The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark (20 page)

No. And yet, now she had no choice.

Before offering to arrange transportation from Tokyo to Kyiv, he’d asked only three questions.

“Are you in danger?”

“Yes. Someone tried to kill me today.”

“Is Bobby in danger?”

“Yes. The same people tried to kill him. He’s following one of them into Russia.”

“Will you tell me the complete truth about what this is all about if I meet you in Kyiv?”

“No.”

“No?” His voice rang with disbelief.

“No. I’m going to tell you the truth now. I need to investigate a few things in Kyiv as soon as I get there. And I need your help to make the necessary arrangements ahead of time. Otherwise I won’t make it to Vladivostok in time.”

She gave him a brief summary of everything that had transpired in Japan. She also told him about the origins of a potentially revolutionary formula, her discovery that it was only partially complete, and the e-mail that had led them to Fukushima. She told him about Eva, too. She had to. Eva was the focal point of her investigation. She was the reason Nadia was going to Kyiv. Nadia told him everything he could possibly want to know. Except for one thing.

“Are you going to tell me what this priceless formula is about?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When I’m done with my investigation in Kyiv.”

“I’ll be accompanying you personally during your investigation.”

“Then you’ll have to know earlier so our meetings make sense. I’ll tell you all about it during the drive from the airport.”

“You’re going to trust a Russian?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that. It means two things.”

“What’s that?”

“You are an American after all.”

“And?”

“There’s hope for us yet.”

He told her he was taking his private plane to meet her in Kyiv.

When she arrived in Kyiv at 5:15 a.m. on Monday, he was waiting for her at the terminal in Boryspil Airport. He wore a tan suede jacket over a black mock turtleneck. A day’s growth on his beard added mischief to his appearance. He’d appeared freshly shaved in his pinstripe suits when she’d met with him before. His transformation left Nadia wondering how he looked in pajamas.

He kissed her on both cheeks and escorted her to his Range Rover. It was the white one in front of the two black ones surrounded by six soldier types with crew cuts and cinderblock shoulders. He held the rear door open for her and climbed in beside her. One of his men took a seat behind the wheel and drove them out of the airport.

“I left the limousine at home,” he said. “I hope this is comfortable enough. Given we’re going to be asking some questions in some questionable neighborhoods, I thought it best to take the vehicle that commands the most respect. You probably drive one of these yourself in New York City, don’t you?”

“Range Rover? Me? Oh, sure.”

The closest she’d come to Range Rovers was on the Triboro Bridge heading in and out of Manhattan, when they passed her with an implied sense of superiority. But when she climbed into the plush leather cabin, she had to admit she could get used to driving in the fast lane.

“You said someone tried to kill you. And your boy has taken off in pursuit of them. Tell me everything.”

Nadia told him about what happened in the Zone of Exclusion without getting into details about why they were there. She saved that part for her discussion of the formula, which she suspected was imminent.

“Did you find Ksenia Melnik?” Nadia said.

“The woman that worked at the Division of Nervous Pathologies in Kyiv,” Simeonovich said. “Yes. My people found her.”

“Where is she?”

“I will tell you. And I will take you to her if you like, although I think you’ll change your mind about wanting to see her. But first, you must fulfill your promise to me. You must tell me what this precious formula is about.”

Nadia felt her temperature rise. The magnitude of her imminent revelation hit her. She realized for the first time that she feared she might be on the verge of betraying all mankind. The formula could theoretically be used to save a nation’s population after a nuclear attack. In a nuclear exchange, one group of people could heal while another died. She was about to reveal the possible existence of such a formula to a Russian. Her ethnic distrust, planted by her immigrant parents, had been reinforced by headlines during the Cold War. Ronald Reagan’s bluster about the evil empire. Stories of oppression behind the Iron Curtain. Was she about to make one of the biggest errors in judgment in mankind’s history?

No, she decided. Men had tried to kill her and Johnny. One of them was holding Genesis II hostage. Those men were also Russian. They were unequivocally evil. If Bobby made a mistake and revealed himself, they might have the entire formula in their possession, if it existed. Simmy was an international business figure with a reputation for integrity, at least where Russian oligarchs were concerned. Aligning herself with him to fight the other Russians was a no-brainer.

“You had me look into records at the Division of Nervous Pathologies,” Simeonovich said. “The radiation research center. That was a strong hint. An ambitious man might draw some earth-shattering implications from that alone.”

“Even a man blinded by his ambition is right once in a while.”

He chuckled. “Are you saying I’m driven only by money?”

“No. I’m saying even you’re right once in a while.”

“American women. Are they all so insolent?”

“No. Just the ambitious ones.”

Nadia turned sideways to face Simeonovich. She described the formula in detail, including her visits with Eric Sandstrom, the radiobiologist at Columbia University. She told Simeonovich about Dr. Arkady Shatan and the treatments he administered to Eva and Bobby. There was no reason for Nadia to hold back. If Simeonovich had found Ksenia Melnik, he knew that she’d worked for the brilliant, reclusive, and dead former Soviet scientist.

Simeonovich glanced at Nadia occasionally, but mostly stared at the seatback in front of her. He listened without interruption and maintained a stoic expression until she finished speaking. When she was done he glanced at her casually, as though she’d just finished giving him the weather forecast.

“Who else knows about this?” he said.

“Johnny Tanner knows everything,” she said. “He’s on his way to the States. And the people who fought us and took Genesis II hostage probably know something.” Nadia remembered Victor Bodnar. Nadia didn’t know how much the old thief knew, but it was irrelevant. He was in Riker’s Island prison and going to stay there for ten years.

“Anyone else?”

