The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark (The Nadia Tesla Series Book 3)

by Orest Stelmach

  The music rose to a fevered pitch. A drumroll. A crash of cymbals. A final smash of the drum—

  The music stopped.

  “Play it again, play it again,” a man said. He spoke fluent Russian, like a Muscovite, but coarse. He sounded young, not too educated. At least not formally. A kid from the streets.

  “Yeah,” a second man said. He sounded frighteningly similar to the first man. “The theme song is the best part. It’s the best part of the show.”

  “Second best. The girl in the bikini is the best part of the show.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  Luo turned the corner. Hugged the inside wall and glanced into the room.

  An enormous television covered the far wall. Two rows of plush leather seats faced the television. The height of the seatbacks prevented Luo from seeing the two men he’d heard talking.

  The drumroll started again. A giant wave rolled forward on screen. Some English lettering appeared. The title of a movie, Luo thought. A curvaceous Polynesian beauty stepped out of the ocean. A handsome man spun around and looked at the camera. The theme song blared.

  Luo glanced past the television room further down the hallway. More bedrooms. One of the doors was open. Why would one door be open while the others were closed?

  Luo motioned to Adam that he was headed past the television room toward the open bedroom door. Then he looked inside the room again. The men remained transfixed by the scene on the television.

  Luo darted past them to the other side of the door.

  A phone rang.

  The music stopped.

  Voices sounded. They were coming from the front.

  Another set of voices sounded. These were more distant, but they were coming from the back. Someone was approaching from the corner they’d just rounded.

  “They’re bringing her up,” one of the men in the television room said. He’d answered the phone and was informing his colleague.

  Luo couldn’t retreat. He’d be passing the door to the television room. One or both of the men inside might see him. But Adam was still on the other side of the door. Luo glanced at him.

  The kid was already backpedalling. He pointed toward the outer wall. Turned his right wrist to simulate opening a door. I’m going into one of the bedrooms, he was saying.

  Luo nodded. Smart boy.

  Adam disappeared around the corner.

  Luo hustled into the open bedroom. The floor was neither wood nor carpet. It was made of stiff hay, woven together tightly. There was no bed in the room, either. Just an enormous mat on the floor. Luo had seen pictures of such a floor and sleeping device in a magazine once. It was a travel magazine about the Far East. Evidently, this was the Swallow’s Nest’s Japanese room. A portrait of a samurai warrior wielding a sword hung on a wall, but the samurai was Russian-looking, not Japanese. There was no sign of any luggage. Eva didn’t have luggage, hence it was quite possible she was sleeping in this room—

  Footsteps approached. One pair, heels clicking against the wood floor. A former soldier, marching in imaginary formation.

  Luo ducked into a spare bathroom. A giant stainless steel soaking tub flanked a black lacquer vanity with cabinets covered with rice paper. He hid behind the door, gun raised to his shoulder, pointing at the ceiling.

  A person entered the bedroom. Something clattered. Once, twice, three times. Footsteps started up again and faded.

  Luo snuck back in the bedroom.

  A tray of food rested on a desk in the corner. A steak, mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes, a bowl of borscht, and a basket of buckwheat bread. A glass of ice and a bottle of Orangina.

  A man shouted over the din of the music. “I love this show,” he said. He was an ebullient sort with a baritone voice. “Has the girl come out of the water yet?”

  A third man, Luo thought. The man who was bringing “her” up.

  A muffled answer.

  “Rewind it, rewind it,” the third man said. “I have to see this.”

  The music stopped. Luo waited for it to restart. When it did, he poked his head out the door.

  An elegant but broad-shouldered man in a suit ducked into the television room, his attention fixed on something straight ahead—the television, no doubt—and eyes wide with delight. He disappeared inside.

  He left a young woman in the hallway behind him. She too, had turned to face the television. Luo recognized her as the girl from Fukushima. She was tall and lean with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Her dark brown hair fell to her shoulders. It looked recently washed. Good. They had allowed her to bathe. Her slumping shoulders registered defeat. When the third man disappeared into the television room, she glanced down the hallway.

