Orest Stelmach - The Boy from Reactor 4

“That’s not entirely true,” Yuri said.

Simon raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“There is a country.”

“Really? Where is this country?”

“North of the equator and just south of heaven.”

“What’s so special about this country?”

“It takes everyone,” Yuri said. “Everyone has a chance to prosper.”

“Everyone? You really mean everyone ? Does an Arab have a chance?”

“Yes.”

“Does a Jew have a chance?”

“Yes.”

“Does a black man have a chance?” Simon said.

“A black man can become president.”

“What about a boy from the Zone?”

“Even he may have a chance,” Yuri said. “Especially in one particular city.”

“Oh? What kind of city is this?”

“It is a city that was built on the backs of the unwanted.”

“And where is this city?”

“At the mouth of the river where the woman stands guard by the harbor.”

Simon poured three vodkas. Yuri and Simon raised their glasses. Yuri and Simon glanced at Nadia as though waiting for her to do the same. She did not.

“Three days ago, a thief died,” Yuri said. “But still he steals from his grave. Today he steals freedom for his son.”

“To the best there ever was.”

“To Damian. Na zdorovye .”

They downed their shots.

“When I saw Damian,” Nadia said to Yuri, “he told me that, given your body had disappeared from Seventh Street, someone had yet to reveal himself to me. That someone… was him . He was pulling my string the entire time.”

“We had no idea you were in trouble with Victor and Misha because of that antiques business,” Yuri said. “We had no idea you would be followed and your life would be in danger.”

“That… That was never part of our plan,” Simon said. “This should have been much, much easier.”

Nadia glanced at Yuri again. “On Seventh Street… When you asked me if I was the Nadia Tesla who worked on Wall Street and I said, ‘Not anymore,’ you seemed disappointed. Upset, even. Why?”

Yuri shrugged. “It costs money to bring a boy to America. To raise him. To live in New York. Simon and I live on a fixed income. We barely get by. And that’s in southern New Jersey.”

Nadia laughed. “Well, there’s one on you guys. I’m unemployed and rapidly depleting my savings.” She tossed the vodka down her throat, coughed up a storm, and cleared her throat. “So if there’s no formula, what’s in the locket?”

“Locket?” Yuri said. He glanced at Simon, who shook his head. “What locket?”

A toilet flushed in the distant background. Everyone turned toward the curtain leading to the back room.

Adam walked into the bar looking refreshed. His eyes widened with excitement when they met Nadia’s. His lips parted, but no words came out, as though he couldn’t find the words to express himself.

Nadia bounded up to him and folded her arms across her chest. “Why did you run away from me? Why didn’t you wait?”

“I saw the government men. They were there for me. They were there to send me back, weren’t they?”

“No. They were there to arrest some other man. It had nothing to do with you or me.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Nadia lowered her gaze and found a few links of the necklace peeking out from beneath his shirt. “Where’s the locket?”

Adam swallowed, like a boy who’d done something wrong and knew he was about to be scolded, and touched his upper chest area.

“It’s time we opened it and took a look at exactly what’s inside,” Nadia said.

A shuffling noise from the direction of the front door broke the silence.

Nadia turned.

Victor Bodnar stood in the foyer. Stefan and another huge bodyguard held guns in their hands behind him.

“Yes,” Victor said, smiling. “Exactly what I was thinking. Let’s see what’s inside that locket.”

VICTOR LOOKED TWICE at the two old men as he walked past their table. They looked vaguely familiar and recalled memories from his youth, but he couldn’t place them. He quickly turned his attention back to the necklace around the boy’s neck. All the riches of the world finally within his grasp. He never could have imagined they’d be in the form of a piece of microfilm in the possession of a boy from the Zone.

Adam’s face was burned and his lips chapped from crossing the strait. Nadia’s face was similarly damaged, and she looked as though she’d lost ten pounds since he’d seen her last in Ukraine. Victor detected fear in Adam’s eyes, but it was noticeably absent in Nadia’s. In its place was an element of disbelief. She was probably surprised he’d found them, Victor thought.

Stefan and Victor’s other man aimed their guns at Nadia and Adam.

“Be a good boy and remove the necklace from your neck,” Victor said. “And open the locket.”

Adam lifted the necklace over his head, ruffling his hair and exposing his ears in the process. Victor saw they were half ears and felt a measure of compassion for the boy. As Adam struggled to unlock the tiny clasp, Victor had to take a deep breath to remain patient. When it finally unsnapped, Adam opened the locket.

A piece of paper the size of a stamp fell out into his palm. Adam unfolded the paper into a three-inch-by-three-inch square. He held it up for everyone to see. Victor squinted, but without his glasses, he couldn’t read it. He could tell it wasn’t microfilm, however, and experienced an immediate sting of disappointment.

“What is that?” Victor said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his glasses.

Nadia regarded him with a wistful smile. “No one wants a boy from the Zone.”

Victor found his glasses, slid them out of their case, and wrapped them around his head. “What? What’s that you say?”

He studied the paper. It was a torn and tattered picture of the Statue of Liberty. It was the symbol of freedom and all that America offered, and if it was this picture the boy had been carrying around all this time…

Victor spun around toward the two men. Banya. Yuri Banya. And Stanislavski. He couldn’t remember the latter’s first name, but he realized who they were and why he recognized them. They were part of Damian’s crew, long thought dead by everyone—

It was a con, Victor realized. There was no formula. It was all about the boy. It was all about getting him to America.

Victor wheeled back to Nadia. He could tell just by looking at her expression that she knew he’d figured it out.

“A thief made me his willing accomplice,” she said.

Victor nodded.

“FBI. Drop your weapons.”

The order came from the doorway. Victor turned. Specter and a swarm of other men in blue Windbreakers buzzed into the bar, guns aimed at Victor and his men.

Something crashed to the floor.

Stefan and the other bodyguard fired. Muted thumps rang out from their suppressed weapons. An FBI agent collapsed before everyone dove for cover.

As Victor hit the ground, he saw a woman scurrying back into the kitchen with her hands wrapped around her head, leaving an empty tray, broken china, buckwheat bread, and a puddle of beet soup in her wake.

Specter and the agents fired back. The noise became deafening.

Victor crawled toward the curtain leading to the back, not giving a damn about the formula or Nadia Tesla. After all, he could take over Misha’s businesses now. He hadn’t prayed to God in decades. Yet here he was, on all fours, begging God for a clean escape so he could see his daughter again. So he could hold his grandson in his arms. His grandson.