“No—” The memory of a flying boomerang popped into her mind. “Wait. There’s the angel. He may or may not know about the formula, but he was following us for a reason.”

“Angel?” Simeonovich appeared confused. “What angel?”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. I forgot to tell you about the angel.” She recounted how two boomerangs saved their lives.

“And you didn’t see anyone?”

“Not a soul.”

“Extraordinary.” Simeonovich sounded like an Englishman. Native Russians who spoke fluent English often did so with a British flair. That England was held in the highest cultural regard across the former Soviet Union undoubtedly contributed to this.

He turned to his driver and spoke in rapid-fire Russian. He told him to inform the men in the other cars that there were two other interested parties. One was a group of Russians. Based on their actions in Japan, they were armed, trained, and serious. There was no reason to suspect they had any idea Nadia was in Ukraine. The second might be one or more men who favored the use of boomerangs. Their ethnic origin was unclear.

The driver said, “Unclear but certain.”

Simeonovich grunted in agreement.

“What does that mean?” Nadia said.

“Boomerangs are used to herd reindeer in Siberia,” Simeonovich said. “Your angel is most likely Siberian. Quite possibly a Yakut from the Yakutia Republic. They are great herders. Experts with the boomerang.”

Nadia glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “You’re from Siberia, too? Chukotka, wasn’t it?”

Simeonovich crinkled his brow as though amused by her implication he might know the angel. “Yes. Chukotka is near Yakutia. I’m sure this man and I would have been practically neighbors, if it weren’t for the fact that Yakutia is the world’s largest subnational territory, and only slightly smaller than India.”

“Point taken,” Nadia said. “Now tell me why you think I might not want you to take me to see Ksenia Melnik?”

“Because she’s dead.”

“What?”

“Robbery-homicide.”

Nadia felt deflated. Her best lead gone. “That’s a bit coincidental, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Who’s to say? Such acts of violence are not uncommon. A delivery man sees something valuable. A break-in follows. These criminals are not the smartest men in the library. They assume the woman is gone, but in fact she’s still there.”

“Wait,” Nadia said. “She had a son. Bobby told me so. His name is—”

“Denys. Denys Melnik. We’re going to go have a chat with him now.”

Nadia checked her watch. “It’s only 5:20 a.m.”

“He’s an early riser.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because we’re going to wake him up.”

CHAPTER 30

T
HEY DROVE TO
Kyiv. A winding road revealed cobblestone streets, old mansions, and monuments. Nadia recognized Podil, the oldest part of Kyiv. She remembered her dinner at the River Palace, Simmy’s private club. The circumstances had been equally daunting. Bobby had been facing life in prison on a murder charge. Simmy had hired her to analyze a company for him and she couldn’t refuse. She’d needed the money. At the same time, it created an opportunity for her to go back to Chornobyl and unravel the mystery behind the murder charge. But as ominous as the prospect of Bobby at Rikers Island jail had been at the time, this was even worse. At least there was a rule of law in America, even in one of its more notorious jails. In Russia, anything could happen. There was no roll call for inmates in the morning. Bobby could vanish if the wrong people found out he was following Genesis II.

They arrived at a Victorian home on a hilltop above the River Dnipro.

“How old is he?” Nadia said.

“Nineteen.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s going to inherit the equivalent of 210,000 dollars from his mother’s death, and her generous pension. He’s set for a few decades. He can live in her apartment and pursue his dream of making it to the PHL.”

“PHL?”

“Ukrainian Professional Hockey League,” Simmy said.

Nadia’s head snapped toward him. “Hockey?”

“Very popular in Ukraine and Russia. Thousands of boys play as children in hope of making the pros. I know your boy Bobby is an accomplished player. I wouldn’t be quick to draw any conclusions just because this kid plays amateur hockey.”

“I wasn’t drawing any conclusions. Just noting the coincidence. Both boys hung around Arkady Shatan. Both play hockey.”

Simmy shrugged.

“What else?”

“There’s no record of Denys Melnik being treated for radiation illness.”

“You’re sure?” Nadia said.

“Yes. The records have been computerized. One of my team analyzed them earlier this morning.”

“Even if he wasn’t treated, he hung around the office, and he was his mother’s son. She could have talked. He might know more than he’s willing to share. Or, he might not be willing to share what he knows.”

“He’ll share what he knows,” Simmy said. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Simmy’s confidence buoyed Nadia’s spirits. For the first time since she’d met Bobby two years ago and endured a harrowing trip back to the States with him, she had a powerful, resourceful man at her side. Not that Johnny wasn’t resourceful. But Simmy was rich. There was resourcefulness, and then there were
resources
. There was no substitute for the latter when one needed to extract information and travel quickly across a continent.

Nadia started to get out of the car, but Simmy pulled her back in.

“My men will make sure he’s awake and dressed properly.” He winked. “They’ll even put a pot of coffee on. Then we can go inside in a civilized manner.”

Ten minutes later they sat in a parlor facing a frazzled teenager in a t-shirt and warm-up pants. Denys sat in a dining room chair that had been placed in front of a sofa. Slippers covered his otherwise bare feet. That was interesting, Nadia thought, because it suggested a certain amount of finesse on the part of Simmy’s crew. Did the boy slip them on, or did they insist he sit before them with feet covered? He’d appeared more irritated than afraid when Nadia and Simmy walked in, at least until he saw the oligarch’s face. Then his expression turned to one of awe and disbelief.

Simmy stretched his palm out toward the sofa. “May we sit down?”

The boy nodded, jaw agape.

Nadia and Simmy sat on the sofa. The two men who’d come in first stayed in the kitchen. The smell of coffee wafted into Nadia’s nostrils. She sniffed twice to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. She wasn’t. They really were making coffee.