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Authors: Boris Akunin
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arrive, then he would probably see him, but unfortunately in Erast Petrovich’s presence no conversation would take place — and he wanted very much to hear what that conversation would be about.
Therefore Erast Petrovich got to his feet, thanked his hostess for her frankness, and took his leave, which was clearly a great relief to Mademoiselle Wanda. However, once outside the door of the annex, Fandorin did not set out across the yard. He halted as if he were brushing a speck of dirt off his shoulder and looked around at the windows to see if Wanda was watching. She was not. Which was only natural — any normal woman who has just been left by one guest and is expecting another will dash to the mirror, not the window.
Erast Petrovich also surveyed the brightly lit windows of the hotel’s suites, just to be on the safe side, then set his foot on the low protruding border of the wall, nimbly levered himself against the slanting surface of the windowsill, pulled himself up, and a moment later he was above the window of Wanda’s bedroom- cum-drawing room, half-lying on a horizontal projection that crowned its upper border. The young man arranged himself on his side on the narrow cornice, with his foot braced against the chest of one caryatid and his hand grasping the sturdy neck of another. He squirmed to and fro for a moment and froze — that is, applying the science of the Japanese ninjas, or ‘stealthy ones,’ he turned to stone, water, grass. Dissolved into the landscape. From a strategic point of view, the position was ideal: Fandorin could not be seen from the yard — it was too dark, and the shadow of the balcony provided additional cover — and he was even less visible from the room. But he himself could see the entire yard and through the window left open in the summer warmth he could hear any conversation in the drawing room. Given the desire and a certain degree of double-jointed elasticity, it was even possible for him to hang down and glance in through the gap between the curtains.
There was one drawback — the uncomfortable nature of the position. No normal man would have held on for long in such a contorted pose, especially on a stone support only four inches wide. But the supreme degree of mastery in the ancient art of the ‘stealthy ones’ does not consist in the ability to kill the enemy with bare hands or to jump down from a high fortress wall — oh, no. The highest achievement for a ninja is to master the great art of immobility. Only an exceptional master can stand for six or eight hours without moving a single muscle. Erast Petrovich had not become an exceptional master, for he was too old when he took up the study of this noble and terrible art, but in the present case he could take comfort in the fact that his fusion with the landscape was unlikely to last long. The secret of any difficult undertaking is simple: One must regard the difficulty not as an evil, but as a blessing. After all, the noble man finds his greatest pleasure in overcoming the imperfections of his nature. That was what one should think about when the imperfections were particularly distressing — for instance, when a sharp stone corner was jabbing fiercely into one’s side.
During the second minute of this delectable pleasure, the back door of the hotel Anglia opened and the silhouette of a man appeared — thickset, moving confidently and rapidly. Fandorin caught only a glimpse of the face, just as the man entered the rectangle of light falling from the window in front of the door. It was an ordinary face, with no distinctive features: oval, with close-set eyes, light- colored hair, slightly protruding brow ridges, a mustache curled in the Prussian manner, an average nose, a dimple in the square chin. The stranger entered Wanda’s residence without knocking, which was interesting in itself. Erast Petrovich strained his ears to catch every sound. Voices began speaking in the room almost immediately, and it became
Therefore Erast Petrovich got to his feet, thanked his hostess for her frankness, and took his leave, which was clearly a great relief to Mademoiselle Wanda. However, once outside the door of the annex, Fandorin did not set out across the yard. He halted as if he were brushing a speck of dirt off his shoulder and looked around at the windows to see if Wanda was watching. She was not. Which was only natural — any normal woman who has just been left by one guest and is expecting another will dash to the mirror, not the window.
Erast Petrovich also surveyed the brightly lit windows of the hotel’s suites, just to be on the safe side, then set his foot on the low protruding border of the wall, nimbly levered himself against the slanting surface of the windowsill, pulled himself up, and a moment later he was above the window of Wanda’s bedroom- cum-drawing room, half-lying on a horizontal projection that crowned its upper border. The young man arranged himself on his side on the narrow cornice, with his foot braced against the chest of one caryatid and his hand grasping the sturdy neck of another. He squirmed to and fro for a moment and froze — that is, applying the science of the Japanese ninjas, or ‘stealthy ones,’ he turned to stone, water, grass. Dissolved into the landscape. From a strategic point of view, the position was ideal: Fandorin could not be seen from the yard — it was too dark, and the shadow of the balcony provided additional cover — and he was even less visible from the room. But he himself could see the entire yard and through the window left open in the summer warmth he could hear any conversation in the drawing room. Given the desire and a certain degree of double-jointed elasticity, it was even possible for him to hang down and glance in through the gap between the curtains.
There was one drawback — the uncomfortable nature of the position. No normal man would have held on for long in such a contorted pose, especially on a stone support only four inches wide. But the supreme degree of mastery in the ancient art of the ‘stealthy ones’ does not consist in the ability to kill the enemy with bare hands or to jump down from a high fortress wall — oh, no. The highest achievement for a ninja is to master the great art of immobility. Only an exceptional master can stand for six or eight hours without moving a single muscle. Erast Petrovich had not become an exceptional master, for he was too old when he took up the study of this noble and terrible art, but in the present case he could take comfort in the fact that his fusion with the landscape was unlikely to last long. The secret of any difficult undertaking is simple: One must regard the difficulty not as an evil, but as a blessing. After all, the noble man finds his greatest pleasure in overcoming the imperfections of his nature. That was what one should think about when the imperfections were particularly distressing — for instance, when a sharp stone corner was jabbing fiercely into one’s side.
During the second minute of this delectable pleasure, the back door of the hotel Anglia opened and the silhouette of a man appeared — thickset, moving confidently and rapidly. Fandorin caught only a glimpse of the face, just as the man entered the rectangle of light falling from the window in front of the door. It was an ordinary face, with no distinctive features: oval, with close-set eyes, light- colored hair, slightly protruding brow ridges, a mustache curled in the Prussian manner, an average nose, a dimple in the square chin. The stranger entered Wanda’s residence without knocking, which was interesting in itself. Erast Petrovich strained his ears to catch every sound. Voices began speaking in the room almost immediately, and it became
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