Free Special Assignments by Boris Akunin Page A

Another
    If there was one thing he simply could not stand, it was the mysterious and inexplicable. Every event, even the sudden appearance of a pimple on your nose, had its own prehistory and immediate cause. Nothing in the world ever happened just like that, entirely out of the blue. But suddenly here, by your leave, an excellently planned, elegant and - why indulge in false modesty? - brilliant operation had simply collapsed for no obvious reason whatever.
    One half of the study door swung open slightly with a repulsive squeak and Mimi's cute little face appeared in the crack. Momos grabbed a leather slipper off one foot and flung it furiously, aiming at that golden fringe - keep out; don't interrupt when I'm thinking. The door hastily slammed shut. He ruffled up his hair furiously, sending curling papers flying in all directions, clamped his teeth on his chibouk and started scraping the copper nib of his pen across a sheet of paper.
The accounts looked abominable.
    At an approximate calculation, the earnings from the lottery at the end of the first day came to seven or eight thousand. The till had been confiscated, so that was a complete loss.
    Over the week, the lottery ought to have gathered speed at an increasing rate, bringing in sixty thousand at the most conservative estimate. It couldn't have been dragged out any longer than that - some impatient owner of a villa in Paris would have gone to admire his winnings and seen that the object concealed beneath the 'flaming heart' drawers - that is, under the shroud - was not at all what he had thought it was. But they could have gone on gathering honey for a week at least.
    So their unearned profit came to sixty thousand, and that was the minimum minimorum.
    And what about the non-recoverable expenditure on the preparations? It was a mere trifle, of course. Renting the first floor, printing the tickets, equipment. But this was a matter of principle - Momos had been left with a loss!
    Then, they'd arrested the stooge. Admittedly he didn't know a thing, but that was bad; it was untidy. And he felt sorry for the old fool, an actor from the Maly Theatre who had taken to drink. He'd be feeding the fleas in the lock-up now for his miserable thirty roubles advance.
    But he felt sorriest of all for his magnificent idea. A monumental lottery - it was so delightful! What was the worst thing about those overplayed swindles called lotteries? First the client paid his money, and then he had to wait for the draw. A draw, note, that he himself wouldn't see. Why should he take anyone's word that everything was honest and above board? And how many people actually liked to wait? People were impatient -everybody knew that.
    This had been different, however: pick out your own beautiful, crisp little ticket to heaven with your own fair hand. The little angel entices you, seduces you: have no doubts, dear Mr Blockhead Idiotovich. What could there possibly be behind this alluring little picture but absolute delight for you? Unlucky? Well, never mind; why don't you try again?
    The details had been important, of course - so that it wouldn't be just an ordinary charitable lottery but a European, evangelical lottery. The Orthodox believers weren't over-fond of members of other creeds, but where money was concerned they trusted them more than their own - that was a well-known fact. And organising it not just anywhere, but at the Tutelary Council for the Care of Orphans! And advertising it in the Police Gazette! In the first place, it was a paper the people of Moscow loved and enjoyed reading, and in the second, who would ever suspect anything crooked there? And then there was the constable at the entrance!
    Momos tore off his curling papers and tugged a lock of hair down from his forehead to his eyes - the ginger colour was almost gone. He only had to wash it once more and it would be fine. It was a pity that the ends of his hair had faded and split -that was from dying it so often. There was nothing