“In one second comes giant power surge, more than 530 megawatts. What cause surge? Some say is design of control rods; displace coolant. Less coolant is allowing more fission, thus more power. Another big question: Does power surge come after Toptunov press button or does Toptunov panic at spike in power? Who can say?” Dennis shrugged.
“Now everything happening very fast, maybe one or two seconds. Spike in power make big increase in temperature inside reactor. Make big big steam. Steam pressure is going crazy. Pressure is breaking fuel channels, causing control rods still going in to getting stuck,” punching his palm with his fist to show the control rods getting stopped. “Control rods is breaking. Jammed. Now control rods not moving, stuck partway into core, partway out. No control rods in bottom of core is meaning zero control down there. This make thermal energy in bottom of core go very very high. Steam explode!” splaying his fingers open to convey an explosion. “Explosion so big it ripping two thousand ton steel plate riveted to top of reactor fly like champagne cork. Bang!” slapping his hand loudly on the table, startling them.
“Two seconds later comes second explosion. Nuclear excursion in core. Is baby nuclear bomb. Boom!” Slapping his hand again on the table and holding up a fist. “Explosion is blowing radioactive dust from core, from pieces of walls and ceilings in building into sky. Is very bad. But,” holding up a finger, “now is getting worse.
“Explosion exposes graphite control rods in air; they are catching fire. Now burning pieces of building is flying up in sky. Fire is burning in Reactor 4 building; also burning pieces make fire on roof of Reactor number 3. Both buildings is burning. Fire is sending big smoke of radioactivity fallout in sky. Cloud of smoke and dust equivalent for radioactivity to four hundred Hiroshima bombs. Wind blow on radioactivity in cloud. Is going over all Europe. This is Chernobyl.”
Dennis jumped down from the table.
“Come,” he said. “We go see reactor.”
He handed each of them a dosimeter with an LED screen and helped them pin it on. Another tour guide, Gennadi, came in to join them. He would be taking the others. Scorpion had booked Dennis exclusively for the entire day. Dennis cautioned them about radioactive hot spots. They were not to wander off or go anywhere without his or Gennadi’s okay.
“How much radiation was there when it happened?” Mrs. Dowd, the American, asked as they started to leave the room.
“Was 5.6 roentgens per second. Is equivalent twenty thousand roentgens exposure in one hour. These workers stay. Very brave. They trying put water in for cooling core, but is no good.”
“How bad is that? That level of radiation,” Mr. Dowd asked.
“Fatal is five hundred roentgens in five hours. You get five hundred you die. First five hours they get 100,000. Is plenty bad,” Dennis said.
The others got into a minivan with Gennadi by the gray metal monument to the firefighters who had fought the blaze at the reactor buildings and paid for it with their lives. Scorpion got into the passenger seat in Dennis’s old Lada. Dennis climbed in and they drove off.
“Why you pay separate tour? Is all same,” Dennis said.
“I like privacy,” Scorpion replied.
Dennis shrugged. “Here was village,” he said, pointing at empty fields and bare trees as he drove. “Was bulldozed after accident. Put under soil brought in. You want take picture?”
Scorpion shook his head. He wasn’t sure when to broach what he really wanted or how to get Dennis to go along. His instinct cautioned him to wait. They drove down the empty road till they saw the smokestacks, construction cranes, and buildings of the reactors looming over the line of trees. Dennis’s handheld Geiger counter, which had been beeping regularly, started beeping faster. When they got closer, Scorpion saw the reactor buildings surrounded by electrical towers and power lines. They pulled up in a parking area next to the minivan.
The others were standing by a sculpture of a pair of giant hands holding something in front of the concrete sarcophagus that had been built over the destroyed Reactor 4 building. They were posing for pictures. Dennis’s Geiger counter was beeping rapidly. He showed Scorpion. The LED read .883.
“Is okay for picture, but then we going inside the Zhytla,” the Shelter, pointing to a nearby building. “You want picture?”
“Let’s just go on to Pripyat,” Scorpion said.
