“Yes. It exists. My son will book a reservation for you in their system as well.”
When she was done with the application, the forger made a copy on the printer and took it to the adjacent room to her son. She returned and began typing as quickly as her fingers allowed.
“What is your connection to my uncle?”
She looked up. “Your uncle?”
“Damian. The young man’s father.”
“My brother spent six years with him at the gulag in Sevvostlag. When he got so weak he couldn’t produce his daily quota in the gold mine, your uncle got him an easy job picking needles off dwarf cedar trees. They used to grind them into soup as a cure for scurvy. That saved his life.”
“That was decent of him.”
“Decent had nothing to do with it. It was about money. He knew I sent my brother sweaters, cigarettes, and food every three months. That all went to your uncle, or whatever the guards didn’t take.”
Nadia glanced at Adam, who was on his second hunk of poppy seed roll. “How did you learn this trade?”
“I worked in the Ministry. Department of Tourism. First in Moscow, then Kyiv. When independence came, capitalism came with it. I lost my job and had to find another one.”
The forger printed a single sheet of paper, moved to a side table, and inserted it into a paper cutter. As she lined it up, Nadia walked over to the doorway where the forger’s son had disappeared. He sat in a small room, surrounded by six computer screens. The passport photo of a pale woman with a prematurely aging face and a forced smile appeared on one of the monitors. Nadia gasped. The son turned to see who’d made the noise, then returned to work.
Nadia paced the main room for five more minutes while the forger worked. Adam burped and leaned against a wall.
“Come look at your visa,” the forger said.
A yellow, intricately manufactured discoloration marred its complexion. The faint stencil of a blue coat of arms decorated the center. Russian words and numbers ran along the top in distinct shades of red. A multicolored stamp featuring churches, a ship, and a coat of arms was pressed on the left. Nadia’s name and date of birth appeared in dull blue toward the middle.
The forger took the visa and placed it in an envelope. “This is good for ten days, and ten days only. They are very strict about this. You must be out of Russia within ten days from today.”
“That will not be a problem,” Nadia said.
The forger held the envelope by her side. “Payment, please.”
“Excuse me?” Nadia said.
“Your uncle didn’t tell you?”
Shuffling noises behind them. Nadia turned. The son stood behind them with a rifle in his hand.
“No,” Nadia said. She glanced at Adam. He wiped crumbs off his lips, oblivious to the conversation. “My uncle didn’t tell me.”
“The bargain he struck with me was that I would give you a visa and you would give me all the jewelry on either one of your hands.”
“I never heard anything like that.”
The forger shrugged. “Surprise.”
Nadia looked down. Her stainless steel Bedat watch was wrapped around her left wrist. She’d paid $4,000 for it back when she’d had a job, earned a bonus, and could afford it. Her favorite ruby ring shimmered on her right hand. It was probably worth a fraction of the watch, but it had sentimental value. Her mother had given it to her when she graduated college.
Nadia glanced at Adam. His eyes were glued to the gun in the son’s hand. She turned back to the forger.
“Well,” Nadia said, “which hand is it going to be?”
“Let me see the ring.”
Nadia raised her right hand. The forger removed a loupe from her desk drawer and studied it.
“I’ll take your left hand,” the forger said. Sirens sounded in the distance. “Quickly.”
Nadia took the watch off and exchanged it for the visa. Nadia and Adam flew up the exterior stairs to street level and took off for the subway.
The sirens grew louder as they speed-walked out of sight.
CHAPTER 52
THE ZOOLOGIST RAISED his hand from his plush velvet seat. It trembled from residual electrical current.
“No more,” he said.
Kirilo sighed and replaced the cattle prod in his coat’s lining. After bringing Karel a glass of water, he sat down on the sofa directly across from him, beside Victor. The River Casino’s gaming floor bustled with activity beyond the soundproof glass wall.
Misha returned from the restroom. Sweat dotted his forehead even though it was cool in the room.
“Diarrhea,” he said as he sat down on the couch.
Kirilo slid a few centimeters farther away from him. “You’re from America. Some of our fine water probably got into your system. Happens to tourists all the time. Victor didn’t really poison you, did you, Victor?”
Victor didn’t react; instead, he kept his head tilted at an angle at Misha.
“You old prick,” Misha said, wiping his brow. “If this is a joke, I’m going to more than even the score back in New York.”
This time, Victor grinned. “And if it’s not?”
Kirilo had gotten the zoologist’s name and address in Kyiv from the deputy minister of the interior. Pavel’s men had identified themselves as militsiya and dragged Karel out of his apartment. By 8:00, he was in his current seat. Twenty minutes later, after substantial prodding, he motioned for Kirilo to stop.
“I didn’t think a zoologist could be so tough,” Kirilo said.
“He watches animals all day,” Victor said. “He should have learned something by now.”
“Good point,” Kirilo said.
Karel tipped the glass to his lips. Water trickled around his lips, down his chin, and onto the velvet around him.
Kirilo winced. “The furniture, dammit. Watch the furniture.”
Karel drank some more. Kirilo took the glass away from him, put it on a coaster where he couldn’t knock it over, and sat back down.
“Why did the Tesla woman go to the Zone?” Kirilo said.
“To see her uncle.”
“What uncle?”
“Damian. Damian Tesla.”
“He’s alive?”
“As far as I know. I haven’t seen him since he asked me to do a favor.”
“What favor?”
“To go to Korosten and bring his son to Kyiv.”
“Does this have anything to do with the Tesla woman?”
“Yes. He’s meeting her tonight.”
“Why?”
“They will travel together.”
“Where are they going?”
“I don’t know.”
Kirilo squinted.
Karel sighed. “Honestly. I don’t know. My instructions were to leave him at Babi Yar.”
“Babi Yar?” Misha said. “What’s at Babi Yar?”
“Nothing,” Kirilo said. “Monuments and a park. Nothing that would give their ultimate destination away. That’s why he picked Babi Yar. What do they have in their possession? Why did the Tesla woman come here?”
Karel shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Kirilo chuckled. “What’s that, you say? You haven’t really had enough? You want some more?”
Karel raised his hand in self-defense. “No. Honestly. I don’t know. There was a formula. The scientist died. I thought the formula died with him. But maybe that’s just what I was led to believe. Maybe the truth is that Damian and the scientist didn’t trust me.”
Kirilo moved to the edge of his seat. “And you suffer for them? For these so-called friends? You owe them nothing. Nothing, I say to you. You are a prospective Chernobyl invalid?”
Karel nodded.
“Then you have suffered enough. My sources tell me you have published books of great importance regarding animal behavior in a nuclear environment.”