Free Death Comes to the Ballets Russes by David Dickinson Page B

chef were threatening to leave and take up another position in a house where their skills would be properly recognized. At five past nine Lady Ripon relented and was taken into dinner by the stupidest man in England. Half an hour later, as the lobster was being served, she had changed her mind. She was now sure that Sir Felix must be the stupidest person in the entire world.
    Diaghilev came with the pudding. He was, he assured Lady Ripon, so fond of pudding that he would gladly forgo all the previous courses so as not to disturb the pattern of such an elegant dinner. Lady Ripon’s spirits began to rise. They rose still further when she led the way to the little stage in her ballroom. It was lit entirely by candlelight. Nijinsky danced part of his role in
The Spirit of the Rose
. The guests were enchanted. Lady Ripon’s Russian evening was saved.

    Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Captain Yuri Gorodetsky’s right foot was beating out a permanentrhythm on the wooden floor of his office. The Captain was normally a placid and peaceful soul. The uncertainties of military life had been replaced by a more regular occupation, even if that was being a secret service officer in pursuit of terrorists and revolutionaries. Captain Yuri Gorodetsky felt he had made a mistake – well, oversight might be a better way of putting it. He was walking up and down and waiting for the man who could reprimand him – who was also the man who could solve his problem – to speak to him on the telephone. The people in Paris had assured the Captain that General Peter Kilyagin, the man in charge of the Okhrana in Western Europe, was in his headquarters building. He had not yet gone home. He would be with the Captain in a moment.
    ‘Gorodetsky! My dear fellow, how are you?’ The General’s voice was very loud, almost as if he was speaking from the next room.
    ‘I am well, General. But I fear I may have made a mistake.’
    ‘What’s the problem? I’m sure we can sort it out.’ At least the General seemed to be in a good mood. He had a fearsome temper and had once shouted at one of his subordinates for twenty-five minutes without stopping.
    ‘It’s about those revolutionaries trying to change the money from Lenin’s bank robbery in Tiflis, General. You remember your plan to funnel them into twelve banks rather than let them spread out all over London?’
    ‘Of course I remember. Bloody Bolsheviks from Bethnal Green. What’s gone wrong?’
    ‘I forgot one thing, sir. The bankers have spotted the problem and they want an answer tonight. Do theyhand over the money – the English money, I mean. They say that if you can’t change the money in Russia it’s probably worthless. They suspect that the Russian authorities have cancelled all these notes.’
    ‘What do they want us to do about it?’
    ‘They want a guarantee that they will be fully recompensed for all the English pounds they may hand over tomorrow. You won’t have forgotten, General, that we could be talking about a quarter of a million roubles.’
    ‘I haven’t forgotten. I’d be surprised if that amount of money goes on parade in the City of London tomorrow morning, mind you. I’m sure some of the notes will have disappeared, liberated on their journey, as our revolutionary friends might put it. Do you know, that’s more than the annual budget for my whole department.’
    ‘Mother of God!’
    ‘Let me think for a moment, Captain. Don’t go away. I’m just going to put the phone down for a minute.’
    Captain Gorodetsky thought he could hear very faint footsteps coming down the line from Paris. Perhaps the General was marching around his office. General Kilyagin was tracking the bureaucratic route map he would have to use if he followed normal procedures for a question of this sort. This would involve not only the state bank, but also a number of different departmental bureaucracies. It would at some point enter the Winter Palace or the Tsar’s Alexander Palace at