A Razor Wrapped in Silk

20 A vile traffic

‘Pavel Pavlovich, what an unexpected pleasure!’ Dr Pervoyedov eyed the brown paper package under Virginsky’s arm with a covetous gleam. ‘Do you have something for me there?’

Virginsky avoided the doctor’s eye. Indeed, he avoided looking around the pathology laboratory at all, but kept his head bowed, staring fixedly at his feet like a sullen adolescent. But he could not avoid breathing in the formaldehyde-laden air. That pungent smell brought to mind the first time he had set foot in Dr Pervoyedov’s laboratory at the Obukhovsky Hospital. His feet then had been clad in the boots of a dead man, charitably supplied to him by Porfiry Petrovich.

For an instant, Virginsky felt again the vertiginous lurch to which he had succumbed on that occasion.

‘He wants you to examine this for bloodstains.’ Virginsky handed the package over to Dr Pervoyedov, who pulled at the string like a child with a Christmas present. ‘We believe it to be the tunic worn by the murderer of Yelena Filippovna. He wants to know whether it is arterial or venous blood, if indeed it is blood at all.’

‘I imagine he does.’

Dr Pervoyedov studied the stains on the front of the regimental tunic, at one point holding it close to his nose and inhaling. There was one roughly circular burst of rust colour in the middle of the double-breasted facing. It had a dense nucleus about the size of a ten kopek piece, which decayed into a wide areola made up of finer spots. A second stain, a narrow, elongated trail around eight inches in extent, also haloed with spatter, descended from the first at an angle.

‘Interesting,’ said Dr Pervoyedov. ‘Very interesting. Has Porfiry Petrovich offered any opinion regarding these stains?’

‘I believe he is confident that they will prove to be blood. For some reason, he seems to be in doubt as to whether they are arterial or venous. He wished to enter into a wager over it.’

‘A wager!’ cried Dr Pervoyedov delightedly. ‘That is very like Porfiry Petrovich, and to me it suggests that he is in no doubt at all. If I were you, I would not take him up on it.’

‘I have no intention of doing so. I do not gamble. Besides, I dare say we are both of the opinion it is arterial. Such a spray of blood would only occur when an artery is severed. And we know that her throat was cut. The bet is pointless.’

‘You may be right. May I cut a swatch from it? It will aid precision.’

Virginsky pinched his lips dubiously between thumb and forefinger.

‘First I will make a sketch to show the position of the stains. I will then be able to correlate my samples to reference points on the drawing.’

‘Do whatever is necessary, only do it quickly. He has told me to await your results. He little realises that I have other duties to attend to, though they are duties that he himself assigned to me.’

‘Am I right in thinking that a certain frostiness has entered your relations with Porfiry Petrovich?’ Dr Pervoyedov withdrew some sheets of paper and a pencil from a drawer in the bench. ‘I do not believe you have once called him by his name this morning.’

‘I swear that man is becoming more eccentric by the day.’

‘Good heavens!’ Dr Pervoyedov laid out the tunic flat on the bench. ‘I find it hard to credit that there was any distance left for him to travel in the direction of eccentricity.’

‘His latest aberration is to hire a most unsuitable individual as his valet.’

‘But surely that is a private matter?’ Dr Pervoyedov squinted at the tunic as he made the first tentative lines on paper. ‘With all respect, Pavel Pavlovich, I do not see what it has to do with you.’

‘You do not understand. This individual wishes to involve himself in the business of the department. He has theories!’

‘Theories? Oh dear. We do not need more theories.’

‘And Porfiry Petrovich, who by rights ought to send the man away with a flea in his ear, indulges him by listening to these theories.’ Virginsky noted with annoyance the chink of amusement on the physician’s lips. ‘I swear he does it to provoke me. “We all need someone to keep us on our toes,” he says. Looking at me, of course. He is punishing me. That’s why he sent me here this morning.’

‘My goodness!’ Dr Pervoyedov’s face opened in mock alarm. ‘It grieves me to be the instrument of another man’s punishment.’

‘No — I didn’t mean that.’

‘But why should he wish to punish you?’

‘I don’t know. Possibly because I allowed the man wearing this tunic to escape.’

‘I see. That is … regrettable. You might have had your murderer, Pavel Pavlovich.’

‘No, it was not our suspect. It was just a tramp. Possibly one who had found the discarded tunic. Or maybe Captain Mizinchikov had given it to him, in exchange for the tramp’s clothes. I admit it would have helped us to have the tramp. But it was foggy. He threw off the tunic. I went for the tunic and the man disappeared into the fog. It could have happened to anyone.’

Dr Pervoyedov frowned at his sketch. ‘What do you think of that? Have I rendered the stains accurately?’

Virginsky gave an impatient jerk of the head in begrudging assent.

‘Now all that remains is to ink in the sketch.’

‘Can you not do that later? I do not have all day.’

