shadow of britain

Chapter 673: Friends, Brothers

The corridor of the Moscow Police Headquarters is like a Volga River sealed by bricks and stones. Although the weather has become much warmer since the beginning of spring, it has not made this place, which Muscovites fear the most, sunny. Damp mildew has left patterns on the lime walls like the Siberian tundra.

As Arthur walked along the creaking pine floor, he seemed to hear the dragging of the convicts' chains on the ice - until he realized that it was only the clinking of spurs by the Cossacks and gendarmes.

Two gendarmes with carbines on their backs were pacing in front of the door at the end of the corridor. After Arthur showed them his diplomatic passport, the two gendarmes saluted him and then took him into an office.

The spacious office was bustling with activity. Seventeen blue-uniformed clerks were squirming between oak tables, their backs bent into question mark shapes, and the rustling sound of quills scraping against parchment reminded people of cockroaches gnawing at the holy wafer.

As soon as Arthur sat down on the leather chair inlaid with copper nails, he witnessed a solemn document migration - three bald ninth-class civil servants held files half a person's height and moved the documents from the "unregistered" iron cabinet to the "registered" oak box with a pious posture of holding an image on Easter. The straight-line distance between the two boxes was no more than three feet.

As for the officer on duty who was in charge of supervising the work of the office, he was diligently wiping the shiny medal on his chest. His movements were exactly like the icon painter adding gold paint to the hem of the Virgin Mary's robe on Easter Eve.

After the military police explained the situation to the officer on duty, the officer on duty, wearing a helmet and full military uniform, hurriedly stood up to entertain this extremely distinguished guest.

"Please have some tea, sir." The officer on duty tapped the edge of the cup with his fingernails, following the rhythm of the church's morning bells. "This is top-quality Karachay black tea. Although last year's tax inspection revealed that tea merchants had mixed chaga into the tea, don't worry, there is absolutely no chaga in this cup..."

"Ah!"

The officer on duty was interrupted by a sneezing clerk before he could finish his witticism. He glared at the inappropriate clerk, who immediately suppressed his sneeze into the crisp sound of a quill breaking.

The officer on duty saw Arthur holding a pipe and suggested that he smoke for a while. He apologized to him in a rather embarrassed manner: "You are too polite. It is a trivial matter to confirm the new testimony. If you send your errand boy to the police station to deliver the message, we will naturally send an officer to visit. Why bother you to come in person?"

Arthur's pipe ash fell on the cover of the "Code of Ethics for Police Officers", awakening the green-headed fly that was shivering next to Article 5 "Prohibition of Bribes". This creature, rarely seen in the cold season, flapped its wings to the pile of documents labeled "Urgent", but was stuck on the honey-stained cover of "The Tsar's Latest Instructions" halfway. The unfortunate fly had not yet noticed that the glue on the side of this notice, which had been posted just two days ago, had not yet dried.

Arthur put down his pipe and shook his head slightly. "It's okay. My condition is much better now than when I was attacked. The doctor also suggested that I should increase my exercise appropriately, which will help blood circulation and body recovery."

Arthur could say that, but the officer on duty didn't dare take his words seriously.

Who doesn't know that a few days ago, when this British diplomat was taking a statement, General Manager Ziensky specially invited him to his mansion, provided him with good cigarettes and tea, and questioned him patiently and slowly for the whole morning?

"Since you said so, let's finish this as quickly as possible so as not to delay your subsequent arrangements today. Come, please confirm this new testimony first." The document handed over by the officer on duty exuded a mixed smell of pickled cucumbers and sealing wax: "The eighth witness said that the thug had the cheekbones of a Bulgar, but the ninth insisted that it was the curly hair of a Gypsy..."

The last syllable of the officer on duty's words suddenly got stuck in his throat, and the copper-nailed oak door of the office was suddenly thrown open, and Colonel Shubinsky rushed in, smelling of vodka and tobacco.

"The spring breeze in St. Petersburg blew the white rose of York into the pickle jar of the police station!" Shubinski's coat swept over the "Portraits of Polish Spy Suspects" on the table, and the drawing of the bearded wanted criminal just covered the Order of St. Stanislas on the chest of the officer on duty.

The officer on duty raised his hand to salute, and the edge of his fingernail accidentally tapped the rim of Arthur's teacup. The clinking sound woke up the green-headed fly stuck to "The Tsar's Latest Order". The poor little creature was now desperately struggling on the moustache of Nicholas I's portrait in the "Order".

