Boris Akunin - The Winter Queen

"My lady, how old was Cunningham?" Fandorin asked with a frown.

"Thirty-three," Lady Astair replied readily. "He would have been thirty-four on the sixteenth of October. Gerald always held a party for the children on his birthday, and they did not give him presents. It was he who gave something to everyone. I think it consumed almost his entire salary — "

"No, it doesn't fit!" Fandorin cried out despairingly.

"What doesn't fit, my boy?" her ladyship asked in surprise.

"Intrepide was found at sea twenty years ago! Cunningham was only thirteen then. Dobbs got rich a quarter of a century ago. Cunningham was not even an orphan then! No, he's not the one!"

"What on earth are you trying to say?" the Englishwoman asked, blinking her clear blue eyes in bewilderment as she tried to fathom his thought.

Erast Fandorin stared back unblinkingly at her in silence, stunned by his hideous realization.

"So it wasn't Cunningham…" he whispered. "It was you all the time… You! You were there twenty years ago and twenty-five years ago… and forty! But, of course, who else! And Cunningham really was no more than your right hand! Four thousand of your disciples, in essence your children. And for every one of them you were like a mother! It was you Morbid and Franz were talking about, not Amalia at all! You gave each of them a goal in life — you set each of them 'on the path'! But it's appalling, appalling!" Erast Fandorin groaned as if he were in pain. "From the very beginning you intended to use your pedagogical theory to establish a worldwide conspiracy."

"No, not from the very beginning," Lady Astair objected calmly. Some intangible but perfectly evident change had taken place in her. She no longer seemed to be a tranquil, agreeable old woman. A spark of intelligence, authority, and indomitable strength had appeared in her eyes. "At first, I simply wanted to save mankind's poor, destitute children. I wanted to make them happy — as many of them as I could, whether it was a hundred or a thousand. But my efforts were a grain of sand in the desert. While I was saving one child, the bloodthirsty Moloch of society was pulverizing a thousand, a million young souls, in every one of which there burned the primordial spark of God. And I realized that my efforts were in vain. The sea cannot be emptied with a spoon." Lady Astair's voice grew more forceful and her stooped shoulders grew straight. "And I also realized that God had given me the strength to do more than save a handful of orphans. I could save mankind. Not in my own lifetime, perhaps, but twenty or thirty or fifty years after my death. It is my vocation, my mission. Every one of my children is a precious jewel, the crown of creation, a knight of the new humanity. Each of them will work incalculable good and change the world for the better with his life. They will write wise laws, unlock the mysteries of nature, create masterpieces of art. And year by year there are more of them — in time they will transform this vile, unjust, criminal world!"

"What mysteries of nature, what masterpieces of art?" Fandorin asked bitterly. "You are interested in nothing but power. I've seen them — you have nothing but generals and future ministers out there."

Her ladyship smiled condescendingly. "My friend, Cunningham was only in charge of my category F , a very important category but by no means the only one. F stands for Force — that is, everything related to the mechanisms of direct power: politics, the state apparatus, the armed forces, the police, and so on. There is also a category S , for Science; a category A , for art; and a category B , for business. And there are others as well. In forty years of work as an educator I have set sixteen thousand eight hundred and ninety-three people on their way. Surely you can see how rapidly science, technology, art, legislation, and industry have developed in recent decades? Surely you can see that since the middle of this nineteenth century of ours the world has become a kinder, wiser, more beautiful place? A genuine world revolution is taking place. And it is absolutely essential. Otherwise the unjust order of society will produce a different, bloody revolution that will set mankind back by several centuries. My children save the world every day. And just wait and see what will happen in the years to come. By the way, I recall you asking me why I do not take girls. On that occasion, I must confess, I lied to you. I do take girls. Only very few, but I take them. I have a special Astair House in Switzerland where my dear daughters are educated. They are absolutely special material, perhaps even more precious than my sons. I believe you are acquainted with one of my foster daughters." Her ladyship smiled slyly. "For the moment, to be sure, she is behaving irrationally and has forgotten her duty. That happens with young women. But she will certainly return to the fold. I know my girls."

From these words Fandorin realized that Hippolyte had not killed Amalia after all, but had evidently carried her off somewhere. However, the reminder of Bezhetskaya opened old wounds and weakened somewhat the impression (which must be admitted to be quite considerable) that the baroness's reasoning had made on the young man.

"A noble goal is a great thing, no doubt!" he exclaimed vehemently. "But what about the means? For you, killing a man means no more than swatting a mosquito."

"That is untrue!" her ladyship objected heatedly. "I genuinely regret every life that has been lost. But one cannot clean out the Augean stables without soiling one's hands. One man's life saves thousands, millions of other people."

"And who did Kokorin save?" Erast Fandorin inquired sarcastically.

"I shall use the money of that worthless bon vivant to raise thousands of brilliant minds for Russia and the world. It cannot be helped, my boy. It was not I who arranged this cruel world so that there is a price to be paid for everything. It seems to me that in this case the price is quite reasonable."

"Well, and what of Akhtyrtsev's death?"

"Firstly, he talked too much. Secondly, he plagued Amalia to excess. And thirdly — you yourself mentioned it to Ivan Brilling — the Baku oil. No one will be able to contest the will that Akhtyrtsev wrote. It remains valid."

"And what of the risk of a police investigation? "

"A trifling matter," said her ladyship with a shrug. "I knew that my dear Ivan would arrange everything. Even as a child he was distinguished by a brilliant analytical mind and great organizational talent. What a tragedy that he is no longer with us! Brilling would have arranged everything quite perfectly if not for a certain extremely persistent young gentleman. We have all been very, very unlucky."

"Wait a moment, my lady," said Erast Petrovich, finally realizing the need for caution. "Why are you being so frank with me? Surely you do not hope to win me over to your camp? If not for the blood that has been spilt, I would be wholeheartedly on your side, but your methods — "

Lady Astair interrupted him with a serene smile. "No, my friend, I am not hoping to win you over with propaganda. Unfortunately we became acquainted too late. Your mind, your character, and system of moral values were already formed, and now it is almost impossible to change them. There are three reasons why I am being so frank with you. Firstly, you are a very bright young man and I find you genuinely likable. I do not wish you to believe I am a monster. Secondly, you committed a serious blunder by coming straight here from the station without informing your superiors. And thirdly, it was not by chance that I induced you to sit in that extremely uncomfortable armchair with such a strangely curved back."

She made a movement with her hand, and two steel bands quickly slid out of the high armrests, pinning Fandorin tightly against the back of the chair. Still not fully aware of what had happened, he tried to leap to his feet with a jerk, but he could not even really move, and the legs of the armchair seemed to be rooted to the floor.