Bobby studied the older man. Sunken cheeks and square jaw. Distinctly Slavic features. They were Russian or Ukrainian mobsters. Bobby had seen enough of them during his childhood in Ukraine to know the look.
“Chorty,” Bobby said.
Nadia frowned. “What?”
Chorty was the Ukrainian word for devils. The front desk was twenty feet away and the men were standing sideways. They were in the middle of an animated conversation with the doorman and weren’t paying attention to the elevator. Bobby grabbed Nadia by the lapel of her coat.
“They’re here for us,” Bobby said.
“Who’s here for us?” Nadia’s voice trailed off as her eyes went to the men. Bobby could see the recognition in her eyes. Two Slavic-looking mafia types at her apartment building. It was too much of a coincidence.
“Freight elevator,” Bobby said.
They slipped out of the elevator and hurried down the corridor to the side entrance. Nadia said hello to the doorman who accepted deliveries and stormed past him out the side door. Bobby followed. She took a hard right onto the sidewalk on Eighty-First Street. They hurried to the end of the block. Took a left turn onto First Avenue and hustled forward another half block. Ducked into an alcove in front of a giant day care center for dogs.
Nadia pulled out her cell phone and called the car service. “I had to drop my dog off at the day care center,” she said to the operator. “Would you please tell the driver I’m sorry for the inconvenience and ask him to pick me up a couple of blocks away?” She proceeded to give directions to their current location.
Bobby peered around a wall at the sidewalk behind them to see if anyone had been following them. He didn’t see anyone suspicious.
“There may be more men,” Bobby said. “In a car. Watching our car.”
“That would not be a good thing. Even worse would be if they figure out we’re going to Tokyo.”
“Don’t worry,” Bobby said. “I packed for misdirection.”
Nadia frowned.
A black Lincoln Town Car pulled up. The name Tesla was handwritten on a sign in the front windshield.
“That’s a slight giveaway,” Bobby said.
Nadia swore under her breath. “You think?”
The driver stored their luggage in the trunk. He took the sign down from the windshield and tossed it in the passenger seat beside him.
“What terminal at JFK?” he said.
“Terminal one,” Nadia said. “Did the doorman from my building come out to see who you were picking up?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he ask what terminal?”
“No. One of the other guys did.”
“What other guys?”
“There were two guys in suits with him. They looked like security. The way they asked, I thought they were coming with us in a backup car. For a minute there, I thought you were a congressman or something.”
“Why, do I look untrustworthy?” Nadia said.
She glanced at Bobby and nodded. Now she believed him, Bobby thought.
The driver pulled up to a red light. “You seem a little out of breath. You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Bobby said. “We’re okay.”
“Yeah,” Nadia said. She glanced at Bobby again. “We had to run.”
CHAPTER 8
Luo drove to a health clinic thirty miles north of Kyiv on Monday morning. The Division of Nervous Pathologies was located on a campus consisting of four multistoried buildings that resembled concrete slabs. It was an abomination only man could have conjured, and a Soviet man at that. The campus was surrounded by a gorgeous forest, a pleasant contrast that reminded Luo of home.
Luo met with an administrator in a stark office with metal furniture.
“There were four medical classifications for Chornobyl victims,” the administrator said. “Sufferers, evacuees, cleanup workers, and nuclear plant workers. Our job was to formulate diagnostics, create medical classifications, and prescribe treatments.”
“Did you find any records for a boy named Tesla?”
The administrator reached for a manila folder. “I did. There were twenty-eight people named Tesla. Fifteen of them males.”
“How many would be in their late teens today? Between sixteen and eighteen.”
“Three. Two were from Kyiv. One was from Korosten. I remember the one from Korosten. His name was Adam. Incredible case.”
“Why incredible?”
“He was a stage II sufferer. Physical deformity at the ears. Thyroid problem. Not as bad as the girl.”
“Girl? What girl?”
“Adam came for dosimeter updates and treatments with a girl. They lived with the girl’s uncle. What was her name? It began with a vowel. Anna. No. Irina. No. Eva. Yes. That’s it. Eva.”
“Tell me about them.”
“They both had the benefit of being serednjaky.”
Luo frowned.
“Serednjak is the Ukrainian word for middle-of-the-road, as in a wheat field. They say it’s best not to be the tallest or the shortest blade of wheat but somewhere in the middle. That way when the combine passes over you, you’re sure to be cut. The blade may mangle the tall wheat and miss the short one, but it’s sure to cut the one of average height. And so it was here, at the Division of Nervous Pathologies.”
“How so?”
“The short wheat — those who were not sick enough — might not have gotten any treatment. The tall wheat — those who were very sick — might have been too fragile to survive the treatment. The serednjak had the best chance for survival.”
“And to your knowledge they survived?”
“Both of them were stage II sufferers since birth. Their mothers lived in Pripyat in 1986 when the disasters occurred. And they were born in the area. Their symptoms worsened as they aged, which is typical. When the prognosis for Eva’s thyroid condition became grim, she had the requisite surgery. She was fifteen or so at the time. Which would have made Adam fourteen.” The administrator stared into space as though recalling an extraordinary event. “And then it started happening.”
“What started happening?”
“The radiation in their bodies began to gradually recede.”
“What? It went away?”
“Yes. We asked questions but found nothing in their diets or lifestyles that could explain their steady improvement.” The administrator checked his manila folder. “The last record I have of the boy visiting is approximately two years ago. Nothing since.”
“Do you have an address? A next of kin?”
The administrator gave Luo their home address in Korosten. “Eva passed away two years ago. Had an accident that required hospitalization. Died from an infection. Girl overcomes one illness only to succumb to another. What a tragedy.”
“She’s happier in the spirit world, I am sure,” Luo said.
The administrator frowned. “What spirit world?”
“The one beneath the earth.”
The administrator looked like he’d swallowed something bitter. “Where did you say you were from?”
“North of Moscow. Anyone else mentioned in the file?”
“An emergency contact by the name of K. Melnik. There’s an address in Kyiv. Might be a physician. Or a family friend. I don’t know. I never interacted with this person, and there is no record of him in my notes.”
Luo thanked the administrator and went back to his car. He placed a series of calls to Korosten and learned that Eva’s uncle had been a Soviet hockey player before being convicted of manslaughter. He drank and gambled his pension away. He also died seven months ago.
That left one lead, the mysterious K. Melnik noted as an emergency contact for Adam. Luo drove to Kyiv. K. Melnik lived in an elegant old four-story apartment building overlooking the River Dnipro.