“The others going,” Dennis said, pointing to the people filing into the building. “You get nice picture of reactor building from window inside.”
“Let’s go,” Scorpion said, walking back to the Lada.
“You not care Chernobyl. What you wanting, mister?” Dennis said, getting back behind the wheel.
“I want to see Pripyat,” Scorpion said.
“Sure. Is interesting,” Dennis said, backing out and driving down the road. He stopped the car in the middle of the road. “Rush hour in Pripyat,” he joked, the road empty for as far as could be seen. He pointed to an empty snow-covered field bordered by stunted trees. “Here is Rudyi Lis, famous Red Forest. Is called because after accident, trees is turning red from radiation. No more green.”
“Where are the trees?”
“Bulldozers is burying trees. Is gone. These new trees replanted,” indicating the stunted trees. “Don’t grow so good.”
They started driving again. Soon they were at the entrance to the city of Pripyat. A concrete sign read: ПРИПЯТЬ 1970. Pripyat 1970. Dennis drove onto a bridge over a frozen river, decaying half-sunken boats and rotting piers trapped in the river ice, then stopped.
“On night of accident, stream of colored light is shooting up in sky from reactor. Beautiful colors, millions blue and red sparks spraying up like fountain in sky. Is so beautiful, people in Pripyat is coming out of house to see. Some is coming on this bridge. But beautiful colors is ionized air. Everyone on bridge who is seeing colors is becoming dead,” he said, lighting a cigarette.
He drove off the bridge, past an abandoned train station and into the center of the city. The streets were empty except for the occasional rusting car or tree growing up through the asphalt, most of it covered by snow. There were abandoned buildings with their broken windows everywhere. One of the high buildings was topped by the concrete hammer and sickle of the old Soviet Union. Dennis stopped the car in the middle of the street near the central town square and they got out.
It was very cold, the sky leaden. They were in the middle of a city without a single person. Trees and shrubs had grown out of the pavement, their branches growing through broken windows and cracks in building walls. Scraps of old newspapers were blown by the wind through the snow-covered streets. It felt like the end of the world.
A wolf walked out of an apartment building. It showed no alarm at the sight of them. It looked at them for a moment, then walked away. From somewhere came the sound of a shutter banging in the wind. Not far from where they stood, they could see a Ferris wheel above the tree line.
“Children’s amusement park,” Dennis said. “You want see?”
They walked to the amusement park. Near the entrance, Dennis brushed away snow over a patch of moss on the ground and laid the Geiger counter on it. It nearly went ballistic, beeping furiously. The LED screen showed 2.651.
“Vegetation worse than asphalt. Don’t touch,” Dennis said. “You sit on ground, you fry balls. No babies. Maybe babies with three heads,” he joked.
“What about the animals? How are they doing?”
“Who can say?” Dennis said. “We see many animals, but no one knows nothing. They send robot with camera into reactor. Find walls covered with strange black fungus. Like no fungus on earth. This fungus mutate to exist on radiation only. Imagine.”
They walked through the park, filled with broken, rusting rides. The metal chairs from the Ferris wheel swayed and creaked in the wind. “Children park never used. Park is schedule to open two, three days after accident. People had to run, leave city forever. Come,” he said.
They walked to the hotel.
&n
bsp; “Best hotel in town, but for you is room. Make good price,” Dennis joked. “We go top. Best view.”
They went inside the lobby. There was broken glass everywhere. Walls were torn open with holes where scavengers had removed pipes. Snow had blown in and branches from vines and trees had threaded their way into the hotel through broken windows. Scorpion followed Dennis up the stairs to the top floor. They went to the penthouse suite. The rooms were bare except for an old armchair, its upholstery torn and rotting, and a cracked and tilted picture of Lenin on the wall. All the windows were broken. Icicles dangled from the windowsills and a drift of snow had blown in onto the floor. They looked out over the city through a broken panoramic window. From where they stood they could see the reactor and smokestack and cranes sticking above the tops of the apartment houses in the distance.
Scorpion started to sit in the armchair.
