Boris Akunin - He Lover of Death

Erast Petrovich was not in the slightest upset by this news; in fact, he seemed rather flattered: ‘It’s not surprising, m-many people in Moscow know me. And clearly, they haven’t f-forgotten me. Thank you, Subbotin. I know the risks you’ve taken, and I appreciate it. G-goodbye.’

He shook the man in specs by the hand, and Subbotin muttered in embarrassment: ‘Oh, it’s nothing. But you should be careful anyway . . . Who knows what they’ve got in mind. His Highness is very vindictive.’

Senka didn’t understand who ‘they’ were – or ‘His Highness’, for that matter.

From the yard behind Samshitov’s shop they walked along a side street to Lubyanka Passage, and then turned into the public garden.

At the very first bench Erast Petrovich gestured, inviting Senka to take a seat. They sat down, Senka in the middle, the other two on either side. A prisoner and his guards.

‘Well now, M-Mr Schopenhauer,’ said Erast Petrovich, turning towards him. ‘Shall we talk?’

‘What’s it to do with me?’ Senka grumbled, knowing this wasn’t going to be pleasant. ‘I don’t know nothing.’

‘Deduction t-tells me differently.’

‘Who does?’ Senka said, cheering up. ‘I’ve never laid eyes on this Deduction of yours. She’s a liar, a rotten bitch!’

Erast Petrovich twitched the corner of his mouth. ‘This lady, Spidorov (I think I’d b-better address you like that now), never lies. You remember the seventeenth-century silver k-kopeck I found in Siniukhin’s pocket after he was killed? Of course you remember it –you ignored it so very p-pointedly. Where would a poor pen-pusher come by a numismatic c-curiosity like that? That is one. Let us continue. At the m-murder scene you deliberately kept turning away and even closing your eyes, although, as Masa has observed, you are c-certainly not short of curiosity. And neither did you d-display the astonishment and horror that are natural at such a sight. You must admit this is strange. That is t-two. To proceed. On that day, there was silver in your p-pocket as well as Siniukhin’s, and it was jangling rather loudly. To judge from the sound, the c-coins were small, of a size no longer m-minted in our day. And in your hand you were carrying a rod of p-pure silver, which is entirely out of the ordinary. Where would a Khitrovka g-guttersnipe like you get a small fortune in silver? That is three.’

‘Calling me names, now, are you? Swearing at a poor orphan?’ Senka asked in a surly tone of voice. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, mister, a decent gent like you.’

Masa dug an elbow into his side. ‘When Masta say “that one, that two, that three”, keep quiet. You frighten away deduction.’

Senka looked round – there wasn’t a lady in sight. Who was there to frighten away? But to be safe he held his tongue. So far the sensei had only given him a gentle poke with his elbow, but he could easily belt him a lot harder than that.

Erast Petrovich went on as if he had never been interrupted. ‘Although I was not intending to investigate this c-crime, because I am involved in a completely d-different case, your behaviour intrigued me so much that I instructed Masa to look after you. However, the latest b-brutal murder, of which I was informed last night by an old c-colleague of mine, has changed my plans. I have to intervene in this business, because the authorities are clearly not capable of f-finding the killer. The investigating officers cannot even see that these c-crimes are links in a single chain. Why do I think so, you are about to ask?’ Senka wasn’t about to ask anything of the kind, but he didn’t try to argue with the stern gent. ‘Well, you see, from M-Maroseika Street to Khitrovka, where the Siniukhins were killed, is only a five-minute walk. These atrocities possess two f-fundamentally similar features that are encountered far too rarely for this to b-be regarded as pure coincidence. The killer is clearly p-pursuing some scheme far too grandiose for him to be d-distracted by mere details such as people or cheap m-medallions in the window of a jeweller’s shop. That is one. And another noteworthy f-feature is the diabolical caution that drives the criminal to l-leave no witnesses, not a single living creature, not even one as harmless as a three-year old infant or a b-bird. That is two. Right, and n-now for you, Spidorov: I am absolutely convinced that you know a great d-deal and can be of help to me.’

Senka had been certain he was going to hear more about the murderer, and was jolted by this abrupt conclusion. Squirming under the keen gaze of those blue eyes, he shouted: ‘So they topped that jeweller, what’s that got to do with me?’

Masa poked him with his elbow again, harder this time. ‘Have you forgotten about the snot-nosed kid? The one who earned a rouble following you? He saw you take the silver sticks into that shop.’

Senka realised there was no point denying it, so he changed tack from market-trader barking to snivelling: ‘What is it you want? Why don’t you ask properly . . . You’re just trying to frighten me, beating me in the ribs ...’

‘Stop that p-poor-mouthing,’ said Erast Petrovich. ‘Masa describes you in a most flattering f-fashion. He says that you’re not hard hearted, that you have an inquisitive m-mind and – a most v-valuable human quality – you strive towards self-improvement. Previously, before this latest c-crime, Masa simply asked you if you had d-decided to share your secret with us. He was certain that s-sooner or later he would earn your trust and you would want to unburden your heart to him. Now we c-can’t wait any longer. No more t-tact or delicacy – I demand that you answer two questions. The first is: what is the murderer l-looking for? And the second is: what do you know about this p-person?’

Masa nodded: come on, don’t be a coward, tell us.

Well, Senka told them everything, just like at confession. About the bandit deck, and about Deadeye, and about Death, and how the Prince wanted to finish him off, out of jealousy, like.

Well, he didn’t tell them everything, that goes without saying. He was cagey about the treasure hoard: there was supposed to be something of the kind, but whether it was true or not, Senka didn’t know. Well, when people went to confession, they didn’t tell the whole truth either, did they?

‘So, according to what you say, Spidorov, it seems this P-Prince and his jack killed Siniukhin in an attempt to extort the secret of the t-treasure from him?’ Erast Petrovich asked after listening to Senka’s rather incoherent story. ‘And the Prince p-paid a visit to the antiquary in order to find out your address?’

‘It stands to reason. Prokha squealed to him, the rat. He saw me near the shop, I told you! That’s why nothing was robbed, the Prince couldn’t give a damn for cheap baubles. He wants to get to me.’

‘But are you sure the Prince is only l-looking for you out of jealousy?’ Erast Petrovich wrinkled up his smooth forehead as if there was something he didn’t quite understand. ‘Maybe he wants you b-because of the treasure?’

Senka got this sudden aching feeling in his gut: he’d guessed, the wily gent had guessed the whole thing! And now he’d start pestering Senka: You tell me where those silver sticks are hidden.

Just to gain time, Senka started babbling: ‘He’s so jealous, it’s something awful! It’s that Deadeye he should be chasing! He’s always hanging around Death too. He gives her cocaine, and you know what she gives him. But it’s not really ’cause she’s a floozy. How can you blame her – when they’re on the candy cane, they can’t control themselves. It’s a real weakness with them ...’

‘In the old days, I b-believe there was a mint in the Yauza District, where they minted silver c-coins,’ Erast Petrovich declared thoughtfully when Senka paused for breath. ‘All right, I’m not interested in the t-treasure right now. Tell me, Spidorov, c-can you introduce me to this intriguing individual who has d-driven the underworld beau monde insane. You say they c-call her Death? What a d-decadent name.’