Boris Akunin - Special Assignments

'Five roubles. Here, I even have a receipt,' said Anisii, reaching into the pocket where he kept all his financial records.

'No need,' said the Court Counsellor, waving the paper aside. 'The "jacks" would hardly bother getting their hands dirty for the sake of five roubles.'

Anisii wilted. That accursed pricking had begun spreading so fast across his electrically tormented body that he actually squirmed on his chair and, in order to undo the unfavourable impression created by his foolishness, he began telling Erast Petrovich about the monumental lottery.

A respectable institution. Only one word for it: Europe. They're renting the first floor in the building of the Tutelary Council for the Care of Orphans. The queue goes all the way down the stairs, people of every rank and class, even quite a few from the nobility. I stood there for forty minutes, Erast Petrovich, before I reached the counter. Russian people are certainly responsive to an appeal for charity.'

Fandorin twitched one sable eyebrow vaguely. 'So you think it's all above board? Not a whiff of any swindle?'

'Oh no, not at all! There's a constable at the door, with a shoulder belt and sword. He salutes everyone respectfully. When you go in, there's a counter, and behind it there's a very modest, pretty young lady with a pince-nez, all in black, with a white headscarf and a cross hanging round her neck. A nun or a lay sister, or perhaps just a volunteer - you can't tell with those foreigners. She takes the money and lets you spin the drum. She speaks fluent Russian, only with an accent. You spin it yourself and take the ticket out yourself - it's all fair and square. The drum's made of glass, with little folded pieces of cardboard in it - blue for twenty-five roubles and pink for fifty roubles - that's for those who want to contribute more. No one took any pink ones while I was there, though. You open up the ticket right there, in front of everyone. If you haven't won, it says: "May the Lord save you." Here, look.' Anisii took out a handsome piece of blue cardboard with Gothic lettering on it. And anyone who's won anything goes in behind the counter. There's a desk in there, with the chairman of the lottery sitting at it, a very impressive, elderly clerical gentleman. He confirms the prizes and does the paperwork. And the young lady thanks the people who don't win most cordially and pins a beautiful paper rose on their chests as a sign of their charity'

Anisii took out the paper rose that he had carefully tucked away in his pocket. He was thinking of taking it to Sonya; she would be delighted.

Erast Petrovich inspected the rose and even sniffed it. 'It smells of "Parma Violets",' he observed. An expensive perfume. You say the young lady is modest?'

'She's a really nice girl,' Tulipov confirmed. And she has such a shy smile.'

'Well, well. And do people sometimes win?'

'I should say so!' Anisii exclaimed! When I was still standing in the queue on the stairs one fortunate gentleman came out who looked like a professor. All flushed, he was, waving a piece of paper with seals on it - he'd won an estate in Bohemia. Five hundred acres! And this morning, they say some official's wife drew a tenement house actually in Paris. Six storeys! Just imagine that kind of luck! They say she had quite a turn; they had to give her smelling salts. And after that professor who won the estate, lots of people started taking two or three tickets at once. Who minds paying twenty-five roubles a time for prizes like that? Ah,

I didn't have any money of my own with me, or I'd have tried my luck too.'

Anisii squinted up dreamily at the ceiling, imagining himself unfolding a piece of cardboard and finding ... What would it be? Well, for instance, a chateau on the shores of Lake Geneva (he had seen the famous lake in a picture - oh, it was so beautiful).

'Six storeys?' the Court Counsellor asked, off the subject. 'In Paris? And an estate in B-Bohemia? I see. You know what, Tulipov: you come with me, and I'll play this lottery of yours. Can we get there before it closes?'

So that was his cool, god-like self-control - and he said the gambler's passion was unknown to him.

They barely got there in time. The queue on the stairs had not grown any shorter; the lottery was open until half past five, and it had already struck five o'clock. The clients were feeling nervous.

Fandorin walked slowly up the steps until he reached the door and then said politely: 'Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I'd just like to take a look - out of curiosity'

And - would you believe it! - he was allowed through without a murmur. They'd have thrown me out, for sure, thought Anisii, but they'd never think of doing that to someone like him.

The constable on duty at the door, a fine, upstanding young fellow with a dashing curl to his ginger moustaches, raised his hand to his grey astrakhan cap in salute. Erast Petrovich strolled across the spacious room divided into two by a counter. Anisii had taken a look round the lottery office the last time, and so he immediately fixed his envious gaze on the spinning drum. But he also kept glancing at the pretty young lady, who was just pinning a paper flower on the lapel of a distraught student and murmuring something consoling.

The Court Counsellor inspected the drum in the most attentive manner possible and then turned his attention to the chairman, a fine-looking, clean-shaven gentleman in a single-breasted jacket with an upright collar. The chairman was clearly bored and he even yawned briefly once, delicately placing his open hand over his mouth.

For some reason Erast Petrovich pressed a single white-gloved finger to the plaque bearing the legend 'Ladies and gentlemen who buy a pink ticket are allowed through ahead of the queue' and asked: 'Mademoiselle, could I please have one pink ticket?'

'Oh, yes, of course; you are a real Christian,' the young lady said in agreeably accented Russian, at the same time bestowing a radiant smile on this benefactor and tucking away a lock of golden hair that escaped from under her headscarf as she gladly accepted the fifty-rouble note proffered by Fandorin.

Anisii held his breath as he watched his chief casually reach into the drum, take hold of the first pink ticket he came across between his finger and thumb, pull it out and unfold it.

'It's not empty, surely?' the young lady asked in dismay. Ah, I was quite certain that you were sure to win! The last gentleman who took a pink ticket won a genuine palazzo in Venice! With its own mooring for gondolas and a front porch for carriages! Perhaps you would like to try again, sir?'

With a porch for carriages. My, my' said Fandorin, clicking his tongue as he examined the little picture on the ticket: a winged angel with its hands folded in prayer and covered with a piece of cloth that was obviously intended to symbolise a shroud.

Erast Petrovich turned to face the queue of customers, doffed his top hat respectfully and declared in a loud, resolute voice: 'Ladies and gentlemen, I am Erast Petrovich Fandorin, His Excellency the Governor-General's Deputy for Special Assignments. This lottery is hereby declared under arrest on suspicion of fraud. Constable, clear the premises immediately and do not admit anyone else!'

'Yes, Your Honour!' the constable with the ginger moustaches barked, without the slightest thought of doubting the resolute gentleman's authority.

The constable proved to be an efficient fellow. He flapped his arms as if he were herding geese and drove the agitated, clamouring customers out through the door with great alacrity. No sooner had he rumbled 'If you please, if you please, you can see what's happened for yourselves' than the room cleared and the guardian of order drew himself erect at the entrance, ready to carry out the next order.

The Court Counsellor nodded in satisfaction and turned towards Anisii, who was standing there with his mouth hanging open at this unexpected turn of events.