As Erast Petrovich listened, he wondered why, here in Russia, in all ages, the most important requirement for the success of any venture was ‘good relations’. It must be because the Russians regarded laws as irritating, arbitrary obstructions invented by a certain hostile power in its own interests. And that hostile power was called ‘the state’. There was never anything rational or benevolent in the actions of the state. It was an immense, sprawling, vicious monster. The only salvation was that it was also half-blind and rather stupid, and every one of its greedy gullets could be fed. Without that, it would be absolutely impossible to live in Russia. Establish good relations with the gaping, toothy maw closest to you and do whatever you like. Only don’t forget to fling chunks of meat into it on time. That was the way things had been under the Rurikoviches, that was how things were under the Romanovs, and that was how things would remain until relations between the general population and the state changed fundamentally.
Having promised to give the millionaire’s proposal serious thought, Erast Petrovich walked out of the Theatrical and Cinematographic Company pondering the situation seriously. The opponent he had challenged had proved to be more serious than originally thought.
The technological spirit of the twentieth century was already making inroads into the dense thickets of the criminal world of Moscow. This Tsar had American bookkeeping, a sound business structure, automobiles, and professionally organised protection. It was probably not really wise to go up against an organisation like that on his own. Like it or not, he would have to make peace with Masa…
A TRUE FRIEND
The Japanese did not come home to spend the night, but Erast Petrovich did not attach any importance to that. Out chasing after skirts again, he thought. Well, that’s all right, the plan for a little visit to Sokolniki can be discussed tomorrow.
That evening Shiftsky had reported on his visit to the Tsar. The actor was frightened and intrigued, because the news of Fandorin’s suspicions had seriously alarmed the lord of the speculators.
‘But who are you? I mean, really?’ Kostya asked Erast Petrovich fearfully. ‘They ordered me to report every word you say immediately… Why are they so frightened of you?’
‘I have no idea,’ Fandorin replied, fixing the actor with an unblinking gaze. ‘But I advise you very seriously not to inform Mr Whistle about every word I s-say.’
Shiftsky gulped.
‘I g-get it…’ And then he panicked. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to make fun of you! It just happened!’
‘I believe you. So, a two-storey detached house in Sokolniki, at the end of Deer Grove Street? I tell you what, sit down and draw the area as accurately as you can. I’m curious about the surroundings…’
At home on Cricket Lane, with the help of a detailed police map of the Meshchansky district, which included Deer Grove Street, along with all the rest of Sokolniki, Erast Petrovich identified Mr Tsarkov’s present address. The building to which Shiftsky had been taken was once a country house outside the city, but now it stood on the grounds of the park. On the map it was actually marked as ‘Deer Grove’. Under cover of night Fandorin paid a visit to the north-eastern sector of Sokolniki in order to take a look at the objective and, if the opportunity arose, carry out his plan there and then.
He was obliged to abandon the idea of a full-frontal cavalry charge. At first glance the house appeared to be located conveniently. Dense bushes ran almost right up to it from three sides. However, this apparent ease of access was deceptive. The Office was well protected. There was one ‘pinscher’ on guard all the time on the porch, keeping his eyes fixed on the alley leading to the isolated house. When Fandorin trained his binoculars on the windows, he counted another four of them on watch inside. All the curtains were tightly closed, but even so there were little gaps left at the top, just below the cornice. In order to get some idea of how the ground floor was arranged, Erast Petrovich had to climb trees on three sides of the house. It was an undignified kind of activity, but refreshing – it made Fandorin feel a bit younger. And at the same time he gained a fairly accurate impression of the layout of the Office.
The upper floor contained the Tsar’s chambers and Mr Whistle’s room. Down below there were two large spaces. One of these, to judge from the furnishings, was the dining room. The other – where guards loitered constantly – was the working office. Fandorin even managed to examine two large, lacquered cabinets of unusual design which glinted in the orange light of the kerosene lamps. Without a doubt, they were the personal archive of His Speculative Majesty.
It was no Plevna fortress, of course, but it couldn’t be taken by storm, especially by one man acting alone. But two men – himself and Masa – now that was a different matter.
After his successful reconnaissance, feeling restored for the first time in an entire month, he went back home and slept for four hours, and then it was time to go to the theatre. Erast Petrovich had to catch Masa before the rehearsal began, so at half past ten he was already sitting in the auditorium, concealed behind a newspaper – an excellent way to avoid the idle chatter of which actors were so fond. He had observed long ago that reading a newspaper, especially if one assumed an air of concentration, inspired respect in others and warded off any superfluous contact. But Fandorin did not even have to act out any pretence. Today’s Morning of Russia carried an extremely interesting interview with the minister of trade and industry, Timashev, about the excellent fiscal situation in the empire: liquidity reserves of more than 300 million roubles had been accumulated from budget surpluses, the Russian currency’s exchange rate was strenghtening day by day and the government’s energetic policy was quite certain to set Russia on the road to a bright future. Erast Petrovich’s own prognoses concerning the future of Russia were not optimistic, but how glorious it would be to be mistaken!
From time to time he glanced at the doors. The theatre company was gradually gathering. Everyone was in their normal clothes – the established rules called for rehearsals to be conducted with scenery, but without make-up or costumes. The brilliant Noah Noaevich believed that this laid bare an actor’s technique, rendering the errors and miscalculations more obvious
Aphrodisina came in. Erast Petrovich did not lower his eyes back to the newspaper, expecting that Masa would appear after her, but he was mistaken – the ‘coquette’ had arrived alone.
He had to read another article, about the historical events in China. A revolt by a single battalion in the provincial city of Wuchang, which had begun a week earlier, had led to Chinese everywhere cutting off their pigtails, refusing to submit to the authority of the emperor and demanding a republic. It was incredible to think what an immense behemoth had been set in motion by such a little spark – 400 million people! And the Europeans were apparently not even aware that mighty, somnolent Asia had awoken. It could not be stopped now. As its oscillations slowly gathered amplitude, spreading wider and wider, it would submerge the entire planet under its waves. The world was ceasing to be white and – as the Japanese put it – ‘round-eyed’; now it would turn yellow and its eyes would inevitably grow narrower. How interesting all this was!
He looked up from Morning of Russia, trying to picture to himself newly awoken, black-haired Asia in alliance with enlightened, golden-haired Europe. And he froze. There was Eliza walking into the hall, arm-in-arm with Masa. They were smiling at each other and whispering about something.