  Their eyes met. Luo noted a look of determination in her expression. She was more alert and conscious than her captors thought. She was looking for an escape. Of that Luo was certain.

  But he was not certain who this girl was. Once again he didn’t recognize her. All he saw was a scared yet resilient girl. Yes, she had an oval face like her mother. And yes, she had his coloring, and her build seemed appropriate for her parents. Yet none of this was conclusive. This girl might be anyone’s daughter. Only Adam would know if she was Eva.

  She stepped back, as though he was someone to fear, but didn’t say anything.

  Luo brought his finger to his lips.

  Her eyes widened. Only a friend would motion for her to be quiet. She froze. Luo could sense her realization. She understood Luo might be her ally. He might be here to help her. Why else would he be hiding in a bedroom? Why else would he have lifted his finger to his lips?

  Luo wished he were on the other side of the entrance to the television room. That way he could simply whisk the girl and Adam down the hallways, up the stairs, and over the wall. But the television room stood between him and the girl. He couldn’t take the risk of dashing past it. Any of the three men might see him. If he were in one of the other bedrooms, he could sneak out and grab her right now. The path to the stairs leading to the tower was clear . . .

  A shadow appeared behind the girl. A hand reached out to tap her on the shoulder.

  Luo recognized the forest-green jacket sleeve.

  Adam had come to the same conclusion.

  CHAPTER 45

  THE PATH TO the stairwell was clear. All Bobby had to do was yank Eva out of the doorway and pray that the opening sequence to Hawaii Five-O kept the men in the media room occupied. The man who’d escorted Eva past the bedroom where Bobby had hidden had made them crank up the volume. The three men glued to the television screen wouldn’t hear anything. The only risk was that one of them would turn around.

  Bobby slipped out of the bedroom and skulked down the hallway. Eva stood nine paces away, back to him. He still hadn’t seen her face. She was a bit taller than he remembered, but then again, three years had passed. Maybe she’d grown an inch. And she was thinner. That made sense given she’d been in Fukushima. If she were part of a volunteer organization they probably didn’t feed her well. And besides, how could anyone not lose weight on a Japanese diet?

  Six paces away.

  And then he wondered, why had she gone to Fukushima in the first place? What sane person—let alone one who’d grown up around the Ukrainian Zone of Exclusion—would volunteer to go to a radioactive place? The question never bothered him before, but now it consumed him and would not let go.

  Three paces.

  The sweet smell of honey broke his concentration. Shampoo, he thought, as his eyes fell on her silken hair. Honey shampoo. Very popular with the girls in Russia. It had been Eva’s favorite. The owner must have had some here. Perhaps the owner’s wife.

  The music blared. Bobby couldn’t afford to startle Eva. He didn’t want to make her jump. Better he wave with his right hand while still out of sight of the entrance to the media room. Try to catch her attention via h
er peripheral vision.

  Bobby started to raise his right hand but dropped it just as quickly. There was no need for him to wave.

  The girl turned toward him.

  CHAPTER 46

  NADIA TRIED CALLING Bobby three more times to no avail.

  “I’m getting voice mail immediately now,” she said. “After only one ring.”

  Simmy nodded beside her in the back of the Land Cruiser. “He turned the phone off. That means he needs silence. That means they need silence, I should say. I keep forgetting he’s not alone.”

  “Not just silence. Total silence. He could have shut off the ringer but kept the phone on vibrate. But he didn’t. He shut it down completely. That means they beat us. He’s there, at the castle, now.”

  “They’re there.”

  “Right. I keep forgetting, too. They’re there.” She shook her head. “I guess I should take some comfort in knowing he’s not alone. But for some reason, I don’t.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Simmy said. “The fox was born distrustful. It’s genetic. There’s nothing she can do about it.”

