Boris Akunin: The Winter Queen

Her ladyship rang a bell and Andrew instantly entered the room, as if he had been eavesdropping outside the door.

"My splendid Andrew, please bring Professor Blank here as quickly as you can. Oh, and tell him to bring the chloroform. And tell Timofei to deal with the coachman." She sighed sadly. "There is nothing to be done about it."

Andrew bowed without speaking and left the room. Silence hung heavy in the study. Erast Fandorin puffed and panted as he floundered in the trap, attempting to twist himself around in order to reach the lifesaving Herstal behind his back, but the confounded hoops had clamped him so tightly that he had to abandon the idea. Her ladyship observed the young man's movements with a sympathetic eye, occasionally shaking her head.

Soon there was the sound of rapid steps in the corridor and two people entered the room: the genius of physics Professor Blank and the silent Andrew.

Casting a quick glance at the prisoner, the professor asked in English, "Is this serious, my lady?"

"Yes, it is rather." She sighed. "But rectifiable. Of course, it will cost us a little fuss and bother. I do not wish to resort to extreme measures unless it is absolutely necessary. I remembered, my boy, that you had been dreaming for a long time of experimenting on human material. It would appear that an opportunity has arisen."

"But I am not yet entirely ready to work with a human brain," said Blank uncertainly, scrutinizing Fandorin, who was now calm. "On the other hand, it would be a shame to squander such an opportunity…"

"In any case he has to be put to sleep," remarked the baroness. "Did you bring the chloroform?"

"Yes, yes, just a moment." The professor extracted a small bottle from a capacious pocket and splashed its contents generously onto a handkerchief. Erast Fandorin caught the harsh, medicinal smell and was about to protest, but in two swift bounds Andrew was standing by the armchair and pressing his arm across the prisoner's throat with incredible strength.

"Good-bye, my poor boy," her ladyship said, turning her face away.

Blank took a gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket, glanced at it over the top of his spectacles, and pressed the odorous white rag firmly over Fandorin's face. And that was when Erast Fandorin was able to put the lifesaving teachings of the incomparable Chandra Johnson to good use! The young man did not breathe in the treacherous fumes, which obviously contained no prana. The moment had come to practice the exercise of holding his breath.

"One minute will be more than adequate," the scientist declared.

A-and eight, a-and nine, a-and ten, Erast Fandorin counted mentally, not forgetting to open and close his mouth spasmodically, roll his eyes, and mimic convulsions. As a matter of fact, even if he had wished to breathe in, it would not have been easy, since Andrew was pressing down on his throat with a grip of iron.

Fandorin's count had exceeded eighty, his lungs were almost exhausted in their struggle with the desire to breathe in air, and still the moisture of that foul rag continued to chill his flaming face. Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven — he began counting with dishonest rapidity, attempting to fool that unbearably slow-moving second hand with his last ounce of strength. Suddenly he realized that he should have stopped twitching and lost consciousness long ago, and he went limp and still, allowing his lower jaw to drop in order to make the trick look more convincing. On the count of ninety Blank removed his hand.

"Well, well," he said, "what remarkable resistance. Almost seventy-five seconds."

The "insensible" prisoner allowed his head to loll to one side and pretended to be breathing smoothly and deeply, although he desperately wanted to gulp in air with a mouth hungry for oxygen.

"Ready now, my lady," the professor announced. "We can commence the experiment."

“TAKE HIM TO THE LABORATORY,” SAID HER ladyship, "but you must hurry. In twenty minutes the break will begin. The children must not see this."

There was a knock at the door.

"Timofei, is that you?" the baroness asked in accented Russian, before switching into English. "Come in!"

Erast Fandorin did not dare to peep, not even through his eyelashes. If anyone were to notice, he would be done for. He heard the doorkeeper's heavy footsteps and his voice speaking loudly, as if the people he was addressing were deaf. "So everything's in the very best order, Your Excellency. Oil right." He put in this last phrase in English. "I offered the driver a drink of tea. Tea! You drink!" — again in English. "He turned out to be a tough old devil all right. Keeps on drinking away and still fresh as a daisy. Drink, drink — nossing! But then it was all right. He dozed off. And I drove his cab 'round the back of the house. It can stand there for a bit. I'll deal with it later. You don't need to concern yourself about it, madam."

Blank translated what he had said to the baroness.

"Fine," she responded in English and then added in an undertone, "Andrew, just make sure that he doesn't try to make a profit selling the horse and the carriage."

Fandorin did not catch any reply. No doubt the taciturn Andrew had merely nodded.

Get on with it, you reptiles, unfasten me , thought Erast Fandorin, mentally urging his malefactors on. The school break's starting soon. I'll show you an experiment. Just as long as I don't forget about the safety catch .

However, there was a serious disappointment in store for Fandorin — no one began to unfasten him. Someone breathed loudly right into his ear, and he caught a whiff of onions. Timofei, the captive guessed with unerring perspicacity. Then there was a low rasping sound that was repeated a second time, then a third and a fourth.

"That's it. I've unscrewed it," the doorkeeper announced. "Catch hold, Andriukha, and away we go."

They lifted up Erast Fandorin together with the armchair and bore him away. Opening his eyes very slightly, he glimpsed the gallery and the Dutch windows illuminated by the sun. Everything was clear now: they were taking him to the main building, to the laboratory.

When his bearers stepped carefully into the recreation hall, trying to avoid making any noise, Fandorin thought seriously about whether he should suddenly come to and disrupt the educational process with bloodcurdling screams. Let the little children see the sort of business their kind ladyship was involved in. But the sounds coming from the classrooms conveyed such a feeling of peace and comfort — the measured bass of the teacher's voice, a peal of boyish laughter, a phrase of music from a choir — that Fandorin did not have the heart to do it. Never mind, in any case it was still too early to show his hand, he thought in justification of his own spinelessness.

Then it was too late and the classroom hubbub had been left far behind. Erast Fandorin took a peep and saw that they were carrying him up some staircase. A door creaked, and a key turned in a lock.

Even through his closed eyelids he saw the bright flash of the electric light. He surveyed his surroundings rapidly through a single squinting eye, managing to distinguish some porcelain utensils, wires, and metal coils. He disliked the look of it all very much. In the distance there was the muffled ringing of a bell — evidently the lesson was over — and almost immediately he heard the clear sound of voices.

"I do hope everything will work out well." Lady Astair sighed. "I should regret it if the young man were to die."

"I hope so, too, my lady," the professor replied, clearly nervous, and he began clanking some object made of iron. "But, alas, there is no such thing as science without sacrifices. A heavy price must be paid for every new step forward in knowledge. Fine feelings won't get you very far. But if this young man means so much to you, that bear of yours ought not to have poisoned the coachman but merely slipped him a sleeping draught. Then I would have started with the coachman and left the young man for later. That would have improved his chances."