Boris Akunin - He Lover of Death

The engineer continued as if he had heard Senka’s question: ‘Gentlemen and spiders, p-please put your pocket cannons away. I c-came here without a firearm because we can’t shoot in this b-basement in any case. I had time to make a close study of the v-vaults, they are in very bad repair, held up by n-nothing but a wish and a promise. One shot or, indeed, a l-loud shout will be enough to bring the Holy T-Trinity down on top of us.’

‘The Holy Trinity?’ Solntsev echoed nervously.

‘Not the Father, the S-Son and the Holy Ghost,’ Erast Petrovich said with a smile, ‘but the Ch-Church of the Holy Trinity in Serebryanniki. At this m-moment we are precisely below its f-foundations, I checked a historical map of Moscow. The b-buildings of the State Mint used to stand here.’

‘He’s lying through his teeth,’ said the Ghoul, shaking his head. ‘The Trinity can’t collapse, it’s made of stone.’

Instead of answering, the engineer clapped his hands loudly. The heap of earth and rubble blocking the doorway shook, and small stones showered down from the top of it.

‘A-agh!’ gasped Senka, choking on his own cry, and put his hand over his mouth.

But the others didn’t hear him – they were all gazing around wildly and gasping in fright. The superintendent even covered his head with his hands.

Death looked round at Senka for the first time since she had dug her elbow into him. She touched his forehead gently with her finger and whispered: ‘Don’t be afraid, everything will be all right.’

He was going to say: ‘There’s no one afraid here’, but she turned away again before he could.

Erast Petrovich waited for the spiders to stop twitching and said in a loud, commanding voice: ‘Before you d-determine which of you will leave here alive, I s-suggest you tip your bullets out on the f-floor. One accidental shot, and there will be n-no victors.’

‘A sound idea,’ said Boxman, the first to respond.

Deadeye agreed. ‘A bullet has no brains, that goes without saying.’

Well, of course! Those two didn’t need revolvers, Deadeye probably didn’t even have one.

The Prince narrowed his eyes in fury and hissed:

‘I’ll bite your rotten throats out!’ He threw open the cylinder of his revolver and tipped out the bullets.

The Ghoul hesitated for a moment, but a few more stones tumbled down off the top of the heap, and that convinced him.

The superintendent really didn’t want to part with his Colt. He glanced desperately at the way out, wondering whether he could leg it, but Erast Petrovich was blocking the way.

‘Come now, Your Honour,’ said Boxman, aiming his revolver at his superior’s forehead. ‘Do as you’re told!’

The superintendent tried to open the cylinder, but his hands were shaking. So he just flung the revolver away – it clanged against the floor, spun round a few times then stopped.

Boxman was the last to get rid of his bullets. ‘That’s better,’ he grunted, rolling up his sleeves. ‘Those popguns are nothing but trouble. Right, then, let’s get down to it and see who comes off best. Only keep it quiet! The first one to yell is the first to die!’

The Prince took his knuckleduster from his pocket. Deadeye backed away into the wall and shook his wrist, and a bright blade glinted between his fingers like a silvery fish. The Ghoul bent down, picked a silver rod up off a pile and swung it a couple of times. It whistled through the air. Even the superintendent wasn’t going to be left out. He ran into a corner, clicked something, and a narrow strip of steel leapt from his fist – the same knife he’d used to peel his apple at the station.

The engineer simply walked forward, taking springy steps with his legs slightly bent. Good for Erast Petrovich, the brainbox, he’d twisted them round his little finger. Now he’d start thrashing away with those arms and legs, Japanese-style.

Senka touched Death on the shoulder, as if to say: Watch what happens now! But she said: ‘Ah, how well it’s all turning out, it’s like the answer to a prayer. Let go of me, Senka.’

She turned round, kissed him quickly on the side of the head and ran out into the middle of the chamber. ‘And here I am, Death! Speak of the devil!’

She bent down and picked up the pistol the superintendent had thrown away, held it in both hands and cocked the hammer. ‘Thank you, Erast Pretrovich,’ she said to the stupefied engineer. ‘This was a very good idea. You can go now, you’re not needed here any more. Take Senya with you, and make haste. And you, my sweet little lovers,’ she said, turning towards the others, ‘will stay here with me.’

The Prince growled and darted towards her, but Death pointed the pistol at the ceiling. ‘Stop! I’ll fire! Or do you think I’m afraid to?’

Even the bold Prince backed away at that, her shout was so convincing.

‘Don’t d-do this!’ said Mr Nameless, recovering his senses. ‘Please, l-leave, you will only spoil everything.’

She tossed her head and her big eyes flashed. ‘Oh no! How could I leave, when God has shown me such kindness? I was always afraid that I would end up lying lifeless in my coffin and everyone would come and look. Now no one will see me dead, and there’ll be no need to bury me. The kind earth will shelter me.’

Senka saw Boxman edge over to the Ghoul and the Prince and whisper something to them. But Erast Petrovich wasn’t looking at them, only at Death.

‘There’s no reason for you to die!’ he shouted. ‘Just because you’ve convinced yourself that—’

‘Now!’ Boxman gasped, and all three of them – Boxman, the Prince and the Ghoul – flung themselves on the engineer.

The constable crashed into Erast Petrovich with all the weight of his massive carcass, pinned him against the wall, grabbed hold of his wrists and pulled the engineer’s arms out as if he was on a cross.

‘Get his legs!’ Boxman wheezed. ‘He’s a great kicker!’

The Prince and the Ghoul squatted down on their haunches and grabbed hold of Mr Nameless’s legs. He twitched like a fish on a hook, but he couldn’t break free.

‘Let him go!’ Death shrieked, and pointed the revolver, but she didn’t fire.

‘Hey, you, Four-eyes, take that gun off her!’ the constable ordered.

Deadeye moved directly towards Death, reciting in a cajoling voice: ‘Return to me, I beg you, cruel one, a youthful lover’s sacred pledge.’

She turned towards the Jack. ‘Don’t come any closer. Or I’ll kill you.’

But the slender hands clutching the revolver were shaking.

‘Shoot him! Don’t b-be afraid!’ Erast Petrovich shouted desperately, struggling to break loose.

But Boxman’s mighty hands held him in a vice-like grip, and the Ghoul and the Prince still kept hold of their prisoner.

‘Stop, you damned blockhead!’ the superintendent howled. ‘She’ll fire! You’ll get us all killed!’

The Jack’s thin lips stretched out into a smile. ‘Blockhead yourself! Mademoiselle won’t fire, she’s too concerned for the handsome man with the dark hair. That, my dear copper, is called love.’

He suddenly took two long, rapid strides, grabbed the Colt out of Death’s hands and flung it as far away as he could, to the entrance of the passage, then said calmly: ‘And now you can finish off Mr Know-all.’

‘What with, our teeth?’ hissed Boxman, crimson from the strain. ‘He’s a strong devil, we can barely hold him.’

‘Well then,’ Deadeye sighed, ‘it is the duty of the intelligentsia to help the people. Now, servant of law and order, move aside a little, if you please.’

The constable shifted over as far as he could and the Jack raised his knife, preparing to throw. Now the steel lightning would flash and that would be end of the American engineer Erast Petrovich Nameless.