“Are you going to tell me what this priceless formula is about?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When I’m done with my investigation in Kyiv.”
“I’ll be accompanying you personally during your investigation.”
“Then you’ll have to know earlier so our meetings make sense. I’ll tell you all about it during the drive from the airport.”
“You’re going to trust a Russian?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so happy to hear you say that. It means two things.”
“What’s that?”
“You are an American after all.”
“And?”
“There’s hope for us yet.”
He told her he was taking his private plane to meet her in Kyiv.
When she arrived in Kyiv at 5:15 a.m. on Monday, he was waiting for her at the terminal in Boryspil Airport. He wore a tan suede jacket over a black mock turtleneck. A day’s growth on his beard added mischief to his appearance. He’d appeared freshly shaved in his pinstripe suits when she’d met with him before. His transformation left Nadia wondering how he looked in pajamas.
He kissed her on both cheeks and escorted her to his Range Rover. It was the white one in front of the two black ones surrounded by six soldier types with crew cuts and cinderblock shoulders. He held the rear door open for her and climbed in beside her. One of his men took a seat behind the wheel and drove them out of the airport.
“I left the limousine at home,” he said. “I hope this is comfortable enough. Given we’re going to be asking some questions in some questionable neighborhoods, I thought it best to take the vehicle that commands the most respect. You probably drive one of these yourself in New York City, don’t you?”
“Range Rover? Me? Oh, sure.”
The closest she’d come to Range Rovers was on the Triboro Bridge heading in and out of Manhattan, when they passed her with an implied sense of superiority. But when she climbed into the plush leather cabin, she had to admit she could get used to driving in the fast lane.
“You said someone tried to kill you. And your boy has taken off in pursuit of them. Tell me everything.”
Nadia told him about what happened in the Zone of Exclusion without getting into details about why they were there. She saved that part for her discussion of the formula, which she suspected was imminent.
“Did you find Ksenia Melnik?” Nadia said.
“The woman that worked at the Division of Nervous Pathologies in Kyiv,” Simeonovich said. “Yes. My people found her.”
“Where is she?”
“I will tell you. And I will take you to her if you like, although I think you’ll change your mind about wanting to see her. But first, you must fulfill your promise to me. You must tell me what this precious formula is about.”
Nadia felt her temperature rise. The magnitude of her imminent revelation hit her. She realized for the first time that she feared she might be on the verge of betraying all mankind. The formula could theoretically be used to save a nation’s population after a nuclear attack. In a nuclear exchange, one group of people could heal while another died. She was about to reveal the possible existence of such a formula to a Russian. Her ethnic distrust, planted by her immigrant parents, had been reinforced by headlines during the Cold War. Ronald Reagan’s bluster about the evil empire. Stories of oppression behind the Iron Curtain. Was she about to make one of the biggest errors in judgment in mankind’s history?
No, she decided. Men had tried to kill her and Johnny. One of them was holding Genesis II hostage. Those men were also Russian. They were unequivocally evil. If Bobby made a mistake and revealed himself, they might have the entire formula in their possession, if it existed. Simmy was an international business figure with a reputation for integrity, at least where Russian oligarchs were concerned. Aligning herself with him to fight the other Russians was a no-brainer.
“You had me look into records at the Division of Nervous Pathologies,” Simeonovich said. “The radiation research center. That was a strong hint. An ambitious man might draw some earth-shattering implications from that alone.”
“Even a man blinded by his ambition is right once in a while.”
He chuckled. “Are you saying I’m driven only by money?”
“No. I’m saying even you’re right once in a while.”
“American women. Are they all so insolent?”
“No. Just the ambitious ones.”
Nadia turned sideways to face Simeonovich. She described the formula in detail, including her visits with Eric Sandstrom, the radiobiologist at Columbia University. She told Simeonovich about Dr. Arkady Shatan and the treatments he administered to Eva and Bobby. There was no reason for Nadia to hold back. If Simeonovich had found Ksenia Melnik, he knew that she’d worked for the brilliant, reclusive, and dead former Soviet scientist.
Simeonovich glanced at Nadia occasionally, but mostly stared at the seatback in front of her. He listened without interruption and maintained a stoic expression until she finished speaking. When she was done he glanced at her casually, as though she’d just finished giving him the weather forecast.
“Who else knows about this?” he said.
“Johnny Tanner knows everything,” she said. “He’s on his way to the States. And the people who fought us and took Genesis II hostage probably know something.” Nadia remembered Victor Bodnar. Nadia didn’t know how much the old thief knew, but it was irrelevant. He was in Riker’s Island prison and going to stay there for ten years.
“Anyone else?”
“No—” The memory of a flying boomerang popped into her mind. “Wait. There’s the angel. He may or may not know about the formula, but he was following us for a reason.”
“Angel?” Simeonovich appeared confused. “What angel?”
Nadia rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. I forgot to tell you about the angel.” She recounted how two boomerangs saved their lives.
“And you didn’t see anyone?”
“Not a soul.”
“Extraordinary.” Simeonovich sounded like an Englishman. Native Russians who spoke fluent English often did so with a British flair. That England was held in the highest cultural regard across the former Soviet Union undoubtedly contributed to this.
He turned to his driver and spoke in rapid-fire Russian. He told him to inform the men in the other cars that there were two other interested parties. One was a group of Russians. Based on their actions in Japan, they were armed, trained, and serious. There was no reason to suspect they had any idea Nadia was in Ukraine. The second might be one or more men who favored the use of boomerangs. Their ethnic origin was unclear.
The driver said, “Unclear but certain.”
Simeonovich grunted in agreement.
“What does that mean?” Nadia said.
“Boomerangs are used to herd reindeer in Siberia,” Simeonovich said. “Your angel is most likely Siberian. Quite possibly a Yakut from the Yakutia Republic. They are great herders. Experts with the boomerang.”
Nadia glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “You’re from Siberia, too? Chukotka, wasn’t it?”
Simeonovich crinkled his brow as though amused by her implication he might know the angel. “Yes. Chukotka is near Yakutia. I’m sure this man and I would have been practically neighbors, if it weren’t for the fact that Yakutia is the world’s largest subnational territory, and only slightly smaller than India.”
“Point taken,” Nadia said. “Now tell me why you think I might not want you to take me to see Ksenia Melnik?”
“Because she’s dead.”
“What?”
“Robbery-homicide.”
Nadia felt deflated. Her best lead gone. “That’s a bit coincidental, don’t you think?”