Nadia finished where she’d started, at the gate where she’d arrived. As the cops escorted the businessman in cuffs out of the area, she realized that Adam must have emerged from the ramp to find cops converging. The men in plainclothes looked like Homeland Security agents—government men, to borrow Adam’s phrase. His paranoia was such that he had probably assumed they were there to arrest him and send him back to Ukraine. In a panic, he ran.
Adam didn’t speak English. He didn’t know anyone in America and didn’t understand the city. As Nadia wondered what she would do if she were in his shoes, she realized that she wasn’t as concerned about the locket as she was about Adam himself. Nadia remembered when her mother had paced the kitchen, wondering where her brother was and what harm might have come to him, when he disappeared for days as a teen.
Nadia bolted in search of a customer service desk. Halfway down the main aisle, her cell phone rang.
It was Johnny, calling with details of the meeting he’d arranged.
CHAPTER 78
ADAM DIDN’T HAVE time to stop and try to find someone who spoke Russian. He had to get out of the airport fast. He’d seen the government people as soon as he climbed up the ramp from the airplane. Fortunately, they didn’t recognize him because he was dressed differently and helping the old lady.
He found a perky woman in front of a computer with a first-aid symbol embedded in the sign above her desk. Adam had studied English in school and knew some basic words.
“New York City. Train. For downtown,” he said.
She answered so quickly he couldn’t understand a word. She also pointed down the corridor—didn’t Americans know it was rude to point?—and Adam took off in that direction. He followed others down a long stairwell, past a shiny silver carousel rotating with no luggage on it, and emerged in a giant lobby. Men in suits and ties held big white cards with words written on them. Other men, some of them not so well dressed, bombarded him with questions.
Adam had never seen so much dark skin in his life. He’d seen pictures of black men and Indian men, but he’d never seen them in person. It was incredible. This must be why the United Nations was in New York. Every type of person on the planet had to live in New York.
A beady-eyed woman behind a wall full of pictures of gleaming hotels helped him find the train. She drew a picture of an airplane beside a railroad track and slowly repeated a single word:
AirTrain.
After climbing stairs and finding the AirTrain, Adam gave the ticket man a twenty-dollar bill. The ticket man barked the word “peak” at him and gave him twelve dollars back. Adam didn’t understand what “peak” meant and guessed he was charged more for having two bags. It was just like Ukraine. People were looking to make money any way they could.
The AirTrain circled around JFK Airport like a limousine in the sky. Adam noticed a sign on the subway and realized that JFK stood for John F. Kennedy Airport. He felt a little less like a foreigner after he read this. After all, he was named after the former president’s brother.
Adam followed the ticket seller’s instructions and switched trains at a stop called Howard Beach. He paid $2.25 for a ticket for the underground A train. He made sure he was on the right train before boarding by asking two different people if he was headed downtown. They both nodded.
When the train arrived at Washington Square, Adam got out and climbed the stairs to the street. He gaped at the size of the buildings. Gawked at the number of people on the sidewalks. But mostly, he tried to contain an overwhelming sense of joy.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket that his father had given him in case of emergency.
The first person he approached was a dapper man in a pinstripe suit.
“Excuse me,” Adam said, holding out the paper his father had given him. “To help, please?”
The man glared at Adam as though he were a criminal about to rob him and hurried by.
The second person Adam approached was a chic young woman with a miniskirt and legs as long as the skyscrapers around him.
“Excuse me,” Adam said, holding out the paper again. “To help, please?”
The woman took one look at him, wrapped her arms around her chest, and circled around him, leaving a berth far and wide, like a Kyivan who feared he might be radioactive.
Before Adam could approach a third person, a glamorous woman with dark skin ambled up to him. She had the shoulders of a Black Beret and a masculine face but wore makeup and high heels. In fact, Adam wasn’t sure if the person was a man or a woman, but he decided on the latter because only women wore high heels.
The woman said something and smiled. She had teeth the size of piano keys.
Adam showed her the paper.
She read what was on the paper and asked another question.
Adam pleaded with his eyes. “Downtown,” he said.
The woman studied Adam for a moment and then pointed to a bench. They sat down together. The woman removed a notepad from her briefcase and drew a beautiful map. She put a big X next to a square and pointed to the ground.
“Here,” she said.
Afterward, she drew a second X next to a street corner far away and pointed to the paper her father had given him.
“There,” she said.
Adam thanked her profusely in Ukrainian and took off toward the second X.
CHAPTER 79
AFTER KILLING MISHA, Kirilo had struck a bargain with his excellent bodyguard, Stefan, who’d saved him from being shot by the babushka. He put him and his crew on retainer, paying them the equivalent of US$50,000 to become his American security consultants. In fact, Kirilo was paying to prevent them from seeking retribution and to agree that Misha had left the casino complaining of stomach pains and had simply vanished with his friend Specter. If Specter was a musor, as Kirilo suspected, that would convince those who profited from Misha’s existence that he had turned snitch for the American police. Hence, no one would regret the moscal’s disappearance.
