Orest Stelmach - The Boy from Reactor 4

“I didn’t think a zoologist could be so tough,” Kirilo said.

“He watches animals all day,” Victor said. “He should have learned something by now.”

“Good point,” Kirilo said.

Karel tipped the glass to his lips. Water trickled around his lips, down his chin, and onto the velvet around him.

Kirilo winced. “The furniture, dammit. Watch the furniture.”

Karel drank some more. Kirilo took the glass away from him, put it on a coaster where he couldn’t knock it over, and sat back down.

“Why did the Tesla woman go to the Zone?” Kirilo said.

“To see her uncle.”

“What uncle?”

“Damian. Damian Tesla.”

“He’s alive?”

“As far as I know. I haven’t seen him since he asked me to do a favor.”

“What favor?”

“To go to Korosten and bring his son to Kyiv.”

“Does this have anything to do with the Tesla woman?”

“Yes. He’s meeting her tonight.”

“Why?”

“They will travel together.”

“Where are they going?”

“I don’t know.”

Kirilo squinted.

Karel sighed. “Honestly. I don’t know. My instructions were to leave him at Babi Yar.”

“Babi Yar?” Misha said. “What’s at Babi Yar?”

“Nothing,” Kirilo said. “Monuments and a park. Nothing that would give their ultimate destination away. That’s why he picked Babi Yar. What do they have in their possession? Why did the Tesla woman come here?”

Karel shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Kirilo chuckled. “What’s that, you say? You haven’t really had enough? You want some more?”

Karel raised his hand in self-defense. “No. Honestly. I don’t know. There was a formula. The scientist died. I thought the formula died with him. But maybe that’s just what I was led to believe. Maybe the truth is that Damian and the scientist didn’t trust me.”

Kirilo moved to the edge of his seat. “And you suffer for them? For these so-called friends? You owe them nothing. Nothing, I say to you. You are a prospective Chernobyl invalid?”

Karel nodded.

“Then you have suffered enough. My sources tell me you have published books of great importance regarding animal behavior in a nuclear environment.”

Karel lowered his head.

“No. Now is not the time to be humble. This country owes you a great debt. A great debt that is long overdue. I can guarantee you invalid status by the end of the month. The deputy minister of health is a close friend of mine. We’ve hunted caribou together on the Taimyr Peninsula. Your full pension will begin the first of June, and you will be free to continue with your important research.”

“Full pension?”

“Full pension.” Kirilo leaned over and tapped Karel on the thigh. “Now, my good friend, tell us, what formula?”

ATHREE-TIERED GOLDEN chandelier hung from the soaring ceiling above the steps to the concourse at the Central Railway Station. Ornate murals of baroque castles with vivid blue stained-glass windows and churches with gleaming golden domes decorated the walls. The brass hands of a giant clock suspended above an electronic message board announced the time: 7:23.

As Nadia and Adam cut across the tiled floor toward a ticket booth, Nadia scanned the concourse for familiar faces. Tourists in khakis and jeans mixed with businesspeople in suits, sports jackets, and light coats. She didn’t recognize any of them. Still, Kirilo’s men could be watching her at this very moment, and Victor and Misha could be waiting for her around the corner. Anton’s words echoed in her ears: in Ukraine, the criminals and the government were one and the same. If she stayed in this country, it was just a matter of time until they caught up with her.

With Kirilo’s local influence, their first step would be to seal all borders. Nadia figured she had two tactical advantages. First, they didn’t know she was traveling with a boy. Border guards would be looking for a woman traveling alone. Second, and more important, she had a head start. If the police delayed her pursuers long enough, she and Adam might be able to sneak through Passport Control before Kirilo notified anyone. If not, they were at risk of being arrested imminently.

“Are you buying a ticket, too?” Nadia said.

“No,” Adam said. “I have mine. You want the eight-oh-nine express to Moscow. Coupe.”

“Coupe?”

“Second-class cabin.”

“What does that mean?”

“Four people per cabin.”

“We’re going to have strangers in our cabin?”

“No. No one else is going to stay in our cabin.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Trust me.” He looked down at the floor, face flushed. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

The ticket agent asked Nadia for her destination, time of departure, and passport. Nadia paid the equivalent of $170 in hryvnia, waited an interminable few minutes, and received her ticket.

Passport Control was the same disorganized madhouse as when she had arrived at the airport.

Nadia jostled her way forward, glancing back every thirty seconds to make sure Adam was following. He kept his knit hat pulled low over his ears. Knapsack and duffel bag in each hand, he shuffled forward with his eyes planted firmly at his feet. Removed from the countryside, he seemed out of his element.

When the mass of bodies finally converged into a line, Nadia counted twenty-one people ahead of them. She tried to prepare herself to look nonchalant, which inevitably had the opposite effect. She focused on the formula and wondered how much a radiation countermeasure was worth on the open market. The thought of riches beyond her dreams was a pleasant way to calm her nerves.

The agent returned the passports to a family in front, and they moved along. After glancing at his computer, the agent scanned the line awaiting him. Nadia dropped her gaze to the floor so that their eyes didn’t meet, lest she appear anxious.

When she looked up again, she saw, to her alarm, a supervisor had joined the agent at his booth. Both of them peered in Nadia’s direction. Nadia swiveled her head, glanced over her shoulder, and realized they were staring at Adam.

“You!” the agent said. He pointed an index finger at the boy and then directed it toward Nadia. He must have seen her tense when he shouted at Adam. “Are you together? Is that your boy?”

Nadia’s gut instinct was to protect him, rude and insolent though he was. “Yes,” she said. “We’re together.”

“Step forward, please,” the agent said.

As Nadia and Adam cut to the front of the line, two beefy policemen with bulging sidearms joined the supervisor and the agent at his booth. Their expressions conveyed suspicion and fear.

The couple in front moved aside, pushing the line back to leave as much space between them and Nadia and Adam as possible, as though they knew she was about to be arrested for some sort of crime against the State.

At least she was an American citizen, Nadia thought. Whatever else happened, that still had to count for something.

Didn’t it?

The Passport Control agent opened Adam’s passport and studied his picture. The supervisor peered over his shoulder as the two cops stood by with their hands on their weapons.

“Take your hat off,” the agent said.

Blushing deeply, Adam grasped the edges of his knit hat with both hands. As he slowly peeled it off his head, his ears popped out. They rose from the side of his head and stopped halfway, just above the canal. They looked as though they’d been sawed in half with a hacksaw. Jagged grooves ran along the square tops like the edge of an unfinished cardboard puzzle. Nadia recalled a picture of similar ears on a child at the Chernobyl museum. She absorbed the visual shock without flinching, realized she was staring, and tore her eyes away.