Free The Coronation by Boris Akunin Page B

semaphore can be seen from almost any point in the city.’
    Instead of thanking His Majesty for his most gracious explanation, as a faithful subject ought to do, Fandorin merely nodded thoughtfully and asked: ‘“Orlov”. Presumably we must take that to mean the diamond that adorns the imperial sceptre?’
    ‘Yes,’ His Majesty confirmed laconically. ‘The diamond that Count Orlov bought in Amsterdam in 1773 on the instructions of Catherine the Great.’
    ‘Impossible, absolutely unthinkable,’ Simeon Alexandrovich snapped. ‘The solemn presentation of the state regalia takes place in five days’ time, and the coronation is two days after that. Without the sceptre the ceremony cannot go on. Let him have any amount of money but not the Orlov, under no circumstances.’
    As one man they all turned towards Georgii Alexandrovich, whose opinion as the father was especially important in this matter.
    And the grand duke proved worthy of his position and his rank. Tears sprang to his eyes, his hand tugged spontaneously at his tight collar, but His Highness’s voice was firm: ‘Impossible. The life of one of the grand dukes, even . . . of my own son (at this point Georgii Alexandrovich did tremble after all) cannot be set above the interests of the monarchy and the state.’
    That is what I call royal nobility – the summit that only those who have been marked and chosen by God himself can scale. The socialists and liberals write in their paltry newspapers and leaflets that the imperial house is wallowing in luxury. This is not luxury, this is the radiant halo of Russian statehood, and every member of the imperial family is prepared to sacrifice his own life and the lives of his loved ones in the name of Russia.
    The room began swaying before my eyes and shimmering with iridescent colours. I blinked, shaking the tears off my eyelashes.
    ‘And what if we replace the diamond with paste?’ Karnovich’s voice piped up from the corner. ‘We can make such a good copy that no one will be able to tell the difference.’
    ‘In such a short period of time it is not possible to produce a c-copy of such high quality,’ Fandorin replied. ‘And in any case Lind tells us that he has his own jeweller.’
    Kirill Alexandrovich shrugged and said: ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why does he have to have the Orlov? The stone is priceless, and that means it has no market price. It’s known all over the world; you can’t sell it.’
    ‘But why not, Your Highness?’ Colonel Karnovich objected. ‘You could cut it into three or four large diamonds and a few dozen medium and small ones.’
    ‘And how much could you sell all that for?’
    Karnovich shook his head, unable to answer the question.
    ‘I know a little about such things,’ said Fandorin. ‘Three large diamonds of fifty carats or so can be worth approximately half a million roubles in gold each. And the small ones – well, let’s say another half-million.’
    ‘Two million?’ said the emperor, and his face brightened. ‘But we will not grudge a sum like that for our dear Mika!’
    Fandorin sighed: ‘Your Majesty, this is not at all a matter of two million. I know Lind’s style. This is blackmail, and on a far grander scale than is obvious at first glance. We are not simply talking about the life of one of Your Majesty’s eleven cousins. Lind’s target is the coronation. He knows perfectly well that without the Orlov, the ceremony cannot go ahead. And the boy’s life is only a means of applying p-pressure. The real threat is not that Lind will kill the young grand duke, but that he will disrupt the coronation and dishonour the name of Russia and the Romanov dynasty throughout the world by leaving parts of the boy’s body in the most crowded areas.’
    Everyone present, including myself, gave a groan of horror, but Fandorin continued remorselessly: ‘You were saying, Your Majesty, that no buyer could be found for the Orlov anywhere in the world. But