The Boy Who Stole From the Dead

by Orest Stelmach

  “What’s done?” Victor said.

  Johnny didn’t answer.

  “Your laundry?”

  “No.”

  “A transaction related to the boy’s case?”

  Johnny considered this for a moment. “I guess you can say that.”

  “I’ll ask you one more time. What’s done?”

  Johnny leveled his chin at Victor. “You’re done.”

  Victor laughed. “Really.”

  “Yes. Really.”

  Victor nodded at the twins. The Gun headed for the foyer to look out the front window. The Ammunition stepped to the rear to check the back door.

  “You have less than two minutes,” Johnny said. “You might still have a chance if you make a run for it now.”

  “Who am I running from?”

  “Now.”

  Victor smiled. “Let me give you some advice, Johnny.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never bluff a thief.”

  “I’m not bluffing.”

  Victor studied Johnny. Light perspiration dotted his forehead. Was he sweating because Victor and the twins were in his house, or because he was waiting for some plan to come to fruition?

  “Impossible,” Victor said, the word escaping his lips accidentally.

  “Not only is it possible. It’s done.”

  The twins returned.

  “Nothing,” the Gun said.

  “The back’s clear, too,” the Ammunition said.

  Johnny glanced at his watch. Some gaudy black thing with a face the size of a manhole cover. “The cops will be banging on both doors in less than a minute. This is your last chance.”

  A sense of apprehension seized Victor. It was an alien feeling, one that came to him in rare moments of self-preservation. The sensation infuriated him, as it suggested he may have been duped, which was the most horrific thought he could imagine other than his daughter or grandson getting injured. Who could have duped him? The ponytailed one? Impossible.

  “Do you play chess?” Victor said.

  “No. But I played checkers as a kid.”

  Relief washed over Victor. “Then I give you my congratulations. You had me doubting a second ago. You actually had me considering leaving your home without the locket. You had me scared. That is not an easy feat. Nicely done.”

  “Thank you,” Johnny said. “But I can’t take credit for all this. I had help.”

  Engines screamed in the distance. Victor thought his imagination might be running away from him. The noise grew louder. Victor glanced at Johnny with disbelief.

  Johnny had one foot stuck outside the table in case he needed to make a move. Victor realized the abomination wasn’t wearing tennis shoes because he was an American slob. He was wearing them in case he needed to run. In the unlikely event his plot was foiled and he needed to fight.

  The Gun ran to the front window. The Ammunition checked out the back door.

  “Cops,” they said.

  They ran back into the kitchen. Both of them had their guns bared. They pleaded with their eyes for instructions.

  Victor offered them a soothing expression and motioned for them to put the guns on the table.

  He turned to Johnny. “How did I miss this?”

  “Once, when Bobby was out on a date with Iryna, she went to the ladies’ room and left her cell phone on the table. Bobby checked the address book. There was a phone number for a Rotciv Randob.”

  “Rotciv Random,” the Gun said. “I know that name. Rotciv Random’s battle number three was a Super Mario game.”

  “I said Randob,” Johnny said. “Not Random.”

  “Rotciv Randob,” Victor said, “is Victor Bodnar spelled backwards.”

  “Bobby knew who you were from the year before. When you and your cousin Kirilo—the one you murdered in the butcher shop basement—chased him around the world. And once he saw your name spelled backward in her phone directory, he knew Iryna belonged to you all along.”

  Tires screeched. Doors opened outside.

  Victor said, “You seem to have forgotten the role I played in getting your witness to speak the truth.”

  “Who’s going to believe you? I’m not going to back up your story. The witness sure isn’t. It’s your word against ours. And who are you exactly? Are you even a proper citizen? I never shared anything confidential with you. If one of your boys took a look at one of my files while I was in the men’s room, that’s not on me. You came here tonight to threaten me. To extort my client’s private property. I’m protecting myself and my business.”

  Someone pounded on the front door. “Police.”

  Johnny stood up.

  More pounding, this time on the front and back doors.

