Orest Stelmach - The Boy from Reactor 4

Kirilo motioned for Victor to follow. He guided Misha around the bridge to an embankment that fell gently to the river’s edge, out of sight. When he got to the water, Misha placed his gun on a rock and bent over. He reached into the water with both hands.

Kirilo thrust the cattle prod against his neck. Misha convulsed and made gurgling noises. He collapsed into the water. Kirilo put the prod beside the gun. He hoisted Misha out of the river and rolled him on his back. Misha coughed and wheezed.

Kirilo wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Misha brought his hands around Kirilo’s. They felt weak, weaker than Victor’s had when he’d almost strangled him on his boat. Misha tried to speak. Kirilo eased his grip.

“American citizen,” Misha said.

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

Kirilo resumed squeezing until Misha’s body went limp and his pants moistened. Kirilo relaxed for a minute to catch his breath. After taking Misha’s wallet, passport, and diamond-crusted watch, he pushed the body into the water. The current swept it down the river around patches of ice.

Kirilo walked up to Victor beside the bridge, cattle prod in hand. “You were wrong,” he said, still wheezing.

“About what?” Victor said.

“Ten million divided by two is not much more than ten million divided by three. But this formula… That’s a different matter.”

Kirilo replaced the cattle prod in the lining of his coat and put Misha’s gun in his pocket. When Victor and he climbed to the road, Misha’s bodyguard was changing the tire with his back to him. Pavel and Kirilo’s other bodyguard immediately drew weapons.

The bodyguard turned, dropped the lug wrench, and raised his hands.

“Your boss had an accident,” Kirilo said. “You were local hired help anyways. You want a job?”

“Yes, please,” the bodyguard said.

“Where is Specter?” Kirilo said.

“He went to take a piss,” Pavel said. “That way.” Pavel nodded at the wooded knoll on the near side of the bridge headed back toward Tommot.

Pavel stayed with one of the bodyguards while the other went with Kirilo to find Specter. They searched for five minutes but didn’t find him. When they got back to the car, the tire was changed.

“Nothing?” Pavel said.

“No,” Kirilo said. “He’s gone. He lied in the warehouse when we had the Tesla woman. He told me Isabella was on the phone to get me away until the police came. But Isabella never called.”

“Why would he do that?” Pavel said.

“Because he’s not who he seems to be.”

“Then who is he?”

“Looks like a bitch to me.”

“A government agent? Who infiltrated Misha’s operation? In America?”

Kirilo glanced at Victor.

Victor shrugged. “He was Misha’s man. I didn’t know him until a week ago. I don’t know where he came from.”

“Bitches die,” Kirilo said. “Who cares where they’re from.”

Kirilo turned to the two taxi drivers. “You guys have two choices. You can be paid handsomely for your work and forget that you had two more passengers. Or you and your families can cease to exist. Which will it be?”

Pavel joined Kirilo and Victor in the Volvo. The other two bodyguards remained in the other car. Kirilo told the kid to pass the other car. The kid gunned the engine, and the Volvo took the lead.

“Slow down, slow down,” Kirilo said. “There’s no need to hurry anymore.”

The kid eased up on the gas. “There isn’t?”

“No,” Kirilo said.

Pavel turned from the front seat and frowned. “Why not?”

“We know where she’s going. We’ve known where she’s been going all along.” Kirilo glanced at Victor. “Haven’t we, cousin?”

Victor didn’t answer him. Instead, he just looked out the window.

“It’s best to dispose of garbage in remote areas where no one will find it,” Kirilo said. “So we chase. But now that we’re rid of the garbage, we can stop chasing. She is going to Yakutsk. What is Yakutsk known for?”

“Diamonds,” Pavel said. “Twenty percent of the world’s diamond production.”

“What else?”

“ Gulag ,” Victor said.

“Yes. Gulag . Where did they bury the bodies in the gulags ?”

“Ah,” Pavel said. “Of course. The Road of Bones.”

Kirilo looked at his hands. He tried to uncurl his fingers and straighten them completely, but he hadn’t been able to do so since wielding a pickax at the gulag for eight years straight.

“Yes. The Kolyma Highway. And where does the Kolyma Highway lead?”

“Magadan,” Pavel said. He turned forward, sighed with contentment, and relaxed in his seat. “It leads to Magadan.”

“Exactly,” Kirilo said. “Gateway to the Kolyma Region. Former transit center for prisoners being shipped to the gulag . The only major port in the area. Now services the lumber trade. We are five hundred kilometers from the Arctic Circle. The ice is melting. The rivers and lakes are flooding. There is one, and only one, road in the taiga, which may or may not be passable in late April. It is the Road of Bones.”

“They could fly from Yakutsk,” Victor said.

“No. They are not flying for a reason. It may have something to do with the boy, or it may be to stay off the radar. They will take the Road of Bones from Yakutsk to Magadan. Once in Magadan, they must take an airplane or a boat to leave Russia.”

“How will we get from Tommot to Yakutsk?”

Kirilo leaned forward and tapped the kid on the shoulder. “This young man will drive us for ten thousand rubles more. Won’t you, my friend?”

“NO ONE IN Russia call Road of Bones. In Russia, Kolyma Trakt .” The Evenk peppered his phrases with affirmative grunting noises and Evenki words Nadia didn’t understand.

“Why is that?” Nadia said.

“Many people die in old Russia. Now new Russia. No more Road of Bones. Kolyma Trakt now. We take new Kolyma Trakt . Old Kolyma Trakt no good. Too late.”

“Excuse me? What new Kolyma Trakt ?”

She glanced at Adam, who was sitting beside her behind the driver. He shrugged.

“Two roads,” the Evenk said. “Old and new. Old, twelve hundred kilometers. New, two thousand kilometers. Too late April for old. River melting, bridges and road risky. We take new road via Ust-Nera.”

Nadia leaned toward Adam. “Did your father say anything about a new road?”

“No,” Adam said. “Road of Bones.”

“New Trakt finish 2009,” the Evenk said. “Good, good, all year. My name Sharlam. Sharlam take care of you.”

Sharlam turned right onto a cracked asphalt road.

Nadia bounced lightly on her seat as the van’s suspension squeaked and groaned. Ivory figurines of dancing bears and children riding wolves were glued to the dashboard. There were two additional rows of seats behind them. A mattress and sleeping bag were rolled out on each of them. Eight spare tires, two windshields, and a cardboard box full of windshield wipers and headlights lay in the back beside a huge toolbox.

“What is this vehicle?” Nadia said.

“ Buhanka ,” Sharlam said with pride. “Also call wazzik, hiebobulka . You know buhanka in America?”

“No,” Nadia said. “But I know some neighborhoods in New York City where a buhanka might work.”

“ Buhanka best. It break, Sharlam fix. Anyone can fix. Easy as Evenk. You see.”