R. Morris - A Razor Wrapped in Silk

‘But I do not see what this has to do with us.’ Prince Naryskin looked up pleadingly at Bakhmutov.

‘It brings her name back into the public mind.’

‘She was his mistress,’ said von Lembke flatly. He was surprised to see Prince Naryskin blush.

‘Not only that, it associates her name with the most despicable crimes. At a time when we are seeking to capitalise on your involvement with the bank. They mention the Naryskin Palace, I see. And so they sully your name as well as hers.’

‘This is insufferable!’ protested Prince Naryskin.

‘Question is, what to do about it?’ Von Lembke’s thin smile closed tightly shut. He studied his cigar intently, casting occasional sly glances at Prince Naryskin.

The prince felt himself the object of Bakhmutov’s attention too.

‘My dear friend, I think the time has come to discuss the terms upon which the board would be willing to consider the cancellation of your debt. That is something you desire, is it not?’

But there was something about Bakhmutov’s smile that made the prince question whether this was as desirable an outcome as he had once imagined.

*

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Porfiry threw the newspaper at Virginsky as he came in for his morning briefing. The pages fell apart in a flurried panic, littering the surface of Porfiry’s desk.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Do I not have enough to contend with? A servant who is a Third Section spy. Salytov carrying on an illicit trade in the bodies of murder victims. And now this. You. Talking to the press when I had explicitly forbidden it.’

‘But I know nothing about this,’ said Virginsky, retrieving the scattered newspaper sheet by sheet.

‘Again, I know nothing! Are you a moral coward too, Pavel Pavlovich? Do you refuse to take responsibility for your actions?’

‘I did not speak to any journalists.’

‘This is not helpful.’ Porfiry shook his head darkly. ‘Who knows what it will unleash. There are consequences here that you cannot conceive of.’

Virginsky put the paper back together carefully and folded it as neatly as he could. ‘I swear to you, Porfiry Petrovich, I had nothing to do with this.’

‘We will just have to deal with whatever comes our way. In the meantime, where is Salytov?’

‘You do not believe me.’ There was a deadened fatality to Virginsky’s tone.

‘I have no time to consider the question now. We will inquire into this in due course.’

There was a brisk rap at the door.

‘At last, Salytov. Come in!’

The fact that Porfiry had been expecting Lieutenant Salytov made the appearance of the man who did come through the door especially mystifying. His face was somehow familiar, and yet, as Porfiry strained his memory to place it, all recollection of the man’s identity eluded him. He knew him from somewhere. But where? There was something not right about the man, or perhaps he was sensing some fundamental change that had taken place since the last time he saw him that made recognition impossible. He was dressed in a dark frock coat. The more Porfiry looked at this item of clothing the more certain he was that here was the source of the mystery. The man held a charcoal grey bowler in one hand; between the thumb and forefinger of the other, he twirled the apex of a waxed blond moustache.

‘Good day, Porfiry Petrovich Razumikhin !’ His voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper on the last word.

As soon as he heard the voice, he knew where he had seen the man before. ‘You’re out of uniform.’

‘I am not obliged to signal my presence with the uniform everywhere I go, although it is sometimes useful to don the sky blue — when one wants to make an impression.’

‘Was it for show then, your exercise in the Nikolaevsky Station?’

‘Not at all. We were in earnest.’

‘Did you catch your man?’

‘Murin? No. He still evades us. But I believe we are closing in on him. It is to be hoped that we will catch up with him soon. He is a very dangerous individual.’

Porfiry nodded his head, almost in admiration. ‘Evidently you have discovered my family name.’

‘I did not know it was a secret.’

‘Perhaps you would be so good as to reveal yours?’

‘I am not bound to.’ The visitor renewed the energy with which he rolled his moustache and smiled. ‘However, I am here on official business, so there is perhaps little point in concealing it. I am Major Pyotr Afanasevich Verkhotsev.’

‘You are Maria Petrovna’s father!’ exclaimed Virginsky.

‘And you are Pavel Pavlovich Virginsky,’ said Verkhotsev, facing Virginsky with a polite bow. ‘Now that we are all friends, perhaps I should reveal the purpose of my visit. I have here …’ Verkhotsev withdrew a sealed paper from inside his frock coat ‘… a warrant issued by Count Shuvalov, whom you will know as the Head of the Third Section of His Imperial Majesty’s Chancellery.’

‘Yes, yes. Quite.’ Porfiry broke the seal and studied the document Verkhotsev had handed to him.

‘You will see that it is quite in order. It requires you to share with me all the evidence you have gathered so far in the investigation into the murder of Yelena Filippovna Polenova, as well as all evidence relating to the murders of Dmitri Krasotkin, Artur Smurov and Svetlana Chisova. As you will observe, the warrant has been countersigned by Count Konstantin Palen, the Minister of Justice, and General Trepov, the Chief of Police. The Chief Superintendent of the Haymarket Station, your very own Nikodim Fomich, has also initialled it to signify his approval.’

‘You are taking over the investigation?’

‘No, no, no! Only a very vain or foolish man would remove the greatest investigator in St Petersburg from a case in order to take it over himself.’

‘You flatter me. For my part, I will say that you are welcome to it.’

‘Really? Why do you say that?’

‘I hope you will not take this the wrong way, but, in my experience, as soon as the Third Section becomes interested in a case, I myself lose the will to continue with it.’

‘I am sorry to hear that, Porfiry Petrovich. Mortified, even. May I ask why?’

‘Things become unnecessarily complicated.’

‘Ah, now — if I may be permitted to correct a misapprehension on your part?’

Porfiry nodded for Verkhotsev to continue.

‘It is not that things become complicated with our involvement. It is rather that we reveal how very complicated they were right from the beginning. Things are always complicated, Porfiry Petrovich. Invariably so.’

‘But they acquire a degree of complication that makes it impossible to get to the truth.’

‘There is nothing I desire more than to get to the truth. Especially in this case. I think you will understand that this is a case that concerns me personally. Pavel Pavlovich has already alluded to my daughter Masha’s involvement. In addition, an account in today’s Gazette has alerted us to the wider implications of these cases. By the by, I might ask, Porfiry Petrovich, why did you decide to release the details of the case in this way?’

‘It was not my decision,’ said Porfiry sourly, blinking aggressively towards Virginsky. ‘I did not authorise it.’

‘The Gazette speaks of a source at the Department for the Investigation of Criminal Causes. It was not you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then who?’

‘I cannot say.’

‘Do you have any suspicions, Pavel Pavlovich?’

‘I am as much at a loss as Porfiry Petrovich.’

‘I cannot believe the great Porfiry Petrovich is ever at a loss.’

‘Please, I really would prefer that you did not flatter me in this way. It is rather unnerving to be flattered by a representative of the Third Section.’