“It’s possible, but…” He held her tighter, must have felt her ready to run back to the one-eyed man. “Who lines Dr. Orlen’s pockets? Who lies in the next bed over? You must be more careful.” Baba would have said the same. “And if you’re right, at least we know they likely made it to Kiev. They’re alive.”
“Then you agree, you think I need to speak to him as soon as possible?”
“I think you can’t be so conspicuous. What we should do is watch that one-eyed man, wait for someone to come for him and question his visitor.”
“What if he dies?”
“Someone will come either way, dead or alive. Someone loved him enough to bring him here. They’ll come back.”
She took a deep breath, and tears started before she even realized she was crying. “Vanya.” He wouldn’t be able to defend himself, not if someone came at him with a fury like the one-eyed man must have faced. “Sasha, what if my brother is hurt?”
“We’re close.” Sasha sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around her, whispering into her hair. “We’ll find them.”
VIII
You’re just in time,” Dima said. “I was about to give up on you.” He stood at the charred tree in front of the dacha, the one struck by lightning after the eclipse. Ilya stood across from him, his boots deep in mud. His pitted skin. His brown eyes. All of him looked darker than before, like he was scared to be there, worse than a green sailor facing his first storm.
“Give me the equations and the photos,” Ilya said. His voice shook.
“It was good you stayed away.”
“I had no choice.”
Dima could see the purse hanging under Ilya’s shirt. The idiot, had he learned nothing? Dima pulled out his knife and pointed to the bulge. “It’s all there? All the money?”
“Every kopeck.”
“Where’s Kir?”
“In Kovno.”
“His men?”
“With him in Kovno. I’m alone. Just as you requested.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
Ilya looked over his shoulder, then back at Dima. “I heard there was a fight here. And I see your bruises. Your knuckles.”
“It’s over.”
“I heard talk. Vanya, he was beaten? How bad?”
“He’s dead.” Ilya blinked. Swallowed. His face went ashen. Dima continued, “The villagers thought the eclipse was a curse. They killed him. Said the Jew had brought it on them.”
“Professor Abramov’s dead?” The man looked as if he could barely stand. Was it possible he really cared for Vanya?
“Dead as dead can be.”
“Vanya’s sister.” Ilya turned to the side and wiped his eyes. “I received a report that she’s missing. She left with a cousin, a neighbor said. A man. An injured soldier. Someone no one had ever seen before. They escaped with her grandmother while one of the guards at their house was asleep. Kir thought they were all heading to Saint Petersburg, but only the grandmother arrived.”
“You think she’s dead, too, the sister?”
“What else can I think? Their neighbors, bakers, another family I helped, were killed for conspiring against the czar. Now Vanya’s dead. And Miriam’s missing. What else can it be—she’s dead, too.”
“Get a hold of yourself. It’s only a couple of Jews.” Dima forced a smile. “I’m proposing a new deal. Yesterday, you saw the rain? The clouds? There are no photographs. They couldn’t take any in that weather.”
Ilya sniffled and straightened his shoulders. “No photographs?”
“None.”
“But Kir…”
“Will understand. No one has them. It was impossible.”
“But you have the equations?”
“Of course I have those. But you heard about the American who ran away?” Dima watched Ilya nod as he continued talking. “He was a coward. Tried to steal Vanya’s notebook. I stopped him. Gave him a fake copy.”
“Then hand over the real one. I’ll pay what we agreed to in the alley in Riga.”
“No, you’ll hand me all of it. Every kopeck in your purse.”
“I can’t. Kir would kill me for that, for paying so much without the photographs.”
“And he’ll kill you if you come back empty-handed. I’m sure you’ll find a way to explain. For all I’ve gone through, as I see it, you’re getting a bargain.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself. Go back to Kir empty-handed or pay me and get what you need.”
It wasn’t until Dima had his money and Ilya had the notebook, had made his way back down the road, and dropped out of sight, that Dima saw Yuri. The doctor wasn’t even trying to hide. He was standing in plain sight, ten paces away, fury in his eyes. “How long have you been there?” Dima asked.
