Belly of the Beast (23 page)

“Thank you,” said Borya, “but it would be a liability. Old gypsies with dollars would be shot as thieves.”

“Then take my rubles,” said Pytor.

Maria shook her head. “You will need them.”

“I have a friend who will buy my car. I’ll have plenty then.”

Borya gratefully accepted Pytor’s money.

Niki helped Maria fold the blankets clean side out and put them back in the car. “Techa once had deep forest with clear streams and pristine lakes,” said the old woman. “Borya and I will find that again in Siberia.”

“I will always remember both of you,” said Niki. “You sacrificed your lives for a stranger.”

“You are not so strange,” said Maria, “and I am looking forward to our travels. I don’t want to die in a rocking chair. Pytor, we have a deal about the papers?”

“Yes, Maria. We will change the world.”

“You will. I’m on sabbatical. Come on old man. It’s time you showed me all those fish.”

Tears streamed down Niki’s face as she watched the two old people walking arm in arm toward the lights of the train platform. Moonlight glistened on the ice crystals freed by their footfalls.

“When did it stop snowing?” asked Niki.

“About an hour ago. You were sleeping so soundly, I thought you were dead. You missed the police cars going by when we stopped for fuel at the farm, you missed the worst of the storm, and you slept through Maria offering to strip off her clothes at the last checkpoint. When we started, I never thought we’d make it this far, but Malenkov can’t be far behind. We’ve got to get Katrina.”

Pytor drove the four blocks back to his flat, parked, and hurried toward his building. Niki looked about for signs of Malenkov, then followed Pytor. Pain shot through her leg as she tried to catch up on the stairs.

The late night eastbound sounded its horn as Pytor unlocked the door to the flat.

“I hope Borya and Maria will be okay,” said Niki. “I’ve disrupted so many lives.”

“All we can do now is take care of ourselves,” said Pytor. “We owe them that.”

“I was worried,” said Katrina as she came to the door.

“You are dressed like field workers and smell like a barn,” said Auntie Alina as she headed for the door. “I don’t want to know what’s going on here.”

Pytor hugged his daughter, tears in his eyes. Niki shut the door.

Pytor turned and bolted the locks. “Has anyone been here?”

“No, why? What happened? You smell horrible.”

“We’ve to go away for a while. Get dressed.”

“We’re leaving in the middle of the night?”

“We have too.”

“Is Niki going with us?”

“Yes, at least until we can get her to the American Embassy in Moscow.”

Katrina’s eyes lit up. “We’re going to Moscow?”

Pytor nodded. “Pack a few things and get your birth certificate. We’ll have to stop at Mole’s. Our passports were stolen.”

“Niki could use Mother’s if we dye her hair red.”

Pytor looked at Niki. “You do look similar.”

“We weren’t supposed to keep the passport,” said Katrina.

Pytor gathered food in the kitchen. “We couldn’t find it when Irina died. A bureaucratic nightmare. We didn’t want to go through another when it turned up behind the stove.”

“I have red dye,” Katrina said sheepishly.

 Pytor crossed his arms. “And what were you going to do with it?”

“Everybody does it. Mother even touched hers up a little.”

“Well it’s a dumb idea.”

Niki put her hand on Pytor’s shoulder. “I’m the one Malenkov is really after. It might be a good idea to change my appearance regardless of the passport.”

“There’s no time; he could be right behind us.”

“Who’s Malenkov?” asked Katrina.

“A very evil man,” answered Pytor.

“He couldn’t be that bad,” said Katrina as she grabbed Niki’s arm and led her toward the kitchen sink. “It only takes nineteen minutes to dye hair. We won’t have to bleach. I already read the directions.”

“Okay. But we’re leaving in twenty minutes finished or not. I’ll start packing.” Pytor laid the pistol by the food on the table.

Katrina stared at it. “Father’s in big trouble, isn’t he?”

“We all are, sweetheart.”

“Hurry,” said Pytor, “It’s been twenty-five minutes.”

Katrina stepped from the bedroom dressed in the lavender ski jacket, the double diamond logo on the breast.

