The Boy from Reactor 4

Victor called in Ukrainian for the waitress to come over. He eyed Johnny Tanner’s ponytail uncertainly. Was a man who referred to himself as Johnny trustworthy in any way?

“Coffee?” the waitress said.

“No, thanks. I won’t be here long enough to enjoy it.” Johnny Tanner waited until the waitress couldn’t hear them. “So what have you guys learned about Andrew Steen?”

Victor looked at Misha, who returned his blank stare.

“Do I know you?” Misha said. “Because you’re talking to me like I know you. And I don’t. Just like I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Who are you again?”

“Johnny Tanner. I’m Nadia Tesla’s attorney. And friend. Her very good friend.”

“I know a Nadia Tesla,” Victor said. “The book man, Obon, introduced me to her yesterday. Nice girl. Very intelligent. I like her very much. She was looking for information about her uncle. A man named Damian. You heard of him?”

“Sure,” Johnny Tanner said. “He’s alive.”

Victor didn’t say anything. He couldn’t have if he’d tried. Misha paused to digest what the man said and licked his lips.

“Say again?” Misha said.

“Damian Tesla is alive.”

“Who told you this?” Victor said. “What proof do you have?”

“Nadia made some inquiries. That’s all she knows for now, but she’s working on it.”

“What do you mean, she’s working on it?” Misha said. “Why isn’t she here?”

Misha’s electronic machine sprang to life. It vibrated and danced in place. Victor bit his tongue. Misha picked it up and began to play with it.

“Where is Nadia now?” Victor said.

“On the way to Kyiv,” Johnny Tanner said.

Victor and Misha glanced at each other sharply. Misha resumed reading. The table remained silent for several seconds.

“You looked surprised to hear that, Victor,” Misha said, face down in his device. He turned toward Johnny. “KLM. Flight 8579. Newark to Amsterdam to Kyiv.” Misha glanced back at the screen. “She’s in 14E in the emergency exit aisle. And she’s drinking red wine.” Misha started typing furiously with both hands.

Victor would have tipped his cap at Misha if he were wearing one.

“See, Old School?” Misha said. “The guy with the most money isn’t always the stupidest one at the table.”

Johnny Tanner showed no emotion, no tangible fear that his friend was in deeper trouble than she could have possibly imagined, until his Adam’s apple moved just a bit.

“Kyiv is no place for a woman on her own,” Victor observed.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Johnny Tanner said. “But Nadia is her own woman.”

“You guys got nothing to worry about,” Misha said. “She’s not on her own. She just thinks she is.” He leaned over to Johnny Tanner and lowered his voice. “Tell her I’m disappointed she wasn’t here like she said she would be. And tell her I’m on the seven o’clock from JFK tonight.”

Misha left the diner with his men. Johnny Tanner followed shortly afterward.

Victor’s stomach growled. All of a sudden, he couldn’t remember ever having been so famished. He called the waitress over and ordered a bowl of hunter’s stew and a bottle of Obalon beer.

Misha was on his way to Kyiv. It was the best possible news. Although Tara was safe for the moment, she and her unborn child would always be at risk until Misha was killed.

Victor considered that prospect. Getting away from New York would be good. His old stomping grounds would provide Victor plenty of opportunity to make sure Misha never returned home.

CHAPTER 20

NADIA COULD SLEEP on planes at will, but not this time. She bolted upright every ten minutes, convinced someone was watching her. Yet when she walked the length of the coach cabin, no one paid attention to her. She even stumbled into business class, pretending to need to use the restroom, before getting kicked out by a flight attendant. She didn’t recognize anyone. Still, she couldn’t sleep.

She landed at Boryspil Airport after a twelve-hour flight with a stop in Amsterdam. As the plane taxied down the runway, Nadia adjusted her watch. It was 1:30 p.m. on Tuesday, April 20, seven hours ahead of New York City. She checked for e-mails from Johnny on the GSM cell phone she’d rented.

Meeting as planned, Johnny wrote. Wolverine a no-show. Victor quiet. Misha headed your way. You have 7–8 hour head start. Phone is on 24/7. Call if you need me. J.T.

Misha was en route to Kyiv?

Nadia grabbed her suitcase from the stowaway bin and raced to Customs and Passport Control. The scene at Terminal B was reminiscent of any American airport, except the people spoke Ukrainian instead of English. Although Nadia had studied and spoken the language her entire life, she’d never been among so many native speakers. It was exhilarating.