  The highway from Irkutsk to Listvyanka gave way to a slipshod path covered with pebbles. Privacy signs warned tourists to turn at the roundabout ahead and correct their error in navigation. Sure enough, the owner of the property had actually carved a turnaround for cars three hundred yards down the path. The pebble road must have been built to discourage adventurers, because it soon gave way to freshly paved blacktop complete with yellow dividing lines between lanes.

  Streetlights appeared around a bend. A wall reminiscent of a medieval fortress appeared ahead. A small stone cottage stood beside a gate. An iron gate blocked the entry to the compound beneath a stone archway. A dog began barking as they approached the gate. Three men emerged from the cottage. Two carried rifles. One held a leash. The dog at the end of it sat obediently at his feet. It looked like a cross between a sheepdog and a wolf with twice the ferocity of the latter.

  The driver pulled up to the gate and lowered the windows. A gust of cold air blew into the cabin and cooled the perspiration on Nadia’s forehead. The guards aimed their rifles at the driver and Simmy respectively.

  “You’ve made a mistake,” the guard holding the leash said. “This is private property. Please back up, turn your car around, and leave.”

  Simmy introduced himself. “I’m going to reach into my wallet,” he said. “So I can give you a business card. To present to Mr. Golov. Please apologize to him and tell him I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead, but I need to speak with him about an urgent matter.”

  The guard appeared stunned when he heard Simmy’s name. He narrowed his eyes, looked closer, and glanced at his colleagues. They, too, appeared shocked.

  The guard studied Simmy’s business card and frowned. “Like I said, sir. You’ve made a mistake. This is not the Golov residence.”

  Not the Golov residence? Nadia glanced at the destination on the map on Simmy’s tablet computer. The image of a car had landed on top of the target. It pulsed in red. Nadia recalled Simmy telling her that this region of Lake Baikal was popular with billionaires. Had they missed a turn? Or had the man at the airport purposefully given them the wrong destination? That would mean Bobby was alone. She would never arrive in time to help him.

  “Of course it’s not,” Simmy said. “I understood Mr. Golov to be a guest here this evening.”

  Good one, Nadia thought. He was making up the story on the fly.

  “Please present my card to your employer. Please extend my apologies for this impolite intrusion. And please tell him Simeon Simeonovich would be in his debt if he agreed to a brief visit.”

  The guard disappeared into the cottage. Nadia could see him through the window placing a phone call. While he was on the phone, Nadia counted eight cameras on the cottage, the walls, the gate, and the overhang. A seeing eye in the form of a black bulb was mounted beside the cottage door. Every conceivable angle was covered. Whomever the guard was calling could see the passengers in Simmy’s vehicle.

  The guard returned. “We’ll need to inspect your vehicle and search the parties in the car. All weapons will have to be left here, to be returned upon your departure.”

  Nadia, Simmy, the driver, and Simmy’s other bodyguard stepped out of the car. Simmy’s men surrendered their handguns. One of the men insisted on searching Nadia. The process unnerved her but the man behaved professionally. One of the other guards produced a pole with an illuminated mirror attached to one end. He walked around the perimeter of the car with the mirror beneath the SUV’s carriage in search of explosives. The SUV’s storage area contained Simmy’s overnight bag. Otherwise, it was empty. The heavy bags were in the second SUV, whose headlights had vanished from the side-view mirror as soon as the pebble road turned paved. Nadia had no idea where it had gone, and she knew better than to ask Simmy. If he wanted her to know, he would have told her.

  Once the guards were satisfied, they climbed back into the SUV. The lead guard motioned to a colleague to open the gate. The iron grates rose into the air as though a city lay beyond it. The guard gave Simmy a slight bow.

  “Mr. Milanovich will see you now, sir.”

  CHAPTER 47

  JOHNNY STUDIED THE menu at the Tropicana Diner. A man knew he was in the right place when they offered a rib-eye steak for $11.95 as a side item for breakfast. The waffle finger was interesting, too. A crispy waffle and three chicken fingers with all the butter and syrup a man could justify. A southern touch to soothe a man’s soul in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Johnny had been planning to stick with his egg whites, but the prospect of representing a cop stressed him sufficiently to demand some quality carbohydrates on the side. When his client didn’t arrive by 9:00 a.m. sharp, Johnny placed his order for six egg whites and a short stack of golden brown pancakes. Hold the butter, he insisted. The folks who ordered the waffle finger would undoubtedly use it.

