The rusted Lada was now between Nikolai and the house. He pulled a scope from his pocket and looked through it, adjusting the optics to have a clear view of the porch. He moved it slightly up and down, left and right, then focused on the floorboards of the porch. What he saw was the answer to his earlier question of friend or foe. He put the Makarov down, pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed Karina’s number.
“Stay where you are and don’t even think of coming closer,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Just stay there. Things will get loud.”
He attached the scope to his Makarov and took one more look around, just to be sure. Before he did what he was about to do, he needed to be absolutely certain.
“Hello,” he said again in a loud voice. “It’s Nikolai. You said you have information for me.”
This time, he was certain there would be no answer. And there was not.
He lifted his Makarov, aimed at the floorboards on the porch, and fired twice rapidly, then twice more. Splinters of wood and board pieces flew up into the air with a metal on metal sound. Metal on metal, the sound was unmistakable. He was right. He crouched down and sat still. A second later, with a burst of bright light and a series of loud popping sounds, the door blew open, the blast ripping out the remainder of the porch and its floorboards. For a few moments, the wood segments seemed to be suspended in the air, then they rained down, forming a disfigured burnt heap in front of the gaping hole that used to be the entrance to the house.
The explosion was a forceful one and would have killed anyone who came up to the front door.
Anyone being Karina or me, Nikolai thought.
“No, no! What did you do?”
Nikolai turned to his left and saw Karina standing there, staring straight at him. She looked at the hole where the front door used to be, smoke still circling in the air in front of it, then at Nikolai. She was about to run towards the house when Nikolai stopped her.
“Karina, there’s nobody inside. The boys are not there. The door was booby-trapped. That’s why there was an explosion.”
“How did you know?” Karina sat on the ground next to him.
“I saw new floorboards on the porch, recently installed. Everything else looked old and derelict, and there was no reason to replace the floorboards in a house that looks like it’s about to fall in on itself. Not a worthwhile home improvement project, so I knew they put something under the boards to make them explode on impact.”
“Impact?”
“If anyone stepped on the porch, they would have been obliterated.” Nikolai caught a panicked expression on Karina’s face. “But nobody stepped there, so everything is fine.”
“What do we do now?” Karina asked.
“We go get your kids.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nikolai and Karina ran back to the car and jumped in. Nikolai backed out, turned around, and sped down the dirt road and out the gate. A few minutes later, they were back on the highway leading to the Sheremetyevo airport. Karina sat in the passenger’s seat, quiet and motionless, probably still shaken by the events at the abandoned house. Nikolai was driving as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on the road and his mind on the situation.
Soon, he saw the sprawling buildings of the Sheremetyevo Airport ahead. The airport had gone through major improvements over the last few years, with many more international flights added and new buildings constructed. The new Moscow mayor made this airport his pet project, turning the old barely functioning structure into a modern gleaming facility, with many amenities that foreign travelers were used to. With its express non-stop train that took passengers from the center of Moscow right into the airport, its many new restaurants, and improved check-in procedures, the airport was definitely up to international standards.
Nikolai was quite sure that the boys were still with Leonid, and he was also sure that Leonid was the one who sent that message to Karina, setting the trap. Now, he most likely counted on Nikolai being dead, killed by the explosion. That would have delayed Karina -- she did not drive -- and Leonid knew it. So, with Karina being presumably stuck at the house, what would be Leonid’s next step?
Think like them, think like the suspect, that was the mantra that Nikolai heard from his teachers back at the academy, and it was something that he often repeated to himself. Put yourself in Leonid’s shoes, Nikolai told himself. If you were trying to catch a flight out of Russia and had to get rid of two kids quickly, what would you do?
Nikolai slammed on the brakes as they approached the airport parking lot. He took the ticket from a sleepy attendant, parked as close to the entrance as he could, and together, he and Karina ran inside. Departures were on the second level, arrivals on the first, and there were almost unlimited options for dropping off the kids. There were multiple restaurants, cafes, seating areas, restrooms, and other facilities where it would be pretty easy for two kids to hide.
