Boris Akunin - The Coronation

‘Thank you, Erast.’

Erast!

‘Thank you. I feel a lot better now.’ She laughed quietly. ‘Alas, I have no more secrets from you now. As a respectable man you are obliged to marry me.’

This risqué joke made even Fandorin blush. And you can imagine how I felt.

In order to steer the conversation away from the indecent and painful direction that it had taken, I asked dryly: ‘Nevertheless, Mademoiselle Declique, where is His Highness?’

‘I do not know. We were separated as soon as we left the underground passage and kept in different places ever since then. The boy was unconscious, and I was very faint myself. They hit me quite hard on the head when I tried to shout.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Erast Petrovich said eagerly. ‘What were you trying to tell us? You shouted: “Lind’s here. He’s . . .” But not another word after that.’

‘Yes, he put his hand over my mouth and punched me in the face. I recognised him despite the mask.’

‘You recognised him!’ Erast Petrovich and I exclaimed in a single voice.

And then Mademoiselle raised her eyebrows in surprise and asked the question that embarrassed Fandorin so greatly.

‘What, have you not guessedwho Lind is?’ Emilie said, looking at Fandorin incredulously. ‘And Iwas certain that with your great intellect you had solved everything. Ah, it seems so simple to me now! Truly, we were all blind.’

Fandorin and I glanced at each other, and I could tell from his furtive expression that he wished to ascertainwhether I had been more quick-witted than he had. Unfortunately I had not. But I would have paid dearly to make it so.

‘Oh, good Lord. Why it’s Banville,’ she said, shaking her head in amazement at our slow-wittedness. ‘Or at least the person we knew as Lord Banville. I recognised his voice back there in the vault. When someone called down: “Alarm! Run!” Lind forgot his usual caution and shouted in English: “Take the kid and the slut! Run for it!” It was Banville!’

‘Banville?’ Erast Petrovich repeated, perplexed. ‘But how is that possible? Surely he is a friend of Georgii Alexandrovich? They have known each other for a long time!’

‘Not so very long,’ I put in, trying to gather my thoughts. ‘His Highness only made Banville’s acquaintance this spring, in Nice.’

‘I was not aware of that,’ Fandorin said hastily, as if he were trying to offer excuses. ‘Yes indeed, how simple . . .’ He changed from French to Russian and said: ‘Even Homer sometimes nods. But my own lack of insight in this case is absolutely unforgivable. Why, of course!’

He jumped up and started striding around the room, almost running in fact, and gesticulating fitfully. I had never seen him in such an agitated state. Thewords spurted from his lips, tumbling over each other.

‘The doctor began putting his plan into action in Nice. He must have gone there deliberately to seek out his future victim – so many Russian grand dukes go to the Côte d’Azur in spring! And it was already known that the coronation would be in May! Win the trust of members of the imperial family, become a friend, obtain an invitation to the c-celebrations, and everything else was just a matter of precise technical preparation!’

‘And another thing!’ I put in. ‘A hatred of women. You said yourself that Lind cannot bear to have women around him. Now it is clear why. So Endlung was right!’

‘Endlung?’ Erast Petrovich echoed in a hollow voice and rubbed his forehead furiously, as if he wished to rub right through it to his brain. ‘Yes, yes indeed. And I attached no importance to his idiotic theory – precisely because it was that blockhead who thought of it. A genuine case of “Out of the mouths of fools . . .” Ah, Ziukin, snobbism is a truly terrible sin . . . Banville! It was Banville! And that fragrance, The Earl of Essex . . . How cleverly he gave himself freedom of movement by pretending to leave so suddenly! And the duel that came at just the right moment! And a shot straight to Glinsky’s heart – I recognise Lind’s diabolical accuracy in that! An excellent disguise: an eccentric British homosexual. The conceptual breadth and fine detailed planning, the incredible boldness and ruthlessness – these are definitely Lind’s signature! And I have failed to catch him again . . .’

‘But there is still Mr Carr,’ I reminded him. ‘He is Lind’s man too, surely?’

Erast Petrovich gestured hopelessly.

‘I assure you that Carr has nothing to do with all this. Otherwise Lind would not have left him behind. The doctor brought along his affected cutie to make his camouflage more convincing, and probably in order to combine work and pleasure. Lind is well known for his sybaritic habits. Dammit, the most upsetting thing is that Endlung was right! A gang of homosexuals, united not only by financial interests but by other ties as well. So that is the source of their great loyalty and self-sacrifice!’

Mademoiselle wrinkled up her forehead, listening attentively to Fandorin’s lamentations, and I think that she understood everything, or almost everything.

‘Oh yes, Lind really does hate women,’ she said with a bitter laugh. ‘I know that very well from my own experience. All the time I was a prisoner I was only given one piece of bread and two mugs of water. It was a good thing that barrel was there beside me, with that terrible cabbage of yours. I was kept on a chain, with no clothes. And yesterday evening Banville, I mean Lind, came down into the cellar as angry as a thousand devils and started kicking me without saying a word! I think he must have had some bad news. The pain was bad, but the fear was worse.’ Emilie shuddered and pulled the blanket right up to her chin. ‘He is not a man; he is pure evil. The doctor beat me without saying a single word and flew into such a rage that if the owner of the house had not been there he would probably have beaten me to death. The owner is quite a tall man with a gloomy face. He was the only one who did not hurt me. He gave me the bread and water.’

Mademoiselle gingerly touched the plaster on her forehead.

‘You saw what Lind did to me, Erast! The scum! And there was no reason for it!’

‘He was angry when he found out that he had lost two of his helpers,’ I explained. ‘Mr Fandorin killed one of them and handed the other over to the police.’

‘What a pity you did not kill both of them, Erast,’ she said, sniffing and wiping a tear of anger off her eyelashes. ‘Those Germans were absolute swine. Which of them did you kill, the lop-eared one or the one with freckles?’

‘The one with freckles,’ Erast Petrovich replied.

And I had not seen either of them properly – there was no time and it was dark in that passage.

‘Never mind,’ I observed. ‘At least now the doctor has been left entirely alone.’

Fandorin pursed his lips sceptically. ‘Hardly. There is still someone guarding the boy. If the poor boy is still alive . . .’

‘Oh, the little one is alive, I am sure of it!’ Mademoiselle exclaimed. ‘At least, he was still alive yesterday evening. When the owner of the house dragged that raging lunatic Banville off me, I heard him growl: “If not for the stone, I’d send him both heads – the kid’s and the slut’s.” I think he meant you, Erast.’

‘Thank God!’ I blurted out.

I turned towards the icon of St Nicholas hanging in the corner and crossed myself. Mikhail Georgievichwas alive, therewas still hope.

However, therewas another question thatwas still tormenting me. It was not the kind of question that one asks, and if one does ask, one has no right to expect a reply. Nonetheless, I decided that I would. ‘Tell me, did they . . . did they . . . abuse you?’

To make things quite clear, I spoke these words in French.