  Johnny hoped the pancakes might temper his apprehension, too. Nadia still hadn’t called him with an update. She was probably in the thick of it now, whatever that meant. He wondered if she was all right. He wondered how Bobby was doing. He hoped the rich man was coming through for them. He wished he were there with them, wherever they were.

  Richard Clark sauntered in fifteen minutes late wearing a black nylon warm-up suit, white cross trainers, and a shit-eating grin on his face. A cop on the verge of being arrested should have looked concerned. He should have been on time and reeked of humility. But he wasn’t and he didn’t. Instead he slid his bodybuilder-gone-to-pot physique into the booth, rubbed his unshaven face, and grinned like an entitled child armed with a badge and gun. Johnny regretted opting for the short stack instead of the full monty.

  “You know,” Clark said, “you’re a lot older in person than you look on your company website.”

  “Occupational hazard. Can I see some ID?”

  The grin turned into a laugh, then morphed into a look of disdain. “Are you for real?”

  “Are you in need of my services?”

  Johnny checked Clark’s badge and driver’s license, not just to verify the man’s identity, but to establish the upper hand. And to punish him for being late and to piss him off a bit, too.

  Johnny’s waitress delivered his pancakes and eggs. She greeted Clark with familiarity—she called him Richie—and a complete lack of enthusiasm. Evidently he tipped like the asshole he was. She poured him a cup of coffee. Clark didn’t bother looking at the menu. He ordered his usual, two eggs over easy and the rib-eye steak on the side.

  Johnny didn’t wait for Clark’s food to arrive. He slid the egg whites onto his pancakes, poured syrup over them, and dug in.

  “My boss said we know each other,” Johnny said. “I can’t seem to place you. Refresh my memory.”

  “Your boss lied. Or you weren’t listening. I never said I knew you. I said I knew of you.”

  Co
ps knew criminal defense attorneys by reputation. The more successful a lawyer was in defending alleged perpetrators, the more they hated him. Until the day they needed his help, that is.

  “What do you know about me?” Johnny said.

  “I know you were the lawyer for the James brothers, two of the biggest scumbags ever to walk the sidewalks of Elizabeth.”

  “Reformed scumbags.” The James brothers had been notorious drug dealers but had cleaned up their act. They owned and operated a chain of car washes now. Johnny glanced at Clark. The shit-eating grin still hadn’t vanished from his face. “You know, for a guy who’s staring at an indictable that might cost him his career and land him in jail for who knows how many years, you don’t seem concerned. You want to tell me your story so I can see what I’m missing?”

  Clark took a sip of coffee and leaned back, spreading his arms along the top of the booth as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Sure. I’ll tell you my story. It’s simple. I’m not worried because you’re going to be my lawyer.”

  The certainty in his voice struck Johnny as offensive. Johnny gave Clark his own shit-eating grin. “You sure about that, are you?”

  “Absolutely. What you’re missing is that my case is just as important to you as it is to me.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. That’s right, counselor. You see, I know the magic word.”

  Magic word. Clark’s arrogance soured the syrup on his breakfast cakes. Johnny sighed. “What’s the magic word, Richie?”

  Clark broadened his grin. “The magic word is Nadia Tesla.”

  CHAPTER 48

  BOBBY NEVER THOUGHT about the purple streaks in Eva’s hair until the girl turned. He’d caught a glimpse of her hair countless times during the trip from Japan. He’d had ample opportunity to consider its color. It had never dawned on him that the absence of purple might be evidence the girl was not Eva. Only when he saw her face did this occur to him. The girl was not wearing purple lipstick either. And he’d never seen Eva without her lips painted her favorite color. Eva was all about purple, and to Bobby the color purple was all about Eva. In his mind, the two were inseparable.