  “You realize this isn’t over,” Victor said. “I survived the gulag. I will survive American prison.”

  “Ten to twenty is a long time,” Johnny said. “Good luck with that.”

  Victor thought of Tara and his grandson. Then he remembered his own words, the ones he’d spoken. If he’d survived the gulag, he could survive an American prison. But survival wasn’t enough. He’d be damned if he spent his last days in a prison cell away from his family. He needed to escape. Was that even possible? Everything was possible, he reminded himself, especially for a man who could disappear by standing sideways.

  Ten to twenty years implied he was about to be accused of a serious crime. But he’d never serve a year. He didn’t know how or when, but he’d make his escape.

  And then he would seek compensation from those who’d put him behind bars. The ponytailed lawyer and the son of the best confidence man the Soviet Union had ever seen.

  That’s who’d outsmarted him, he realized.

  A child.

  Two members of the Elizabeth Detectives Bureau and Narcotics Unit interviewed Johnny. After they left, he called the James brothers and thanked them for their help. They’d purchased five ounces of heroin from one of their old suppliers on Johnny’s behalf for nineteen thousand dollars. Then they’d planted the drugs underneath Victor’s Lincoln Town Car the night before. Victor parked on the street, and at 3:20 a.m., most Manhattan side streets were usually empty.

  Anyone caught with five grams of heroin in the state of New Jersey was charged with intent to sell. The cost had wiped out half of Johnny’s savings excluding his equity in his house but it was a bargain. The only other solution he could conjure was killing the twins and Victor and Johnny simply couldn’t contemplate it. He could rationalize putting murderers in a prison to protect Nadia. Couldn’t he? But taking a life—any man’s life—was an entirely different matter.

  He had two double bourbons to calm his nerves before he went to sleep. As he drifted, he comforted himself by reviewing the to-do list that defined his existence. He’d vowed to protect Nadia by removing Victor from her life. Bobby had set up Victor by telling Iryna he’d mailed the locket to Johnny, which was a lie. It was with his possessions in jail. Check. He’d promised to secure Bobby’s freedom. The DA wanted to talk. It was just a matter of time. Check. And he’d assured Nadia he’d find out the truth about the locket from Bobby. Check.

  There was nothing left to do but get the girl.

  CHAPTER 58

  NADIA AND MARKO returned home on Sunday. Marko drove home to Connecticut. Nadia dumped her bag in her apartment and burst into action. Her primary objective was to help secure Bobby’s freedom. Her secondary objective was the locket.

  Nadia called Johnny and told him everything she’d learned about Valentine’s past. She presented her evidence in a way that would help Johnny persuade the district attorney that the dead man had been a sociopath. She recounted Headmaster Darby’s stories of his horrific conduct at the Felshire School, and described his sordid relationship with his stepmother, Natasha. Both of those sources would verify that young Valentine ha
d been self-indulgent and ruthless. He was also an avid hunter with his father’s bent Cossack morals and quick temper.

  The district attorney was not surprised by Johnny’s revelations. He gave Johnny full discovery of the state’s case. It turned out Valentine had been arrested twice since moving to New York. Once for assaulting a female passenger who pushed him to get onto a crowded train, and a second time for threatening to kill a man for not thanking him for holding a restaurant door open for him.

  The Fordham hockey coach signed a sworn statement that he saw Valentine and Bobby collide in a hallway after a hockey game. Valentine reacted furiously, the coach said. The odd thing was that he appeared to have initiated the contact. Iryna corroborated the story after a brief discussion with Johnny, who offered to help her earn American citizenship as long as she stayed away from Bobby.

  The district attorney wasn’t sure which event incited Valentine—the girl’s rejection or the bump with Bobby. It didn’t matter. It was apparent that Valentine became obsessed with exacting a measure of revenge. He followed Bobby one night when he was going to meet Iryna for a date and attacked him. Bobby defended himself with the only weapon he had on his possession, a screwdriver. The district attorney asked Johnny why his client was carrying a screwdriver. Johnny responded with a sliver of truth. Bobby had been locked in a trunk as a child. The event had traumatized him, and he’d been carrying a flashlight and the tool that could have secured his release ever since. The kid had issues. Which of us was perfect? Johnny said.