“Long enough,” Yuri replied. “How long have you been working for Ilya? Or should I say Kir? It’s Kir pulling the strings, isn’t it?”
“I’ve been protecting you from Kir.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Dima didn’t like the sound of Yuri’s voice. And he’d seen the doctor take an eye, pop it clear out of a man’s head with his bare hands. No, Yuri wasn’t someone he should underestimate, not someone he’d dare lie to.
“I met Ilya the day I met you and Vanya. While you two were in one of your hotels.” The doctor could have him in one lunge. He stepped back. “I have a plan.”
“A plan to make yourself richer?”
“No. A plan for Vanya.” He could see Yuri didn’t trust him, not one bit. Dima couldn’t blame him for it. “If you don’t believe me, you can go after Ilya. Take the notebook back. But you’ll see it’s a fake.”
“A fake? Like the one you said Clay took? Who made all these fakes?”
“I did.”
“Stop with all the lies.” The doctor’s voice was as cold as it had been when he took the eye, and Dima watched him curling his hands into fists. The sailor took another step back. “You’re a traitor. I want you to leave. Now.”
“Can’t you see I’m helping?” Dima stumbled in a puddle. “Will you listen to my plan?”
“Go!” Yuri spit on the ground at Dima’s boots. Dima startled—and ran.
IX
An hour after she’d been dragged away from the patient with one eye, Miri found Anya and Dr. Orlen huddled together in the small kitchen, drinking tea. Miri thought she should apologize but what she needed most was to prevent any further conversation about what had happened. Before she could say a word, Anya smiled. “No need to say anything. These are difficult times for everyone,” she said. “Go back to your patients. We’ll forget it happened. But don’t try to see that man again.”
Miri wasn’t willing to risk objecting. She’d sneak in later instead. And so she returned to the paupers’ ward and concentrated on the women in front of her. Pushing aside her worries for her own safety, and Sasha’s, and her fears for Yuri, Vanya, and even the one-eyed man, she plunged herself into her work. By the time she was done, it was late. A lamplighter perched on his ladder was polishing glass before he struck the flames. And it was quiet. Orlen had gone home. Anya was nowhere to be seen.
Miri hurried to the men’s ward hoping the man was awake and not being watched by a nurse, or that Sasha had seen someone, anyone, come for him. But when she walked in, the cot by the door where he was supposed to be was empty. “Where is he?”
“Shhhh. He’s dead,” Sasha said. He sat in a chair nearby, watching.
“Dead?” She shook her head. “Did you see anything?”
“No one came. He died. They took him away. He didn’t wake up to say anything more.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I watched him all day—for you. And the walls here are thin. I can hear the nurse at the desk. No one’s asked about a one-eyed man.” He stopped. “Miriam, you’re exhausted. There’s nothing to do now. We should both get some sleep. We’ll look for information in the morning. Maybe someone will come tomorrow.”
“The trail could be cold by
then. I can’t wait.” She stopped and shook her head. “And I don’t know if you’ll be well enough to help tomorrow.”
“Anya already told me she expected me out of that cot in the morning.”
“You won’t be ready.” She gestured toward his stitched shoulder, but even as she did, she knew she was only stalling because as soon as he was well enough, they’d share the room upstairs. And yes, she’d slept next to him before, but this would be different. Even if one of them took the floor, they would be sharing their room. Their locked door. She’d have to tell Yuri. Unless she could find them before then.
“Go to sleep,” she said.
She walked him back to his cot and then hurried as fast as she could toward the foyer. No, there was no way she’d wait for morning. Sasha was right. Someone loved that one-eyed man enough to bring him into the hospital. And they weren’t likely to disappear before knowing what happened to him.
She slipped outside. A bald beggar asked her for a kopeck. She gave him her last one. “Where can I find a poor family waiting for a patient?”
