The Boy from Reactor 4

A single candlelight illuminated a coffin in the distance. Specter shined the light farther down the tunnel. A tall, angular man shielded his eyes. Misha pulled a garrote out of his pocket. The three of them advanced quickly. They were upon him in thirty seconds.

“Who are you?” Kirilo said.

The man raised the badge around his neck while still shielding his eyes. “Lavra official.”

“Where are the others?” Misha said in Russian.

“What others?”

Kirilo measured him. “Do you think your body would fit in this tomb if I folded it in three?”

The man hesitated for a second. “One woman. Alone. She went back that way.”

“What way?” Specter said.

The man pointed over their shoulder. “This is the end of the caves. She went back in the direction you were coming from.”

Kirilo turned and shuffled back toward the refectory as quickly as the tight confines allowed him. When they got there, the tour group was five paces away. The monks were still chanting.

Misha shined the light from floor to ceiling on all the walls. There was no sign of the woman.

“Wait,” Kirilo said. “Shine the light again.”

Misha aimed the beam at the men cloaked in black.

“There were seven monks a minute ago,” Kirilo said. “Now there are only six.”

CHAPTER 29

A BLAST OF rose perfume hit Nadia as she came upon a woman with a permanent scowl etched on her face. Behind her, a seemingly endless line of tourists shuffled down the tunnel.

“I’m sorry,” Nadia said. “I’m not well. I have to get out. Now.”

Feeling like a thief herself, she dropped to her knees and began to crawl through the tour group’s legs. As women yelped and protested and the occasional man asked if she was okay, Nadia gave thanks to the babushka outside the Lower Lavra entrance. She’d told Nadia that the black side of the shawl might come in handy in the event of a funeral. In fact, it might have helped postpone hers, for at least a few hours.

After she crawled through her thirty-third pair of legs, Nadia tried to stand up but couldn’t straighten her back. She had to lean against the wall and let her vertebrae recover. She would bet her uncle never had to do this.

She heard men shouting from the direction she’d come from. Misha, Specter, and a third man had figured out what she’d done. They were trying to pass the tour group themselves. Impossible. There was no way they were going to crawl on their hands and knees, and even if they tried, they were too big to maneuver through and around people’s legs.

Nadia took off toward the churches, looking for signs for the exit. As she wound her way through the underground city, the voices and footsteps behind her faded. She found the exit and emerged near the Church of the Birth of the Blessed Virgin.

Hiding behind a nook in the far wall of the church, she pulled out her cell phone and hit the redial button.

An energetic masculine voice answered above the din of traffic. “Yeah?”

“It’s Nadia.”

“Hey,” Anton Medved said, with a burst of enthusiasm.

“I’m being followed by at least three atheists. I need a taxi driver who can make them believers.”

A bellow of laughter cut short. “Are you all right?”

Nadia started to answer honestly but caught herself. “Yes.”

Anton paused, as though translating the rhythm and tone of her reply into words. “Where are you?” he said.

“Caves Monastery. Far Caves exit. Near the Church of the Blessed—”

“Walk two blocks north to the access road to Dniprovsky Uzviz. Wait on the southeast side.”

“Okay.”

Nine minutes later, Nadia climbed inside the car. The taxi smelled of sautéed mushrooms and musk. Motown blared from the speakers. Anton lowered the volume.

“What happened?” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Thank you, Anton. Thank you so much.”

He whipped the car into a U-turn before Nadia could fasten her seat belt. Slammed the brakes at a red light.

He wore a rumpled white button-down shirt with blue pinstripes. A stylish day’s growth covered his face. His bloodshot eyes reminded Nadia that he worked two jobs to survive.

“Who’s following you? Where are these three men? What kind of car are they driving?” Anton searched in the rearview mirror.

“They’re not in a car. They were behind me in the Far Caves.”

“In the caves?”

“Trapped behind a tour group of thirty-three people. It should be at least a half hour more before they get out.”

The light turned green. Anton swerved right onto Naberezhne Expressway, headed south along the Dnipro. He merged into the far right lane and drove calmly with traffic.

“Why were you in the caves?” he said.

“The woman told me to meet her there.”

“The woman you’re looking for?”

“Yes. She sent a boy with a note. It said to meet her in the Far Caves near the body of Saint Damian. But there is no Saint Damian. And she wasn’t there. I tried calling her on her cell while I was waiting for you but got voice mail. Why would she lie to me? Why would she send me down there?”

“Maybe she saw you were being followed and assumed you were setting her up.”