Remembrandt

by Robin King

  “They died? Kuzmenko, who died?”

  He raised his head. “And then the lab burned down and I lost the research,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Well, actually, my assistant did. She lost the only other copy.” In my mind, I saw the emaciated woman I had held in my arms just a few moments before. The undercover agent. “So I had to start over. But this time they wanted it in a different form. If I would have known they wanted to poison the water supply . . . If I would have known before they got my son, I would have run.” The doctor’s entire body quivered. “But I had to save him. I had no choice.” He fell to the ground and stared at the paper on the ground beside him.

  “Is that it?” I pointed to the crumpled paper.

  “What?”

  “Is that the formula? Are there more copies?” I picked it up and studied it. The chemical elements and bonds jumped into my mind.

  “No, just this here, and all the research on the computer.” He looked toward the laptop on the desk. “They are so worried about information leaking that they don’t even use any kind of internet or network connection.”

  “Good.” I glanced around. There had to be some way to keep any of this from leaving the room. I raced over to the back table, which was strewn with chemicals, beakers, and delicate glass tubes, definitely a step up from my childhood chemistry set. “No burners?” I glanced to Dr. Kuzmenko, who was now standing.

  “They bring them in only when I am supervised. Guess they don’t trust me with fire.”

  “If they knew about some of the chemicals they are letting you play with, they might not have let you have those, either.” Clear containers with lids filled a metal tray off to the side of the table. The elemental names were printed on the lid. I reached for the one labeled “Na.” It was heavier than I expected and filled with a baseball-sized silvery-white rock sitting in what looked like mineral oil.

  “This might work,” I said to myself as I found the largest beaker in the room. “Do you have any . . .”

  “Water?” Dr. Kuzmenko eyes lit up as he anticipated my question. He held up a water bottle in my direction. His hands no longer shook.

  I overturned the wastebasket full of wadded-up papers onto the desk in the center of the room. After I poured the water into the beaker, I set it in the middle of the desk. I went back to the chemical table and grabbed element and compound bottles that I knew would ignite: lithium, barium, ammonium chlorate.

  “What can I do?” the doctor asked, seeming calmer now.

  “Here.” I shoved the chemicals toward him. “Open these and put them on the table.” He began to unscrew each bottle, some of them fuming when the lids were removed, and spread them out on the table among the crumpled papers. I grabbed the laptop, and while it was still open and the screen illuminated, I swung it like a bat and smashed it into the corner of the counter. Dr. Kuzmenko jumped at the crashing sound as a few pieces flew across the room. I prayed no one was near to hear the clatter. I set the demolished laptop on the desk next to the chemicals.

  “Are you ready to run?” I held the bottle of pure sodium in my hand.

  He nodded but then dropped his shoulders. “The only exit that isn’t barricaded is the door I came in, and it’s heavily guarded at all times. And you have to cross the factory floor. There’s probably thirty or forty people in there.”

  “I think that we can create enough of a distraction with this. Just stay close to me until I say it’s safe.” My fingers dialed the code into the electronic panel on the inside of the door, allowing us to open it. I started to unscrew the lid of the sodium bottle, then stopped as I remembered the earpiece in my back pocket. I took a deep breath and eased it back into my ear. At this point, we needed all the help we could get.

  James’s voice almost pierced my eardrum. “. . . swear if you don’t answer, the next time I see you, I’m going to take the earpiece and . . .”

  “Take it easy, cowboy, I’m here now,” I interrupted his rant.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled in my ear.

  I almost pulled the earpiece out again but instead said, “Where’s Elijah? I need him, like, in a hurry. I’ve got the doctor. His son and the missing agent should be on their way out too.”

  “I— I don’t know.” James’s voice became suddenly low. “He headed toward the warehouse, but I haven’t heard anything since you . . . wait, you found the covert operative?”

  “Yes. There’s no time for a play-by-play. Can you get here?” I figured if he hurried he could be to us in less than ten minutes.

  “I’m already on my way. When you went silent on me, I headed in your direction.”

  Relief flooded through me. “Okay. I’ll keep the earpiece in, but I probably won’t be able to talk for a while.” I unscrewed the lid on the chemical jar.

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t be surprised if you see smoke or fire.” Standing in front of the desk, I dropped the pure sodium rock in the water and sprinted for the door.

  22

  Where There's Smoke

  Muffled popping noises drifted from the warehouse lab as I quickly led Dr. Kuzmenko through the maze of hallways and into the large main room of Red Eye. I pulled him behind a big machine just inside the door. With its banging and clanging, I figured the machine would drown out what would soon be coming from the lab.

  The exit seemed miles away, though it was actually about a hundred yards away on the opposite side of the room. Several other large machines blocked my view of the doorway. I couldn’t see any guards near the exit, but I knew we wouldn’t be able to just stroll out. I counted at least twenty people on the factory floor.

  We quickly inched along the wall, hidden by the large machinery, until we came to a corner in the room. Faint breathing sounds came from the wooden crates stacked along the wall. Behind one of them sat Adrian, with the woman lying on the floor beside him. Dr. Kuzmenko gasped at the sight of his assistant, the undercover operative. Adrian looked up.

