The Boy Who Stole From the Dead (18 page)

“Valentine’s second wife.”

“Was she wearing a ring?”

“Yeah, but it was a bit different. It had a diamond. The size of a golf ball. So what’s this surprise?”

“I thought you hate surprises.”

“I do. But it’s a long flight and there aren’t going to be any fun and games when I get there. Unless my billionaire oligarch client insists on taking me to dinner.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s he like? Does he expect people to bow before him?”

“No. Actually, he does the bowing. He’s different. He seems nice, even caring. I like him. He has a presence about him. And twenty-five billion dollars doesn’t hurt.”

“Glad to hear it.” Johnny hid his disappointment. “Your surprise just got here.”

Nadia frowned.

Johnny nodded at the man standing over her shoulder. “You’re going to have company on your trip.”

“I am?”

Nadia’s brother, Marko, gave her a bear hug from behind.

“Yes, you are, Nancy Drew,” Marko said. “No way am I letting you go back there alone.”

CHAPTER 25

A
FTER
N
ADIA AND
Marko left for the airport, Johnny drove to Rikers Island. His meetings with Bobby reminded him of when he first became a criminal trial lawyer. The man who hired him, a gritty litigator renowned for his ability to sway a jury, made him practice his opening and closing arguments pertaining to his first case for hours. Johnny remembered delivering his arguments to an audience of one in similar confines but feeling as though he was talking to himself. His boss rarely interrupted him. But when he did, his words left a mark.

It was only a matter of time before Bobby talked, too, Johnny thought. And left his own mark.

“The preliminary hearing is in seven days,” Johnny said. “The DA will probably offer a deal. The judge will encourage it. The system’s overloaded. He’ll try to save the State of New York the cost of a trial. Problem is, they have a confession and an eyewitness.”

Johnny waited for some reaction but Bobby just sat there in his chair with his usual expression. Glum, bored, and arrogant, not giving a damn about anything Johnny had to say.

“Did you hear what I said? They have an eyewitness. Does that make sense to you? Did you see someone watching you?”

No reaction. None at all.

“You’ve got to help me, son. If you don’t, they’re going to lock you up and throw away the key. And I don’t care how much you think she loves you now, Iryna is not going to sit around waiting for you to be released in the afterlife. She may be young, and she may be in love, but she isn’t going to be stupid in love for the rest of her life.”

Johnny thought that might get a rise out of the kid. It didn’t. He kept his eyes on the floor.

“You seen her recently?” Johnny said. “How’s she doing? I wonder what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she’s safe. Or if whoever caused you to stab Valentine is more of a threat to her than you realize. If you love someone, don’t you want that person to know the risks she’s facing every day?”

Bobby shifted his gaze to the wall. As his eyes passed Johnny, he looked through him, as though he wasn’t even there. That type of detachment wasn’t easy. Johnny knew from years of experience in the courtroom cross-examining witnesses and connecting with juries. The kid was creepy, the way he could disengage, but given what he’d endured as a child of Chornobyl, that probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. People avoided him. Viewed him as a pariah. Adults and kids alike. Folks around Kyiv had an irrational fear of being contaminated with radiation poisoning, Nadia had said.

“Okay. I get it. You’re not going to talk to me. Fine. Continue to be selfish. You know what’s best. Your lawyer, the woman who brought you to America, your girlfriend—none of us matter. I still need you to do something for me, though.”

Bobby didn’t move.

“I need you to take a look at two pictures for me. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Obviously. But Nadia made me promise to have you look at them, and I don’t want to catch shit from her for not doing what she asked. You know what I’m talking about where that’s concerned, right?”

Bobby’s lip curled upward.

“Cool.” Johnny pulled out the picture of Valentine. “This is the victim after you finished stabbing him with your homemade screwdriver. Per your confession, that is.”

At first Bobby didn’t move. A few seconds later, he glanced at the photo through the corners of his eyes. No reaction.

“See how the right fist is half-closed? It looks as though he had his fingers curled against something. Like a knife. The knife you said he was carrying. But there was no knife at the crime scene. When you left Valentine, was he still holding the knife in his right hand?”

Bobby looked away. Johnny counted to ten to make sure he wasn’t about to talk.

Johnny revealed the second photo, the one of Valentine’s father. “What about this guy? He look familiar?”

Bobby glanced at the photo. A look of fear washed over his face. It came and went in a flash but it was unmistakable.

“Valentine’s father,” Johnny said. “Did you know him?”

Bobby’s complexion darkened.

“Did your paths cross in Chornobyl? In Kyiv?”

Bobby turned away from Johnny.

Johnny repeated his questions. Bobby didn’t respond.

Johnny put the photos away. He locked his briefcase and stood up to leave.

“We’ll see what Nadia digs up. She’s flying to Kyiv on business. While she’s there, she’s going to look into the old man’s past.”

Bobby sat up in his chair. “No. She can’t do that.”

Johnny stepped toward him. “Why, Bobby? Why can’t she do that?”

“She just can’t. She must not. She must not do that.”

“Why?”

Bobby sprang to his feet. His cheeks swelled. “Because they’ll kill her. You’ve got to stop her. Are you listening to me? You’ve got to stop her now.”

“It’s too late. She got on the plane after she called me.”

Bobby collapsed into his chair. He didn’t say anything more.

