Bliss filled his heart because O-Yumi was sleeping in the next room. And when all was said and done, wasn’t that the most important thing?
Bliss filled his mind because once again Erast Petrovich had a plan, and this time a real one, thoroughly thought through and prepared, unlike that recent bastard mongrel of a plan created by a sick brain, which had almost cost him his life. It was simply miraculous that he had survived!
When the victorious Bullcox collapsed on his vanquished foe, none of the spectators could understand what had happened, let alone Fandorin, who had already prepared himself for death. He pushed off the Englishman’s heavy carcass and wiped down his forehead (which was streaming with cold sweat) with his hand (which was streaming with hot blood). The Right Honourable lay there face down with his hand flung out, still clutching the hilt of his sword.
The doctor and seconds were already running towards the men on the ground.
‘Are you seriously hurt?’ shouted Dr Stein, squatting down on his haunches.
Without waiting for an answer, he hastily ran his hands over the vice-consul, waved his hand dismissively at the cuts (‘That can wait’) and turned to Bullcox.
He took his pulse, raised his eyelid and whistled.
‘Apoplexy. A man can’t do all this jumping and jigging about with blood as congested as that! Mr Tsurumaki, your carriage is the most spacious. Will you take him home? I’ll come with you.’
‘Of course I’ll take him, he’s my neighbour,’ said the Don, making a show of taking the Right Honourable under the arms and avoiding looking at Fandorin.
Erast Petrovich was taken to the consulate by Major Ruskin, who was no less pale than the vice-consul. He was courteous and attentive, and apologised for his rudeness, which had been the consequence of a misunderstanding – he was obviously seriously concerned about the safety of his ‘cast-iron head’. But the major was the last thing on the titular counsellor’s mind. The young man was shaking all over – not in relief and not from overworked nerves. Fandorin was simply overwhelmed by the evident prejudice of fate, which had saved him yet again, come to his assistance in a quite desperate, hopeless situation. He could hardly believe that Bullcox had suffered a stroke at precisely the moment when his vanquished foe had only a second left to live! No doubt the sceptics would find rational explanations for this, say that the vengeful anticipation of the Englishman, who was already panting and short of breath, had sent the blood rushing to his head, and a blood vessel had burst in his brain. But Erast Petrovich himself knew that he had been saved once again by his lucky star, also known as Destiny. But for what purpose? And how long would this go on?
The entire population of the consulate had assembled at the bedside of the bloodied victim: Vsevolod Vitalievich, turned completely yellow in his grief, with Obayasi-san; and Shirota, chewing on his lips; and Sophia Diogenovna, sobbing; and even the servant Natsuko, who actually spent most of the time ogling Masa. It was a touching picture, almost harrowing in fact – an impression facilitated in no small part by the spinster Blagolepova, who appealed to everyone to send for the priest from the frigate Governor, ‘before it’s too late’, but O-Yumi performed her magical manipulations and the man pretending to be at death’s door returned miraculously to life. He sat up on the bed, then got up and walked round the room. And finally he declared that he felt hungry, dammit.
At this point it emerged that no one in the embassy had taken breakfast yet – everyone had known about the duel and been so worried about Erast Petrovich that they couldn’t eat a single bite. A table was hastily laid, right there in Doronin’s office – for a confidential strategic discussion.
They spoke about the duel for a while, and then turned their attention to Don Tsurumaki. The titular counsellor’s reawakened reason was eager for rehabilitation. The plan came together instantly, over roast beef and fried eggs.
‘He is certain that I am lying flat on my back and will not get up any time soon, so he is not expecting a visit from me. That is one,’ said Fandorin, brandishing a fork. ‘He doesn’t have any guards at the villa, he told me many times that he is not afraid of anyone. That is two. I still have a key to the gates, that is three. The conclusion? Tonight I shall pay him a visit àl’anglais, [xi] that is to say, uninvited.’
‘The purpose?’ asked Doronin, narrowing his eyes.
‘We’ll have a little friendly chat. I think the Don and I can find a thing or two to talk about.’
The consul shook his head.
‘Are you thinking of trying to frighten him? You’ve had plenty of opportunity to realise that the Japanese akunin is not afraid of death. And you’re not going to kill him anyway.’
Erast Petrovich wiped his lips with a napkin, sipped his red wine and took a slice of Philippine pineapple. It was a long time, a very long time, since he had eaten with such a good appetite.
‘Why should I want to frighten him? He’s not some nervous young damsel, and I’m not a g-ghost. No, gentlemen, it will not be like that at all. Shirota, may I count on your assistance?’
The secretary nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the vice-consul.
‘Excellent. Don’t be alarmed, you won’t have to do anything against the law. Masa and I will enter the house. Your job, starting in the evening, is to sit on the hill that overlooks the estate. It is an excellent observation point, and it can also be seen from here. As soon as the lights go out in the house, you will signal. Can you find a coloured lantern?’
‘Yes, there are some left over from the New Year. A green one, a red one and a blue one.’
‘Let it be the blue one. Flash three times, several times in succession. Masa will be watching for the signal on the porch.’
‘Is that all?’ Shirota asked disappointedly. ‘Just give the signal when the lights go out in the house?’
‘That’s all. They put the lights out there when the servants leave. I take responsibility for everything after that.’
Vsevolod Vitalievich was indignant.
‘How you love an air of mystery! Well, all right, you get into the house, and then what?’
Erast Petrovich smiled.
‘The Don has a secret safe. That is one. I know where it is, in the library, behind the bookshelves. That is two. I also know where to find the key to the safe – hanging round the Don’s neck. That is three. I do not intend to frighten Tsurumaki, I shall only borrow his key and take a look at what is in the safe, and in the meantime Masa will keep our hospitable host in his sights.’
‘Do you know what he has in the safe?’ asked Doronin.
‘No, but I can guess. Tsurumaki told me once that he keeps gold bars in it. I’m sure he was lying. No, there is something more valuable than gold in there. For instance, a certain diagram with serpentine symbols. Or there may possibly be even more interesting documents to be found…’
At this point the consul did something very strange: he grabbed his blue spectacles off his nose and started blinking at the bright light. His mouth started twitching and twisting, living a life of its own. He sank his teeth into his thin lip.
‘Even if you do find something important, you won’t be able to read it,’ Vsevolod Vitalievich said in a flat voice. ‘You don’t know Japanese. And your servant won’t be much use to you. I tell you what…’ He faltered, but only for a second, and then went on in a perfectly firm voice. ‘I tell you what, I’ll go with you. In the interests of the cause. I’m tired of being a spectator. It’s a shameful and depressing pastime.’