Boris Akunin - The State Counsellor

'Very well,' Erast Petrovich said in the same placid tone. 'I think I'll question the Staff Captain a little later when he recovers his composure. But let us make a start with the others now. Tell them to clear the stationmaster's office for us. I request Mr Sverchinsky and Mr Burlyaev to be present at the interrogation. And afterwards I shall go and report to His Excellency'

The head porter of the train, who had been maintaining a respectful distance, asked timidly: 'Your Honour, what are we to do with the body? Such an important person... Where should we take him?'

'What do you mean, where?' the State Counsellor asked in surprise. 'The morgue carriage will be here any minute; send him for a post-mortem.'

'... And then the adjutant Modzalevsky, who was the first to recover his wits, ran to the Klin passenger terminal and sent off a coded telegram to the Police Department.' Fandorin's lengthy report was nearing its end. 'The top hat, mackintosh and dagger have been sent to the laboratory for analysis. Khrapov is in the morgue. Seidlitz has been given a sedative injection.'

Silence fell in the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the quivering of the windowpanes under the pressure of the stormy February wind. The Governor General of the ancient capital of Russia, Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi, worked his wrinkled lips intently, tugged on his long, dyed moustache and scratched himself behind the ear, causing his chestnut wig to slip slightly to one side. Erast Petrovich had not often had occasion to see the all-powerful master of Russia's old capital in a state of such hopeless bewilderment.

'There's no way the St Petersburg camarilla will ever forgive me for this,' His Excellency said mournfully. 'It won't bother them that their damned Khrapov never even reached Moscow. Klin is part of Moscow province too ... Well then, Erast Petrovich, I suppose this is the end?'

The State Counsellor merely sighed in reply.

Dolgorukoi turned to the liveried servant standing at the door with a silver tray in his hands. The tray held several little bottles and phials and a small bowl of eucalyptus cough pastilles. The servant's name was Frol Grigorievich Vedishchev, and he held the modest position of valet, but the prince had no more devoted and experienced adviser than this wizened old man with his bald cranium, massive sideburns and gold-rimmed spectacles with thick lenses.

There was no one else in the study apart from these three.

'Well, Frolushka,' Dolgorukoi asked, his voice trembling, 'are we for the scrap heap then? Dismissed in dishonour. Scandal and disgrace

'Vladimir Andreevich,' the valet whined miserably, 'to hell with the sovereign's service. You've served long and well, thank God, and you're past eighty now ... Don't go tormenting yourself over this. The Tsar might not honour you, but the people of Moscow will remember you with a kind word. It's no small thing, after all: twenty-five years you've been looking after them, barely even sleeping at night. Let's go to Nice, to the sunshine. We'll sit on the porch and reminisce about the old days, why, at our age...'

The prince smiled sadly: 'I couldn't, Frol, you know that. I'll die without any work to do, I'll pine away in six months. It's Moscow that supports me, that's the only reason I'm still hale and hearty. I wouldn't mind if there were good cause, but they'll just throw me out for nothing at all. Everything in my city is in perfect order. It's unjust...' The tray of bottles began rattling in Vedishchev's hands and tears streamed down his cheeks.

'God is merciful, little father; perhaps this will pass over. Look at all the other things that have happened, but with God's help we survived. Erast Petrovich will find us the villain who killed the General, and the sovereign will mellow'

'He won't mellow,' Dolgorukoi muttered dejectedly. 'This is a matter of state security. When the sovereign power feels threatened, it has no pity on anyone. Everyone has to feel terrified, and especially its own - so that they will keep their eyes peeled and fear the authorities even more than the killers. It's my jurisdiction, so I'm answerable. There's only one thing I ask of God: to let me find the criminal quickly, using my own resources. At least then I won't leave in disgrace. I've served with dignity and my end will be dignified.' He cast a hopeful glance at his deputy for special assignments. 'Well, Erast Petrovich, will you be able to find this "CG" for me?'

Fandorin paused before replying in a quiet, uncertain voice. 'Vladimir Andreevich, you know me, I do not like to make empty promises. We cannot even be certain that after committing this atrocity the murderer made for Moscow and not St Petersburg ... After all, the Combat Group's activities are directed from St Petersburg.'

'Yes, yes, that's true,' the prince said, nodding sadly. 'Really, what am I thinking of? The combined forces of the entire Corps of Gendarmes and the Police Department have failed to catch these villains, and here I am appealing to you. Russia is a big country, the villain could have gone anywhere ... Do please forgive me. When he is drowning a man will clutch at any straw. And then, you have already rescued me from so many absolutely hopeless situations

Somewhat piqued at being compared to a straw, the State Counsellor cleared his throat and said in a mysterious tone: 'But nonetheless...'

'What "nonetheless"?' Vedishchev asked with a start, putting down the tray. He rapidly wiped his tear-stained face with a large handkerchief and ambled closer to Fandorin. 'You mean you have some kind of clue?'

'But nonetheless I can try,' Fandorin said thoughtfully. 'Indeed, I must. I was actually going to request Your Excellency to grant me the appropriate authority. By using my name, the killer has thrown down the gauntlet to me - not to mention those moments of extreme discomfort for which I was obliged to him this morning. Furthermore, I believe that when the criminal left Klin he did make his way towards Moscow It takes only one hour to get here by train from the scene of the crime, too short a time for us even to gather our wits. But it is nine hours back to St Petersburg in the opposite direction; in other words, he would still be travelling even as we speak. And in the meantime the investigation has begun, the search was already started at eleven o'clock, all the stations have been sealed and the railway gendarmes are checking the passengers on all trains within a distance of three hundred versts. No, he could not possibly have headed for St Petersburg.'

'But maybe he didn't go by rail at all?' the valet asked doubtfully. 'Maybe he got on a horse and trudged off to some place like Zamukhransk, to sit it out until the hue and cry die down?'

'Zamukhransk would be no g-good for sitting it out. In a place like that, everyone is in open view. The easiest place to hide is in a large city, where no one knows anyone else, and there is already a conspiratorial network of revolutionaries.'

The Governor General glanced quizzically at Erast Petrovich and clicked open the lid of his snuffbox, a gesture indicating his transition from a mood of despair to a state of intense thoughtfulness.

The State Counsellor waited while Prince Dolgorukoi charged both of his nostrils and gave vent to a thunderously loud sneeze. After Vedishchev had blotted his sovereign lord's eyes and nose with the same handkerchief that he had just used to wipe away his own tears, the prince asked: 'But how are you going to look for him, if he is here, in Moscow? This is a city of a million people. I can't even put the police and the gendarmes under your authority; the most I can do is oblige them to cooperate. You know yourself, my dear fellow, that the upper levels have been shuffling my request for you to be appointed head police-master from desk to desk for more than two months now. Just look at the chaotic state our police work is in.'