Boris Akunin: Turkish Gambit

'G-Good morning, Lavrenty Arkadievich’ he said listlessly and bowed briefly to Varya.

'My God, Fandorin, is it really you?' the satrap gasped. 'I would never have recognised you. You've aged a good ten years! Have a seat, my dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you.'

The general sat Erast Petrovich on a chair and took a seat himself, so that Varya was behind him and Kazanzaki was left standing to attention, rooted to the spot outside the door.

'How are you now?' asked Mizinov. 'I wanted to give you my most sincere—'

'I would rather not talk about that, Your Excellency,' Fandorin interrupted politely but firmly. 'I am perfectly all right now. Tell me, rather, whether this g-gentleman' he nodded dismissively towards the lieutenant-colonel 'has told you about Plevna. Every hour is precious.'

'Yes, yes. I have with me an order from the commander-in-chief, but first of all I wanted to make sure that it was really you. Here, listen.' He took a sheet of paper out of his pocket, set a monocle in his eye and read: '"To the commander of the Western Division, Lieutenant-General Baron Kriedener. I order you to occupy Plevna and secure your position there with a force of at least one division. Nikolai."'

Fandorin nodded.

'Lieutenant-Colonel, have this encoded immediately and forwarded to Kriedener by telegraph,' Mizinov ordered.

Kazanzaki respectfully took the sheet of paper and ran off to carry out the order, his spurs jangling.

'So perhaps you can come back to work now?' the general asked.

Erast Petrovich frowned. 'Lavrenty Arkadievich, I believe I have fulfilled by d-duty by reporting the Turkish flanking manoeuvre. But as for fighting against poor Turkey, which would have fallen apart quite happily without our heroic efforts - please spare me that.'

'I shall not spare you, sir, I will not!' said Mizinov, growing angry. 'If patriotism is merely an empty word to you, then permit me to remind you, Mister Titular Counsellor, that you are not in retirement, but only on indefinite leave, and although you may be listed as a member of the diplomatic corps, you are still on service with me, in the Third Section!'

Varya gave a feeble gasp of amazement. She had taken Fandorin for a decent man - but he was a police agent! And he had even made himself out to be some kind of romantic hero, like Lermontov's Pechorin. That intriguing pallor, that languid glance, that nobly greying hair. How could she trust anyone after this?

'Your Excellency,' Erast Petrovich said in a quiet voice, clearly not even suspecting that in Varya's eyes he was now irrevocably damned, 'it is not you that I serve, but Russia. And I do not wish to take any part in a war that is not only pointless, but actually ruinous for her.'

'It is not your place, or mine, to draw conclusions concerning the war. His Majesty the Emperor decides such matters’ Mizinov retorted curtly.

An awkward pause ensued. When the chief of gendarmes began speaking again, his voice sounded quite different.

'Erast Petrovich, my dear fellow,' he began imploringly. 'Hundreds of thousands of Russian people are risking their lives, the burden of war has almost brought the country to its knees . . . and I have a dark presentiment of disaster. Things are going far too smoothly altogether. I am afraid it will all end very badly

When no reply was forthcoming, the general rubbed his eyes wearily and confessed: 'It is hard, Fandorin, I am struggling, surrounded by chaos and incompetence. I am short of men, especially intelligent and capable ones, and I have no wish to burden you with dull routine. I have a little task in mind that is very far from simple, but just the very thing for you.'

At that Erast Petrovich inclined his head, intrigued, and the general continued ingratiatingly: 'Do you recall Anwar-effendi? Sultan Abdul-Hamid's secretary. You know, the Turk who surfaced briefly in the "Azazel" case?'

Erast gave the faintest of shudders, but he said nothing.

Mizinov hemmed ironically. 'You know, that idiot Kazanzaki took you for him - I ask you! We have information that this interesting Turk is personally heading a secret operation against our forces. An audacious individual, with a flair for adventure. He could quite easily turn up at our positions in person,in fact, it would be just like him. Well, are you interested?'

'I am l-listening, Lavrenty Arkadievich’ said Fandorin, with a sideways glance at Varya.

'Well, that's splendid,' Mizinov said delightedly and shouted, 'Novgorodtsev! The file!'

