However, the crying didn’t stop. Standing in the corridor, Fandorin could hear her sobbing and muttering something.
Eventually Eliza came out, with her face powered and her hair freshly brushed.
‘I’m having a nervous breakdown,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘I think I’ll be magnificent in rehearsal today. As long as I don’t go into hysterics. Please allow me to lean on your arm, it will give me strength.’
Their shoulders touched; he could feel her trembling and felt frightened that he might be infected with this trembling too.
X minus Y is equal to eight. X minus Y plus one is equal to seven. X minus Y plus three is equal to five. X minus Y plus four is equal to four… In the grammar school Fandorin had not been brilliant at algebra and remembered it only vaguely, and he had not included this seemingly useless discipline in the programme of fruitful ageing. He should have done. A mathematician might possibly have solved this crazy equation. Although an equation with two unknowns didn’t have any solution, did it? Or did it? He couldn’t remember. If not for the proximity of Eliza’s hot shoulder, if not for the fragrance of her hair, his thinking wouldn’t twitch about and skip like this, from one thing to another…
They tried to enter the hall via the side door, but for some reason it turned out to be locked. They had to walk to the central door.
‘I can’t put up with this nonsense about 1s in the journal any longer!’ Noah Noaevich was shouting and waving his arms about. ‘Whoever is doing this is trying to finish me off! He’s jabbing his 1s into me like needles! Slashing me with them like razors!’
The assistant director’s warning of the previous day about fines for lateness had had its effect. Even though it was only about twenty minutes to eleven, almost the entire company had already gathered. The actors were sitting in the front row, indolently listening to the director’s howls.
‘Let’s slip in behind them,’ Eliza said to Fandorin. ‘I need to get a grip on myself… I just can’t seem to manage it somehow… I’m about to shatter into fragments at any moment. Like a broken mirror.’
Slashing him with 1s like razors? Erast Petrovich thought with a start. How many cuts were there on the millionaire’s neck?
‘No more, I can’t go on like this. So come what may!’ Eliza said in a breaking voice, but Erast Petrovich was no longer looking at her, or listening to her. The figures were clicking away in his head.
‘It’s Genghis Khan who’s killing everyone! My ex-husband. His jealousy has driven him insane! He killed two of my admirers in St Petersburg! He’s not a man, he’s a devil! He’s going to kill me!’ the actress babbled, choking on her tears.
‘Genghis Khan lived in the twelfth century,’ Fandorin said absent-mindedly. ‘Twelve isn’t right. The correct number is eleven. Eleven 1s. Right then. Eight is eleven minus three. Seven is eleven minus four. Five is eleven minus six. But why the sudden skip? Ah, damnation! Because it’s 1 November! And on 11 November, today, there are only four 1s left. But what are those four 1s?’
She looked at him in alarm.
‘Are you unwell?’
‘What?’
‘Were… weren’t you listening to me?’
Erast Petrovich tore himself away from his arithmetic with an effort.
‘Certainly I was. Of course I’m listening. Your former husband, Genghis Khan, is the one who is killing everybody… This is a psychosis. You’ve been through far too much. You need to calm down.’
The fear in her eyes intensified.
‘Oh yes, a psychosis! You don’t think it’s of any importance! I’m not well. Promise me you won’t do anything!’ She clasped her hands as if in prayer. ‘Forget all about it! I implore you!’
Vasilisa Prokofievna floated into the hall, looking red faced.
‘Ooph, I was almost late!’
She glanced at Eliza’s tear-stained face and enquired:
‘What are you rehearsing, Elizochka? Ah, I’ve guessed. King Lear, Act Five. Cordelia: For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down, Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s frown.” Are we really going to play Shakespeare, then?’
We really are like father and daughter, Fandorin thought irritably. She’s a young woman and I have grey hair. But Eliza flushed and moved away.
‘Am I the last?’ Reginina looked round. ‘No, Georges Cerberus isn’t here yet, the Lord be praised for that.’
It was true, everybody had already gathered except for the assistant director. At the very end of the front row Fandorin made out Masa’s round head. The Japanese was whispering about something with Sima Aphrodisina, but squinting at his master at the same time.
Four 1s – it’s time! Hours and minutes! But where do I put the 1s that fall out of line?
Eliza’s breath tickled his ear.
‘Do you promise to forget what I said?’
Stern appeared on the stage and looked round the hall.
‘Geisha Izumi! Stop distracting the esteemed author! Join us, if you please! We’re starting! Damn it all, where is Georges? A fine keeper of discipline. One minute to eleven, and he’s not here yet! Has anyone seen Nonarikin? Where’s Nonarikin?’
Fandorin swayed in his seat.
But of course! Nonarikin! The figure nine!
‘Where’s Nonarikin?’ he exclaimed, echoing Stern, and got to his feet.
‘Here I am, here!’
The assistant director appeared in the central aisle. Georges was looking different today: in a frock coat, with a starched shirtfront and a white chrysanthemum in his buttonhole. He swung round and locked the door for some reason. When he spotted Fandorin with Eliza, he seemed to be delighted.
‘Erast Petrovich? I wasn’t expecting you. But this is even better. Without the dramatist the picture of the world would be incomplete.’
‘Nonarikin, I need to have a word with you.’ Fandorin looked at the assistant director intently. ‘Answer my questions.’
‘I have no time for talking with you.’ The miraculously transformed assistant director smiled confidently. ‘And now the questions will all fall away of their own accord. I shall explain everything. Follow me, if you please, to the stage.’
‘Why did you lock the door?’ Eliza asked. ‘Is that some new kind of rule?’
But Georges didn’t answer, he moved between the seats towards the stage with a gliding gait. He darted lightly up the steps to the hanamichi. He took his watch out of his pocket with his left hand and displayed it to the assembled company.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, my congratulations!’ he declared triumphantly. ‘The benefit performance will commence shortly. There are only two 1s remaining!’
The Benefit Performance
ELEVEN 1S AND THE FIGURE 9
Surprisingly enough, dandified Georges took it upon himself to address the assembled company without Noah Noaevich’s permission and spouted drivel from the stage.
‘It is now precisely eleven o’clock on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1911. That is nine 1s. In eleven minutes’ time the number of 1s will reach eleven and the moment will be become perfect. Then I shall halt it! And my benefit performance will commence, ladies and gentlemen.’
Eliza wasn’t exactly listening closely to this balderdash, she was preoccupied with her own sufferings. She cursed herself for falling to pieces and blurting out too much. Thank God, Erast had not taken her hysterical muttering seriously. He was acting rather strangely today. Was it just that kind of day, everyone as mad as march hares?