  That was the only part of Bobby’s actual childhood that needed to be revealed. The witness saw the fight, watched Bobby walk away, and stole the knife and rifle. The latter showed the magnitude of Valentine’s sickness. It was as though he was hunting a human being, the district attorney said. He’d prepared himself to shoot from a distance or kill at close quarters. The district attorney also admitted his star witness was not a bastion of integrity. He’d earned a poor reputation during his brief stint as a cop, primarily for abuse of power. He’d been asked to leave the force or face an investigation for accepting a bribe. The witness had been clean since then, though he seemed to live beyond his means as a part-time security guard and actor.

  The district attorney dismissed the murder charge based on the self-defense law. The force the defendant used was immediately necessary. His life depended on it. The force used against the defendant was unlawful. Valentine was trying to kill Bobby. And the amount of force was appropriate. Valentine was trying to stab Bobby with a hunting knife. Bobby responded accordingly. It was unrealistic to expect him to not inflict potentially lethal damage.

  Bobby Kungenook was scheduled to be released four days after Nadia returned from Ukraine. Johnny never mentioned anything about Hart Island. The only evidence that Bobby had been there was his left shoe. It was destined to remain in the factory among the women’s shoes until the building was destroyed to extend the public cemetery. Bobby’s true identity and the incident in Chornobyl with Valentine and his parents were never revealed. The only people who knew his real name was Adam Tesla were Nadia, Marko, their mother, and Johnny.

  And Victor Bodnar. If he was still alive.

  Nadia thought of the old thief as she leaned against Johnny’s car waiting for Bobby to emerge from behind prison doors. She had an appointment with a radiobiologist later in the afternoon to review the chemical symbols inscribed in the locket. Johnny stood beside her.

  “You know what’s surprising?” Nadia said.

  “What?” Johnny said.

  “That Victor Bodnar didn’t turn up during all this.”

  Johnny didn’t say anything at first. “Victor Bodnar. Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Why are you worrying about him?”

  Nadia shrugged. “I’m not worrying. I’m just saying. I held my breath when he vanished last year, hoping he’d never turn up looking for some alleged debt for me to repay. For all I know, though, he may be back in Ukraine. Or he may be dead.”

  “Yeah,” Johnny said, staring at the prison doors. “Could be either of those. Or maybe something else happened to him. Whatever the case, you don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

  Johnny’s confidence struck a chord with Nadia. “You know something I don’t know?”

  “Yes. I know that life is on the upswing for you now. You should relax and enjoy it. Spend time with the people you care about. And care about you.”

  “Listen to you. Since when have you become so mellow?”

  “Time passes. A man looks around and sees what and who are important to him.” Johnny paused and looked into Nadia’s eyes. “Am I wrong?”

  Nadia smiled. They turned toward the prison doors. Smiling was a strange sensation. It wasn’t a momentary reaction to something funny. It was a smile based on hope. The expectation of happiness. She couldn’t remember when she’d last enjoyed the sensation.

  “No,” she said. “You’re not wrong. You’re right.” She thought of Simmy Simeonovich, imagined choosing his entrée in a New York City restaurant. “Could you imagine me dating a Russian billionaire? I can’t imagine what would be stranger. That he’s Russian, or that he’s so rich.” She glanced at Johnny.

  A shadow crossed his face. Nadia did a double take. Johnny? Jealous? Of someone who might want to date her? Preposterous. She’d met two of his girlfriends. They were to sex appeal as she was to the quadratic formula.

  “Somehow, I think you’ll get used to the money. As for the Russian part…” Johnny grinned. “Like I said. I think you’ll get used to the money.”

  Nadia laughed, as much at herself as at Johnny’s retort. Clearly her imagination had run away from her.

