The State Counsellor

There were three people in the room. The woman with the smooth hair whom he had seen at the front door was sitting at a table, sideways on to the door of the room, and performing strange manipulations: scooping a grey, jelly-like mass out of a jar with a small spoon and transferring it very carefully, a few drops at a time, to a narrow tin like the ones in which they sold olive essence or tomato paste. There were more tins standing there, both narrow ones and ordinary, half-pound ones. She's making bombs, the State Counsellor realised, his joy dimming a little. He had to put the Herstahl away - the woman only had to start in fright or surprise, and the entire wing of the house would be reduced to rubble. The female bomb-maker was not involved in the conversation being conducted by the other two.

'You're simply insane,' the woman who had come on the train said in dismay. 'Working in the underground has given you a persecution complex. You never used to be like that. If you can even suspect me

It was said in such a sincere and convincing tone that if Erast Petrovich had not seen the young lady in Pozharsky's company with his own eyes, he would certainly have believed her. The dark-haired man with the immobile features stamped in metal had not been present at the meeting at the station, and yet there was a note of unshakeable certainty in his voice.

'I don't suspect. I know. You left the notes. Only I didn't know if something went wrong or it was a deliberate provocation. Now I can see it was deliberate. Two questions. The first is: who? The second...' The terrorist leader hesitated. 'Why, Julie? Why? ... All right, you needn't answer the second one. But you must answer the first. Otherwise I'll kill you. Right now. If you say, I won't kill you. Party court.'

It was quite clear that this was no idle threat. Erast Petrovich opened the door a little wider and saw that Pozharsky's collaborator was staring in horror at a dagger clutched in the terrorist's hand.

'Could you kill me?' - the double agent's voice trembled pitifully - 'after what happened between us? Surely you haven't forgotten?'

There was a faint tinkle of glass from the direction of the woman making the bombs. Turning his head slighdy, Erast Petrovich saw that she had turned pale and was biting her lip.

Green, on the contrary, had turned red, but his voice was as steely as ever.

'Who?' he repeated. 'But tell the truth ... No? Then ... He grabbed the beauty's neck tightly with his left hand and drew back the right one to strike.

'Pozharsky,' she said quickly. 'Pozharsky, the deputy director of the Police Department, and now the head police-master of Moscow. Don't kill me, Green. You promised!'

The stern-faced man appeared shaken by her confession, but he put his knife away.

'Why him?' he asked. 'I don't understand. Yesterday I understand, but before then?'

'Don't ask me about that,' Julie said with a shrug.

Having realised that her life was not in immediate danger, she calmed down quite remarkably quickly and even started tidying her hair.

'I'm not interested in your games of cops and robbers. All you boys ever want to do is chase around after each other, fire your pop-guns and throw bombs. Women have more serious concerns.'

And what are your concerns?' Green asked, giving her an intense, perplexed look. 'What is the most important thing in your life?'

'You have to ask? Love, of course. There is nothing more important. You men are monsters because you don't understand that.'

All for love?' Russia's most dangerous terrorist asked slowly. 'Bullfinch, Emelya, the others - for love?'

Julie wrinkled up her sweet nose. 'For what else? My Gleb's a monster too, the same as you, although he plays for the cops, not the robbers. I did what he asked me to. If we women love, we do it with all our heart, and then we stop at nothing. Not even if the whole world goes to hell.'

'I'll check that now,' Green said and suddenly took his dagger out again.

'What are you doing?' the collaborator squealed, recoiling. 'I confessed! What else do you need to check?'

'Who you love more - him or yourself'

The terrorist took a step towards her and she backed away towards the wall, throwing her hands up.

'Now you're going to telephone your protector and tell him to come here. Alone. Yes or no?'

'No!' Julie shouted, sliding along the wall. 'Not for anything!' She reached the corner and shrank back into it.

Green moved close without speaking, holding his dagger at the ready.

'Yes,' she said in a weak voice. 'Yes, yes, all right... Just put that away'

Green turned to the seated woman, who was carrying on with her dangerous work as steadily as ever, and told her: 'Needle, find out what the head police-master's number is, will you?'

The woman with the strange alias - the courier that Rahmet-Gvidon had talked about - put down an unfinished bomb and stood up.

Erast Petrovich took heart and readied himself for action. Let Needle get at least ten steps away from that deadly table; then push the door open and cover the distance to Green in three -no four - bounds, stun him with a kick to the back of the head or, if he managed to turn round, to the chin, swing round to Needle and cut off her path to the table. Not easy, but feasible.

'Forty-four twenty-two,' Julie sobbed. 'I remember it, it's an easy number.'

And so, unfortunately, Needle stayed beside her bombs.

Fandorin could not see the telephone apparatus, but it was obviously there in the room, because Green put his dagger away again and pointed off somewhere to one side with his hand: 'Tell him to come. Say it's very urgent. Give me away and I'll kill you.'

'I'll kill you, I'll kill you.' Julie laughed. 'Oh Greeny, what a bore you are. You could at least get furious, shout and stamp your feet.'

What rapid transitions from fear to despair to insolence, the State Counsellor thought. A rare bird indeed.

And he proved to have underestimated her audacity.

'So you're sweet on her, are you?' she asked, nodding at Needle. 'You make a funny couple. I'd like to see you two getting lovey-dovey. It must be like metal clanking against metal. The love of two ironclads.'

Aware as he was of the loose morals typical of nihilist circles, the State Counsellor was not at all surprised by this declaration, but Needle suddenly became extremely animated - it was a good thing that she was standing up and not sitting over her bombs.

'What do you know about love?' she shouted in a ringing voice. 'One moment of our love is worth more than all your amorous adventures taken together!'

The beauty seemed to have her reply ready, but Green took her firmly by the shoulder and shoved her towards the invisible telephone: 'Get on with it!'

After that Julie was outside Fandorin's field of view, but he could hear her voice very distinctly.

'Central exchange? Young lady, forty-four, twenty-two,' the voice said without a trace of expression, and a second later it spoke again in a different tone, with overbearing insistence. 'Who? Duty Adjutant Keller? Listen, Keller, I have to speak to Gleb Georgievich immediately. Very urgent ... Julie, that's enough. He'll understand ... Ah, is he?... Yes, definitely' The receiver jangled against the cradle.

'He's not there yet. The adjutant said he's expected in a quarter of an hour at most. What shall I do?'

'Ring again in a quarter of an hour,' said Green.

Erast Petrovich backed silently away from the door and left the house quickly - following the same route by which he had entered.

The sorrel mare was still there, but someone had appropriated the sheepskin coat and cap - the temptation must have been too much.

Members of the public taking their Sunday stroll along Prechistenky Boulevard were able to observe the interesting spectacle of a cab sleigh hurtling along the road with a respectable-looking gentleman, dressed in full uniform complete with medals, standing erect in it, whistling wildly and lashing on the plain-looking, shaggy sorrel mare with his whip.