“Don’t!” Dennis said, and put the Geiger counter on the chair. It read 1.397. “We go.”
“Wait,” Scorpion told him. “Let’s stay a while.”
“This is not good place to stay. What you want, mister? Is not tour.”
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Someone here? In Pripyat? Cannot be. Only crazy peoples live in Exclusion Zone.”
“Maybe he’s crazy.”
“Maybe you crazy, mister. We go now,” Dennis said, starting for the open doorway.
“How much do you make?” Scorpion called after him.
Dennis stopped and looked at him.
“What you think, mister? I like radioactive? I think zona nice place? You think I not know I get cancer someday? I was English teacher. I make fifteen hundred hryvnia in one month. Now I am tour guide; with tips I am making more than double; three, four thousand.”
“I’ll give you five thousand just for today,” Scorpion said, taking out a wad of money. Dennis looked suspiciously at the money. “What is this?”
“Five thousand,” Scorpion said, holding it out.
After a long moment Dennis came over, took the money and stuck it in his pocket.
“Okay, what you for sure want?” he asked.
“I’m looking for a man. His first name is Dimitri. I won’t tell you the rest. He would have come sometime within the last four or five days. I have reason to believe he’s somewhere in the Exclusion Zone. Have you heard of anyone coming here recently?”
“No,” Dennis said. “But I am guide. I come, go. Best to asking Pani Mazhalska.”
“Who’s she?”
“Old woman. She is knowing all samosely, is what they call squatters in zona. Lives alone in village, Krasnoe, in little hut in forest.”
“Like Baba Yaga,” Scorpion said, trying a joke, mentioning the old witch in Russian fairy tales.
“Is no joke. People say she has ‘the bad eye,’ ” Dennis said, shifting uncomfortably.
“What about Pripyat? Is it possible he’s hiding in an abandoned apartment here?”
Dennis took off his fur cap and scratched his head.
“Is possible. But radioactive in Pripyat not good. Too high.”
“We’re here.”
“Not for days and nights. Also, Pripyat was city of fifty thousand. Many buildings here. How you find someone?”
“I figured we’d wait till dark. See if we could spot any lights. He’d need heat and light,” Scorpion said.
“Wait in hotel?” Dennis said.
Scorpion shook his head. “Other tourists might come. This was the first place you took me. Besides, we need to move the car. It’s best if he doesn’t know we’re looking for him.”
“He don’t want to be found, this guy?”
“He’s hiding in the zona. What do you think?”
They walked down the stairs. Outside, they saw the other tourists, the Dowds and the Germans following Gennadi into a school. The Dowds and the Germans waved and they waved back. Scorpion and Dennis got into the Lada and started to drive through the empty streets.
“I know place behind Palace of Culture. We put car. No one see.”
“What about Gennadi and the others?”
“They think we go back Chernobyl.”
They parked next to a shed behind the Palace of Culture, a large building covered with bare trees and shrubs that had sprouted through the concrete. They walked from the car toward an apartment building near the center of the city.
“You don’t want this guy see car. Is dangerous?”
“It could be.” If Shelayev was Spetsnaz-trained, as Scorpion suspected, he was plenty dangerous. Not to mention the skull-crushing.
Dennis stopped walking.
“Maybe five thousand not enough,” he said.
“Maybe it isn’t, but it’s all you’re getting,” Scorpion said, and kept walking. He spotted Gennadi’s minivan moving through the trees and motioned Dennis to take cover with him behind an abandoned kiosk. They watched the minivan drive away. It was like watching the last vestige of civilization leave, he thought.
They resumed walking toward the tall apartment house. The wind had come up. They could hear the same shutter banging. In another hour or so it would be getting dark. They went into the lobby of the apartment house, the floors as usual covered with snow and broken glass and vegetation growing inside, and climbed the stairs to the top floor.
The door to an apartment overlooking much of the city was missing. It had a balcony with a tree growing in the center of it, its branches extending into the living room. They walked through, stepping carefully on the broken glass. This was no place to get a cut.