“Public house down there. Barkeep’s soft. Offers food if you’ll clean for him.”
Miri hurried. She knew it was dangerous to go alone, but she was used to rougher crowds. They were her patients. And she had her dagger. She hoped to walk in unnoticed, to ask the barkeep if he’d met anyone who’d left a one-eyed patient at the hospital.
She opened the door slowly. A man accosted her even before she could get her bearings. “What’s a lady like you doing here?” He stood two heads shorter than Miri and stank of vomit.
“I’m from the hospital.” She tried to push past. He wouldn’t move. “Get out of my way.”
“Think I need an examination, do you?” He smiled, revealing a black hole of a mouth. Miri felt everyone in the room watching her. She was a fool, she realized now, to think she could come to a place like this on her own. The only other women present were prostitutes. The toothless man grabbed her wrist.
“Let go.” She tried to pull away.
“Leave her be,” another man yelled. He elbowed his way through the crowd. He wore a dark apron and a clean shirt. He must have been the barkeep. “Back to your vodka,” he yelled at the man who’d stopped Miri. When he didn’t listen, the barkeep raised a wooden baton, and then the toothless man scurried to a table. “Are you lost?”
“No. A man came to the hospital. He couldn’t have walked in on his own. I’m looking for the family that brought him.”
“Lots of men who can’t walk get dropped at that hospital.”
“This one was missing an eye. Do you know anything?”
“Depends. Can you pay?” He held out his hand.
“Later,” she said. “When I have proof your information is good.”
The barkeep laughed. “You don’t have a kopeck,” he said, shaking his head. “Lvov!” A boy scrambled out from the crowd, holding a tray. “See she makes it safe back to the hospital.”
X
Yuri held a spoon to Vanya’s mouth. “Please, brother, drink.” It was hot soup. Vanya’s tongue burned, but that pain was less than he felt in the rest of his limbs. He drank.
If he’d heard correctly, then Clay had stolen his notebook. But that didn’t matter. Not much. He hadn’t solved anything. What did matter were the photographic plates—but Clay had those, too, Yuri said. He had to because they were missing, and by the way he ran off, Vanya knew Yuri was right. The American would never honor his promise, would never give Vanya credit for anything. Vanya should have known not to trust that man. Hadn’t he learned from Kir? Oh, he was a fool. Baba taught him to always have a backup plan in place, an escape route ready. How soon until he was strong enough to leave, to go after Clay? He let his eyes close again.
“Stay with me,” Yuri said. Vanya wanted to tell him it hurt too much, that he was tired, but he couldn’t. “I know there’s pain. Even when patients can’t talk, they can listen. Should I tell you a story about Miri?” Yuri sniffled. “Yes, I think it’s a good time to talk about her.” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’ll tell you about the first time I saw your sister. The instant I laid eyes on Miri, I knew I had to marry her. She came for an interview. The other doctors refused to see her. But I’d worked with a female surgeon in Zhytomyr. She was a fierce and brilliant woman, more capable than many of the men. And from your sister’s written exams, it was clear she was more than qualified.
“Within minutes of her arrival I had spilled the ink on my desk. You always tease me for being formal, but I was too scared to tell her the mistake was mine, not hers. I froze at the sight of her. Never had a woman affect me like that. Never. I should have apologized, but there wasn’t a single clear thought in my head. And her eyes, those gorgeous green eyes, went wide with fear. That such a small accident could be the end of her career is ridiculous, but I knew it was what she was thinking. For a man it would mean nothing, but for a woman—she was right.” Yuri dropped his chin to his chest.
“I’d already decided I’d take her as my student. I’d teach her everything she needed to know. I wanted her to be mine. To be my wife. Have you ever met a woman who made you feel that way? I sound like a madman, but I’m being honest.”
No, Vanya thought. He’d never felt that kind of passion. Not for a woman, not for anything but his work. His notebook—was it really gone?