A middle-aged major with adjutant's aiguillettes walked quietly into the room, handed the general a folder bound in red calico and immediately went out again. Varya spotted Lieutenant-Colonel Kazanzaki's sweaty features through the doorway and gave him a gleeful, mocking grin - Serves you right, you sadist, stand out there now and stew in your own juice.

'Right then, this is what we have on Anwar,' said the general, rustling the sheets of paper. 'Would you like to take notes?'

'I shall remember it,' replied Erast Petrovich.

'The facts about his early life are very scanty. He was born approximately thirty-five years ago - according to some sources, in the Bosnian Moslem village of Hef-Rai's. His parents are unknown. He was raised somewhere in Europe, in one of Lady Astair's celebrated educational institutions. You remember her, of course, from the "Azazel" business.'

It was the second time that Varya had heard that strange name, and the second time that Fandorin reacted strangely, jerking his chin as though his collar had suddenly become too tight for him.

'Anwar-effendi's name cropped up about ten years ago, when Europe first began hearing about the great Turkish reformer Midhat-pasha. Our Anwar, who at that time was still far from being any kind of effendi, worked as his secretary. Just lend a brief ear to this Midhat's service record.' Mizinov took out a separate sheet of paper and coughed to clear his throat. 'At that time he was the governor-general of the Danubian Vilajet. Under his patronage Anwar established a stagecoach service in those parts, built railways and even set up a network of islahhans - charitable educational establishments for orphan children from both the Moslem and Christian confessions.'

'Did he, indeed?' Fandorin remarked.

'Yes. A most praiseworthy initiative, is it not? Overall, the scale of Midhat-pasha's and Anwar's activities was so great that a genuine danger arose of Bulgaria escaping from the zone of Russian influence. Our ambassador in Constantinople, Nikolai Pavlovich Gnatiev, used all his influence with Sultan Abdul-Aziz and eventually managed to have the excessively zealous governor recalled. After that Midhat became chairman of the Council of State and steered through a law introducing universal public education - a remarkable law, and also, by the way, one that we still do not have here in Russia. Can you guess who drafted the bill? Yes, of course: Anwar-effendi. This would all be very moving, if not for the fact that in addition to his educational activities, at that time our opponent was also very actively involved in the intrigues at court, seeing that his patron had more than his share of enemies. Assassins were sent to kill Midhat; his coffee was poisoned; once, indeed, they even slipped him a concubine infected with leprosy - and Anwar's duties included protecting the great man from all these delightful pranks. But in any case, the Russian party at court got the upper hand and the pasha was banished into remote exile as the governor-general of poor and backward Mesopotamia. When Midhat tried to introduce his reforms there, an insurrection broke out in Baghdad. And do you know what he did? He summoned all the city elders and the clergy and made a brief speech as follows. I shall read it verbatim, since I find its power and style genuinely delightful: "Venerable mullahs and elders, if the public disorders have not ceased in two hours from now, I shall order you all to be hanged and put the four quarters of the glorious city of Baghdad to the flame, and afterwards may the great Padishah, Allah preserve him, also have me hanged for this heinous crime."' Mizinov chuckled and shook his head. 'So now he could proceed with his reforms. In less than three years of Midhat's governorship, his devoted deputy Anwar-effendi managed to build telegraph lines, introduce horse-drawn streetcars in Baghdad, set steamships sailing up and down the Euphrates, establish the first Iraqi newspaper and enrol pupils in a school of commerce. Not bad, eh? I hardly even need mention a mere trifle such as the establishment of the "Osman-Osman Shipping Line", whose ships sail as far as London via the Suez Canal. Then, by means of a certain cunning intrigue, Anwar managed to depose the Grand Vizier, Mahmoud Nedim, who was so intimate with the Russian ambassador that the Turks used to call him "Nedimov". Midhat became the head of the sultan's government, but only managed to hold on to this high office for two and a half months - our Gnatiev outwitted him yet again. Midhat's greatest failing - and one that is absolutely unforgivable in the eyes of the other pashas - is his incorruptibility. He launched a campaign against bribe-taking and was incautious enough to utter the phrase that was his undoing in the presence of European diplomats: "The time has come to show Europe that not all Turks are despicable prostitutes." For that word "prostitutes" he was thrown out of Istanbul and appointed governor of Salonika. The little Greek town immediately began to flourish, while the sultan's court settled back into luxurious indolence and sloth financed by the embezzlement of public funds.'