Pytor turned. “You’ve got to dress like us, like peasants. Get your old snowsuit.”

“I hate it, it’s juvenile.”

“We don’t have time to argue. You can put your snowsuit on over your new jacket.”

“I ruined your gloves,” said Niki. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I like my old ones.”

Pytor wrapped his new scarf around Niki’s wet hair.

“You look good in red,” said Pytor. “Let’s go.”

Twenty-two minutes later, Pytor pulled up in front of Mole’s apartment. Fresh tire tracks laced the unplowed road.

“I doubt they could trace me to Mole, but I don’t like the look of this. I hope he can make us passports by the end of the day. Don’t forget the missing step.”

No one answered the knock at Mole’s door.

“He must be sleeping,” said Katrina.

Pytor banged the door with his fist. It swung open. He peered inside, then whispered, “Stay back.”

Glass was scattered on the floor, the video monitor smashed, wires ripped out, and shelves tipped over.

Niki braced herself against the door frame. “This is because of me, isn’t it?”

“Is Mole okay?” asked Katrina.

Pytor hid a splash of blood on the floor with his foot. “I’m sure he is.” He looked back at Niki. “It’s not you. They would have gone to my place first. Mole knew he was skating on thin ice. There’s an old Russian saying: ‘You never know when someone will knock on your door, take all your possessions, and put you in jail for the rest of your life.’”

“Is this blood?” asked Katrina as she touched the door frame.

Pytor eased his daughter away. “He probably cut himself shaving. We have to go now. Hurry.”

Niki glanced around the room before she pulled the door shut. Even in the dim light, she saw blood everywhere.

At the car, Niki grabbed a handful of fresh snow for the cylinder.

“Mole has a beard,” said Katrina as she climbed onto a blanket in the back. “He doesn’t shave. I’m not a child. This car stinks.”

“I forgot Irina’s passport,” Pytor mumbled to himself.

Katrina reached into her pocket. “I’ve got it. I’ll be glad when I’m old enough to get one.”

Pytor started driving. “Be thankful you don’t need one now, but we’ve got another problem. I hoped Mole would buy the car. All we’ve got is the money for Katrina’s skis.”

“I don’t need skis this year,” said Katrina.

“Thank you sweetheart, but there’s still not enough for the three of us, especially with bribes for my
lost
passport. Niki will have to go on alone.”

“Isn’t there another way?”

“You have to get out as soon as you can, for your sake as well as your son’s.”

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“You have to. Katrina and I have friends, we’ll manage. The Canadians will be going through the Sverdlovsk airport in a few days. I’ll try to get the medical records to them.”

Pytor stopped near the train station, a little ways from where they had dumped the manure. Steam still rose from it.

“I thought we’d be going to the airport,” said Niki, her hand on her satchel.

“Victor Malenkov would be expecting that, and we don’t have the money.” Pytor thumbed through a stack of bills, well-worn fives and tens, a few twenty-fives, and a fifty, all with Lenin staring at him. He handed Niki a few, and slipped the rest into his pocket. “I’ll buy your ticket. Use what I gave you to bribe the conductor if he questions anything. Bargain with them, it’s expected. The train will get you to Moscow by tomorrow night. Your embassy will probably put you on a plane and you’ll be home in three days.”

Awfully close, thought Niki, but the bone marrow could last that long. She hoped she could. Pain in her right foot spread up her right leg like a brush fire.

“The westbound Express will be here at 8:05. Let’s get a few hours’ sleep.” Pytor reached back and covered Katrina with a blanket. Another he shared with Niki in the front.

Katrina fell asleep. Niki didn’t.

“You awake?” asked Pytor.

“Yes.”

“Did my father really say that stuff about loving me?”

“Yes,” Niki answered convincingly.

“Perhaps I never gave him a fair chance.”

“I never would have guessed he had such a dark side,” said Niki. “He treated me wonderfully, like a daughter. I told you he had himself tested as a donor, but he wasn’t a match. Still, there is that chance I actually am his daughter which would make Yakov’s marrow useless.”

“My father had his blood tested?”