“I told her I’d only moved to Kovno a few years earlier. And I wanted to tell her more. That I was a coward. An awful, terrible coward.” Yuri paused. “It must be hard to believe that I wanted to say so much in that first instant. Me, a man who keeps to himself. But with Miri, it was different. It’s always been different.”
Vanya didn’t see the tears on Yuri’s face, but he heard him crying. He heard the scrape of a handkerchief against stubble. He wanted to hold out his hand, tell Yuri it would be okay, but he couldn’t move. Yuri continued, “I never told her the whole story. As much as I wanted her to know everything, I couldn’t. I tried, but I didn’t have the courage.
“It was the way she looked at me. She looks through all of us, Vanya, doesn’t she? Past the pretenses and lies. And she understands. She listens. Her willingness to listen, it filled a hole. I didn’t know how deep and jagged it was until she came. I love her more than anything.” She’s lucky to have you, Vanya wanted to say. Yuri’s voice began to fade.
XI
Come back to me,” Yuri said. He patted Vanya’s face with a wet towel. “Come back. Has Miri told you about my parents?”
All Vanya could manage was a blink.
“My mother sent me to live with my uncle when I was ten years old,” Yuri said. “In Zhytomyr.” He told Vanya about his uncle pushing him to earn his way, his aunt teaching him piano. About the youth group. He told Vanya he’d been trained to fight. Yuri walked over to the window. His creaking shoe was as loud as ever, telling Vanya exactly where he was. “I didn’t want to be a doctor. Not like your sister. I wish I shared her devotion to medicine.” He paused. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a pianist. And I had it, for a split second. Then it was gone.
“If I’d invited my family to my concert, they would have come and then they wouldn’t have been in Zhytomyr when the pogrom started. When I told Miri all of this, she tried to twist my story, to make me into someone I wasn’t. A brave man. A hero. A fighter. I’m none of that.”
Yuri fell into a terrible silence. The scratch of the house creaking in the wind was between them, the sound of old, bloated boards adjusting to the weather outside that was turning toward winter. “I’ve already broken. I couldn’t protect you. I took a man’s eye, and I left Miri just like I left my family—alone. And now, well, there’s no reason to hold it back anymore, is there?” Yuri asked. “You were right about me. From the beginning, you thought I was hiding something awful. I could see it in the way you looked at me. You never liked me. Well, now you’ll see who I am. Who I really am.
“When I heard the Russians, our neighbors, had killed my aunt and uncle, I
lost my mind. Vanya, I tell you. I saw madness in you, too, at the eclipse. Madness just like what I’d felt that night. I was blind with rage. My aunt and my uncle, they were my true parents, and they never deserved any of it. And that madness, it was lust for revenge. I told Miri when I returned to Zhytomyr I found my uncle’s house destroyed. I said I’d found my aunt and uncle dead in the ashes, but it’s not true.” He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath.
“The truth is when I got back to Zhytomyr, the pogrom was over. There was glass everywhere. Blood running through cobblestones like rain. I threw up. There were piles of books burning in the street. I even saw a lump of Torahs smoldering. The velvet covers held their shape while the parchment under them was dust. But my uncle’s house. It stood untouched. Worse, the windows blazed with light. For a split second, I thought, somehow, my aunt and uncle had survived, were waiting for me. But of course they weren’t. Behind the glass in the dining room, there were Russians in uniforms. Dancing. They’d shoved the table to the side. They’d slashed the paintings on the walls, the two my uncle was so proud of. And his books were all in the fireplace, burning. One of those disgusting men was sitting at my aunt’s piano, playing.
“My uncle and my aunt, their bodies lay in a heap inside the front gate. They were naked. Their eyes were wide open. I knew they were dead, but still I thought they had been looking for me. Waiting for me. Remember, I was touched by madness. I heard my aunt speak to me. ‘Revenge,’ she said.
“I covered them with a tarp and hid behind a tree in the yard. I watched the men inside drink all my uncle’s vodka and wine. Kosher wine. It was cold, but I was sweating. I waited.
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