  Johnny broadened his grin. Nodded at the prison doors. “Look,” he said, stepping forward, away from Nadia. “Here comes our guy.”

  Bobby looked like he’d lost ten pounds and he’d never had any weight to lose in the first place. As he approached them he looked around. He appeared relieved that no one else was waiting for him. Media interest had faded since the initial headline. In New York, it usually did. There was always something more sensational on the horizon. Two reporters had showed up at court to hear the murder charge against Bobby had been dismissed. There would probably be a small paragraph in the local papers tomorrow.

  An electronic barbed wire fence opened. Bobby exited Rikers Prison.

  Nadia and Bobby walked toward each other. When she’d first met him in Ukraine, she’d put her arm on his shoulder and he’d pulled back. Told her never to touch him again. They’d hugged once at an emotional moment, when he’d revealed the contents of the locket. Otherwise, Nadia kept her distance so as not to upset him. Now, with a dozen steps left, they both picked up the pace. Nadia hugged Bobby without waiting for his approval. Bobby returned her embrace.

  “Thanks,” Bobby said, when they parted. “Thanks for getting me out.” He gave Johnny and her an earnest look, blushed, and looked at the ground. As though he was embarrassed for everything that happened.

  “You’re welcome,” Nadia said. She punched his shoulder. Waited until he looked into her eyes again. “You trust us now? You trust Johnny and me?”

  Bobby reached into his pocket and handed Nadia the necklace and locket. “Here. You hold onto it.”

  Nadia glanced at the locket. An engraving stood out where some gilding had worn off. The etchings looked like chemical symbols. A sense of hope and power washed over her. Nadia put the locket in a small jewelry box and stuffed it into her front jean pocket.

  “What do you want to do today more than anything else?” Nadia said.

  “Eat, sleep, skate.”

  Johnny drove them back to Manhattan. He dropped them off on East Eighty-Second Street in front of Nadia’s apartment.

  Bobby stood to the side. Nadia walked over to the driver’s side and motioned for Johnny to roll down his window.

  “I can never thank you enoug
h,” she said.

  “No problem. Just doing my job, you know.”

  “You’re my hero, Johnny Tanner.”

  He smiled but in a detached way. “Let me know how that thing with the radiobiologist goes.”

  “You’ll be my first call.”

  “Damn right.” He took off.

  Nadia walked over to Bobby and put her arm around his shoulder. They walked toward the front door. Pedestrians passed them in both directions along the sidewalk.

  “Pizza or sushi for lunch?” she said.

  “Both.”

  A pedestrian approached from the right. Nadia stopped to let her go by but she stopped as well. Nadia turned. It was Lauren Ross.

  “Hello, Nadia.” Lauren turned to Bobby. “Hello Bobby. Or should I say, Hello Adam. Hello Adam Tesla.”

  Johnny got as far as the George Washington Bridge before he remembered he was driving a car. His mind kept replaying a scene where a man carried Nadia to a bedroom. But it was some Russian billionaire, not him. His phone woke him up. A friend from the Elizabeth police force called to let him know Victor and the twins had been charged with intent to sell heroin.

  Johnny made a pact with himself. If his phone rang and Nadia’s number appeared, he’d let the call roll to voice mail. He’d only return the call if it were about business. There was another man in her life. It was his privilege to take care of her now.

  Johnny stopped at a liquor store and picked up a six pack of Rolling Rock and a bottle of cabernet sauvignon to go with his steak. When he got home, he changed into sweats, watched Paul Newman in The Verdict on a DVD, and drank three beers. He marinated the steak but didn’t open the wine even though he craved the entire bottle. Instead he waited until his phone rang and he heard Nadia’s voice over the speaker.

  She was back from her meeting, safe at home, she said.

  Only then did he pour himself a glass.

  CHAPTER 59

  LAUREN READ THE shock in the boy’s face. Nadia didn’t look surprised by Lauren’s appearance or the sound of the boy’s real name. But then she’d been a cool customer when they’d had their only chat at the hockey rink between periods last year.