Think like them, Nikolai told himself again. If you were a kid, where you would hide? He realized the obvious flaw in this question almost immediately. These kids would not want to hide. Quite the opposite. They would want to run and tell somebody about their ordeal. They would want to be found, and they would want Leonid to be caught. In that case, Leonid would need to leave them in a place they could not easily escape from. Nikolai shook his head. There weren’t many places like that in the airport: no abandoned shacks or janitor closets. This was a heavily guarded and secure building. Nobody would be able to simply leave two kids anywhere unnoticed.
In the distance, boarding announcements were heard.
Nikolai picked up his pace. Karina ran next to him. Departures area was at the other end of a gigantic lobby, with multiple escalators, elevators, entrances, and hallways leading in and out of it. For a moment, Nikolai looked up and saw a large sign above. And just like that, he knew exactly what Leonid would do. He glanced at the electronic clock above the sign. They had five minutes.
“Let’s go!” He grabbed Karina’s hand and pulled her down one of the hallways, away from the departures area.
“Where are we going?” Karina said.
“To the express train.”
“Why?”
“Just run.”
They ran up the stairs, then down the wide ramp that led to the express train. When Nikolai saw a row of turnstiles, he let go of Karina’s hand and jumped over, entering the train boarding area. The train was stopped on the tracks, the light above blinking rapidly, indicating that it was about to depart. Nikolai ran down the train towards the last car, looking but not seeing what he had hoped to see. Did he make a mistake? And then, in the distance, he saw two small figures next to a larger one, Leonid’s red hair bright against the white doors of the train. Leonid pushed the two boys inside the train seconds before the doors closed, and the train started moving.
“Stop, or I will shoot!” Nikolai yelled. He did not pull his Makarov out, it would not have been a wise thing to do in the airport.
Startled, Leonid stopped for a moment. Almost immediately, armed security guards surrounded them. A second later, breathless Karina came running.
It took less than fifteen minutes for the police to arrive and arrest Leonid. And it took five more minutes for the security guard to call his colleagues at the Moscow station who promised to meet the boys and keep them safe until Karina arrived on the following train.
Chapter Thirty
The evening was warm, and the sun was still high in the sky. June nights in Moscow were long and bright, and Gorky Park stayed open late. Nikolai and Olga went through the massive entry gate, pushed through the turnstile and entered the open main square of the park. It felt smaller than in the times of their college days, mainly because of all the vendors who now occupied the perimeter of the square. The vendors sold meat and cabbage pierogi, American-style hamburgers, colorful balloons, ice-cream, and lottery tickets. Multiple paved paths led from the main square into the depths of the park. Nikolai led Olga away from al
l the noise and commotion, from the children racing to get to the huge roller-coasters -- American hills, they called it -- away from the spinning cups, from bumper cars and thrill caves. They followed a more narrow path, paved but not repaired recently, as evidenced by the cracks in the blacktop and a rusting fence in dire need of painting.
“I haven’t been here for years,” Olga said. “Things have changed.”
“Not as much as you think.”
The path curved around an old abandoned ice-cream stand and led them into an alley of birch trees that ended with a wooden boardwalk. At the bottom of the boardwalk was a ticket booth. In front of it was a hand-painted sign with the words, Grand Ferris Wheel tickets.
“It’s still here!” Olga said.
“Would you kids like to buy tickets?” said the booth attendant, an elderly man with a thick mane of silver hair and a long moustache. “With all the glitz around here, nobody ever wants to ride the Grand Ferris Wheel.”
It had been a while since Nikolai heard anyone refer to him as a kid. He smiled and handed the man in the booth the money.
“It’s still a great ride,” the man said as he gave Nikolai two tickets and got up from his chair. The three of them walked up the wooden steps to the loading platform. The Ferris wheel was now in front of them, and it was rotating slowly. Nikolai looked up. Only one of the gondolas was occupied. Two people were in it. It was too far to see but to Nikolai it looked like an older woman, probably a grandmother, and a young boy.
