She wasn’t going home. Not unless they gagged her and threw her in the luggage department.
Not that she would put it past Vadeem, the FSB pit bull. She’d have to get out of here soon to dodge him, or his just-as-sinister cohorts.
Kat opened the waiting room door, and stopped short at the delightful sight of Sveta Watson playing with her new son. Gleb had turned into a full-fledged American, complete with jean overalls, a rugby shirt, and adorable little hiking boots. His eyes were wide, but a grin had broken out on his face as his mother played patty-cake with him. Kat had seen many a new mother turn into a pile of nerves and doubt, but Sveta took to it like a mama bear to her cub, knowing exactly how to coax a smile out of the frightened toddler. Delight radiated on the woman’s face as she made baby sounds, bonding with her son despite their language barrier, proving to him that finally, he had a family. Someone to belong to.
This is why Kat had come to Russia. To find her family. To belong. The clarity of it rushed through her, making her gasp.
She could nearly hear great-grandmother’s voice. “You’ve always been different. I blame it on your grandmother. Edward should have known better than to get involved with such a woman. Risked her life the entire pregnancy, and I have no doubt that thrill of adventure leaked right into her womb and infected her offspring. Look at your mother. And now you.”
Kat had frozen, completely undone by Grape-Grandmother’s mysterious, telling, words. Her burning desire to find her ancestors, starting with unraveling the covert story of her courageous Russian grandmother, ignited right then. She wondered what other secrets ran ripe in the Neumann home. Instead of pointing out the obvious, however, Kat buried that truth deep inside the recesses of her heart, preferring not to dismantle the only family she’d ever known. She would find the mysterious Magda link, find her blood relatives, and the truth would never shatter the Neumann family.
She swiped a betraying tear and approached the Watsons. “I see Gleb is doing okay. How are you?”
Sveta didn’t need to answer. She radiated joy. John stood as Kat sat down on the plaid sofa opposite them. “Thank you so much for your help, Kat. I’m so sorry for what happened to you in Yfa. Did the FSB find the guy who attacked you?”
John looked so worried, it made Kat hang her head. She hadn’t stopped thanking the Lord for saving her, but suddenly she added gratefulness that, through the tangle of events, the Watson’s still managed to bring Gleb successfully into their family. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and answered his question. “No, not yet.”
“Are you leaving today?” Sveta picked up Gleb, and bounced him on her knee. A baby’s giggle filled the room and brought a smile to everyone’s lips.
“No, I have some more work to do in Russia. I’ll be staying a few more days.” The truth was, she was flirting with the sudden desire to put down roots, perhaps in Blagoveshensk, where she could help them run their adoption program, maybe get to know Pyotr’s mother. She had a gut feeling that unearthing her past, especially without her picture or Anton’s journal, might take longer than her visa allowed.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Sveta had the “mother” look as she glanced at Kat. “You look…”
“Pretty rough, I know.” Kat didn’t have to look in a mirror to see she looked like she’d wrestled a badger and lost. A yellow bruise scraped down her face. Scratches webbed her neck. Thankfully, her lip had shrunk to its normal size. She’d indulged in some make-up at the Hilton gift shop and, besides the stiff muscles and fatigue, felt like she had pulled herself together. “I’ll survive.”
“Look us up when you get Stateside,” John said as he sat down next to his wife and joined in playing with their new son. His attention was already lost to Kat. She smiled, delighted that she’d seen the birth of this new family.
“God bless you,” she said quietly as she stood and slipped from the room.
Kat had few possessions to gather, and had already purchased a new shoulder bag. She stopped by the office of her only other friend in town, Alicia Renquist, and picked up the bulging bag, leaving her suitcase stowed behind the door. “Thank you, Alicia,” Kat said to the petite brunette, who had nearly cried at Kat’s condition yesterday when she met Kat in the embassy lobby.
Unfortunately, the US government hadn’t been able to find a drop of information on Magda Neumann inside Russia. “The only thing we could find was the marriage certificate in Schenectady.”
“Yes, I know,” Kat said, and ruled out any hope of embassy assistance.
Alicia had spent the better part of the morning trying to convince her to head home, as the FSB instructed. “You haven’t broken any laws, but it would be against my better judgment to allow you to continue your tour here,” Alice now, as if tempted to launch into her previous sermon. Instead, she handed Kat her passport and visa. Kat noticed the exit date hadn’t been changed. She still had three weeks left on her tourist visa. “Good luck, anyway, Kat.” Alicia smiled, warmth in her eyes.
“Thank you.” Kat slung the bag over her shoulder.
Alicia walked her to the door. “Call me if you need anything. And Kat, be careful.”
Kat gave her a quick hug and high-tailed it to the lobby. 10:00 A.M. wasn’t too soon for Vadeem to send his army to muscle her out of the country.
The locked door to the embassy offices whooshed closed behind her. Kat tucked the backpack over her shoulder and strode across the lobby. Coast clear. No leather-coated FSB agents hanging around like wolves at the entrance.
She strode past the security gates and burst through the doors, tasting freedom and her future in the damp Moscow air.
Kat scattered a group of pigeons as she fast-walked down the street. Train station, here I come, and then straight to Pskov. She didn’t know what she’d find there, but she’d start with a visit to the monastery, at least to pay her respects to the young monk who’d been murdered.
A shiver hissed up her spine at the grim thought. She clamped down on her fear. She had few choices—return to New York empty handed, or dive into the murky unknown, a prayer on her lips.
She’d take the leap of faith.
“Please God, help me,” she said, gathering speed. She wasn’t sure when the train left, but she hoped to be on it before Vadeem sent his bloodhounds to the embassy.
A hand clamped on her shoulder, hard and tight.
Kat whirled, nearly jumping out of her skin. She recognized Ryslan, Vadeem’s partner standing behind her.
“Good morning, Miss Moore.”
“You do this often?” Vadeem gripped his knees, hauling in searing breaths, sweat pouring down his face, his heart thumping through his chest. The clammy breath of mid-morning Moscow made him feel even stickier than he was after running five kilometers.
“What?” Pyotr asked, also hauling in breaths beside him.
“Follow people around.”
“Oh, you mean people that invite me to stay at their apartment, or challenge me to a foot race?” Pyotr smiled, looking not at all like a man who’d wrangled out the wretched story of a sinful man until three A.M. in a dimly lit apartment. Sweat ran in rivulets down his wide face, and his tawny blond hair stood up in spikes. “I’d say my army days paid off.”
Vadeem half-glared at him, not wanting to admit how well the man had kept up… and how much he enjoyed his company. He wasn’t ready to call the pastor friend yet, but the moniker skimmed close to actuality. What would he call a person who knew the demons that ravaged his soul and didn’t flinch at them?