After giving the side of the truck an appreciative pat for the role it was soon to play, Yuri glanced into the cab to make sure the keys were where he’d left them, hanging from the driver’s side visor. He wanted no stupid mistakes in the morning like forgetting where the keys were. He planned to leave for Manhattan at eight o’clock sharp with his suitcase, fake passport, and airline ticket.
Yuri walked over to the side door. After one more admiring look at the truck, he flipped off the light. Before he opened the door, he stuck his right hand in his jacket pocket to grip the Glock pistol. He was still afraid Flash Thomas might show up, although at that time of night he considered the chances slim. At least he didn’t have Jack Stapleton to worry about anymore.
As Yuri opened the door, he marveled that he’d not realized how truly crazy Curt was. Steve was weird, too, but not the way Curt was. Yuri knew he was no psychologist, but he imagined something terribly abnormal must have happened to Curt during his childhood to explain his personality. Yuri understood that Americans were covetous and violent and had little self-awareness, but Curt carried the traits to ridiculous extremes: his and only his view of the world was correct. But what really irritated Yuri was Curt’s anti-Slavic bias, which had become progressively more apparent as time had gone on.
Holding his key at the kitchen door, Yuri hesitated. Musing about Curt’s personality raised a worry that Yuri had not contemplated before. Considering Curt’s selfishness, what was going to keep him from making arrangements so that his People’s Aryan Army would get the credit for the whole bioweapon event even if Curt and the others had nothing to do with the Central Park laydown?
“Chert,” Yuri murmured when he realized the validity of this new worry. Up until that moment the idea had not entered his mind.
“Mr. Davydov?” a feminine voice called out.
Shocked to hear his name, Yuri looked toward the alleyway. Despite the proximity of the houses in the area, Yuri had always made it a point to avoid socializing with his neighbors. His hand tightened around the automatic.
“Excuse me! Are you Mr. Davydov?”
Yuri had to squint in the darkness. With his carriage light off and no streetlights, all he could make out were two figures in the alley beyond his chain-link fence. He relaxed when he could tell they were both white. At least it wasn’t Flash Thomas.
“Who wants to know?” Yuri asked.
“My name is Dr. Laurie Montgomery. If you are Mr. Davydov it is urgent I speak with you for just a few moments.”
Yuri shrugged. Holding onto the pistol and being sure it was free if he wanted to pull it out, he advanced toward his fence. He could see that the second individual was male.
“Sorry to bother you so late,” Laurie said. “I’m a medical examiner from Manhattan. Do you know what a medical examiner is?”
Yuri tried to speak but no words came out. Despite the darkness he recognized the other figure. It was Jack Stapleton!
Laurie took the silence for a negative response and went ahead and explained what medical examiners did.
Yuri swallowed with difficulty. He couldn’t believe he was looking at Jack Stapleton. What possibly could have happened? Why hadn’t he been informed? But then he remembered his phone was off the hook.
“And the reason we are here,” Laurie continued, “is because your late wife, Connie, apparently died of botulinum poisoning. Do you know what that is?”
Yuri nodded. He could hear his heart beating and was afraid the two people he was confronting could hear it as well. He was at a loss as to what to do. Should he try to get rid of them? Should he try to get them inside and wait for Curt? He had no idea.
“We’re very concerned that the source might still be in your home,” Laurie said. “Did your wife do any home canning?”
“I don’t know,” Yuri stammered.
“Well, that would be key to review,” Laurie persisted. “There are other possible culprits, like fresh garlic in oil. Frozen pot pies have been a source. By the way, are you Russian?”
“Yes,” Yuri managed.
“I thought perhaps you were from your accent,” Laurie said.
“Where in Russia are you from?” Jack asked, speaking for the first time.
“Ummm,” Yuri voiced with hesitation. Then he said, “Saint Petersburg.”
“I hear that’s a beautiful city,” Laurie said. “Anyway, there’s a kind of whitefish favored by Russian immigrants that have been known to have carried the toxin. Is that something you eat often?”
“Not too often,” Yuri said. He had no idea what Laurie was talking about.
“We’d very much like to come inside and take a look in your kitchen,” Laurie said. “I cannot emphasize enough how potentially serious this could be.”
“Well, I...” Yuri began.
“It will not take long,” Laurie said. “We promise. You see, we’ve come all the way out here from Manhattan. Of course, we could call the Department of Health. Now, they would insist about coming in and would have legal authority to do so.”
“I suppose it would be all right if it didn’t take too long,” Yuri said. He was beginning to recover from his initial shock. He certainly didn’t want any public health authorities coming out during the night armed with a warrant. Besides, he was beginning to think of a way of turning this surprise visit to his favor.
“Thank you,” Laurie said. She and Jack came through the gate.
Yuri preceded them back to the kitchen door. He opened it and stepped inside. Laurie and Jack followed.
Laurie’s eyes swept the cramped L-shaped room. “This is...” she began. She hesitated trying to think of a word until finally saying: “Cute.”
Jack nodded, but he was more interested in looking at Yuri. “That’s quite a rash you have there.”
Yuri touched his face with evident embarrassment. His other hand was still in his pocket, holding onto the Glock. “It’s some kind of allergic reaction.”
Jack tilted his head to the side and looked at Yuri with narrowed eyes. “Have I met you someplace?”
“Surely not,” Yuri said. He pointed to the kitchen. “All the food is right here.”
Laurie immediately went to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. She bent over and looked at the contents. There was very little.
Jack followed but was curious about the objects on the table. “What are these?” he questioned while poking one of the clear plastic sausages with his finger.
Yuri leaped forward. “Careful!” he cried. He then calmed when Jack pulled his hand away. “I don’t want those to break.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t touch it very hard. Is this some kind-of Russian delicacy?”
“In a way,” Yuri said vaguely.
“Wait a second,” Jack said suddenly. “I remember you. But aren’t you from Sverdlovsk?”
“No, I’m from Saint Petersburg,” Yuri said.
“Didn’t I meet you in the Corinthian Rug Company office?” Jack asked. “I mean your neighbor, Yegor, told me you drove a taxi. Didn’t you come to the rug company to pick up Mr. Papparis?”
“It must have been someone else,” Yuri said uneasily.
“You’re the spitting image of this guy,” Jack said.
Laurie opened the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. All that was in it was a bottle of vodka and a tray of ice cubes.
“You don’t have much food in here,” Laurie commented.
“My wife ate fast food,” Yuri said. “I ate on the road.”
Laurie nodded. She opened the kitchen cabinets. Not finding anything suspicious, she stepped back and surveyed the tiny kitchen. “I don’t see any home-canning implements.”