The officer on duty's face faded from liver red to pickled beet pale: "Colonel, here we are..."

“Are you adding an angel halo to the portrait of the thug?” Shubinsky grabbed the rough draft of the composite portrait of the fugitive on the corner of the table. “I think we should draw a wine barrel as the background. After all, all sins are fermented from vodka.”

The officer on duty was at a loss whether to laugh or cry: "Colonel, please stop making trouble. Sir Arthur Hastings is here."

"Of course I know Sir Arthur is here. I'm not blind!" Shubinsky asked, "How did Ziensky do his job? Didn't he invite my British brother to take a statement a few days ago? Why did he bring him to the police station again today?"

When the officer on duty heard Shubinski actually calling Zienski by his last name, he secretly cursed this guy for his arrogance.

But who made this guy selected for the second interrogation committee appointed by the emperor, while their boss Ziensky was kicked out of the list.

Naturally, he did not dare to confront this dog spy from the Third Bureau who might be promoted to the commander of the gendarmerie at any time.

Arthur noticed that the seventeen clerks who had just been busy working suddenly turned into motionless terracotta figurines, with only their eyeballs moving left and right with Shubinsky's boots.

A young clerk hiding behind the "Registration Book of Exiles" was secretly using sealing wax to stick a dried rat tail to the back cover of the "Record of Confiscation of Dangerous Overseas Publications". It was obvious that the work in the office was indeed very boring.

Compared with the clerk's little tricks, Father Bicchulin's secret reading of "The Analects" in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs can be regarded as an extremely elegant hobby.

"Since the big shot from the interrogation committee is here..." The duty officer's boots got stuck in the cracks of the floor: "I will..."

"Are you going to give us some special food for state guests mixed with chaga?" Shubinsky had already sunk into the leather chair of the duty officer, his boot heels resting on a briefcase with a slogan that read "Improve Case Handling Efficiency".

He pulled a gilded snuffbox out of his coat as if by magic and handed it to Arthur with familiarity.

Arthur took it and took a look. The worn-out double-headed eagle on the lid was pecking at the laurel tree with its beak. He joked, "It tastes good. But maybe you should give the snuff to the master who painted the portrait of the wanted criminal, so that he can wake up and stop adding wings to the wanted criminal."

"You don't understand art!" Shubinsky half-jokingly sprayed a cloud of indigo smoke toward the ceiling, scaring away the spiders that had built a nest in the chandelier. "Last week, they added a burning crown of thorns to the portrait of the arsonist. As a result, the Kremlin thought it was a draft for a new version of the icon and ordered 200 copies to be distributed to various churches."

Arthur heard this ridiculous story: "His Majesty the Tsar should not know about this yet, right?" "Who dares to let him know?" Shubinsky took a sip of tea: "You also understand that the emperor is angry. If you make such a joke to him at this time, who knows how many people will be unlucky because of it? The Moscow Police Department, the Kremlin Administration, and even the Governor's Office, everyone will suffer."

Arthur replied half jokingly and half seriously: "Who knows? Maybe someone hopes so. If the old doesn't go, the new won't come. The departments you mentioned are all good departments and good positions. There should be many people who want to take a seat in them."

They were all old turtles in the pond, so there was no way Shubinsky didn't know what Arthur meant, but he didn't want to see too clearly.

This matter has nothing to do with him, so he naturally doesn't bother to care.

He had no intention of reporting the prank nor helping to cover it up; he was just there to watch the fun.

For Shubinsky, the Moscow gendarmerie supervisor, the person he most wanted to kill was Volkov, the head of the Moscow gendarmerie.

"Speaking of arson..." Shubinsky suddenly pressed the bottom of his teacup against the spinning pile of documents. "I may have to inform you of some unfortunate news."

Arthur frowned and thought to himself, "You're not going to tell me that my place has been burned down in the short time since I left?"

"That's not the case, but your publishing business in Russia may be affected to a certain extent." Shubinsky shrugged helplessly and said, "In view of the current serious situation, at the instruction of Your Majesty, the Senate and the State Council are discussing a new issue - all books will be bound in Russian from now on, and the original foreign language books currently popular on the market must pass the review before they can be republished, including Paris cookbooks, London fashion magazines and Berlin saints' deeds."

Arthur jokingly said, "Luckily it's not the London cookbook, Berlin fashion magazine or Paris saint's deeds, otherwise your trip would be in vain, just like interrogating a group of young people who know nothing."

