Boris Akunin - The Winter Queen

"Andrew, cut away two circles of hair — here and here," said Blank, touching the head of his subject. "I need to attach the electrodes."

"No, let Timofei do that," Lady Astair declared firmly. "I am leaving. I do not wish to see this — I shall not be able to sleep tonight if I do. Andrew, you will come with me. I shall write a few urgent telegrams and you will take them to the telegraph. We must take precautionary measures. After all, our friend here will soon be missed."

"Yes, yes, my lady. You will only be in my way here," the professor replied absentmindedly, absorbed in his preparations. "I shall inform you immediately of the outcome."

At long last the iron talons in which Erast Fandorin's elbows had been grasped released their grip.

No sooner had the footsteps beyond the door receded into silence than Fandorin opened his eyes, tore his legs free, flexed his knees, and gave Timofei a kick in the chest that sent him flying into the corner. A moment later Erast Fandorin had already leapt to the floor and, still blinking in the light, pulled out his trusty Herstal from under his coattails.

"Don't move or I'll kill you!" the resurrected victim hissed venge-fully, and at that moment he really did want to shoot both of them: Timofei as he sat there stupidly batting his eyelids and the mad professor standing frozen in amazement with two metal knitting needles in his hand. Thin wires led from the needles to some cunning apparatus with a number of small, winking lamps. The laboratory was crammed with all sorts of curious items, but now was clearly not the time to be studying them.

Timofei made no attempt to get up off the floor and simply kept crossing himself with small, rapid movements, but Fandorin could see that the situation with Blank was less secure. The scientist was not scared in the least, merely infuriated at this unexpected obstacle that could ruin his entire experiment. The thought ran through Fandorin's head: he's going to throw himself at me ! And suddenly the desire to kill him shriveled and melted away without trace.

"Don't do anything stupid! Stay where you are!" Fandorin shouted, his voice trembling slightly.

That very moment Blank roared, " Mistkerl! Du hast alles verdorben . * BORIS AKUNIN Translated by Andrew Bromfield THE WINTER QUEEN and made a dash at him, crashing into the edge of the table on the way.

Erast Fandorin pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. The safety catch! He clicked the button. Then he pressed the trigger twice. Ba-bang ! There was a double peal of thunder and the professor fell facedown, his head at Fandorin's feet.

Fearing an attack from behind, Fandorin swung around sharply, ready to fire again, but Timofei merely huddled back against the wall and began jabbering in a tearful voice, "Don't kill me, Your Honor! Don't do it! In Christ's name! In God's name, Your Honor!"

"Get up, you scoundrel!" howled Erast Fandorin, half deafened and crazed. "That way! March!"

Prodding Timofei in the back with the barrel of his gun, he drove him along the corridor and then down the staircase. Timofei staggered along with short steps, gasping out loud every time the gun barrel nudged his spine.

They rushed quickly through the recreation hall, and Fandorin tried not to look at the teachers peering out from behind the open doors of the classrooms and the silent children in blue uniforms peeping out from behind their backs.

"Police!" Erast Fandorin shouted into empty space. "Teachers, keep the children in the classrooms! And stay there yourselves!"

Sweeping through the long gallery at the same half-walking, half-running pace, they came to the wing. When they reached the white and gold door Erast Fandorin shoved Timofei with all his might, and the doorkeeper rammed open the doors with his forehead, scarcely managing to stay on his feet. No one. The room was empty!

"Forward march! Open every door!" ordered Fandorin. "And remember: one false move and I'll shoot you like a dog!"

The doorkeeper merely threw his arms up into the air and raced back into the corridor. In five minutes they examined all the rooms on the first floor. There was not a single soul, except in the kitchen, where the poor coachman, slumped heavily across the table with his dead face twisted to one side, was sleeping the sleep of eternity. Erast Fandorin cast a quick glance at the crumbs of sugar in his beard and the puddle of spilt tea, then ordered Timofei to move on.

On the second floor there were two bedrooms, a dressing room, and a library. The baroness and her servant were not there either. Where could they be? Had they heard the shots and hidden somewhere? Or had they fled the scene altogether?

In his fury Erast Fandorin swung the hand holding the gun through the air and suddenly a shot rang out. The bullet whined as it ricocheted off the wall and hit the window, printing a neat little star with radiating points on the glass. Damn. The safety catch was off, and the trigger was light, Fandorin remembered. He shook his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears.

The shot produced a magical effect on Timofei, who sank to his knees and began whining, "Your Hon — Your Worship… Don't take my life. The devil led me astray. I've got little children and a sick wife! I'll show you! As sure as God's holy I will! They're down in the cellar, in the secret basement! I'll show you, but spare my soul!"

"In what basement?" Erast Fandorin asked menacingly, raising the gun as if he really did intend to enact justice there and then.

"You follow me, follow me, Your Honor."

Timofei leapt to his feet and, glancing around at every moment, led Fandorin back to the first floor, into the baroness's study.

"I just happened to peep once, by chance… She wouldn't let me anywhere near it. She didn't trust me. Why should she — a Russian Orthodox, none of their English blood in me." Timofei crossed himself. "Only that Andrew of hers was ever allowed in there, but not me, oh no!"

He darted around behind the desk and turned a handle on a cabinet, and the cabinet suddenly moved to one side, revealing a small copper door.

"Open it!" ordered Erast Fandorin.

Timofei crossed himself again three times and pushed the door. It opened without a sound, revealing a stairway that led down into darkness.

Prodding Timofei in the back, Fandorin began cautiously descending. The stairs ended in a blank wall, but there was a low corridor running off at a sharp angle to the right.

"Go on! Go on!" Erast Fandorin hissed at the reluctant Timofei.

They turned the corner into pitch-black darkness. should have brought a candle , Fandorin thought, reaching into his pocket for matches with his left hand, but suddenly somewhere ahead of him there was a bright flash and a loud report. Timofei gave a gasp and sank to the floor, but Erast Fandorin held his Herstal out in front of him and pressed the trigger, holding it down until the hammer began clicking against empty shell cases. A hollow silence fell. With trembling fingers Fandorin took out his matchbox and struck a match. Timofei was slumped against the wall in a motionless heap. Taking a few steps forward, Erast Fandorin saw Andrew lying on his back on the ground. The trembling flame glimmered for a moment in the glassy eyes before it went out.

On finding oneself in the dark, the great Fouché teaches us, one should screw one's eyes tight shut and count to thirty to give the pupils time to contract, and then one's vision will be capable of discerning the most insignificant source of light. In order to be quite certain, Erast Fandorin counted to forty before opening his eyes, and indeed there was a ray of light filtering through from somewhere. Extending ahead of him the hand clutching the now useless Herstal, he took a step forward, then another, then a third. In front of him he saw a door standing slightly ajar, a faint beam of light emerging from the gap. The baroness could only be in there. Fandorin stepped decisively toward the glowing beam and pushed the door hard.