During the year just past, the ‘hired gun’ had achieved a great deal. Gendarme sentries had been established on all trains, including passenger trains; a special regime had been introduced for guarding bridges, tunnels, crossings and points, flying brigades on handcars had been created, and so on and so forth. The innovations introduced in the St Petersburg department were quickly adapted in the other provinces and so far (fingers firmly crossed) there had not been a single major accident, not a single act of sabotage.
Although Fandorin’s official position was a strange one, they had grown accustomed to Erast Petrovich in the Department and regarded him with great respect, referring to him as ‘Mr Engineer’. His superior, Lieutenant General von Kassel, had grown used to relying on his consultant in all matters and never took any decisions without his advice.
And now Leontii Karlovich Kassel was waiting for his assistant in the doorway of his office.
Catching sight of the engineer’s tall, dashing figure at the end of the corridor, he went rushing towards it.
‘Of all things, the Tezoimenitsky Bridge!’ the general shouted before he was even close. ‘We wrote to the minister and warned him the bridge was dilapidated and unsafe! And now he rebukes me and threatens me: says that if this turns out to be Japanese sabotage – I’ll stand trial for it. How in hell can it be sabotage? The Tezoimenitsky Bridge hasn’t been repaired since 1850! And here’s the result for you: it couldn’t bear the weight of a military transport carrying heavy artillery. The ordnance is ruined. There are large numbers of dead. And worst of all, the line to Moscow has been disrupted!’
‘A good thing it happened here, and not beyond Samara,’ said Erast Petrovich, following von Kassel into the office and closing the door. ‘Here we can send trains by an alternative route along the Novgorod line. But is it certain the bridge collapsed and this is not sabotage?’
Leontii Karlovich frowned.
‘Oh, come, now, how can it be sabotage? You ought to know, you developed the regulations yourself. Sentries on the bridge, the rails checked every half-hour, gendarmes on duty on the brake platforms of all trains – my territory is in perfect order. Tell me instead, if you can, what our unfortunate homeland has done to deserve such disasters. We’re straining ourselves to the very limit as it is. What about Tsushima, eh? Have you read the newspaper reports? A total debacle, and not a single enemy vessel sunk. Where did it come from, this Japan? When I entered the service, no one had even heard of such a country. And now it’s sprung up out of nowhere, in just a few years, like a mushroom overnight. Why, it’s totally unheard of.’
‘Why d-do you say it’s unheard of?’ Fandorin replied with his habitual light stammer. ‘Japan began modernising in 1868, thirty-seven years ago. Less time than that passed from the moment Peter the Great ascended the throne until the battle of Poltava. Before that, there was no such power as Russia, then it suddenly sprang up out of nowhere, also like a m-mushroom, overnight.’
‘Oh, come on, that’s history,’ the general said dismissively, crossing himself with broad sweeps of his hand. ‘I’ll tell you what it is. It’s God punishing us for our sins. Punishing us harshly, as he did the Egyptian pharaoh, with miraculous disasters. So help me…’ – Leontii Karlovich glanced round at the door and dropped his voice to a whisper – ‘… we’ve lost the war.’
‘I d-don’t agree,’ Erast Petrovich snapped. ‘Not on a single point. Nothing miraculous has occurred. That is one. What has happened is only what should have been expected. It’s hardly surprising that Russia has not won a single battle. It would have been an absolute miracle if she had. Our enlisted man is no match for the Japanese soldier – he has less stamina, less learning and less martial spirit. Let us assume that the Russian officer is not bad, but the Japanese officer is simply superb. And then, what can we say about the generals (please don’t take this personally, Your Excellency); ours are fat and lack initiative, the Japanese generals are lean and forceful. If we are still holding out somehow, the only reason is that it is easier to defend than attack. But don’t be alarmed, Leontii Karpovich. We may lose the battles, but we shall win the war. And that is t-two. We are immeasurably stronger than the Japanese in the most important thing of alclass="underline" we have economic might, human and natural resources. Time is on our side. Commander-in-Chief Linevich is acting entirely correctly, unlike Kuropatkin; he is drawing out the campaign, building up his strength. The longer it goes on, the weaker the Japanese become. Their treasury is on the brink of bankruptcy, their lines of communication are being extended further and further, their reserves are being drained. All we have to do is avoid large-scale battles, and victory is in the b-bag. Nothing could have been more stupid than to drag the Baltic fleet halfway round the world to be devoured by Admiral Togo.’
As the general listened to his assistant, his face grew brighter but, having begun on a bright note, Fandorin concluded his optimistic discourse on a gloomy one.
‘The crash on the Tezoimenitsky Bridge frightens me more than the loss of our navy squadron. Without a fleet, at least we will just about win the war, but if tricks like this start happening on the main railway line supplying the front, Russia is done for. Have them couple the inspector’s carriage to a locomotive. Let’s go and take a look.’
The fifth syllable, which features an interesting passenger
By the time the inspector’s carriage reached the scene of the disaster on the rocky banks of the Lomzha river, night had grown weary of pretending to be dark at all, and the clear morning light was streaming down from the sky in all its glory.
A quite incredible amount of top brass had gathered at the stub end of the Tezoimenitsky Bridge – the Minister of War, and the most august Inspector General of Artillery, and the Minister of Railways, and the Chief of the Gendarmes Corps, and the Director of the Department of Police, and the Head of the Provincial Gendarmes Department. There were as many as half a dozen saloon carriages, each with its own locomotive, drawn up one after another in a queue.
There, above the precipice, gold braid glittered, spurs and adjutant’s aiguillettes jingled, imperious bass voices rumbled peremptorily, and down below, at the water’s edge, chaos and death prevailed. Rising up in the middle of the Lomzha was a shapeless heap of wood and iron, with the broken bones of the bridge drooping down over it; one of the mangled and twisted locomotives had buried its nose in the far bank and was still smoking, while the rectangular black tender of the other protruded from the water like a cliff. The wounded had already been taken away, but there was a long line of dead lying on the sand, covered with tarpaulins.
The latest heavy guns, intended for the Manchurian army, had tumbled off the flat wagons: some had sunk and some had been scattered across the shallows. On the opposite bank a mobile crane was jerking its jib absurdly as it tugged at the mounting of a monster with a twisted barrel, but it was obvious that it could not cope and would never pull it out.
Leontii Karlovich set off towards the topmost brass, but Fandorin skirted round the islet of gold epaulettes and walked up to the very edge of the cliff. He stood there for a while, looking, then suddenly started climbing down the inclined surface. Down by the water, he leapt agilely on to the roof of a submerged carriage, and from there clambered on to the next support of the bridge, from which the crooked rails were dangling. The engineer scrambled up the sleepers as if they were the rungs of a ladder, and was soon on the far side of the river.