“Wait,” Nadia said. “Not so fast—”
He resumed talking in his cool, clinical voice. “You’re a forensic security analyst, Auntie. You’re the best investigator no one knows about. You can tear companies apart to reveal the truth like no one else. Same goes for people.”
“No. I meant not so fast because I need you to repeat the name for me. Ksenia who?”
Bobby repeated the details about Ksenia Melnik and her son.
“You take care of yourself,” Nadia said.
“You too, Auntie.”
“Make sure you call me.”
Nadia heard a click before she finished her sentence. When Bobby didn’t answer, she knew he’d hung up. A fleeting sense of anxiety washed over her. He was going back to Russia on his own. To Russia.
Johnny had started digging into the food. He pulled chunks of chicken from a skewer onto a plate with his chopsticks. “Bottom line,” he said, “the kid’s still alive. You got to pause and give thanks for the major gifts of life.”
The phone rang.
A surge of hope swept through Nadia. Maybe the man wasn’t taking Eva to Vladivostok. Maybe Bobby had misread the situation. Nadia hit the RECEIVE button without even looking at the screen and pressed it to her ear.
“Bobby?” she said.
But it wasn’t Bobby. It was a Japanese man speaking broken English. He said his son’s friend had found a cell phone at a gas station and this was the most frequently dialed number. He wondered if Nadia knew the proper owner and how he could go about returning the phone to him.
Nadia asked him to ship it to their hotel in Shibuya along with his address so she could reimburse him for the postage and include a reward. He declined the reward like a classy Japanese gentleman. She thanked him for his kindness.
“Oh, hell,” she said, after hanging up.
Johnny pointed toward the plates of food with his chopsticks. “Try some appetizers? Mighty tasty. Can’t get shrimp tempura like that in Kyiv. Can you?”
CHAPTER 27
The pamphlet at the ferry station boasted a picture of a luxurious ship with a massive swimming pool. Even if he had swim trunks, Bobby knew he couldn’t afford the risk of exposing himself, literally and figuratively. Still, he enjoyed a quick little daydream, where the driver accidentally fell overboard and he and Eva had the pool to themselves. The rest of the passengers were passed out drunk from vodka and paid no attention to them. What followed in the pool was an even more unlikely fantasy, though it had helped him endure the trip beneath the truck. In fact, he would have sacrificed all hope for its becoming reality to confirm she was still alive and secure her safety.
Bobby found a convenience store and a food kiosk in the ferry building. He bought a travel kit containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, a razor, and shaving cream. It also contained a mask, the kind painters wore in America, and sick folks wore in Tokyo. A rack of cheap sunglasses offered protection from ultraviolet rays and prying eyes. Bobby ran straight to the rack as soon as he saw it. He tried on a few pairs and settled on a wraparound design that athletes and kids his age might wear. They were a bit flashy, but he looked even stranger when he tried on the aviator designs adults might wear. His father had warned him not to outthink himself. Sometimes the best disguise was being oneself.
He bought a six-pack of bottled water and enough packaged food for two days. He knew from his experience on the Trans Siberian Express not to expect anything but boiled water on the ferry. Perhaps they would have food but it would be expensive. By bringing his own supplies he would arouse less suspicion. He might actually look like a regular commuter, someone who knew how to save a dime. He also bought a notebook, a pen, and two t-shirts from a souvenir stand, and a duffel bag. He stuffed his purchases into the bag so he appeared to have some luggage.
Once he was finished shopping, Bobby converted his yen into rubles at the currency exchange desk. Nadia had changed 500 dollars into yen for him. Even though he had a credit card, she didn’t want him traveling without local currency in his pocket. He’d used the credit card to make his purchases so he had 460 dollars worth of rubles left when he made the second conversion. The currency traders made a nice living. Eleven more conversions and he’d be left with no money even though he hadn’t spent a dime.
A wall in the ferry building contained ads from several hotels in Vladivostok. Bobby noted the cheapest one. He entered it as his destination on the proper Russian immigration form. He told the immigration officers he was on vacation with his aunt who was back in Tokyo. He was writing an article for his school blog about the students’ most unusual experiences. It was a contest, with the winner earning a place on a prominent New York City travel magazine’s blog. Boy did he want to win that contest. Such a victory could help a kid get into a good college. The top colleges were so competitive in the States, he told the officer, among other random observations about his high school experience. He spoke in English, enunciating carefully to hide any trace of his Russian fluency, not pausing to take a breath so as to frustrate the officer as much as possible.
It worked. The immigration officer’s face turned eggplant as Bobby yapped away. With a long line of people waiting behind Bobby, the immigration officer stamped his passport and let him pass.
Bobby found the driver and Eva sitting in a waiting area in front of a window facing the pier, their backs to the main lobby. No one could see their faces upon entering the waiting room, and those who walked past them to enter the pier had their eyes on the ferry. Eva rested her head on the driver’s shoulder. To a casual observer, it looked like an affectionate gesture from a daughter, wife, or lover. To Bobby, it spoke of needles or pills and a heavily sedated state. He resisted the temptation to try to catch a glimpse of her face. His goal was to follow them and not to be seen, he reminded himself. He would not be helping his cause by confirming she was Eva if the driver recognized him. The driver had a cell phone. He would call his associates. They would kill Bobby on Russian soil, dissolve his corpse in acid, feed it to pigs, or toss it into the foundation of a new high-rise in Vladivostok. No, Bobby thought. Keep to yourself.
Eva was Genesis II, he thought. She simply had to be.
When boarding started, Bobby watched the driver and Eva climb the gangplank and disappear inside. He waited five minutes to let them find their seats and minimize the risk he’d bump into them. Only then did he make his way onboard.
One side of the ferry resembled an open sardine can filled with used Japanese cars. They nestled so closely to one another that there was barely any room to open their doors. Bobby wondered how someone could manage to squeeze in and out, as it appeared that only a stick figure would be able to slither behind their wheels.
If the parking lot was a revelation, the swimming pool was a major disappointment. It bore as much of a resemblance to the picture in the pamphlet as Pripyat did to the utopian city built for the nuclear workers in Chornobyl. There were no lounge chairs or side tables with umbrella drinks. Patches of rust covered the handrails. The diving board had been snapped in half. Strips of cracked and peeling paint dangled along the sides and bottom of the basin. The pool itself wasn’t filled with sky blue water. Instead it was crammed full of motorcycles. A five-foot plank rested beside the shallow end, no doubt serving as the ramp to get the motorcycles in and out of the pool.
The passenger side of the ferry was actually worthy of a brochure. Probably not a luxury cruise brochure, but certainly one for ferries. An immaculate lobby the size of a ballroom greeted passengers. Stairs led to the second floor where the first- and second-class cabins were located. Bobby was certain the driver had secured such a room for himself and Eva. The thought of him spending two nights with her sent chills down Bobby’s spine, but he soothed himself with logical reasoning. He couldn’t overtake the man when he was locked in a private room on a boat in the middle of the ocean. He had to bide his time. He had to concern himself with his stealth and her survival.