A police car was parked at the curb in front of the building. The front door was open, and two uniformed policemen stood chatting near the stairs.
Luo walked by the policemen into the foyer and studied the names by the buzzers and apartment numbers. A person named Ksenia Melnik lived in apartment 4B. Luo wasn’t surprised the contact was a woman. Unlike the administrator, he’d made no assumptions about the person or her relationship to the boy. He’d learned during his tours in Chechnya not to make assumptions about any civilian.
He pressed the buzzer to Ksenia Melnik’s apartment. No one answered.
One of the cops appeared beside him. “You know this person?” He looked suspicious and angry, like most Ukrainian cops.
“I’m a friend of a friend. He asked me to stop by and say hello to her.”
“Tell your friend that won’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
“Because Ksenia Melnik is dead. Robbery — homicide. Last night.”
“How did she die?”
“A bullet to the head.”
Just like the squatters in Chornobyl. “Anyone in the neighborhood see anything?”
“No, but her son was hiding in the closet the whole time. He says he didn’t see their faces. Said he hid in the closet like a coward and let them kill his mother.”
“Is he home right now?” Luo said.
“Yeah. The detectives are with him upstairs right now.”
“I’d like to extend my condolences when they’re done.”
The cop frowned. “I thought you didn’t know her.”
“I didn’t. But my friend does. And he’ll never forgive me if I don’t pay my respects on his behalf.”
CHAPTER 9
Nadia wondered if someone was waiting for them at the airport. The trip to JFK took a little over an hour. The driver dropped them off at the departure area for terminal one. The curbside was jammed with vehicles. Shuttle buses, limos, and cars pulled up and then moved on. “Do you see our friends anywhere?” Nadia said.
“No,” Bobby said. “But they know we’re here. If there’s just two of them, they’re behind us. But if there’s another team, they’re already here. Waiting for us. The good news is they don’t know where we’re going yet. Because if they knew, they wouldn’t have asked the driver what airport and what terminal.”
“You are my nephew, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I’m your cousin.”
Bobby was right, but Nadia loved to tease him otherwise. “So disrespectful. Haven’t you been through this with your aunt before?”
They checked in, proceeded through security and passport control, and emerged at the corridor leading to the gates.
“There they are,” Bobby said. “Up ahead. On the left. Near the golf store. In suits. Sipping coffee, pretending they’re having a conversation.”
Nadia glanced their way. Two more rugged-looking Slavs seeming just a little out of place. They glanced at Nadia.
“They saw me looking at them,” Nadia said.
“That’s okay,” Bobby said. “They know who we are. We know who they are. Now they know we know who they are. What do they say in America?” He switched to English. “Level playing field.”
“Our gate is up ahead.” Nadia checked her watch. “The flight leaves in fifty minutes. We have time until the final boarding call. Keep walking past the gate. Pretend we’re taking a different flight.”
They walked by the Slavs and continued past gate five. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the destination posted on the board.
Tokyo.
Bobby followed her past their gate. The corridor ended a hundred yards ahead. Nadia saw the sign for gates nine, ten, and eleven at the far wall.
“We have to pick one of these gates,” Nadia said. “We’ll sit down and pretend it’s our flight. They’ll come over to take a look. Their goal will be to see where we’re flying so they can communicate that to their boss. The question is how can we make them believe we’re actually boarding a different flight so they don’t know we’re going to Tokyo.”
Bobby considered the question for a few seconds. “I can do that.”
“What? How?”
“Yeah,” Bobby said, staring into space. “I can definitely get rid of them.” He turned to Nadia. “You’re always telling me I have to trust you. The question now is, do you trust me?”
“It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of concern. What do you have in mind?”
“We need to find another flight. The one we want them to think we’re taking.”
They ambled past gates seven and eight. Nadia checked the gate on the left.
“Seoul,” she said.
“Beijing on the other side,” Bobby said.
They passed restrooms and a coffee shop and arrived at the final trio of gates.
“Grand Cayman Islands,” Nadia said.
“Cool,” Bobby said. “They’ll assume we’re going on vacation. That might make sense.”
More logical than Seoul or Beijing, Nadia thought. Then she saw the destination at gate ten. “Forget the Caymans. Look.”
Bobby glanced at the departure board. Lufthansa Airlines flight 8840 to Frankfurt.
“Frankfurt to Kyiv is a common route,” Nadia said.
“They’ll assume we’re headed to Ukraine.”
“It would be the logical deduction.”
“Nice.”
Bobby led the way to an empty cluster of chairs at gate ten. Nadia checked her surroundings. A family of five with two screaming children, a middle-aged couple with bronzed skin, a pair of honeymooners with their eyes on each other.
The same two Slavs were seated at gate nine behind them. One was reading a paper, the other tapping his mobile phone.
“They’re behind us,” Nadia said.
“I’m sure they are,” Bobby said.
She checked the departure board. “The Lufthansa flight boards in less than fifteen minutes.”
Bobby took a deep breath. “That should be enough time.” He slung his bag over his shoulder.
“Wait.” Nadia wanted to throttle him. She reminded herself to keep her voice down. “You want to share your plan with your aunt?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You might try to stop me, and we don’t have any other options.” He smiled sweetly. “Don’t be scared, Auntie. I prepared for this scenario.”
“How?”
“I told you. I packed for misdirection.”
CHAPTER 10
Bobby rehearsed his plan as he approached the restroom entrance.
“Hey.” A young man in a New York Rangers hockey jersey stepped forward. “You’re that hockey player from Fordham. The one that beat Gaborik in that race in Harlem. Your name is Bobby…” His voice trailed off as he tried to remember Bobby’s last name.
“Sorry, man. You must have me confused with someone else.”
The man’s jaw dropped. He looked as though he wanted to say something else but wasn’t prepared for Bobby’s answer.
Bobby bolted into the restroom, found an empty stall, and locked himself inside. He tried not to slip on the floor, which was wet and disgusting. The hook on the back of the stall door had been ripped off. Just like Ukraine. He wiped the toilet seat with a handkerchief and rested his bag on top of it. He was wearing jeans, a button-down shirt, the navy sports jacket Nadia had bought him in Alaska, and black loafers. He hated those clothes. Nadia said they made him look respectable but they felt stiff and wrong on him. They made him look like someone he wasn’t, an entitled prep school kid with rich parents. That made them perfect for misdirection.
He swapped the sports jacket for a forest-green fleece with a high collar and exchanged the loafers for his hiking boots. He put on a black cap with flaps that covered his ears. Ran his hand along the back and stuffed his long black hair under the cap. Lifted the collar to cover his neck. Donned a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. Zipped his bag shut and left it on the toilet seat.