“Because he was Russian, he said.”

“Remember the type?”

“AB positive, the universal recipient. I remember because I’m O negative, the universal donor.”

Pytor thought for a minute. “Type AB cannot father a type O child. You are not my sister. The tissue you got from Yakov could be exactly what Alex needs.”

“Now that I finally have it, I have doubts.”

“Don’t ever lose hope.”

Niki shrugged. “I hoped we’d have more time together, time when we weren’t running. As soon as I get home, I’ll call your father. Maybe he can help you and Katrina get out.”

Pytor sighed. “I’m not sure he’ll be so eager to help when he learns you are not his daughter.”

“Guilt or not, he is a good man.”

“Borya told me about the vampire thing while you were sleeping. He said Stalin was desperate to get
the
bomb. The KGB was in charge of production.”

“That would be your father,” said Niki, “and Victor Malenkov.”

“My father and uncle both competing to be the best. When a vial of plutonium solution exploded in a man’s face, Yuri ordered the workers to collect all the bloody rags so they could recover the plutonium. Knowing he was going to die an agonizing death from the radiation, the man begged my father to shoot him. Yuri refused and the man tried to grab his gun. He was shot in the scuffle. No one was supposed to say a word about the accident or the death, but of course they did. The story grew until it had Yuri Kolchak draining a live man’s blood so they could extract the plutonium.”

“The vampire.”

“The vampire of Mayak. The stigma would have bothered anyone, but Borya said it was people dying from radiation that really drove Yuri to change.”

“Couple that with what Maria said about his guilt about his brother, and it’s no wonder he spent the rest of his life making atonements.” Niki took Pytor’s hand. “I’m sorry you didn’t know him as I did.”

“I never gave him a chance. My own redemption will be to get the medical records to someone who cares.”

Niki eased her hold. “I wish I could carry them, but if I were to be searched—I just can’t take the chance. Everything would be lost.”

“I understand. You worry about getting out; I’ll worry about the papers.”

Katrina moved.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?”

There was no answer.

“I won’t ever sleep again,” said Niki, “until you and Katrina get out somehow.”

Pytor shrugged. “As bad as things have been, I never thought about leaving until today.”

Light from the train station filtered through the ice crystals on the windshield and lit Pytor’s face. “When this is all over,” he said, “and Alex is well, what do you want from life?”

 
“I don’t know. Alex has always been my focus; I haven’t been able to think beyond that. But it would be nice to have someone like you in my life.”

“What happened to your marriage?” asked Pytor.

“Never married.”

“Sorry, with Alex I assumed—”

“Strange as it sounds, Malenkov was involved in that too. I was sixteen, living in New Mexico, and Malenkov attacked me. A guy named Rob rescued me. He let me stay in a cabin he had in the Colorado mountains.”

“And then he took advantage of you?”

“No, he took care of me. He even drove half the night to go back for my cat. I never felt more loved in my life. I suppose I was desperate for him to love me. I slept with him.”

“We all need love,” said Pytor.

“When I got pregnant, he got on his knees and proposed with a ring and everything, but he was thirty-something. He was nice, but I don’t think I ever really loved him; we were too different. I said no. Anyway, he gave me the cabin and married someone else a year later.”

“We are different too,” Pytor said sadly.

Niki smiled and took Pytor’s hand. “No. I have never been more comfortable than being near you.” She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

The hint of first light absorbed the Russian stars.

“You sleep at all?” asked Pytor.

“Not much,” said Niki, “but I liked where I was.”

“Katrina’s still asleep. The car is freezing.” Pytor turned on the engine. “I’ll miss you. After Irina died, I never thought I could—I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who—”

“It’s still possible that you’re my cousin.”

“Arrest me.” Pytor put his fingers to Niki’s cheek, then drew her lips to his.

Warmth filled Niki as nothing ever had. Her body ached to hold him. Niki slipped her hand behind Pytor’s neck. He pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” asked Niki. “Do you have any idea how you make me feel?”

“I do. It is why I stopped. We will drive each other crazy. In a few days you will be in America. I will always be stuck in Russia.”