the Jack himself is hanging about somewhere near here. We don't know what his face looks like, and he hasn't shown us his ears. Quick march to Nikitskaya Street. Look lively!'

  Anisii gazed like a man enchanted at the 'boy's' slim neck, and the ideal oval ear with that antitragus, and the thoughts that crept into the mind of the candidate for a state title were entirely inappropriate for a church, especially during the Lenten Fast.

  He started, crossed himself and began making his way through to the exit.

  Eropkin remained praying and fasting in the church until late and only arrived home after ten. From where the agent Latzis was freezing on the roof of the next house, people could be seen starting to harness horses into a closed sleigh.
It seemed that, despite the late night hour, Samson Kharitonovich was not intending to take to his bed.

  But Fandorin and Anisii had everything ready. There were three ways to drive away from Eropkin's house in Mertvy Lane: towards the Church of the Asssumption on the Graves, towards Starokoniushenny Lane, and on to Prechistenka Street, and there were sleighs standing unobtrusively at each crossroads.

  The Full State Counsellor's sleigh - squat and covered with dark fabric - drove out of the oak gates at a quarter past eleven and set off towards Prechistenka Street. There were two strong-looking fellows in sheepskin jackets sitting on the coachbox, and the black-bearded mute was at the back, on the footboard.

  The first of the two sleighs on duty at the entrance to Prechistenka Street set off in unhurried pursuit. The other five lined up behind and set off, keeping a respectful distance behind 'number one' - that was what the front echelon of the surveillance team was called in the jargon. At the back of number one there was a lighted red lantern that the sleighs behind could see from a long distance away.

  Erast Petrovich and Anisii rode in a light sleigh, hanging back about a hundred and fifty yards behind the red lantern. The other numbers stretched out in a string behind them. There were peasant sleighs, and a coachman's troika, and a priest's twosome, but even the most unkempt-looking wooden sledges were solidly put together, on steel runners, and the horses had been specially selected to match - they might not be much to look at, but they had speed and stamina.

  After the first turning (on to the embankment of the River Moscow), following instructions, number one fell back and, at Fandorin's signal, number two moved up, while number one fell in at the very end of the tail. Number two trailed the mark for exacdy ten minutes by the clock, and then turned off to the left, making way for number three.

  In this case the strict observance of instructions proved far from excessive, because the black-bearded bandit on the footboard was wide awake; he was smoking a cigar and the thick-skinned brute wasn't bothered at all by the weather - he hadn't even covered his shaggy head with a cap, although a wind had come up and there were large wet flakes of snow fluttering down from the heavens.