‘No, I must do it now, so that you may witness the accuracy of the finished figure with your signature.’

‘Very well, though it is hardly convenient for me to wait on you. I am not even assigned to the Polenova case. That, I believe, is at the root of why he wishes to punish me. I have been assigned to the case of a missing boy. Indeed, I have been told that my participation in that case was specifically requested by an interested party. That seems to have put Porfiry Petrovich’s nose out of joint. I would not be surprised if there is not some element of professional jealousy involved here. But really, he has no grounds for complaint. He brought it on himself. He failed to investigate the case when it was first brought to his attention — by me, I would have you know. Now she has chosen me and he doesn’t like it.’

‘She? Who is this she?’

‘It doesn’t matter. The thing is, it was while I was doing the rounds of the hospitals that I encountered the tramp wearing this tunic. A pure accident. Porfiry Petrovich should consider himself fortunate to have even this. But no, he wanted the man wearing it too.’

‘He can be a very demanding taskmaster, I’ll grant you that. There. I have finished the inking. A tolerable rendition, I dare say. If you would be so good as to sign it, we may proceed with the analysis itself.’

While Virginsky signed the diagram, Dr Pervoyedov took a scalpel to the cloth of the tunic.

‘It seems to me that you have never forgiven him for the prank he played on you here in this very room.’

‘You call it a prank? To confront me without warning with the severed heads of two of my friends!’

‘It was designed to disorientate you. You might even say, to unhinge you a little.’

‘Is that not sadism?’

‘Not sadism, no.’ Dr Pervoyedov extracted a small square of stained cloth from the tunic with a pair of fine tongs. He held the sample up for scrutiny. ‘If this is blood, it should dissolve in distilled water — although that is not the ultimate test, of course.’ The doctor dropped the swatch into a glass retort containing clear liquid. ‘He did it because he believed it was necessary. To break down whatever carapace you had erected around the truth, so that the truth might seep out, whether you would or not.’ Dr Pervoyedov peered at the retort as whorls of pink began to form in the water. ‘But tell me, what’s this about a missing boy?’

‘A young factory worker — a labourer at the Nevsky Cotton-Spinning Factory. He is one of several now who have gone missing. All of them connected with a school that has been founded to bring the benefit of education to such children. I started with the hospitals in case he had been the victim of an accident.’

‘Did you try the Medical-Surgical Academy?’

‘Why would he have been admitted there?’

‘He would not.’ Dr Pervoyedov shook the retort to hasten the dissolution.

‘Then why suggest it?’

‘At least, he would not be admitted there alive. However, the Medical-Surgical Academy is very interested in acquiring unclaimed cadavers.’ Dr Pervoyedov drew off a small quantity of the pink liquid with a pipette.

‘I don’t understand. From whom do they acquire them, if they are unclaimed?’

‘There is an unofficial trade carried on between the Academy and …’ The doctor released a drop of the liquid on to a glass slide. The minuscule mound stood proud above the polished surface. ‘The police.’

‘The police sell corpses to the Medical-Surgical Academy?’

Dr Pervoyedov slipped the prepared slide into place in the stage of the microscope. ‘It has been going on for generations.’

‘The police trade in dead bodies?’

‘The practice was prevalent when I was studying at the Academy.’ The soft shush of a Lundstrom match being struck, the delicate flicker and glow of a newborn flame, held the two men rapt. Virginsky breathed in the wheedling scent of red phosphorus, and felt the kick of something deadly spur his heart. He watched Dr Pervoyedov light the wick of a kerosene lamp on the bench and place it inside the arc of a concave reflector. The light from the lamp was directed towards the base of the microscope, where the mound of liquid was held.

The doctor gestured towards the spectroscope eyepiece. ‘Would you care to take a look? It is a revelation. A small revelation of one of the wonders of science.’

Virginsky held up a palm in a gesture of deferment. ‘It is an outrage. It is an abuse.’

The doctor shrugged. ‘A policeman’s wages are paltry. You cannot blame them for wanting to supplement their income.’

‘But the bodies are not theirs to sell. And the Medical-Surgical Academy is equally at fault for creating the demand.’

‘But without fresh corpses to practice upon, how can you expect medical students to acquire the knowledge they need to become doctors?’

‘You cannot condone this vile traffic!’

‘Without such training, I would be little use to you. Besides, as I said, the bodies are unclaimed.’

‘And, I dare say, they are without exception the bodies of paupers.’

‘Invariably so. Which is why I suggested you make enquiries at the Academy. Tread carefully though. If you go in blazing with indignation, you will surely fail to secure their co-operation. In short, they will deny everything. Everything.’ At last Dr Pervoyedov stooped to peer into the microscope. ‘Ah! Now that’s interesting. Very interesting indeed.’ He turned to Virginsky, his face enlivened by boyish excitement. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to look at this, Pavel Pavlovich?’