Outside the prison, Johnny called Nadia and left her a voice mail about what Bobby had said. She would hear it when she landed in Kyiv. Then he left Rikers Island, two of his predictions fulfilled. First, the kid had spoken and left his mark. Second, concern had turned to dread. A boy’s past threatened a woman’s life. Her predicament struck fear in a man’s heart.

But it was Nadia, not Iryna, who was in danger. And it was Johnny who felt helpless.

CHAPTER 26

T
HE SCENE AT
Passport Control at Terminal F at Boryspil Airport resembled a rugby scrum. Arriving passengers jockeyed for position among six lines. People argued in Russian and Ukrainian. Nadia had negotiated the scrum last year during her first visit to Kyiv. It took her two and a half hours to pass through immigration and find her baggage at another terminal.

She sliced her way between two lines to a desk surrounded by two columns. Grabbed two customs forms and turned to Marko. She had Johnny to thank or blame for Marko’s company. She wasn’t sure which word applied yet. He’d been her big brother when they were kids but as adults they’d grown apart. She worked as a financial analyst, he owned a strip club. More importantly in this situation, she prided herself on proper conduct while traveling in a professional capacity. She was concerned her brother wouldn’t share that philosophy. Still, having him with her made her feel more secure. And two people could investigate faster than one.

She caught his eye and motioned toward an empty line without a border official. “That’s us,” she said.

Marko stood staring at the scrum. “This is a joke, man.”

“Marko.” She nodded toward the vacant line. “Move. Before someone else gets there first.”

“That line’s closed.”

“It’s VIP. It was recently added for government officials, dignitaries, and other important visitors.”

Marko raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“You’re underestimating your sister. Let’s go.”

He followed her toward the vacant line.

Nadia and Marko had spoken Ukrainian since childhood. In Nadia’s experience, the choice of language defined a relationship. Switching to English would have felt awkward. Yet that’s exactly what they’d agreed to do once they landed in Kyiv. It reduced the risk of eavesdropping. Now that they’d exchanged words in English for the first time in their lives, Nadia realized the experience wasn’t as strange as she thought it would be. It was far worse. Changing languages removed intimacy. It was as though they’d have to get to know each other all over again.

The border officials wore pale green uniforms. They looked like relics from the Soviet era. Nadia had heard stories ad nauseam from her father about the KGB. For her, the uniforms echoed with the sounds of persecution, detention, and torture.

Nadia caught the attention of one of the officers. She gave him a set of VIP credentials, faxed to her by someone from the Orel Group. He studied them and called a supervisor over. The supervisor reviewed the documents. Meanwhile, Nadia and Marko filled out the forms she’d picked up from the desk.

The last time she’d entered the country she was asked a variety of intrusive questions, including her parents’ birthplaces and her political affiliation. This time the border officials didn’t ask any questions. Instead, the supervisor took the forms, stamped Nadia’s and Marko’s passports, and welcomed them to Ukraine.

Nadia and Marko collected their luggage and exited the baggage claim area. Nadia powered on her cell phone to see if she had voice mail. On the other side of the window, the taxi area looked like a bumper car racetrack.

“The taxis are ugly, too,” Marko said. “I read they try to rip you off. Charge you three hundred
hryvnia
for a trip to Kyiv when you should be paying one-sixty. I may have to kick some ass.”

“No. There will be no ass kicking in Kyiv. I’m here on business. Working for an important man. Your behavior will reflect on me, Marko. Please remember that.”

“You always did take yourself too seriously. But don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you. At least not too much.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. She’d feared having him along was a bad idea and now she was certain it was a mistake. She scanned the crowd of drivers holding signs. A meticulous woman in a corporate suit barged forward. She held a piece of white cardboard with Nadia’s name printed on it in perfect font. Nadia walked over and introduced herself.

“On behalf of the Orel Group,” she said in Russian, “Welcome to Ukraine. Your car is waiting outside.”

Nadia glanced at Marko. Waited for gratitude or a compliment.

“Lucky for you they know who I am over here,” he said.

Nadia rolled her eyes. On the way to the car, Nadia noticed she had a voice mail. She pressed the phone to her ear, turned the volume low, and listened to a message from Johnny.

“Bobby went ape-shit when I showed him old Valentine’s picture,” Johnny said. “Ape-shit. Said you should turn around and come back home immediately. Said your life is in danger. Call me as soon as you get there. I don’t care what time it is.”

She hung up. Marko looked at her, his eyes asking her what the call was about. She had updated him on the basics concerning Bobby’s situation on the plane.

“Johnny,” she said. “According to him, we’re back on the Appalachian Trail.”

Marko nodded. He understood immediately what she meant. Their lives had been in danger on the Appalachian Trail when she’d taken her Ukrainian Girl Scout survival test.

They sat in the back of a stretch limousine. The woman who greeted them slid beside the driver, a fresh-faced male equivalent.

“Evgeny was the finest driver on the Kyiv police force,” the woman said. “Until the Orel Group hired him away. He is very fast, but very safe. We will have you at the Intercontinental in no time.”

The driver guided the car out of the airport. The woman pointed out the bottles of spring water, vodka, and Scotch.

“First time in Ukraine?” she said.

“Not for me,” Nadia said in Russian. She motioned toward Marko. “Yes for him.”

“We were born in America but this is our parents’ homeland,” Marko said in Ukrainian. Unlike Nadia, he didn’t speak Russian. Although some basic words sounded the same, it was impossible to have a deep conversation using both languages. “We were raised in a Ukrainian community. We went to kindergarten speaking only Ukrainian.”