Boris Akunin - Special Assignments

'Who else should dress up as the stuffed bird, if not me, Your Excellency. After what happened yesterday, I will not yield that honour to anyone.'

And just how is he going to find the grouse hen?' Vedishchev asked with lively curiosity.

'Just as he should in a grouse hunt: he will hear the call of the hunter's whistle. And for our hunter's whistle, we shall employ the same means as Momos himself

'If a man is accustomed to duping everyone he wishes, it is not so very difficult to trick him too,' the Chief said to Anisii when they had returned to Malaya Nikitskaya Street and secluded themselves in the study for an 'analysis'. 'It simply never occurs to a swindler that anyone would have the nerve to out-trick the trickster and rob the thief. And in particular he can scarcely anticipate such perfidious guile from an official personage, especially one of such high rank.'

As he listened reverently, Anisii thought at first that by 'an official personage of high rank', the Court Counsellor meant himself. However, as subsequent events demonstrated, Erast Petrovich was aiming far higher than that.

Having propounded his initial, theoretical thesis, Fandorin paused for a while. Anisii sat there motionless - God forbid that he might interrupt his superior's thinking process.

'We need the kind of decoy that will have Momos drooling at the mouth and also - even more importantly - provoke his vanity. He has to be lured not just by a large haul, but also by the prospect of great fame. He is far from indifferent to fame.'

The Chief fell silent again, pondering the next link in the chain of logic. After seven and a half minutes (Anisii counted them on the huge clock, obviously an antique, in the form of London's Big Ben) Erast Petrovich declared: 'Some gigantic precious stone ... Say, from the legacy of the Emerald Rajah. Have you ever heard of him?'

Anisii shook his head, looking his chief straight in the eye.

For some reason the Court Counsellor seemed disappointed: 'Strange. Of course, that business was kept secret from the general public, but some rumours did leak out into the European press. They must have reached Russia, surely. But then, what am I thinking of? When I took that memorable voyage on the Leviathan, you were still a child.'

'Did you say you took a voyage on a leviathan?' asked Anisii, unable to believe his ears, picturing Erast Petrovich sailing across the stormy waves on the broad back of the legendary whale-fish monster.

'It doesn't matter,' Fandorin said dismissively. 'Just an old investigation that I was involved in. It's the idea that's important here: an Indian rajah and an immense diamond. Or a sapphire or emerald? It doesn't matter which. That will depend on the mineralogical collection,' he muttered in a totally incomprehensible closing remark.

Anisii blinked in puzzlement, and the Chief felt it necessary to add something (which still failed to introduce any clarity): 'It's a bit crude, of course, but for our Jack it ought to b-be just the thing. He should take the bait. Right then, Tulipov, enough idle gaping. To work!'

Erast Petrovich opened the latest number of the Russian Word, immediately found what he wanted and started reading out loud:

A Visitor from India

Truly there is no counting the diamonds that lie concealed in the caves of stone, especially if those caves lie on the lands owned by Ahmad-Khan, the heir to one of Bengal's richest rajahs. The prince has arrived in old Mother Moscow on his way from Teheran to St Petersburg and will be a guest of the city of golden domes for at least a week. Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi is according our high-ranking visitor every appropriate honour. The Indian prince is staying at the Governor-General's villa on the Sparrow Hills and tomorrow evening the Assembly of Nobles is hosting a ball in his honour. The cream of Moscow society is expected to gather, eager for a glimpse of the prince from the East, and even more of the famous 'Shakh-Sultan' emerald that adorns Prince Ahmad's turban. It is said that this gigantic stone once belonged to Alexander the Great himself. We have been informed that the prince is travelling unofficially and almost incognito, with no retinue or pomp and ceremony. He is accompanied only by his devoted old wet-nurse Zukhra and his personal secretary Tarik-bei.

The Court Counsellor nodded in approval and put the newspaper down.

'The Governor-General is so angry with the Jack of Spades that he has sanctioned the holding of a b-ball and will take part in this performance himself. I believe he will actually quite enjoy it. For the "Shakh-Sultan" they have issued us a faceted beryl from the mineralogical collection of Moscow University. It is impossible to distinguish it from an emerald without a special magnifying glass, and we are not likely to allow anyone to inspect our turban through a special magnifying glass, are we, Tulipov?'

Erast Petrovich opened a hat box and took out a white brocade turban with an absolutely immense green stone and turned it this way and that, so that the facets glinted blindingly.

Anisii smacked his lips together admiringly - the turban really was a joy to behold. 'But where are we going to get Zukhra from? And that secretary - what's his name - Tarik-bei. Who's going to be them?'

The Chief looked at his assistant with something between reproach and pity, and Anisii suddenly understood. 'No, how could you?' he gasped. 'Erast Petrovich, have mercy! What kind of Indian would I make! I'll never agree, not even to save my life!'

'I think we can assume that you will agree, Tulipov,' sighed Fandorin, 'but Masa will require a little more persuasion. He's not likely to find the role of an old wet-nurse to his liking

On the evening of 18 February the whole of Moscow high society really did convene at the Assembly of Nobles. In the jolly, devil-may-care atmosphere of Pancake Week, the people of the city weary after the long, cold winter, celebrated almost every day, but the organisers of today's festivities had made a really special effort. The snow-white staircase of the palace was entirely covered in flowers, the footmen in powdered wigs and pistachio camisoles positively flung themselves at people to catch the fur coats and cloaks as they slipped off the ladies' and gentlemen's shoulders, and from the dining room there came the alluring tinkle of crystal and silver as the tables were laid for the banquet.

In his role as host of the ball, the Lord of Moscow, Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi, was smart and fresh, genial with the men and gallant with the ladies. However, the genuine centre of gravity in the marble hall today was not the Governor-General but his Indian guest.

Everyone took a great liking to Ahmad-Khan, especially the ladies, young and old. The nabob was wearing black tails and a white tie, but his head was crowned by a white turban with a quite immense emerald. The oriental prince's jet-black beard was trimmed in the latest French fashion and his brows were pointed arches, but the most impressive features of his swarthy face were the bright-blue eyes (it had already been ascertained that His Majesty's mother was French).

Standing modestly slightly behind and to one side of him was the prince's secretary, who also attracted no small attention. Tarik-bei was not as handsome as his master, and his figure was not very impressive, but on the other hand, unlike Ahmad-Khan, he had come to the ball in genuine eastern costume: an embroidered robe, white shalwars or loose trousers and golden slippers with curving, pointed toes and open backs. It was a pity that the secretary did not speak a single civilised language and his only reply to all questions and greetings was to press his hand either to his heart or to his forehead and give a low bow.

All in all, the two Indians were quite wonderfully fine.