The Diamond Chariot

TWO HANDS TIGHTLY CLASPED




‘I like your Shirota,’ the Don said thoughtfully, striking a match and puffing out a cloud of smoke. ‘A genuine Japanese. All of a piece, intelligent, reliable. I’ve wanted an assistant like that for a long time already. All these’ – he waved his pipe round at his black army – ‘are good for fighting and other simple jobs that require no foresight. But Shirota belongs to a different breed, a far more valuable one. And what’s more, he has made an excellent study of foreigners, especially Russians. That’s very important for my plans.’

The very last thing Fandorin had been expecting was a panegyric on the virtues of the former secretary of the consulate, so he listened cautiously, not sure what Tsurumaki was driving at.

But the millionaire puffed on his pipe and carried on in the same style, as if he were thinking out loud,

‘Shirota defined you very precisely: brave, unpredictable and very lucky. That is an extremely dangerous combination, which is why this performance was required.’ He nodded at the safe with the magical radiance streaming out of it. ‘But now everything is changing. I need you. And I need you here, in Japan. There won’t be any police.’

The Don gave an order in Japanese, and suddenly no one was holding Erast Petrovich any longer. The Black Jackets released him, bowed to their master and left the room one by one.

‘Shall we have a talk?’ asked Tsurumaki, gesturing towards two armchairs by the window. ‘Tell your man not to worry. Nothing bad will happen to you.’

Fandorin waved his hand to let Masa know that everything was all right and his servant reluctantly left the room, with a suspicious glance at the master of the house.

‘You need me? Why?’ asked Fandorin, in no hurry to sit down.

‘Because you are brave, unpredictable and very lucky. But you need me even more. You want to save your woman, don’t you? Then sit down and listen.’

The vice-consul sat down at that; he didn’t need to be asked twice.

‘How do I do that?’ he asked quickly. ‘What do you know?’

The Don scratched his beard and sighed.

‘This is going to be a long story. I wasn’t intending to make any excuses to you, to deny all the nonsense that you have imagined about me. But since we shall be fighting a common cause, I shall have to. Let’s try to restore our former friendship.’

‘That won’t be easy,’ Fandorin remarked ironically, unable to resist.

‘I know. But you are an intelligent man and you will realise I am telling the truth … to begin with, let’s clear up the business with Okubo, since that’s where everything began.’ Tsurumaki looked into the other man’s eyes calmly and seriously, as if he had decided to set aside his everyday mask of a jolly bon vivant. ‘Yes, I had the minister removed, but that is our own internal Japanese affair, which shouldn’t be of any interest to you. I don’t know what your view of life is, Fandorin, but for me life is an eternal struggle between Order and Chaos. Order strives to pigeonhole everything, nail it down, render it safe and emasculate it. Chaos demolishes all this neat symmetry, turns society upside down, recognises no laws or rules. In this eternal struggle I am on the side of Chaos, because Chaos is Life, and Order is Death. I know perfectly well that, like all mortals, I am doomed: sooner or later Order will get the better of me, I shall stop floundering about and be transformed into a piece of dead matter. But for as long as I am alive, I wish to live as intensely as I can, so that the earth trembles around me and the symmetry is disrupted. Pardon the philosophy, but I want you to understand correctly how I am made and what I am striving for. Okubo was the absolute incarnation of Order. Nothing but arithmetic and precise accounting. If I had not stopped him, he would have transformed Japan into a second-rate, pseudo-European country, doomed eternally to drag along in the wake of the great powers. Arithmetic is a dead science, because it only takes material things into account. But my Homeland’s great strength is in its spirit, which cannot be quantified. It is non-material, it belongs entirely to Chaos. Dictatorship and absolute monarchy are symmetrical and dead. Parliamentarianism is anarchic and full of life. The downfall of Okubo is a small victory for Chaos, a victory for Life over Death. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?’

‘No,’ replied Fandorin, who was listening intently. ‘But do carry on. Only please, m-move from the philosophy to the facts.’

‘Very well, let it be the facts. I don’t think I need to go into the details of the operation – you already have a good grasp of that. I employed the help of the Satsuman fanatics and several highly placed officials who see the future of Japan in the same way as I do. I feel sorry for Suga. He was an outstanding man and would have gone far. But I bear no grudge against you – you have given me Shirota instead. For the Russians he was a lowly native clerk, but from this seed I shall grow a remarkable sunflower, just you wait and see. And perhaps you and he will make peace with each other yet. Three friends like you, me and him are a great force.’

‘Three friends?’ Erast Petrovich repeated, clutching the armrests of his chair with his fingers. ‘I had three friends. You killed them all.’

The Don was disconcerted by that and his face fell.

‘Yes, that was most unfortunate … I didn’t order them to be killed. I only wanted to take back what should not have fallen into the wrong hands. It is my fault, of course. But only in the sense that I didn’t forbid them to be killed, and as far as the Stealthy Ones are concerned, the less bother, the better. I forbade them to touch you, because you are my friend. That’s why they killed the little prince, but not you.’

The titular counsellor shuddered. That sounded like the truth. Tsurumaki had not wanted him dead? But if that was the case, the entire pattern he had figured out was shot to hell!

Erast Petrovich wrinkled up his forehead and immediately restored the sequence of logic:

‘Right. You decided to get rid of me later, when I told you what Onokoji said before he died.’

‘Nothing of the kind!’ Tsurumaki exclaimed resentfully. ‘I arranged everything in the best possible manner. I made Bullcox give me his word, and he kept his promise, because he is a gentleman. He satisfied his vanity, cut a dash, humiliated you in public, but he didn’t maim you or kill you.’

‘But surely … surely the stroke was not staged?’

‘Why, did you think he was struck down by lightning from heaven? Bullcox is an ambitious man. What would he want with the scandal of a killing? But this way he saved his honour and did no damage to his career.’