When Shubinsky heard Arthur talking about his work, the military police colonel, who was hoping to get promoted and make a fortune from this business, immediately retorted: "How can you say that? The ideas of those young people are extremely dangerous."

Arthur did not deliberately expose Shubinsky's shortcomings, but he clearly remembered that this guy was complaining last month that the gendarmerie commander Volkov was arresting people everywhere in Moscow in order to improve performance, and he even took the initiative to leave Arthur the business card of the vice president of the court.

But now, when the Tsar kicked the ineffective Volkov out of the interrogation committee and ordered Shubinsky to replace Volkov as a member, this guy immediately occupied the high ground of loyalty to the monarchy.

How should I put it? This behavior is just like that of The Times, which claimed to be "objective and fair" before and after the parliamentary reform.

Of course, Arthur could understand such an approach. Anyone who is familiar with the workings of the government knows that if a government official who is usually taciturn suddenly talks about moral issues, it is definitely not because he suddenly has a change of heart, but because he realizes that he cannot gain anything from it anyway, so in order not to end up empty-handed, he has to at least flatter himself.

Shubinsky's performance illustrates this situation well.

However, Colonel Shubinsky was obviously not thick-skinned enough to completely ignore the moral risks. He tried his best to prove to Arthur that the reason he sympathized with the young people before was not because he had a feud with Volkov, but because before entering the interrogation committee, he had no idea how serious the crimes committed by these young people were.

"Let me tell you this. You remember that young man Herzen? I never imagined that Saint-Simonianism had poisoned his mind to such an extent."

"Did you find any new clues?"

"We seized from his house and those of his young friends a great number of papers and letters, full of ideas not in keeping with the spirit of the government, and of the revolutionary rhetoric which permeates the dangerous doctrine of Saint-Simon."

Shubinsky gave an example with great seriousness: "One of the letters reads: All charters are useless. This is a contract between the master and the slave. The problem is not to improve the situation of slaves, but that there should be no slaves."

Arthur was expecting to hear some radical remarks criticizing the current situation in Russia, but as soon as Shubinsky finished speaking, he saw the British diplomat frowning: "Are you sure this is a criticism of Russia? Why do I feel that he is criticizing our constitutional monarchy and the Magna Carta? Or is it that my Russian is not good enough, so I didn't understand the meaning? Would you mind repeating it to me in German, French or English?"

Shubinsky naturally refused to translate this passage into other languages, especially the language Arthur was familiar with, because he himself felt that there was nothing wrong with it.

But from the perspective of the interrogation committee, this sentence must be problematic because it was one of the most strongly worded sentences in the letters they seized.

Shubinsky, who had never been to university but only attended military school, tried his best to recall the rhetoric course in middle school, and tried his best to answer the question with the attitude of a middle school student doing reading comprehension: "You see! This is their insidiousness. Foreigners like you who don't understand Russian culture naturally can't see the subtext of this passage. And those dandies who don't study hard usually can't understand the difficult words used by these Moscow University students. Come, let me tell you, what is the biggest problem with this passage! Just like what Prince Golitsyn said, the biggest problem with this passage is that he is not criticizing the constitutional monarchy from the standpoint of the monarchy, otherwise he would not have mentioned slaves."

Arthur was obviously not very satisfied with this forced explanation, and even more dissatisfied with Shubinsky's criticism of him for not understanding Russia. After all, among Arthur's many titles, the Bachelor of History degree from the University of London was one of the few crystallizations of his wisdom that he had earned through his own hard work.

Arthur replied in a nonchalant tone, "If that's the case, then these students have at most made the same mistake as Catherine the Great, who also did not allow her subjects to be called slaves."

The questions Arthur raised were clearly beyond Shubinsky's scope of answering, but he had his own solution.

"You see, that's the downside of reading too much," Shubinsky replied. "That's what Herzen told the commission. We went there to investigate a case, but he thought he was defending a thesis."

However, Arthur's next words stunned Shubinsky: "Excuse me, brother, you are actually standing in the same trench with Little Golitsyn at this time. You always tell me how annoying Volkov is and what a bad boss he is. Maybe Volkov can't keep his position, but now Little Golitsyn has come. When he takes all the credit for the arrest of political prisoners, he will kick Volkov away and take over his position as your new boss. I'm afraid you will suffer a lot in the future."

"You..." Shubinsky's mind was confused for a moment.

"Don't hide it from me, my friend." Arthur blinked, "I heard about General Staal's disturbance in the committee."

(End of this chapter)