There was a broken child’s highchair on its side in the kitchen. In another room they found a discarded Misha bear, stuffing coming out of it, lying on the floor. Whoever once lived here had children, Scorpion thought. Dennis put the Geiger counter to the bear. It registered 3.816. No wonder it had been left behind by scavengers. A yellowing magazine on the floor showed a smiling Gorbachev on the cover. Dennis checked the apartment with the Geiger counter. It averaged 1.05 overall; about as good as they were going to get.
After checking an area of the floor with the Geiger counter, they squatted down. Dennis lit a cigarette. Scorpion retrieved the bottle of Nemiroff from his backpack and they each took a swig.
“This guy,” Dennis said. “What he do to you?”
“Nothing. It’s business.”
“Business you risking life for? Is not business,” Dennis said. “He take your woman?” he asked.
Scorpion shook his head. No, but he took Pyatov’s woman, he thought. That might have been the whole problem right there. He took out the button camcorder—a video camcorder disguised as a coat button—and clipped it to his outer jacket. He set it up to record to a flash drive that he put in an inside pocket. Dennis watched.
“What is this?”
“Video camcorder. I’m a lawyer. I need to take this man’s testimony in a case.”
Dennis’s eyes showed he didn’t believe him. Outside, it was getting dark. In winter in this part of the world, night came early. A hawk landed on the tree on the balcony and stared at them. Scorpion stood and it flew away. He walked over to the balcony and looked out at the city. The buildings were becoming dark shapes. He felt Dennis come beside him.
“We need a 360 degree view,” Scorpion said. “Let’s go up on the roof.” They gathered their things and went up. It was colder in the wind. Scorpion stood on the roof slowly rotating to see in every direction. There was nothing. It was a ghost city. Then Dennis nudged him.
“Look,” he said, pointing toward the apartment building with the hammer and sickle symbol on the roof, its outline only dimly visible in the darkness. There was a light glimmering. Scorpion took out his binoculars. The light appeared to be coming from a lantern or a candle in an apartment on the top floor. He put the binoculars back in his pack and got out the Glock. Dennis stared at the gun.
“Time to go,” Scorpion said.
Chapter Thirty-One
Pripyat,
Chernobylska
Exclusion Zone
The danger point would be crossing the empty street and the area in front of the building in full view of Shelayev or whoever was in that apartment. Up till then they kept close, moving in the shadows of the buildings. Scorpion had Dennis shut off the Geiger counter beeper. It helped that they wore dark clothes and there were no streetlights of any kind. To be in this city at night was bizarre; a ghost world of ice and darkness, Scorpion thought, forcing his mind back to the target. He had to assume Shelayev was armed. Unless he caught him by surprise, the situation would go out of control as fast as Chernobyl had.
Scorpion studied the building. There was a drift of snow by the front entrance. He put his night vision goggles on and looked for footprints in the snow. There weren’t any. That either meant there was no one there, which wouldn’t explain the light, or that Shelayev had used another entrance. Scorpion looked up at the apartment on the top floor where they had seen the light. He could see no movement. Nothing. There was nothing for it, he thought. They had to cross the street.
Dennis looked up at the building.
“Maybe I go wait in avto,” he said, meaning the Lada.
“Maybe you leave me stranded here with no way to get back,” Scorpion said.
“I am not liking.”
“Neither do I. You want to give me back the five thousand?”
Dennis didn’t say anything. In his mind, Scorpion thought, he’d already spent that money. He nudged Dennis, motioning him to follow. They ran across the street, nearly slipping on the frozen snow.
Dennis followed him to the side of the building. Keeping close to its walls, they went around to the rear entrance. Through the night vision goggles, Scorpion spotted footprints in the snow by the rear entrance. He heard Dennis breathing as he came up behind him. The obvious choice was to go in the back entrance and up the stairs. But Shelayev was Spetsnaz, he thought. He would likely reason that if someone trained was coming after him, they would come in the back way. They had passed a steel fire escape on the side of the building. Scorpion decided to go in that way. He started back toward the fire escape, motioning Dennis to follow.
Scorpion Winter Page 20