Boris Akunin - The State Counsellor

'TG,' Green repeated.

'Nonsense, a joke. It stands for "tertiusgaudens", a Latin phrase meaning "the joyful third party". The police kill you, you kill the people who stand in my way, I watch your fun and games and rejoice. I think it's rather witty'

'Stand in your way? Why? Governor Bogdanov, General Selivanov, the traitor Stasov...'

'Don't bother, I remember them all very well,' Pozharsky interrupted. 'Bogdanov? That was not so much business, more a personal matter. I needed to do a favour for the deputy director of the Department, my predecessor in that post. He was involved in a long-standing affair with the Governor of Ekaterinburg's wife and he dreamed of her being widowed. His dreams were entirely platonic, but one day a rather incautious little note that His Excellency had written to his passion happened to come into my possession: "How I wish the terrorists would reach your better half soon. I would gladly help them." I simply had to make use of it. After you shot Bogdanov so heroically, I had a confidential talk with the enamoured dreamer, and the position of deputy director became vacant. Lieutenant General Selivanov? Oh, that was quite different. He was a man of very keen intellect, pursuing the same goals as I was, but he was already several steps ahead of me. He was getting in my light and that's a risky thing to do. I am tremendously grateful to you for Selivanov. When you despatched him to the realm of Hades, the throne's most promising defender became your devoted servant. Next, I think, came the Aptekarsky Island incident, the attack on me and the collaborator Stasov? There was a double goal involved that time: firstly, to enhance my professional reputation. If the C G was hunting me, it meant the group appreciated my professional qualities. And secondly, Stasov had outlived his usefulness and asked to be set free. Of course, I could have let him go, but I decided it would be more useful for him to die. Once again it would mean more prestige for our Combat Group.

Green's face contorted as if he were struggling to suppress pain, and Pozharsky laughed in satisfaction.

'Now for your most important achievement, the murder of Khrapov. You must admit that I handed you a wonderful little idea, without forcing it on you at all. And for my part I admit that you managed the business brilliantly. The ruthless execution of a heartless satrap, whose very worst atrocity was that he could not stand the sight of me and did absolutely everything he could to hinder my career... Here in Moscow you caused me no end of trouble, but eventually eveiything could not possibly have turned out better. Even your little trick with the expropriation came in useful. Thanks to our feather-brained friend Julie, I found out who the new party treasurer was, and very soon I was ready to take back the state treasury's money. That would have been an especially impressive thing to do in my new post as Moscow's head police-master: Look, I may not be in the capital, but I sit high and see far! What a shame. Clearly it was not meant to be,' Pozharsky said with a fatalistic sigh. 'But you must at least appreciate the elegance of the conception ... What else was there? Colonel Sverchinsky? A scoundrel, an odious trickster. You helped me get even with him for a certain vile joke. Burlyaev? I helped you out there, just as I did with Rahmet. The last thing I needed was for my beloved brainchild, the CG, to be neutralised by the head of the Moscow Okhranka. That wouldn't have been fair. The person who plants the seed should reap the harvest. So well done for finishing off Burlyaev! His department came under my total control. Only you messed things up with Fandorin, and he kept on getting under my feet in a most annoying manner. But I don't blame you for Fandorin, he's a special case ... Well, and then the time came to round off our epic adventure together. Alas, all good things come to an end. I thought out the operation down to the finest detail, but chance intervened. Annoying. I was just beginning to gather speed; a little bit longer, and it would have been impossible to stop me ... Destiny' Julie sobbed.

'Never mind,' the head police-master told her with a smile. 'I bear no grudge against you, only destiny. You made me feel happy and light-hearted, and as for betraying me, well, there was evidently nothing that could have been done about that.'

Incredibly enough, there were tears streaming down Julie's face. Green had never seen this carefree, frivolous woman cry before. But there was no sense in continuing the conversation. Everything had been explained already. Not even during the pogrom had Green ever felt so miserable as he did during these few minutes that had cancelled out the entire meaning of a long, hard struggle full of sacrifices. How would he carry on living? -that was the question he had to think about, and he knew it would not be easy to find an answer. But one thing was absolutely clear: this smiling man must die.

Green aimed the gun barrel at the manipulator's forehead.

'Hey, my dear chap!' Pozharsky exclaimed, throwing up one hand. 'What's the hurry? We were having such a wonderful chat. Don't you want to hear about Julie and our love? I assure you it is far more absorbing than any novel.'

Green shook his head and cocked the hammer: 'It's not important.'

'Gleb! No-o-o-o!'Julie screamed. She pounced on Green like a cat and hung on his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong and her sharp teeth sank into the wrist of the hand holding the Colt.

Green shifted the revolver to his left hand, but it was too late: Pozharksy put his hand in his pocket and fired through the flap of his coat.

I'm hit, thought Green as his back struck the wall and he slid towards the floor. He tried to raise the hand holding the revolver, but it wouldn't obey him.

Julie sent the Colt flying with a kick of her shoe.

'Bravo, little girl,' said Pozharsky 'You're simply wonderful. I dragged things out for about as long as I could, but it still wasn't long enough. I told my men to wait for exactly ten minutes and then break in. He would have finished me by then.'

Something was roaring and howling in Green's ears and the room was swaying, first to the right, then to the left. He couldn't understand how the two men who came running in from the corridor managed to stay on their feet.

'You heard the shot?' the head police-master asked. 'Well done. I've downed this one, he's dying. The woman's for you; she's the famous Needle. She can't be left alive; she heard too much.'

The light began to dim. Pozharsky's face must not be the last thing he saw as his life drained away. Green ran his fading gaze round the room, searching for Needle. She was standing with her hands clasped together and looking at him without speaking, but he couldn't make out the expression in her eyes.

What was that glint between her fingers, that slim, bright thing?

A detonator - it's a detonator, Green realised.

Needle turned towards the vessel with the explosive mixture and snapped the narrow glass tube over it.

Life ended just as it was supposed to - in an instant flash of flame.

At the Kutafya Tower he had to let the cabby go and continue on foot. The new order of things was not yet obvious in the city, but here in the Kremlin things were no longer what they used to be: everything disciplined and carefully tended, patrols everywhere, and not a day that passed without the ice and snow being scraped off the cobblestones - you couldn't get through on a sleigh. Supreme authority had set up its home here now - the new master of the old capital had decided it was beneath him to live in the Governor General's residence and moved into the Maly Nikolaevsky Palace behind the tall red-brick walls.

Erast Petrovich walked uphill across the Trinity Bridge, one hand holding down his sword, the other clutching his cocked hat. Today was a most solemn day: the officials of Moscow were being presented to His Imperial Highness.