That Stefan had worked for Victor previously was of no consequence. It was not unusual for men to shift allegiances as their bosses faded. Victor was on the decline. His power had eroded to younger men such as Misha. More important, he was broke. Stefan’s betrayal of Victor for Misha implied he was a rational economic being. He followed the money. Kirilo had money. Still, since some allegiances died hard, Kirilo instructed Pavel and his team of bodyguards to maintain a safe distance from him.
Two of Stefan’s men picked them up at Newark International on Saturday morning. Pavel, the bodyguards, and Stefan drove in one car. Kirilo and Victor rode in the other.
Victor had been on the cell phone when Kirilo finally got through Customs. Strangely, it made Kirilo happy to see him talking to his men in Kyiv because they were taking care of Isabella. Their line of dialogue brought Kirilo closer to his daughter, if only in his imagination.
“How is she?” Kirilo said, once they were on the highway to New York.
“Demure, humble, and compliant. Just like her father.”
“You’re such a bitch.”
“She is fine. Just as she was two hours ago on the plane when I called.”
“And this Johnny Tanner?”
“I have two men watching him now. We’re going to meet with him straight away.”
Kirilo’s hand went to his coat pocket, where he usually kept his cattle prod. “Damn,” he muttered. It had been confiscated at Customs.
“Don’t worry,” Victor said, looking out the window at a giant sports stadium. “You’re not going to need it. This is America. It’s a civilized country.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. You’re just going to ask him where the Tesla woman is, and he’s going to tell you, right?”
“Exactly,” Victor said.
“This I can’t wait to see.”
Forty-five minutes later, both drivers pulled up next to a deli called Vichkovski’s on a long, wide avenue in New York City. Kielbasa necklaces hung in the display window. A middle-aged man with
a bloodstained apron stood waiting for them. He lifted a metal door handle and opened a hole in the sidewalk. Kirilo and Pavel followed Victor down a set of steep metal steps in front of the deli to its basement.
Pavel was essential. He’d attended the California Institute of Technology and spoke fluent English. They wound their way through a storage room to a thick stainless steel door where a second man was waiting for them. This one was younger and bigger, dressed in a leather bomber jacket and jeans: a soldier type Kirilo knew well.
He opened the door. Victor, Kirilo, and Pavel stepped inside.
Sides of beef dangled from hooks. Nooses made of blood sausage hung from the ceiling. A muscular man in a ponytail sat strapped to a folding metal chair, wearing a tank top and pinstripe pants. Fear was etched on his face.
Kirilo looked at Victor. “Civilized country? I thought you were going to make him your willing accomplice.”
“I am. As soon as I put a gun to his head, I’m certain he’ll be willing.”
“You really are such a bitch.”
Victor walked up to his boys. “Did he cooperate?”
“Not yet,” one of them said.
Victor motioned with his hand for one of his boys to give him something, and the man pulled a gun from his waistband. It was a semiautomatic with a noise suppressor. Victor held it by his side as he approached Johnny Tanner.
“We met at the Veselka Restaurant,” Victor said. “You came in Nadia’s place, which means she told you who I am.” Victor racked the slide to load the chamber and put the barrel to Johnny Tanner’s head. “One chance, and one chance only. Where is Nadia Tesla?”
Johnny Tanner gnashed his teeth as though preparing to live with the consequences of giving up the girl. Kirilo had respect for the man. He’d refused to tell the boys anything, and even now, with a gun to his head, he was hesitating. That took balls. This Johnny Tanner was unlike any lawyer he’d ever met in Ukraine.
Victor pressed the gun into the skin of his forehead. “And the count from three begins. Three, two—”
“Turtle Bay,” Johnny Tanner said.
Victor frowned. “What?”
“Turtle Bay. She’s meeting him in Turtle Bay.”
“Meeting who?”
“A professor. Radiobiologist from Columbia University.”
“What is this Turtle Bay?”
“It’s a neighborhood. Around the United Nations.”
“United Nations?”
“He lives there. Three United Nations Plaza. They’re meeting at the Plaza Deli. Between First and Second. Near the United Nations, where he lives.”
“What is this professor’s name?” Victor said.
“John Horton.”
“When is the meeting?”
Johnny Tanner hesitated.
Victor pressed the gun deeper into his flesh. “When is it?”
“Today. The meeting is today. At noon.”
CHAPTER 80
“BOBBY KUNGENOOK. BOBBY Kungenook. Please pick up any courtesy phone and dial two-one-one.”
Nadia had Adam paged, figuring it was safe to do so since no one knew his new identity. It was a long shot: even if he was still in the airport and heard his new name, would he understand the rest of the message?
She waited half an hour, but no one showed. After leaving her cell phone number with Emergency Services, Nadia hustled down to arrivals at Terminal 4. If he wasn’t in the airport, he’d left. Given his limited knowledge of English, he would have needed help to secure transportation.
The arrivals area was a melting pot of people and languages. Two Port Authority cops stood by the entrance, studying everyone, but Nadia didn’t want to arouse their suspicions by asking questions. She walked across the street to the taxi dispatcher.