“Ready?” the attendant asked. The small round gondola with four seats and no safety belts was in front of them. The attendant opened the chain that served as the door of the gondola. Nikolai helped Olga get inside, and the man closed the chain behind them.
“Stay inside the gondola at all times and enjoy the ride,” he said.
Gently rocking, the gondola slowly moved up, away from the wooden platform, away from the ticket booth, up into the canopy of tall birches, then higher and higher. Far to the right, Nikolai could see the spinning cups, the American hills, and the flashing neon lights of the thrill cave.
“Thank you for giving me another chance,” Nikolai said.
“I missed you, too.” Olga smiled, her eyes sparkling in the warm evening light.
As the Ferris wheel slowly rotated, taking their gondola higher and higher, the park sounds faded. The view changed as well, with all the details fading into the background, and larger things coming into view. They were almost at the highest point now, and from here, Nikolai could see the golden domes of Christ the Savior Cathedral, the Ivan the Great bell tower, and the sparkling water of the Moskva River down below.
“I’m impressed that you solved that case, Nikolai,” Olga said. “But I’m still curious about one little detail.”
“What is it?”
“How did you know that Leonid would put the kids on the train?” Olga asked.
“I didn’t know, but I could not think of any other way he could get rid of them and escape. I figured that he would not have enough time to take them to some other location, so he would simply shove them inside that train. The express train does not stop for forty-five minutes, not until it gets to the center, so the boys would not be able to get off for a while.”
“But they could tell other passengers or use the emergency call button.”
“Unlikely,” Nikolai said. “They are young, and they were very scared. Leonid probably threatened them.”
“I’m glad they are safe now.”
“Me too,” Nikolai said.
For a moment, the gondola stopped at the top, allowing them to enjoy the view. Then, with the soft whirring of the motor, it started moving down.
“This is as much fun as I remember it,” Olga said.
“Some things never change,” Nikolai said, thinking about things that have changed in the last few years, and even in the last few days. He wondered if Grisha had ever taken his boys on a Ferris wheel ride.
“Will you still work for Roman?” Olga asked. “On his construction project?”
Nikolai nodded. “That was the plan to begin with.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
“Some people would say that Roman isn’t a nice guy, with all his financial cover-ups, bribes to judges, his buddies in jail on reduced sentences, and what not.”
“Is that what you think, too?” Nikolai asked.
“I don’t know.” Olga paused. “A few years ago, I would have thought that way, no doubt. Now, I see things differently. It’s about survival, isn’t it? And opportunity. He had the opportunity, and he took it. Who can blame him?”
Nikolai nodded slowly. “The way I see it, my job is to provide protection and safety. Financial machinations are none of my business.”
“But you really got involved in investigating Grisha’s murder. Why? You didn’t have to. And it wasn’t just because you were trying to protect Roman, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. Not to sound trite, but human life is precious, and anyone who takes it needs to be caught and brought to justice.”
Olga did not respond. The gondola was slowly descending, the sounds of the park became louder, and the wide panorama of Moscow disappeared in the tree canopy. The setting sun immersed the park in soft golden light. A few moments later, the gondola was level with the wooden boardwalk. The silver-haired attendant opened the chain and helped them out.
“Thank you for the ride,” Olga said.
“My pleasure. Come again soon and bring your children. They will enjoy it.”
“You may be right,” Nikolai said. Olga smiled. Nikolai wrapped his arm around her, and they continued along the path leading deeper into the park.
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About the Author
Julia Gousseva has a BA in English and French from Moscow State Linguistics University, a MA in English Language and Linguistics from the University of Arizona, and a PhD in Second Language Acquisition and Teaching from the University of Arizona.
She teaches Critical Reading and Creative Writing courses and writes fiction and non-fiction.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
In the Crosshairs: Russian Historical Thriller (Nikolai Volkov Book 2) Page 14