Boris Akunin - The Coronation

‘ Mon Dieu !’ she exclaimed, fluttering her eyelashes, and in her agitation forgetting our agreement to speak to each other only in Russian. ‘ Monsieur Ziukin, qu’est-ce qui s’est passé ? Et qui sont ces hommes ? C’est le domestique japonais ?’ 1

‘It is I, Mademoiselle,’ Fandorin said with a bow. ‘Afanasii Stepanovich and I have been taking a brief tour of the sights of Moscow. But that is of no importance. Please tell me how your meeting went. Did you see the boy?’

That was when I learned the circumstances under which Her Majesty had lost her sapphire collar.

‘It’s very bad that the gendarmes went off in pursuit,’ Erast Petrovich said anxiously. ‘They should not have done that under any circumstances. Describe the c-carriage for me.’

Mademoiselle wrinkled up her forehead and said: ‘Black, dusty, a window with a rideau . . . The wheel had eight rais . . . Spikes?’

‘Spokes,’ I prompted.

‘Yes, yes, eight spokes. On the door – a brass handle.’

‘That’s right!’ I exclaimed. ‘The handle on the door of the carriage that I saw was in the form of a brass ring!’

Fandorin nodded. ‘Well then, they have used the same carriage twice. Lind is too sure of himself and has too low an opinion of the Russian police. And that’s not a bad thing. Describe the man who took the reticule from you.’

‘Tall, brown eyes. His nose a little crooked. His moustache and beard ginger, but I think they were not real, glued on. Outre cela. 2. . .’ Mademoiselle thought. ‘ Ah, oui ! A mole on the left cheek, just here.’ And she touched my cheek with her finger, making me start.

‘Thank you, that is something at least,’ Fandorin told her. ‘But what is going on here? I saw the carriages of the tsar and the grand dukes in front of the house.’

‘I don’t know,’ Mademoiselle said plaintively, switching completely into French. ‘They don’t tell me anything. And they all look at me as I were to blame for everything.’ She took her elbows in her hands, gulped and said in a more restrained voice, ‘I think something terrible has happened. An hour ago a package was delivered to the house, a small one, and everyone started running around, and the phones started ringing. Half an hour ago His Majesty arrived, and Grand Dukes Kirill and Simeon have just arrived too . . .’

At that moment Colonel Karnovich glanced out into the hallway with his brows knitted and his lips tightly compressed.

‘Fandorin, is that you?’ he asked. ‘I was informed you had arrived. What sort of idiotic masquerade is that? Still playing the gentleman detective? They’re waiting for you. Please be so good as to make yourself decent and and get up to the large drawing room immediately. And you too, madam.’

Erast Petrovich and Mademoiselle walked away, but Karnovich looked me over from head to foot and shook his head fastidiously.

‘What do you look like, Ziukin? Where have you been? What was Fandorin up to? It’s most opportune that he should have taken you into his confidence. Come on, tell me; you and I are from the same department.’

‘It was all pointless, Your Honour,’ I said, without knowing why. ‘We just wasted our time. Who is serving His Majesty and Their Highnesses?’

‘The sovereign’s valet and Simeon Alexandrovich’s butler.’

Oh, how shameful!

Never before had I washed and changed with such speed. Just ten minutes later, after putting myself in order, I quietly entered the drawing room and thanked Foma Anikeevich and Dormidont with a bow.

There were no drinks or hors d’œuvres on the table – only ashtrays and a rather small brown paper package that had already been opened. Just to be on the safe side I took a tray from the side table and started setting out glasses on it, and in the meantime I stole a quick glance at the faces of those present, trying to guess what had happened.

The sovereign was nervously smoking a papyrosa. Kirill Alexandrovich was wearily rubbing his eyelids. The governor general was drumming his fingers on the table. Georgii Alexandrovich was gazing fixedly at the package. Pavel Georgievich looked unwell – his lips were trembling and there were tears in his eyes. But I found Mademoiselle Declique’s appearance most frightening of all. She was sitting with her face in her hands, her shoulders were trembling, and there were convulsive sobs escaping through her fingers. I had never seen her cry before, in fact I had never even imagined that it was possible.

The high police master was sitting apart from the other men, beside the impassive Karnovich, and constantly mopping his forehead and bald temples with a handkerchief. He suddenly hiccuped, flushed bright crimson and muttered: ‘I beg your pardon.’

Then he immediately hiccuped again. In the total silence the indecorous sound was distinctly audible.

I suddenly felt very afraid. So afraid that I swayed on my feet. Oh Lord, surely not?

‘May I take a look?’ Fandorin asked, breaking the silence.

Erast Petrovich had evidently entered the drawing room a minute or two before me. He had changed into a severe English frock coat and even found time to put on a tie.

What was it that he wanted to look at? The latest letter from Lind?

‘Yes,’ Kirill Alexandrovich said morosely. He had evidently taken on the role of chairman out of force of habit. ‘Feast your eyes on it.’

Fandorin took a small bundle, about the size of a fruit drop, out of the package. He unwrapped it, and I saw some small object, pink andwhite, inside it. Erast Petrovich quickly extracted a magnifying glass from his inside pocket and bent down over the table. The expression on his face was as sour as if he had bitten a lemon.

‘Is this d-definitely His Highness’s finger?’

The silver tray slipped out of my hands, the glasses were smashed to smithereens. Everybody started and looked round at me, but I didn’t even apologise – I barely managed to grab hold of the corner of the table in order to stop myself falling.

‘What kind of stupid question is that?’ Simeon Alexandrovich growled angrily. ‘Of course it’s Mika’s little finger! Who else’s could it be?’

Foma Anikeevich walked silently across to me and supported me by the elbow. I nodded to him gratefully, trying to indicate that it would soon pass.

‘Listen to what it says in the letter,’ said Kirill Alexandrovich, and I noticed that there was a sheet of paper lying in front of him.

The grand duke put on his pince-nez and read out the message which, like the previous ones, was written in French.

Gentlemen, you still do not seem to have realised that I am not joking.

I hope that this little parcel will convince you of the seriousness of my intentions. The severed finger is the punishment for your people’s repeated violation of our agreement. The next time there is any foul play, the boy’s ear will be cut off.

Now concerning our business. For the next payment I am expecting you to deliver the diamond bouquet with a spinel from the collection of the empress. The governess must be at mass in the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour from three o’clock in the afternoon. Alone, naturally.

If she is shadowed, you have only yourselves to blame for the consequences.

Yours sincerely ,

Doctor Lind

What astounded me most of all was how well-informed the villain was about Her Majesty’s coffret. The small diamond bouquet with a spinel was one of the genuine masterpieces of the imperial collection. It had become the property of the crown as part of the dowry of the bride of Pavel Petrovich, the future Emperor Paul I. This great masterpiece of eighteenth-century jewellery work was valued not so much for the size and purity of the stones of which it was composed as for its sheer elegance. To my mind there was no more beautiful jewel in the entire Diamond Room collection.