Dmitri and the One-Legged Lady. Michael Pearce
‘You’ve had three days! How much more do you want?’
‘It takes time –’
‘It’d take you time. It’d take you for ever!’
The crowd surged forwards against the bars. Maximov stepped back hurriedly.
‘Listen, lads –’
‘We don’t want to listen to you. It’s a waste of time.’
‘He’s in it with the others!’
A missile hit the gates, and then another. Several people caught hold of the bars and began to shake them.
‘Lads–’
Maximov’s eye fell suddenly on Dmitri.
‘Lads!’ he shouted with sudden inspiration. ‘Lads, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not me!’
‘What do you mean, it’s not you?’
‘It’s not me that’s in charge of looking for the Old Lady.’
‘Who is it, then?’
Maximov pointed at Dmitri.
‘Him,’ he said.
‘Him! What does he know about it?’
‘A bloody schoolboy!’
The shouting started again.
‘Is that all they can manage to send us?’ called out someone derisively. ‘A fat-assed Chief of Police and a pretty Barin so wet behind the ears that he doesn’t know his mother from his girl friend?’
There was a burst of laughter.
‘Now that’s just where you’re wrong!’ shouted Maximov. ‘He may look green but he knows a thing or two. Have any of you heard of the Tiumen Massacre?’
‘We’ve heard of Tiumen.’
Who hadn’t heard of Tiumen? It was the great forwarding prison for convicts on their way to Siberia.
‘Yes, but the Massacre?’
‘I’ve heard of the Massacre,’ said a voice from the back.
‘Right, then. Well, this young Barin was the one who brought it out into the open.’
There was a sudden silence.
‘Is that right?’ someone asked Dmitri directly.
‘Yes.’
There was another silence.
‘Come on, lads,’ said Maximov persuasively, ‘it’s either him or the Cossacks. Now which is it to be? Leave it to him or have the Cossacks here?’
‘We don’t want the bloody Cossacks,’ said someone.
‘No,’ said Maximov, ‘I agree with you. We don’t want the Cossacks. So are you going to leave it to him?’
He paused.
‘We could give him a chance, I suppose,’ said someone reluctantly.
‘Give him a chance? Well, that’s very wise of you. Now, look, lads. I want you all to go home and quieten down. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you anything else. Give him a chance and if it doesn’t work out, well –’
‘And so, your Excellencies,’ said Maximov virtuously, ‘I decided I had to take action.’
‘Quite right,’ said the Governor.
Boris Petrovich nodded approvingly.
‘If you don’t jump on these things right away, I said to myself, they get out of hand.’
‘Well, that’s it.’
‘You’ve got to stamp on them. At once!’
‘Nip them in the bud.’
‘While there’s still time.’
‘Exactly so. Your Honours. Oh, I know there are those who say that these things have got to be handled with kid gloves. But when you’ve had a bit of experience, you know that it doesn’t do to hang around; you’ve got to go in hard!’
‘Absolutely!’ said the Governor.
‘Good man!’ murmured Boris Petrovich.
Maximov swelled.
‘And so. Your Excellencies,’ he said, ‘as soon as I got back I sent for the Cossacks.’
‘You what?’ said Dmitri.
‘Sent for the Cossacks.’
‘The very thing!’ said the Governor.
‘No doubt about it,’ said Boris Petrovich.
‘You sent for the Cossacks?’
‘I did.’
‘But – but – you made a deal with them!’
‘Deal?’ said the Governor.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that!’
‘But you did!’ Dmitri insisted. ‘You said that it was either the Cossacks or me and that you wouldn’t run for the Cossacks if –’
‘Pardon me, Your Honour, I don’t think I actually said that. That’s what they may have understood, Your Honour, but that’s a different thing.’
‘A very different thing!’ said the Governor.
‘In any case,’ said Boris Petrovich, ‘if there was an agreement, it was plainly made under duress and that certainly wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. You’re a lawyer yourself, Dmitri Alexandrovich. You must know that.’
‘But it was deception!’ cried Dmitri. ‘A trick!’
‘Justified, I would have thought,’ said the Governor, ‘when you’ve got a riot on your hands.’
‘But –’
‘What else was I to do, Your Excellencies? There was the mob hammering at the gates; missiles were being thrown –’
‘Good heavens!’
‘It was getting out of hand. Now I couldn’t have that, could I? I’m a police officer –’
‘And a very good one!’
‘–I owe a duty to the Tsar –’
‘Absolutely!’
‘Not to say the Church –’
‘The Church, too! Don’t forget that, Dmitri Alexandrovich!’
‘It’s all very well for young people to criticise –’
‘Young people! That’s it!’
‘– but when they’ve had as much experience as I have –’
‘You did your duty, Maxim Maximovich!’
‘No man could do more!’
‘It was a question of trust,’ said Dmitri. ‘They weren’t prepared to trust you. They only quietened down when you told them that it wasn’t you who was in charge of the investigation but me!’
‘Oh, now, come, Dmitri Alexandrovich!’
‘This is vanity!’
‘Your Excellencies –’ Maximov spread his hands in appeal to the Governor’s ceiling.
‘Really, Dmitri Alexandrovich!’
‘We all know how good you are, Dmitri Alexandrovich,’ said Boris Petrovich spitefully, ‘or, at least, how good you think you are –’
‘Because of some trifling