“You’re telling me,” I whispered with numb lips, “that you are not here to spy on the Chinese.”
He shook his head. “No. But please, please, be careful. Don’t tell anyone. I can protect you if need arises, but no more than that.”
I was overcome with the onslaught of information and Jack solicitously led me to a bench by the path. It was still a bit wet from the recent rain, and he laid down his cloak so I could sit comfortably. I stared for a while at the yellow leaves covering the paths and the lawns, at the students walking and laughing, their voices carrying far in the still air. I realized there was knowledge in the universe that had the ability to decisively separate one from the rest of the world — some things you could not know and continue to live like everyone else. Blood roared in my ears, and I helplessly shook my head at Jack and his moving lips — I could not hear a word he was saying. I could only acutely experience the bitter smell of fallen leaves and distant peat smoke.
“If you’re a spy,” I finally managed, my tongue slow and woolen, “and if you’re found out, you’ll be in more trouble than you can imagine.”
He smiled then. “If I ever do anything to jeopardize my task or to expose those who give me my orders, I’ll be in more trouble than you can imagine.”
“Can’t you quit? Promise to keep what you know a secret and just stop?”
He laughed, a slow mirthless sound. “As I said, it is not my choice.”
“Because you’re a criminal.” The last word was difficult for me to get out — it was something I did not want to believe.
There was one more thing I needed to know, but I could barely bring myself to ask. It seemed too much for one day, too much disappointment and heartbreak. Still, I thought it would be better to confront it all at once. “What are your crimes?”
He stood facing me, took his hat off and tapped it against his knee, absent-minded, and yet aware enough to answer my question with his face unobscured, his eyes on mine. “Armed robbery,” he said. “Theft. I never killed anyone though, if it makes it any better.”
Strangely enough, it did allow me to feel a measure of relief. I feared that the man I had spent so much time with, a man I had started to trust and liked enough to consider a friend was a murderer. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that had been the case; as it was, I managed a smile. “This is not so bad.”
His face flushed pale pink. “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “However, you now see my predicament. My attempt to shake off the thrall I find myself under will surely lead to me being taken back and imprisoned.”
I nodded and stood. “I understand why you would want to avoid that. Still, I would imagine there are other possibilities. Hiding, for example.”
He smiled and shook his head. “It is not so easy, Sasha. Dame Nightingale… they say, you couldn’t hide from her on the bottom of the sea if she wants you, and she certainly wants me.”
“Why?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. If he was a thief, he was good at spying — he could take things without others noticing, and moreover do so without the moral reservations most people would have in his place. But even a thief might have a sense of duty and patriotism — or at least, so I imagined.
“Because of the things I can do,” he said.
Falling out of the sky, leaping a hundred feet in a single bound. I felt slightly dizzy again, my step faltered, but his arm remained a steady support and I quickly recovered. It seemed that once he had found the strength to talk to me, confession became easier.
“The display cases — they were too heavy for a single man, and how would you drag them out of a building? Surely several men carrying glass cases would be noticed.”
He laughed. “It took only me… and my gifts. We carried those cases to the roof, and leapt.”
He spoke without hesitation now, his voice full of passion, as if he had to empty his overburdened heart, before it burst or gave out.
The visions of his superhuman and terrifying abilities were almost too much for me. I imagined him as a wild, possessed thing, leaping like a demon from roof to roof, glass and metal cases rattling on his shoulders — like a vurdalak, a terrifying grave-robber from the old peasant tales, with two coffins on his shoulders.
“Why the Chinese?” I finally mustered. “If you said they were not important, then why wreck their club?”
“Opium,” he said simply. “The East India Trading Company will not stop selling it, and the Chinese government won’t cease trying to stop its importation. There was one war, there will be others. And they know that as well. Chinese airships are second to none, and those display cases contained some of the best examples of their ingenuity: traditional Oriental engineering combined with the modern discoveries of the West. Such equipment and devices would be invaluable in any war. Even if they are just models, our engineers may gain ideas.” He gave me a meaningful look, just as we stopped in front of my dormitory. “Remember that, Sasha. China is subdued for now, but there are other wars the empire could be fighting.”
I wanted to ask him more questions, even though my knees wobbled and threatened to yield at any moment. But he swung around and walked away, never looking back, leaning into the wind with the desperate determination of a man with no secrets left, his chest flayed open and heart torn out for all to see. For a moment, I feared I would never see him again, but a new thought made me rush through the door, in wild hope that Eugenia would be there. A sudden realization descended like a piercing and merciless beam of light which cast the unpleasant reality in stark relief: the English played Prince Nicholas’ hatred not just to gather his help against the Chinese, but also to distract him — everyone — from the fact that English spies were looking for weaknesses in Russia. They watched the submarines, they had access to the engineering students at the university and to the offices of the Ministries.
I rushed into my apartment, to see Anastasia setting the table for supper and Aunt Eugenia reading the newspaper by the table.
“Aunt Genia,” I exhaled. “Aunt Genia! There’s going to be a war soon.”
I am firmly convinced that if my aunt could be persuaded to take on the problems of the world, we would be living in utopia. However, she preferred to concentrate on the domestic, and instead busied herself with making me raspberry tea and a slew of other old-fashioned remedies meant to lift my spirits and strengthen my obviously shaken constitution. Anastasia was sent out for valerian tincture and chamomile, and Eugenia made sure to loosen the laces of my corset to let me breathe better.
“I am all right,” I assured her. “I swear.”
“Just drink your tea,” she said. Her presence made my small living room more inviting somehow, more like home — she had adjusted the wick of the lamp so light fell only on the table and chairs around it; the rest of the room remained swathed in pleasant velvety shadows. She wrapped a plaid throw around me and made me comfortable in the best chair, situated on the border of light and dark. She brought my tea and pulled up a straight-backed chair to sit next to me. “Oh, Sasha. I forget how strenuous it is for you — you’ve never even been away from home before, and now you’re on your own, and your studies are difficult.”
“It’s not that,” I protested weakly, even though I did enjoy her attention. “The British are worried, their spies are everywhere. They are using the Chinese as a diversion.”
Eugenia stopped mopping at my brow with a cold towel and gave me a long, critical look. “I would think that you speak nonsense, Sasha,” she answered after a while, “but today I’m not willing to dismiss anything as nonsense. Something very strange is afoot, and I am a bit dismayed the emperor has decided to abandon those who have been loyal to him.”