The Boy from Reactor 4

“You can’t be serious. Then what?”

“The formula must get to America. You will figure out how to sell it once you are there. You will sell it to men of science. Not to your government. Promise me that.”

“Uncle, the American government and the Ukrainian government are not the same—”

“Promise.”

“Okay, I promise not to give the formula to the government.”

“Good.” A cunning look came into his eyes. “The only way you will escape the men who are following you is by going where they will be least expecting you to go.”

“And where’s that?”

“Along the route I arranged for my son once I gave up hope you would come. Before, I didn’t know how he would sell the formula once he got to America, but now that won’t be a problem. Now there will be two of you, and you will help each other.”

Nadia didn’t want them to get ahead of themselves. “Tell me more about this route you’ve planned.”

“My son knows everything you need to know.”

“Look, if I’m going to be taking care of him, I think I deserve to know details.”

The old thief shrugged. “My son has all the details.”

“Can you at least give me a general outline?”

He stared at her with a blank expression.

Nadia sighed. “Okay. I get it. Where and when do I meet him?”

“He is coming from the north. There is a metro stop at Dorohozhychi. He will meet you across the street. At the new bronze statue at Babi Yar.”

“When?”

“Six o’clock. And now I have a question for you. The stranger who delivered my message to you in New York City. What happened to him?”

Nadia told him the story.

“Was he a friend of yours?” she said.

“Yuri Banya. He was one of my men. One of the three who escaped to the West before the KGB caught the rest of us. He pretended to be this Max Milan, an upstanding member of the community, to make sure you met with him. He was supposed to send me a message after he met you, but I never heard from him. You say he was shot, but later, when the police went to look, there was no body?”

“And he still had a pulse when I left him. Did you tell him about the formula?”

“No. He only knew words. But if someone interrogated him—”

“Find Damian. Five-androstenediol. Fate of the free world.”

“Or had heard them already and didn’t want you to hear them,” Damian said.

“What if Yuri shared the message with someone else? Someone who realized what ‘five-androstenediol’ and ‘fate of the free world’ implied?”

Damian’s expression tightened. “Three things are certain. Someone shot him, and someone lifted him off the street. And someone has yet to reveal himself to you.”

Nadia let his words sink in. Someone has yet to reveal himself.

“I’m fading,” Damian said abruptly, his eyes drooping. “I can feel it. You should go. Karel will help get you out of the Zone.”

Nadia looked at his emaciated frame. They’d had so little time to spend together. “How do I say good-bye to an uncle I just met and will never see again?”

“You don’t. Just take care of my boy.”

It was a surreal moment. She’d solved the mystery of Damian, discovered he was her uncle, and traveled across the globe to find him. Now here he was, on his deathbed.

She would never see him again. She should have felt an overwhelming sadness, but she didn’t. How could she? She’d just met him. Still, she had to do something. She couldn’t just walk away.

Nadia stepped sideways to the foot of his bed. His legs were covered in blankets. She gently grasped the meat of his left foot over the blanket, squeezed with both hands, and held it for a count of ten. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Nadia slid her hands up to his toes and did the same. His eyes closed. After the second ten-count, she lowered the left leg to the bed and performed the same routine on his right one. The pain in his expression evaporated. When she was done, she stepped away from the bed and let her hands fall to her sides.

“So you can dance with the angels,” she said. The words sounded ridiculous as soon as they left her lips. He was a thief, a notorious criminal. If there was an afterlife, odds were low he’d be waltzing with celestials.

He laughed so hard he winced. Although he didn’t say anything, the pain in his face melted into an expression of gratitude.

She lowered her head and started for the door.

“Nadia?” he said, gravel in his voice.

She turned.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”

His eyes opened to weary slits. “Remember what the hare said to the hen when he opened the barn door.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What’s that?”

“With foxes, we must play the fox.”

CHAPTER 44

KIRILO, MISHA, AND Victor sat at a triangular table in the middle of Kozak Egoiste. The air smelled of spices and flesh. A young waiter served their entrées. Blood oozed from Kirilo’s steak as he set it before him. The tall, golden-haired waiter looked vaguely familiar to Kirilo, but he couldn’t place him.