Boris Akunin - Murder on the Leviathan

‘And why in damnation’s name would he want to send such a telegram?’

‘To gain control of the ship. He knew that if Cliff received news like that he would not be able to continue the voyage. The real question is, why did Renier take such a risk? Not out of idle vanity - so that he could command the ship for a week and then let everything go hang. There is only one possible explanation: he did it so he could send the Leviathan to the bottom, with all the passengers and crew on board. The investigation was getting too close for comfort and he could feel the noose tightening around his neck. He must know the police will carry on hounding all the suspects. But if there’s a shipwreck with all hands lost, the case is closed. And then there’s nothing to stop him picking up the casket at his leisure.’

‘But he’ll be killed along with the rest of us!’

‘No, he won’t. We’ve just checked the captain’s launch and it is ready to put to sea. It’s a small craft, but sturdy. It can easily weather a storm. It has a supply of water and a basket of provisions and something else that is rather touching - a travelling bag all packed and ready to go. Renier must be planning to abandon ship as soon as the Leviathan has entered the narrow channel and can no longer turn back. The ship will be unable to swing around, and even if the engines are stopped the current will still carry it onto the rocks. A few people might be saved, since we are not far from the shore, but everyone who disappears will be listed as missing at sea.’

‘Don’t be such a stupid ass, monsieur policeman!’ the navigator butted in. ‘We’ve wasted far too much time already. Mr Fandorin woke me up and said the ship was on the wrong course. I wanted to sleep and I told Mr Fandorin to go to hell.

He offered me a bet, a hundred pounds to one that the captain was off course. I thought, the Russian’s gone crazy, everyone knows how eccentric the Russians are, this will be easy money. I went up to the bridge. Everything was in order. The captain was on watch, the pilot was at the helm. But for the sake of a hundred pounds I checked the course anyway, and then I started sweating, I can tell you! But I didn’t say a word to the captain.

Mr Fandorin had warned me not to say anything. And that,’ the navigator looked at his watch, ‘was twenty-five minutes ago.’

Then he added something in English that was obviously uncomplimentary about the French in general and French policemen in particular. The only word Gauche could understand was ‘frog’.

The sleuth hesitated for one final moment and then made up his mind. Immediately he was transformed, and began getting dressed with swift, precise movements. Papa Gauche might be slow to break into a gallop, but once he started moving he needed no more urging.

As he pulled on his jacket and trousers he told the navigator: ‘Fox, bring two sailors up onto the top deck, with carbines.

The captain’s mate should come too. No, better not, there’s no time to explain everything all over again.’

He put his trusty Lefaucheux in his pocket and offered the diplomat a four-cylinder Marietta.

‘Do you know how to use this?’

“I have my own, a Herstal-Agent,’ replied Fandorin, showing him a handsome, compact revolver unlike any Gauche had ever seen before. ‘And this as well.’

With a single rapid movement he drew a slim, pliable sword blade out of his cane.

‘Then let’s go.’

Gauche decided not to give the baronet a gun - who could tell what the lunatic might do with it?

The three of them strode rapidly down the long corridor. The door of one of the cabins opened slightly and Renate Kleber glanced out, with a shawl over her brown dress.

‘Gentlemen, why are you stamping about like a herd of elephants?’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘I can’t get any sleep as it is with this awful storm.’

‘Close the door and don’t go anywhere,’ Gauche told her sternly, shoving her back into the cabin without even slowing his stride. This was no time to stand on ceremony.

The commissioner thought he saw the door of cabin No. 24, which belonged to Mile Stamp, tremble and open a crack, but he had no time now to worry about minor details.

On deck the wind drove the rain into their faces. They had to shout to make themselves heard.

There were the steps leading to the wheelhouse and the bridge. Fox was already waiting at the bottom with two sailors from the watch.

‘I told you to bring carbines!’ shouted Gauche.

‘They’re in the armoury!’ the navigator yelled in his ear. ‘And the captain has the key!’

‘Never mind, let’s go up,’ Fandorin communicated with a gesture. There were raindrops glistening on his face.

Gauche looked around and shuddered: in the flickering lightning the rain glittered like steel threads in the night sky, and the waves frothed and foamed white in the darkness. It was an awesome sight.

Their heels clattered as they climbed the iron steps, their eyes half-closed against the lashing rain. Gauche went first. At this moment he was the most important person on the whole Leviathan, this immense 200-metre monster sliding on unsuspectingly towards disaster. The detective’s foot slipped on the top step and he only just grabbed hold of the banister in time.

He straightened up and caught his breath.

They were up. There was nothing above them now except the funnels spitting out occasional sparks and the masts, almost invisible in the darkness.

There was the metal door with its steel rivets. Gauche raised his finger in warning: quiet! The precaution was not really necessary - the sea was so loud that no one in the wheelhouse could have heard a thing.

‘This is the door to the captain’s bridge and the wheelhouse,’ shouted Fox. ‘No one enters without the captain’s permission.’

Gauche took his revolver out of his pocket and cocked it.

Fandorin did the same.

‘You keep quiet!’ the detective warned the over-enterprising diplomat. I’ll do the talking. Oh, I should never have listened to you.’ He gave the door a determined shove.

But of course the damned door didn’t budge.

‘He’s locked himself in,’ said Fandorin. ‘You say something, Fox.’

The navigator knocked loudly and shouted in English: ‘Captain, it’s me, Jeremy Fox! Please open up! We have an emergency!’

They heard Renier’s muffled voice from behind the door: ‘What’s happened, Jeremy?’

The door remained closed.

The navigator glanced at Fandorin in consternation. Fandorin pointed at the commissioner, then put a finger to his own temple and mimed pressing the trigger. Gauche didn’t understand what the pantomime meant, but Fox nodded and roared at the top of his voice:

‘The French cop’s shot himself’

The door immediately swung open and Gauche presented his wet but living face to Renier. He trained the barrel of his Lefaucheux on the captain.

Renier screamed and leapt backwards as if he had been struck.

Now that was real hard evidence for you: a man with a clear conscience wouldn’t shy away from a policeman like that.

Gauche grabbed hold of the sailor’s tarpaulin collar.

‘I’m glad you were so distressed by the news of my death, my dear Rajah,’ the commissioner purred, then he barked out the words known and feared by every criminal in Paris. ‘Get your hands in the air! You’re under arrest.’

The most notorious cut-throats in the city had been known to faint at the sound of those words.

The helmsman froze at his wheel, with his face half-turned towards them.

‘Keep hold of the wheel, you idiot!’ Gauche shouted at him.

‘Hey you!’, he prodded one of the sailors from the watch with his finger, ‘bring the captain’s mate here immediately so he can take command. In the meantime you give the orders, Fox. And look lively about it! Give the command “halt all engines” or “full astern” or whatever, don’t just stand there like a dummy.’