  “You ready to get out of here?” I said. He stood and nodded, then picked up the woman. “Any second now . . .” The sound of an explosion thundered through the factory floor, and smoke began filling the room. People shouted and ran toward the exit.

  “Now!” I yelled over the noise. Still holding onto Dr. Kuzmenko’s hand, I prodded Adrian forward through the smoke, covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve. A few other workers reached the exit door just as we did. Thinking we would be discovered, I paused for just a moment until I realized the smoke was a better cover than I could have hoped for; I couldn’t even make out the faces of any Red Eye personnel.

  In the parking lot, smoke, shrieks, and hysteria created the perfect distraction while I herded our group along the edge of the building and into the alleyway. A mist of rain fell.

  Over the ruckus I heard James’s voice through my earpiece. “Dana, I’m here. Parked behind the building just north of the smoking warehouse. Is everyone all right?”

  “We will be.” I looked at our shabby little group. Adrian limped and coughed while carrying the undercover operative. Dr. Kuzmenko’s ash-filled hair drooped with the moisture in the air. “On our way.” My voice sounded hoarse in my ears.

  We continued to the back of the warehouse, where a dark silver car was parked. I was relieved to see James, who jumped out and took the undercover operative from Adrian’s hands. I helped Adrian and his father into the back seat, and James set the undercover operative next to them. She fell limply onto the doctor’s lap.

  James smiled at me across the back seat. “Let’s go, shall we?” His messy hair and the stubble on his jaw were so out of character.

  “What about Elijah?” I asked.

  “I saw his car parked near the front of the building, but there was no sign of him.” After closing the back door, James jogged around to the front passenger side and opened the door.

  Though my exhausted body wanted to sink into the leather seat, my mission wasn’t over. I swallowed hard. “I’m not coming.” Be str
ong. You can do this. “Just get her to a hospital, and the others to safety. I have to find Elijah.”

  James’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? That building’s on fire!”

  We both watched as smoke started to pour from the broken window where I had entered the warehouse. The other windows at the rear of the building began to brighten with flames.

  “I’m not going back in there. If he went in, he’s already out.” I tried to believe my words. “That woman barely had a pulse before. You take care of her, and I’ll let you know when I find him.”

  James hesitated before shutting the door. “Fine. Find him and get away.” He was in the car and revving the engine before I could respond. “Be careful,” he said, his voice now only in my earpiece.

  “I will,” I whispered as he raced away.

  A haunting feeling swelled around me as steam rose from the building, the heat inside penetrating the rain-drenched brick exterior. I stepped back toward the alley, wondering if I should take the chance and check to see if Elijah was with the Red Eye employees in front of the warehouse.

  Through the vapor and smoke, I could barely distinguish an outline of someone standing at the end of the alleyway. He started to advance toward me, appearing to float through the haze. It wasn’t until I saw the barrel of gun that I turned to run. Before I made it a few steps, there was a loud cracking noise coupled with a burst of heat, and I plummeted face first to the ground. Pain shot through my leg as shards of glass sliced through the air. At the clatter of metal nearby, I pulled my arms tight over my head.

  After what seemed like hours, I opened my eyes. I had to blink a few times before my eyes registered a gun lying right next to me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the back of a man in a black suit lying on the ground about ten feet from me. I scrambled up and grabbed the gun. I turned the shiny black weapon over once in my hands, then threw it into the burning building. No matter how much training I’d had, I still wasn’t ready to use a gun.

  The man groaned, and I didn’t wait for him to get to his feet before I moved. I hobbled through the back of the warehouse district, passing three buildings before I stopped to catch my breath. I glanced behind me and saw the man following. He was gaining on me.

  I couldn’t outrun him. The piercing pain in my leg intensified with every step. When I saw an iron ladder on the back of the next warehouse, I moved toward it, dragging my leg. The metal rungs ran from the ground to the roof, several stories high. My arms carried most of my weight as I pulled myself up each rung until my biceps wanted to burst, but I kept going until I hoisted myself over the edge of the roof. Something inside told me to keep moving—that if I didn’t stop, I would be okay.

  I ignored the sound of feet scaling the ladder and continued across the gravel-covered roof, searching for some way inside the building. Crunching footsteps sent me faster to the other side until I could go no farther.

  I stood at the edge of the old warehouse, the ten-story drop only inches from my toes. The footsteps moved closer. Ignoring the searing pain in my leg, I took two deep breaths and turned to face my pursuer. Light from a nearby billboard fell across his face, creating deep shadows under his familiar dark eyes.

  “Elijah? I’m so glad . . .” I stopped myself from stepping forward and stared at his black suit. My mind flashed back to the smoking warehouse, to the man on the ground in the same black suit, silver cufflinks—the same ones Elijah had worn at the museum in Providence when he’d quoted Shakespeare. The memory hit me like a brick in the chest. I stumbled back slightly causing a few pieces of gravel to fall and eventually strike the pavement below. No, not Elijah. It can’t be.

