The emperor had said his word, etiquette had been observed and some how of its own accord the chairmanship of the meeting moved to Kirill Alexandrovich, who had been regarded as a covert joint ruler during the previous reign and had consolidated his position even further under the new sovereign.
His Highness spoke slowly, weighing his words: ‘Above all, Nicky, self-control. How you conduct yourself will determine the fate of the dynasty. Over the next few days thousands of eyes will be trained on you, including some very, very shrewd ones. Not the slightest sign of agitation, not a hint of anxiety – do you understand me?’
The sovereign nodded uncertainly.
‘We must all act as if nothing has happened. I understand, Georgie,’ said Kirill Alexandrovich, turning to Georgii Alexandrovich, ‘how hard this is for you. You are the father. But you and Pauly and Xenia must remain cheerful and calm. If rumours spread that some crooks or other have abducted a cousin of the Russian tsar with the wholeworld looking on, the prestige of the Romanovs, which has already been damaged by the fiendish murder of your father, will be completely undermined. There are eight foreign crown princes, fourteen heads of government and thirty special legations arriving in Moscow—’
Simeon Alexandrovich threw his pencil down on the table and interrupted his elder brother.
‘This is all raving nonsense! Some doctor or other! What is this? Who is he? He’s simply insane! Give him the Orlov! What insolence!’
I didn’t understand anything that the governor general had said. A doctor? An Orlov? Which of the Orlovs – the arch-chamberlain or the deputy minister of the interior?
‘Yes, yes, indeed,’ His Majesty said with a nod. ‘Is anything known about this Doctor Lind?’
Kirill Alexandrovich turned to the head of the court police, whose duty it was to know about everything that presented even the very slightest threat to the royal family, and therefore perhaps about everything in the world.
‘What do you say, Karnovich?’
The colonel stood up, adjusted his spectacles with blue lenses and spoke in a voice that was almost a whisper but at the same time amazingly clear: ‘There has not previously been any criminal with that name within the borders of the Russian empire.’
He sat down again.
There was a pause, and I sensed that the moment had come for me to abandon my role as a disembodied shadow.
I cautiously cleared my throat, and since the drawing room was absolutely silent, the sound was distinctly audible. Kirill Alexandrovich and Simeon Alexandrovich looked round in amazement, as if they had only just noticed my presence (in fact, that could indeed have been the case) and Georgii Alexandrovich, knowing perfectly well that I would sooner choke on my own cough than dare to attract attention to my own person unnecessarily, asked: ‘Is there something you would like to tell us, Afanasii?’
At this point all of the other royal individuals directed their gazes at me, a state of affairs to which I was quite unused, so that I was unable to control the trembling of my voice.
‘It is about Mr Fandorin, the gentleman who . . . witnessed the outrage yesterday.’ I mastered my agitation and continued in a steadier voice. ‘This morning when, for obvious reasons, the house was in something of a commotion, Mr Fandorin was sitting on the terrace and smoking a cigar in the calmest manner one could imagine—’
Simeon Alexandrovich interrupted me irritably: ‘Do you really suppose it is so important for us and the sovereign emperor to know how Mr Fandorin spent the morning?’
I immediately fell silent and bowed to His Highness, not daring to continue.
‘Be quiet, Sam,’ Georgii Alexandrovich shouted abruptly at his younger brother.
Simeon Alexandrovich has an unfortunate peculiarity – no one likes him. Neither his relatives, nor his inner retinue, nor the Muscovites, nor even his own wife. It is hard to like such a man. They say that the late sovereign appointed him governor general of Moscow in order to see him less often. And also in order to rid the court of His Highness’s entourage – all those pretty little adjutants and secretaries with dyed hair. Alas, Simeon Alexandrovich’s habits are no secret to anyone – the whole of society gossips about them. On that very day, when he had just entered the hallway (having arrived last of all, even after the sovereign) His Highness had asked me in animated fashion: ‘Who was that handsome chap I met just now on the lawn? The slim fellow with the yellow hair?’ I politely explained to the grand duke that it must have been the Englishman, Mr Carr, but I felt a certain inward tremor: knowing the reason why the emergency conference had been convened, how was it possible to allow free rein to one’s personal inclinations? It was not even so much a matter of inclinations – His Highness simply has a very bad character.
‘Carry on, Afanasii,’ Georgii Alexandrovich told me. ‘We are all listening to you attentively.’
I could not help admiring my master’s emotional restraint and fortitude. Any ordinary man whose child had been kidnapped would have been in a terrible state, screaming and tearing his hair out, but His Highness did not lose his self-control even for an instant, except that he kept smoking one papyrosa after another. At such moments one feels especially keenly what a great honour and inexpressible responsibility it is to serve individuals of the imperial blood. They are special people, unlike all the rest.
‘Permit me to report,’ I continued, ‘that such imperturbability on the part of an individual aware of the disaster that has occurred struck me as strange. I approached Mr Fandorin and asked if he had discovered any more tracks in the park. He replied: “The second carriage, which was standing near the lawn and was used to abduct the boy, drove off in the direction of the Kaluga Highway. The attendant at the park gates saw a fast-moving carriage with the blinds tightly closed over the windows.” “Then why haven’t you told anyone?” I asked him. “You ought to inform the police immediately!” But he replied confidently: “But what for? There’s nothing to be done now.” And then he added this . . .’ At this point I deliberately made a brief pause and repeated Fandorin’s words exactly as I remembered them: ‘“We have to wait for a letter from Lind.” Yes, that was exactly what he said: “We have to wait for a letter from Lind.” I must admit that I had no idea what letter he was talking about, and I didn’t understand the last word at all. But now I remember quite clearly that he said “Lind”. Then I was called to the telephone, and our conversation was interrupted. However, the inference is that Mr Fandorin knew in advance about the letter and about Lind. Permit me also to draw your Imperial Majesty’s and your Imperial Highnesses’ attention to the circumstance that Mr Fandorin’s appearance at the scene of the kidnapping yesterday was clearly not fortuitous. He acted too resolutely for a chance passer-by, said some rather strange things and identified the leader of the bandits – he said his name was Penderetski.’
Colonel Karnovich spoke up from his corner.
‘I have managed to discover something about Lech Penderetski, also known as Blizna. He is one of the leaders of the criminal world in the Kingdom of Poland. A bandit, extortionist and murderer, but cautious and crafty – no one had ever managed to catch him red-handed. According to rumour, Blizna has links with the criminal communities of many countries in Europe. The body has been sent to Warsaw for identification, but the description and other information do suggest that it really is Penderetski.’