Free The Death of Achilles by Boris Akunin Page A

arrest Wanda would cause a scandal. By doing that we would dishonor the m-memory of the deceased and would be unlikely to achieve anything. We would only frighten Herr Knabe off. And in any case, I got the distinct impression from their conversation that Mademoiselle Wanda did not kill Sobolev. After all, Professor Welling’s autopsy did not reveal any traces of poison.”
    “Precisely,” Pyotr Parmyonovich Khurtinsky said emphatically, addressing himself exclusively to Prince Dolgorukoi. “An entirely ordinary paralysis of the heart, Your Excellency. Most regrettable, but these things happen. Even in the very prime of life, as in the deceased’s case. I wonder whether the collegiate assessor might not have misheard. Or even — who knows — fantasized a little? After all, he himself admitted that German is not exactly his forte.”
    Erast Petrovich gave the speaker a particularly keen look, but said nothing in reply. However, the redheaded gendarme jumped in.
    “What do you mean, fantasized! Sobolev was in the very best of health! He hunted bears with a forked pole and bathed in a hole in the ice on the river! Are you trying to say that he lived through a hail of fire at Plevna and in the desert of Turkestan, but he couldn’t survive a bit of lovemaking? Rubbish! You should stick to gathering the city’s gossip, Mr. Khurtinsky, and not meddle in matters of espionage.”
    Fandorin was surprised by this open confrontation, but the governor was apparently well used to such scenes. He raised a conciliatory hand.
    “Gentlemen, gentlemen, do not argue. My head is spinning already. So many things to do after this death. Telegrams, condolences, deputations, they’ve covered the whole of Theater Lane with wreaths — you can’t get through on foot or by carriage. There are important individuals coming to the funeral; they have to be met and accommodated. This evening the war minister and the head of the General Staff will arrive. Tomorrow Grand Duke Kirill Alexandrovich will arrive and go directly to the funeral. And today I have to call on the Duke of Liecht-enburg. He and his wife happened by chance to be in Moscow. His wife, the Countess Mirabeau, is the sister of the deceased, and I must go and offer them my condolences. I have already sent notice to them. You come with me, Erast Petrovich, my dear fellow; you can go over everything with me once again in the carriage. We’ll consider together what best to do. And you, Evgeny Osipovich, please arrange to have both of them followed for the time being: this German and the girl. It would be good to intercept that little report that Knabe mentioned. I’ll tell you what. Let him write the report for his spymasters and then catch him red-handed with the evidence. And as soon as you have issued instructions for the surveillance, come straight back here to me, if you please. When Erast Petrovich and I get back, we’ll make a final decision. We can’t afford to make a mess of things. This business has the whiff of war about it.”
    The general clicked his heels and went out, and Khurtinsky immediately darted across to the governor’s desk.
    “Urgent papers, Your Excellency,” he said, bending right down to the prince’s ear.
    “Are they so very urgent?” the governor growled. “You heard me, Petrusha, I’m in a hurry; the duke’s waiting.”
    The court counselor set his open hand against the decoration on his starched breast.
    “They must be dealt with immediately, Vladimir Andreevich. Look here — this is an estimate for completing the painting of the cathedral. I suggest awarding the commission to Mr. Gegechkori, a most excellent painter and a man with a very sound way of thinking. The amount he is asking is certainly not small, but then he will do the work on time — he is a man of his word. All that’s required is your signature here, and you can consider the matter completed.”
    Pyotr Parmyonovich deftly set a sheet of paper in front of the governor and