“I’m looking for a teenager,” she said. “About six feet tall, athletic but thin. Black hair over his ears. He’s wearing a blue blazer. Speaks broken English.”
The dispatcher scratched his forehead. “Nope. Haven’t seen anyone like that.”
She ran back into the terminal. The cops and Homeland Security officers looked like the government. She could understand why Adam had gotten spooked, but why didn’t he wait down the corridor or in the arrivals area?
The information desk was no longer empty. An intense-looking woman with slits for eyes was standing behind it now. Nadia sliced her way through a group of tourists jabbering at each other in German.
“Have you seen a boy?” Nadia said. “He doesn’t speak English. Five foot ten. Hundred seventy pounds. Looks like an Eskimo. He had a knapsack and a duffel bag. He’s wearing a blue—”
“AirTrain.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He wanted to know how to catch the train to Manhattan. I told him how to get to the AirTrain.”
“Manhattan?” Nadia said.
“He had an address written on a piece of paper. He showed it to me because he wanted to make sure he got on the right train.”
“Do you remember the address?”
“Let’s see. Seven…Seven East Thirty-Third. That’s right. Seven East Thirty-Third.”
Nadia frowned. Murray Hill? Why would Adam visit someone in Murray Hill?
“Are you sure?” Nadia said.
The woman started to nod and stopped. “No. Wait. Other way around. It was thirty-three East Seventh Street. That’s it. A place called the Underground. Thirty-three East Seventh Street.”
The Underground was a Ukrainian dive bar favored by an older generation of immigrants. Maybe it was an emergency address his father had given him, a place to go to if he got lost. If that were the case, though, why hadn’t Adam shared it with her? An eerie feeling washed over Nadia. Was Adam’s disappearance related to the formula? It had to be. Had Damian arranged a sale to a less-than-savory party in New York City? Had that been the plan all along?
Nadia called information and got a phone number for the Underground. She called the bar four times on the way to Manhattan, but no one answered. It probably didn’t open until the afternoon. Was Adam waiting on the doorstep? When her taxi from the airport merged onto FDR Drive, Nadia checked her watch. It was 11:41. She’d never be on time for her appointment with the radiobiologist if she tried to go to the Underground first. But Adam and the locket were essential to the meeting.
She tried calling Johnny to tell him to call the professor and inform him she’d be late, but it went straight to voice mail. While she left him a message, her driver passed the United Nations.
She was on her way back to the East Village, where it all had started.
CHAPTER 81
AT 11:05 A.M., Adam walked into a bar called the Underground below a doctor’s office at 33 East Seventh Street. The inside of the bar was dark and smelled of dried booze, like the coach’s kitchen in Korosten. A babushka was wiping down the bar. Adam was amazed to see a babushka in New York. He’d assumed all women in New York were glamorous, like the Victoria’s Secret models. The babushka stopped work when she saw him.
“Is Yuri here?” Adam said in Ukrainian.
“Who’s asking?”
“Adam. Adam Tesla.”
An old man appeared in front of a curtain in the back of the bar. He looked as though he could slip through closed doors at will. The creases in his face deepened.
“Adam? Is it really you? Praise be to God. You’ve made it.” He smiled, limped forward, and pumped Adam’s hand with both of his.
“You’re my father’s friend?” Adam said.
“I knew your father since we were this tall,” Yuri said, holding his hand at his waist. “Welcome. Welcome, my boy. You’ve done it.” Yuri looked over Adam’s shoulder. “But why are you alone? Where is your cousin? Where is Nadia? Is she not with you?”
“We got separated. At the airport. Police and government men were there, waiting to send me back.”
“The police were waiting for you?”
“Yes.”
“They approached you? You ran away from them?”
“Don’t worry about your cousin. She’ll find us. Worst case, we have her number.”
“You do?”
“Yes. The important thing is you’re here and you’re safe. Maria, bring the boy a glass of water. And something to eat.”
“Thank you. But I don’t want to eat. I promised my father I’d call him as soon as I got here. My father said you would have a cell phone and a calling card for me. I must call Karel. Karel will go to my father, and I will speak with him to let him know I’m here.”
Yuri’s face fell. “I’m sorry, son. I have bad news. Your father…Your father is dead.”
“What?”
“He died five days ago. Karel called to tell me. I’m sorry.” Yuri patted his shoulder. “He’s at peace now. He was suffering for a long time. It’s for the best. You know that.”
All the joy seeped out of Adam. He had known his father was going to die soon. There was never any doubt about that. But it had never occurred to him he’d die before Adam would be able to call him from New York City.
“He was supposed to see it through,” Adam said.
“He did see it through. That was your father’s gift. He knew what people would do before they did it. He knew you would succeed, Adam.”
Adam perked up a bit upon hearing someone call him a success. “I have a new name now. An American name. From now on, people will call me Bobby. Like Bobby Kennedy.”
“Really? Well, sit down, Senator, and have a glass of water and something to eat, even if you’re not hungry, and let’s see if we can locate Nadia for you. You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was on her way here right now.”
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