Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin

leafing through his pages of Turkish squiggles, and whispered angrily: 'Why don't you do something? You must back him. I'm sure you can afford it. That satrap of yours must have given you a few pieces of silver. I'll pay you back later.'
    Erast Petrovich frowned and said in a bored voice: 'A hundred roubles on M-Monsieur Paladin.' And then he went back to his fascinating reading matter.
    'That makes it ten to one on,' Lukan summed up. 'Not large winnings, gentlemen, but a sure thing.'
    At that moment Varya's acquaintance Captain Perepyolkin came dashing into the marquee, changed beyond all recognition: a brand-new uniform, bright shiny boots, an impressive black dressing over his eye (the bruising had clearly not healed yet) and a white bandage round his head.
    'Your Excellency, gentlemen, I come directly from Baron Kriedener!' the captain announced impressively. 'I have an important announcement for the press. You may make a note of my name - Captain of General Headquarters Perepyolkin, Operations Section. Pe-re-pyol-kin. Nikopol has been stormed and taken! We have captured two pashas and six thousand soldiers! Our own losses are trifling. Victory, gentlemen!'
    'Damnation! Again without me!' Sobolev groaned, and he dashed out without even saying goodbye.
    The messenger watched the general go with a rather bemused expression, but then he was besieged from all sides by journalists. Captain Perepyolkin began answering their questions with obvious enjoyment, flaunting his knowledge of French, English and German.
    Varya was amazed by Erast Petrovich's reaction.
    He dropped his book on the table, forced his way resolutely through the gaggle of correspondents and asked in a quiet voice: 'P-Pardon me, Captain, but are you not mistaken? Kriedener was ordered to take P-Plevna. Nikopol is in entirely the opposite d-direction.'
    There was something in his voice that put the captain on his guard and made him forget about the journalists.
    'Most certainly not, my dear sir. I personally received the telegram from the headquarters of the commander-in-chief, I was present while it was decoded and I delivered it to the baron myself. I remember the text perfectly: "To the commander of the Western Division, Lieutenant-General Baron Kriedener. I order you to occupy Nikopol and secure your position there with a force of at least one division. Nikolai."'
    Fandorin turned pale.
    'Nikopol?' he asked, even more quietly. 'But what about Plevna?'
    The captain shrugged: 'I have no idea.'
    There was a sudden stamping of feet and clanking of guns at the entrance. The flap was thrust open violently and Lieutenant-Colonel Kazanzaki - the last person she wanted to see again! - looked into the marquee. The bayonets of an armed escort glinted behind the lieutenant-colonel's back. The gendarme rested his gaze on Fandorin for a moment, looked straight through Varya and smiled delightedly at Petya.
    'Ah, there he is, the good fellow! Just as I thought. Volunteer Yablokov, you are under arrest. Take him,' he ordered, turning to the men in the escort. Two gendarmes in blue uniforms promptly strode in and seized hold of Petya's elbows as he stood there paralysed by fright.
    'You are out of your mind!' cried Varya. 'Let him go this instant!'
    Kazanzaki did not dignify her outburst with a reply. He snapped his fingers and the prisoner was quickly dragged outside, while the lieutenant-colonel remained behind, gazing around him with an equivocal smile.
    'Erast Petrovich, what's happening?' Varya appealed to Fandorin, her voice almost breaking. 'Say something to him!'
    'Your grounds?' Fandorin asked darkly, staring at the gendarme's collar.
    'In the message encoded by Yablokov one word was changed. "Plevna" was replaced by "Nikopol", nothing more. But only three hours ago Osman-pasha's vanguard occupied the deserted town of Plevna and now threatens our flank. Those are my grounds, Mister Observer.'
    'There you have it, McLaughlin, that miracle of yours that can save