Stefan and Victor’s other man aimed their guns at Nadia and Adam.
“Be a good boy and remove the necklace from your neck,” Victor said. “And open the locket.”
Adam lifted the necklace over his head, ruffling his hair and exposing his ears in the process. Victor saw they were half ears and felt a measure of compassion for the boy. As Adam struggled to unlock the tiny clasp, Victor had to take a deep breath to remain patient. When it finally unsnapped, Adam opened the locket.
A piece of paper the size of a stamp fell out into his palm. Adam unfolded the paper into a three-inch-by-three-inch square. He held it up for everyone to see. Victor squinted, but without his glasses, he couldn’t read it. He could tell it wasn’t microfilm, however, and experienced an immediate sting of disappointment.
“What is that?” Victor said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his glasses.
Nadia regarded him with a wistful smile. “No one wants a boy from the Zone.”
Victor found his glasses, slid them out of their case, and wrapped them around his head. “What? What’s that you say?”
He studied the paper. It was a torn and tattered picture of the Statue of Liberty. It was the symbol of freedom and all that America offered, and if it was this picture the boy had been carrying around all this time…
Victor spun around toward the two men. Banya. Yuri Banya. And Stanislavski. He couldn’t remember the latter’s first name, but he realized who they were and why he recognized them. They were part of Damian’s crew, long thought dead by everyone—
It was a con, Victor realized. There was no formula. It was all about the boy. It was all about getting him to America.
Victor wheeled back to Nadia. He could tell just by looking at her expression that she knew he’d figured it out.
“A thief made me his willing accomplice,” she said.
Victor nodded.
“FBI. Drop your weapons.”
The order came from the doorway. Victor turned. Specter and a swarm of other men in blue Windbreakers buzzed into the bar, guns aimed at Victor and his men.
Something crashed to the floor.
Stefan and the other bodyguard fired. Muted thumps rang out from their suppressed weapons. An FBI agent collapsed before everyone dove for cover.
As Victor hit the ground, he saw a woman scurrying back into the kitchen with her hands wrapped around her head, leaving an empty tray, broken china, buckwheat bread, and a puddle of beet soup in her wake.
Specter and the agents fired back. The noise became deafening.
Victor crawled toward the curtain leading to the back, not giving a damn about the formula or Nadia Tesla. After all, he could take over Misha’s businesses now. He hadn’t prayed to God in decades. Yet here he was, on all fours, begging God for a clean escape so he could see his daughter again. So he could hold his grandson in his arms. His grandson.
Halfway to the curtain, Victor thought of Specter and the possibility of jail, but realized the man had never seen him commit a crime. The authorities had nothing on him. When Victor burst through the curtain, his religious inspiration left him. He became the greedy bastard he’d always been. Once he knew he was safe, and that he’d see Tara and her child again, he thought of what all men thought of when they were conscious. Money.
As he escaped the Underground through the back door onto the street, it occurred to Victor that if Stefan were killed, the dove and the maiden would be his once again.
CHAPTER 86
WHEN THE BULLETS started flying, Nadia tackled Adam. They stayed low. The floor shook before her eyes when bullets felled Stefan and Victor’s other bodyguard.
The firefight ended as abruptly as it had started.
Specter rushed over to them. Nadia and Adam were still on the ground.
“Are you all right?” he said.
His words sounded distant. Nadia realized her hearing was impaired from the gunshots.
Nadia glanced at Adam, who was rubbing his ears.
“I think so,” she said, collecting herself. She studied Specter. “Who are you, really?”
Specter pulled out a wallet and flipped it open to reveal an ID. “John Dzen. FBI. I work for the joint Hungarian-American task force on organized crime. We started there, ended up here. Where’s Victor Bodnar? He was here, wasn’t he?”
Nadia stood up. Her body trembled. She looked around. An agent was tending to a wounded colleague near the front door. Yuri and Simon were sitting on the floor, unscathed. Another agent was checking the pulses of Stefan and the other bodyguard. But there was no sign of Victor.
“These two are dead,” the agent said.
“He must have slipped away,” Nadia said. “You’re going to get him, though, right?”
“Did he have a gun? Did you see him shoot anyone?”
Nadia remembered Victor standing beside his bodyguards with his hands by his sides. “I don’t think so.”
Specter frowned. Raised his eyebrows. “Where’s the formula?”
Adam stood up.
“There is no formula,” Nadia said.
“Nadia, please,” Specter said. “The formula is a matter of national security. You must hand it over to the federal government. Let me put it to you this way. You will hand it over to us one way or another.”
“There’s no formula, Specter,” Nadia said. “Adam, show this man what was in the locket. Show this man what this was all about.”
Adam held the picture of the Statue of Liberty in his left hand. He extended his arm so Specter could see it.
Specter frowned. “What’s this? Is this a joke? Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for this? Where’s the microfilm—”
Adam was staring with disbelief at a purple stain on his sports jacket. It was near his upper chest on his left side.
“He’s been shot,” Nadia said. “Specter, you shot an innocent child.”
“Stray bullet,” Specter said.
“Get an ambulance. Now.”
Adam’s knees wobbled. Nadia caught him. Specter helped her ease him back to the floor and peeled his jacket back. His white shirt was stained with blood, like Yuri’s the night he’d pretended to be Max Milan. Only this time, the blood was real.
Specter barked orders for a second ambulance and a first-aid kit. When it arrived, he opened a sterile bandage and told Nadia to apply direct pressure on the wound.
“It’s the upper chest,” he said. “Near the deltoid-pectoral tie-in. Nothing vital. Worst case, a muscle got hit. He’ll be fine. Ambulance is on the way.”
Adam, near the border of consciousness, studied Specter and turned to Nadia. “Government man,” he said. “Can’t trust a government man.”
“No,” Nadia said, giving Specter an evil eye. “No, you most certainly cannot.”
Nadia followed Adam’s gaze to the paper in his hand. The glossy newsprint and its dimensions struck a chord within Nadia. The hockey magazine. Adam had held up a page when she first asked about it on the Trans-Siberian. The page had a hole in it. It was the page for the New York Rangers. He’d torn the picture of the Statue of Liberty out of the magazine and put it in the locket.
Adam nodded at the picture of Lady Liberty. “Downtown?” he said.
Nadia nodded. “Downtown. I’ll take you to see her.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Adam smiled.
Nadia continued to press her hand to his wound gently. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. But no more lies between us. Okay, Bobby?”