The pattern had collapsed anyway. No one had intended to kill Erast Petrovich, and his lucky star apparently had nothing to do with anything!

This news made a profound impression on the titular counsellor, but even so he did not allow himself to be put off his stride.

‘But how did you find out that my friends and I had evidence that was dangerous for you?’

‘Tamba told me.’

‘Who t-told you?’

‘Tamba,’ Tsurumaki explained matter-of-factly. ‘The head of the Momochi clan.’

Fandorin was totally bemused now.

‘Are you talking about the ninja? But as far as I’m aware, Momochi Tamba lived hundreds of years ago!’

‘The present Tamba is his successor. Tamba the Eleventh. Only don’t ask me how he knew about your plan – I have no idea. Tamba never reveals his secrets.’

‘What does this man look like?’ Erast Petrovich asked, unable to control a nervous tremor.

‘It’s hard to describe him, he changes his appearance. But basically Tamba is short, less than five feet tall, but he can make himself taller, they have some kind of cunning devices for that. Old, skinny … What else? Ah, yes, the eyes. He has absolutely special eyes that are impossible to hide. When he looks at you, they seem to burn right through you. It’s best not to look into them – he’ll put a spell on you.’

‘Yes, that’s him!’ Fandorin exclaimed. ‘I knew it! Tell me more! Have you been dealing with the ninja for a long time?’

The Don paused, gazing at the other man quizzically.

‘Not very long. I was put in contact with them by an old samurai, now deceased. He used to serve the princes Onokoji … The Momochi clan is a very valuable ally, they are capable of working genuine miracles. But they are dangerous to deal with. You never know what is on their mind and what to expect from them. Tamba is the only man in the world I’m afraid of. Did you see how many guards I have in the house? But before, if you recall, I was perfectly happy to spend the night here alone.’

‘What happened between you? Did you not have enough money to pay him?’ Fandorin laughed mistrustfully, glancing at the safe packed with gold ingots.

‘That’s funny,’ Tsurumaki conceded dourly. ‘No, I always paid on time. I don’t understand what happened, and that’s what alarms me most of all. Tamba has started some game of his own, with goals that are not clear to me. And in some strange way that game is connected with you.’

‘With me? In what way?’

‘I don’t know in what way!’ the Don cried irritably. ‘They want something from you! Otherwise why would they have abducted your lover? That’s why I’m not handing you over to the police. You are the key to this plot. I just don’t know yet which way to turn you so that the box of secrets will open. And you don’t know either, do you?’

The expression on the titular counsellor’s face was more eloquent than any reply, and the disciple of Chaos nodded.

‘I can see that you don’t. Here is my hand, Fandorin. It is the custom for you Europeans to seal a bargain with a handshake, is it not?’

The millionaire’s short-fingered hand hung motionless in midair.

‘What b-bargain?’

‘An alliance. You and I against Tamba. The ninja abducted O-Yumi and killed your friends. I didn’t kill them – they did. We shall strike a pre-emptive blow against them. The best form of defence is attack. Come on, give me your hand! We have to trust each other!’

But the vice-consul still did not reach out in response.

‘What trust can there be if you are armed and I am not?’

‘Oh Lord! Take your little toy, I don’t want it.’

Once he had picked his Herstal up off the floor, Erast Petrovich finally believed that all this was not some subtle trap intended to worm something out of him.

‘What is this pre-emptive strike?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Tamba thinks that I don’t know where to look for him, but he is mistaken. My men, of course, are not shinobi, but they know a thing or two. I have managed to find out where the Momochi clan’s lair is located.’

Fandorin jerked up out of his chair.

‘Then why are we wasting time? Let’s get going straight away.’

‘It’s not that simple. The lair is hidden in the mountains. My spies know exactly where, but it is hard to reach it …’

‘Is it far from Yokohama?’

‘Not very. On the border of the Sagami and Kai provinces, close to Mount Oyama. Two days’ march from here – if you travel with baggage.’

‘What do we need baggage for? We can travel light and be there tomorrow!’

But Tsurumaki shook his head.

‘No, the baggage is essential, and quite heavy baggage too. The place is a genuine fortress.’

‘A f-fortress? The ninja have built a fortress close to the capital and no one knows about it?’

‘That is what our country is like. Densely populated plains along the sea, but move away from the coast, even slightly, and there are remote, uninhabited mountains. And Tamba’s fortress is not one that the chance traveller will notice …’

Erast Petrovich was sick to death of all these riddles.

‘You have many loyal men, these “Black Jackets” of yours. If you order them to, they will storm the place, even at the cost of their own lives, I have no doubt about that. So what do you need me for? Tell me the truth, or there will be no alliance.’

‘Yes, I will send Kamata there with a brigade of my best fighting men. They are all my comrades-in-arms from the civil war, I can rely on every one of them. But I myself cannot go with them – I have elections in three prefectures, that’s the most important thing for me at the moment. Kamata is an experienced commander, an excellent soldier, but he only knows how to act according to the rules. He’s not much use in an unconventional situation. And, let me repeat once again, it is very difficult to get into Tamba’s secret village. Impossible in fact. There is no entrance.’

‘How can there be no entrance?’

‘There simply isn’t. That is what my spies have reported to me, and they are not given to fantasising. I need your brains, Fandorin. And your luck. You can be quite sure that is where O-Yumi has been taken, to the mountain fortress. On your own, without me, there is nothing you can do. You need me. But you will be useful to me too. Well then, do I have to hold my hand out in the air for much longer?’

After a second’s hesitation, the titular counsellor finally shook the outstretched hand. Two strong hands came together and squeezed each other so tight that the fingers turned white.

Stupid ritual

That refuses to die out:

Two hands tightly clasped