'So what did I think I was doing? I thought I'd just slip out for an hour, finish off that rat and slip back in on the sly. Go to bed and start snoring. You'd come to wake me up, and I'd bat my eyelids and yawn as if I'd been asleep all the time. And the next day, when the news about Larionov broke, I'd confess ... What an impression that would make ... Well, I made my impression all right.
Anyway, I ran smack into an ambush on Povarskaya Street. But I'd already done for Larionov. Put a slug in the bastard's bladder - so he wouldn't die straight away but have plenty of time to think about his filthy treachery. But the son of a bitch had gendarmes in the next room. Mr Fandorin himself, your twin brother. Well, I broke out on to the street, but they already had the place sealed off. The rotten dogs jumped me and tied me up - just look what they did to my hair.
'They took me to Bolshaya Gnezdikovskaya Street, to the Okhranka. First the boss interrogated me, Lieutenant Colonel Burlyaev. Then Fandorin arrived as well. They played good cop and bad cop with me. It was Burlyaev who thinned out my teeth.
See - pretty, isn't it? But that doesn't matter. I'll survive - I'll have gold ones put in. Or iron ones. I'll be an iron man, like you. Anyway, they worked on me a bit without getting anywhere, and then they got tired and sent me off to spend the night in a cell. They have special ones there at the Okhranka. Pretty decent they are, too. A mattress, curtains. Only the bastards cuffed my hands behind my back, so I couldn't do all that much sleeping.
'This morning they didn't touch me at all. The warden fed me breakfast with a spoon, like a little baby. But instead of lunch they dragged me off upstairs again. And goodness gracious me, who did I find there but my old friend Colonel Pozharsky! The same man who put a bullet through my cap on Aptekarsky Island. He'd come down urgently from Petersburg specially to see me.
'There's no way he can recognise me, I thought. It was dark that time on Aptekarsky. But the moment he saw me he grinned from ear to ear ... "Bah," he said, "Mr Seleznyov in person, the fearless hero of terror!" He'd found my old file, the one about von Bock, from my verbal description.
'Now he's going to threaten me with hanging, I thought, like Burlyaev. But no, this one was craftier than that. "Nikolai Ios-ifovich," he says, "you're like manna from heaven to us. The minister's trampling all over me and the director because of Khrapov. In fact, he's in even worse trouble - the Emperor's threatening to remove him from his post if he doesn't find the perpetrators immediately. But who's going to look for them, the minister? No, your humble servant Pozharsky. I had no idea at all where to begin. And then you go and fall straight into our hands. I could just kiss you." What do you think of that line? And it got worse. "I've already written a little article for the newspapers," he says. "It's called 'The end of the Combat Group'. And then under that, in smaller print, A triumph for our valiant police'. About the capture of the extremely dangerous terrorist N.S., who has provided extensive and frank testimony, from which it is clear that he is a member of the notorious Combat Group that has just treacherously murdered Adjutant General Khrapov." I have to confess, Green, I blundered there.
When I shot Larionov, I said: "Take that, you traitor, from the Combat Group." I didn't know Fandorin was listening behind the door...
'All right. So, I sit there, listening to Pozharsky. I realise he's trying to frighten me: "You may not be afraid of dying," he says, "but the idea of disgrace will scare you all right." Hang on, you foxy gendarme, I think. You're cunning, but I'm even more cunning. I bite my lip and start twitching my eyebrow, as if I'm getting nervous. He's pleased with that and he piles on the pressure. "You know, Mr Seleznyov," he says, "for making our day like this, we're not even going to hang you. To hell with Larionov. Just between ourselves, he was a real little shit. For von Bock, of course, we'll give you hard labour, there's no way round that. What a great time you'll have out in the camps when all your comrades turn their backs on you as a traitor. You'll put the noose round your own neck." So then I fall into hysterics, and I yell at him a bit and start foaming at the mouth -I know how to do that. And I started moping, as if I'd lost heart. Pozharsky carries on for a while, and then he throws me the bait. "There is another way," he says. "You give us your accomplices in the Combat Group and we'll give you a passport in any name you like. And then the whole world's your oyster. Europe, if you like, even America, or the island of Madagascar." Well, I twisted and turned this way and that and finally swallowed the bait.
'I wrote a statement, agreeing to collaborate. I'm telling you about that straight away, so I won't have it hanging over me later. But to hell with that. The worst thing is that I had to tell them about who's in the group - their aliases, what they look like. Hang on, Green, don't go flashing your eyes like that. I had to make them believe me. How could I know - they might have had something on us already. If they'd checked and seen I was lying, I'd have been a goner. But as it was, Pozharsky took a look at some piece of paper and he was satisfied.
'I left the Okhranka a useful man, a servant of the throne, a collaborator with the alias Gvidon. They gave me a hundred and fifty roubles, my first salary. And nothing much to do: find you and let Pozharsky and Fandorin know where you are. They put tails on me, of course, but I lost them on the way through Khitrovka. You know yourself, it's easy to disappear there.
'So that's my entire Odyssey for you. Now you decide what to do with me. Bury me in the ground if you like, I won't kick up a fuss. Let those two sitting over there in the corner take me out in the yard and finish me off straight away. Or if you like, Rahmet will leave this life in style, the way he lived it. I'll strap a bomb to my belly, go to Gnezdnikovsky Lane and blow the entire Okhranka to kingdom come, together with all the Pozharskys, Fandorins and Burlyaevs. Do you want me to?
'Or consider something else. Maybe it's not such a bad thing that I'm Gvidon now? There could be advantages in that too ...
'You decide - you're the one with all the brains. It's all the same to me whether I'm lying under the ground or walking around on top of it.'
One thing was clear: turned comrades didn't behave like this. Rahmet's glance was clear and bold, even insolent. And his colour was still the same, cornflower-blue; the treacherous blue tones were no denser than before. And was it really possible that they could have broken Rahmet in a single day? He would never have given in so quickly. Out of sheer stubbornness.
There was still a risk, of course. But it was better to trust a traitor than to spurn a comrade. It was more dangerous, but in the long run it was worth it. Green had quarrelled with party members who held a different point of view. -
He stood up and spoke for the first time: 'Let's go. There's work to be done.'
CHAPTER 5
in which Fandorin suffers from wounded vanity
Esfir Litvinova's awakening in the house on Malaya Nikitskaya Street was truly nightmarish. When a quiet rustling roused her from sleep, at first all she saw was the dark bedroom, with the diffident light of morning peeking through the curtains. Then she saw the impossibly handsome dark-haired man lying beside her with his eyebrows raised dolefully in his sleep, and for a moment she smiled. Then, catching a faint movement with the corner of her eye, she turned her head - and squealed in horror.
There, creeping towards the bed on tiptoe, was a fearsome creature with a face as round as a pancake and ferocious narrow slits for eyes, dressed in a white shroud.
At the sound of her squeal the creature froze and bent over double. As it straightened up it said: 'Goo' morin'.'