  “But you . . .” I choked out.

  “You’re just like your mom—so trusting, almost to the very end. If only she’d listened to me, we probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

  My mom? “What are you talking about? What does she have to do with this?”

  A villainous laugh escaped Elijah’s throat. “You really don’t know, do you?” He cocked his head to the side, a crooked smile playing across his face. “Aha! Maybe Iolanta was better than me at being undercover. It’s too bad she didn’t embrace her true Russian heritage before the accident.”

  I wanted to deny everything he said. My mom, a spy? I would have noticed. Nothing in her behavior . . . but then I began to see it. I tried to shake the memories from my head, but they poured over me until it was all I could see. The weekend trips. The hushed phone conversations. My mom had continually stressed keeping my secret while she kept the greatest one of all.

  Elijah spoke again. “There’s still a chance for you to be a part of the greatest takeover in history. All you have to do is give me the formula. I know that weakling Kuzmenko finished it.” I shivered at the ice in his voice. This couldn’t be the same man I knew.

  “I trusted you. How could you . . . how can you . . .” My throat felt like it was closing off. Tears brimmed at my eyes, but I blinked them away. My mom. Elijah. I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  He walked forward slowly. The blood pulsing in my veins clashed with the rhythm of each foot he placed on the asphalt roof. He stood less than five feet from me now. There was no way out.

  “We all have secrets, don’t we, Alexandra?” His voice was an evil echo of the kind, soft one held in my memory. “Now give it to me!”

  “I didn’t take anything,” I replied through clenched teeth, knowing he wouldn’t believe me.

  “That’s too bad,” he said venomously. He took two small steps forward to stand directly in front of me, every exhale touching my face with a cloud of white in the frigid night air. “We could have made great allies, you and I.”

  I searched his expression, looking for a spark of compassion. This man had driven me around Russia, saved me from drowning in the canal, quoted Shakespeare. All I saw now was darkness.

  Seconds passed while we both stood like statues. Then, in one swift movement, his arms raised in front of him and he shoved me from the roof.

  They say your entire life flashes before your eyes before you die. Maybe that’s true for most people. For me, it was just one memory.

  “I can’t believe we won’t be at the same school anymore,” Tanner said. He closed the car door and moved to where I stood on the sidewalk at the community college. It was my first full-time semester.

  “I’m still technically a student at the high school, you know. I have to check in with the counselor regularly, so I’ll probably see you at the school once a week.” I smiled, hiding my braces behind closed lips.

  “I know. It just seems weird is all. We kind of made a good team at the high school. Why do you have to be so darned smart?”

  “ You know as well as I do that me being here has little to do with intelligence and more to do with this crazy-wired brain of mine.” I tapped at my temple, then dropped my hand and started playing with a loose string on my jeans. I didn’t want to be at a different school either. I had loved knowing my big brother was somewhere nearby every day.

  “It won’t be that bad, right?” He slugged me softly before moving to my side and squeezing my shoulder.

  “That’s easy for you to say. You get to stay at your school with all your friends and activities.” I had always been a little envious of his likeability, and now I wished I shared his popularity. More than that, though, I just wanted us to stay close and was worried we would spend less time together now.

  He squeezed my shoulder tighter. “ You’ll do great here.”

  “Thanks. But I’m going to miss having you around.” I sighed and looked up into his gray eyes. “Who’s going to have my back now?”

  “I’ll miss you too, Lexie.” He moved in front to face me. “But there’s one thing we both know.”

  “What’s that?”

  He smiled broadly. “ You’re strong enough to take care of yourself.”

  Tanner was right. Somewhere between Elijah’s hands meeting my body and the inevitable fall from the ledge, an inner strength
burned within me and burst with more intensity than the warehouse windows. Before my toes left the roof, I thrust my hands forward and grappled for the first thing I found—the pant legs of Elijah’s silk suit. My fingers couldn’t find a solid grip and slid along the outer seam from the thigh to the ankle until my nails dug into the fabric at the hem. He staggered closer to the edge as my weight unbalanced him, most of my body dangling over the edge of the building. I quickly moved one of my hands until it wrapped around his ankle and then did the same with the other. Thanks to two months of strength training at The Company, I managed to pull myself up until my head was in line with Elijah’s toes. Then, I raised my body over the edge and crawled on all fours right between his legs. If Sensei Itosu could see me now!

  I heard a crunch before the pain in my side registered in my head. I crawled away whimpering, clutching my obviously broken ribs. Static filled my eardrum before I heard James say, “Are you there, Alex?” More static. “Al . . . if you can h . . . say something.”

  “Ow!” I replied.

  “Oh, poor thing.” Elijah’s foot struck me again, barely missing my injured ribs and landing right in my gut. I choked and gasped for air.

  “I’ll give you one more chance, Dana. Or should I just call you Alexandra?” He drew out my name like an exhale from an toxic cigar.

  I rolled to my back to face him. Light from the nearby billboard flickered off the knife in his hand. I almost wished he still had his gun—death would be quicker that way.