They went down the curved staircase and walked along the carpeted hallway, passing the desk where the receptionist had greeted them before Mikhail had killed her.
Viktor opened the security door that isolated this exclusive group of rooms from the rest of the hotel. Keeping Mikhail and the baby in the middle, the group passed the elevator, opened a fire door, and went down a harshly lit concrete stairwell. As they descended, they took off their latex gloves and put on their outdoor ones.
The baby’s whimper echoed amid their scraping footsteps.
“ This is Melchior. One minute till arrival,” Andrei said to his microphone.
Three floors down, they reached the street level. Here a security camera was aimed at the corridor. They kept their heads down and tightened their two-one-two formation, partially shielding Mikhail in the middle so the camera couldn’t see the baby in his arms.
Through a glass door-the side exit from the hotel-Kagan saw snow falling past murky streetlights. Warmly dressed people walked past the window. Beyond vehicles parked along the curb, a dark van suddenly stopped.
I can’t do this, Kagan thought.
That afternoon, for a long time, he’d knelt in the nearby cathedral and stared at a manger scene, trying to tell himself that his controllers were absolutely right, that the innocent lives he’d saved were all that mattered. “Bring me home,” he’d begged them in dead-drop messages during the past three months. Sometimes he’d managed to slip away from Andrei and risk phone calls. But there had always been some reason his controllers couldn’t bring him in. He was too well placed, they’d insisted. No one could ever hope to penetrate the Russian mob so deeply. If he disappeared, the Russians would realize he was a spy, making it more dangerous to try to infiltrate another operative into the heart of their organization.
“ Then fake my death,” Kagan had urged them. “The Russians won’t suspect I was a mole if they think I’m dead.” But his controllers had talked of new rumors, about plastic explosives, hand-held missiles, and biological weapons being smuggled in via ports controlled by the Odessa Mafia. They’d reminded him of all the innocent lives he had an obligation to save.
Meanwhile, he’d obeyed the Pakhan’s orders to burn homes, break arms and legs, yank out teeth, and beat up women. More of his soul had disintegrated.
Viktor and Yakov stepped from the hotel and looked both ways, staring at pedestrians in the shadowy snowfall. With a nod, they signaled to Mikhail to carry the baby outside. Andrei and Kagan followed.
Kagan’s cheeks felt cold. His stomach felt colder.
Too much, he thought. No more.
The group passed between snow-covered cars parked along the curb. Headlights glowed in the street. Reaching the van, Viktor pulled its side door open. Yakov scrambled in. Mikhail approached with the baby. Andrei and Kagan followed.
The baby squirmed in Mikhail’s arms.
I wanted to make the world better, Kagan thought.
The baby cried. Mikhail held it with one arm while using his free hand to grip an armrest in the van and climb in.
“ Don’t drop it,” Andrei warned.
I wanted to fight the kind of men who made my parents afraid for so many years, Kagan thought.
The baby struggled as Mikhail sat next to Yakov opposite the side door.
And now I’m no different from the people I set out to fight.
Kagan let Andrei climb in next. With the middle seat occupied, Andrei was forced to squeeze toward the seat in the back.
I’ve beaten. I’ve tortured. I’ve killed, Kagan thought. But by God, this is one thing I won’t do.
He leaned into the van, as if to reach for an armrest and climb all the way in. His heart pounding, he pointed in feigned alarm.
“ What happened to the baby? It’s bleeding!”
“ What?” Mikhail asked. “Where?” He opened his arms to examine the child.
Kagan grabbed it, surged back from the open door, felt Viktor behind him, and swung. Something tugged violently at his coat, but only for a moment. With both arms gripping the baby, Kagan focused on his right elbow. He pivoted with such force that when the tip of the elbow struck Viktor’s nose, he felt the bones crack. They shattered and propelled inward with such power that Kagan knew they’d pierced Viktor’s brain.
Hearing shouts of alarm coming from the open van, he charged up the street, veered between cars at the curb, reached the sidewalk, and shouted for pedestrians to get out of his way. All at once, his left arm jerked, then became numb.
He’d been hit by a bullet. The sound suppressor on the gun that had fired it prevented bystanders from knowing why glass had shattered in front of him.
That’s the last shot they’ll fire, he desperately hoped. Andrei won’t take the chance of a stray bullet hitting the baby.
As he hurried through the crowd, Kagan used his now-awkward left arm to pull down the zipper on his parka. The numbness changed to searing pain. Imagining Andrei, Yakov, and Mikhail scrambling from the van, he shoved the baby under his coat and pulled up the zipper to provide warmth.
Andrei would immediately chase him, Kagan knew. Yakov and perhaps Mikhail would drag Viktor’s body into the van before the pedestrians could realize what had happened and start a panic. Then the two killers would join the hunt.
Andrei’s voice shouted through his earbud.
“ Pyotyr, what the hell are you doing?”
Kagan increased his speed, shouldering past people on the sidewalk.
“ Pyotyr, bring back the package!”
Instead of answering, Kagan took deep breaths and rushed toward the cathedral that towered at the end of the narrow street. The baby nestled against him, warm and surprisingly calm against his stomach.
I’ll protect you, he silently promised. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.
He looked for a police car, tempted to ask for help, but immediately he realized that during the time it would take to explain, Andrei and the others would catch up. They would shoot Kagan and the policeman in the head and take the baby.
Phone for backup, he told himself. Desperate to contact his controllers, he used his stiffening arm to reach for the cell phone in the left pocket of his coat. He felt dizzy when he discovered that the pocket was torn open, that his cell phone was missing, along with his spare ammunition. He remembered something tugging at the side of his coat. Someone must have lunged to try to stop him and snagged that pocket.
Have a plan, a backup plan, and then a backup plan after that. Kagan’s instructors had hammered that into him. Visualize what you’re going to do. Rehearse it in your mind, even if you can’t rehearse it physically. Never do anything without knowing your options.
But Kagan’s decision to take the baby had been made on the spot. Even though he’d agonized about it that afternoon in front of the cathedral’s manger, he hadn’t made up his mind until the moment he’d leaned into the van and told Mikhail, “The baby’s bleeding!”
Where am I going? Kagan thought in desperation.
Ahead, he saw a crowd on the street to the right of the cathedral. Hundreds of people walked with purpose. Under his parka, the baby kicked him, as if urging him to follow.
“ Pyotyr!” Andrei’s angry voice pierced through Kagan’s earbud. “I found your cell phone! You’re on your own! You can’t get help! Bring back the package!”
Breathing hard, wincing from the pain that now swelled his left arm, Kagan kept rushing, trying not to lose his balance on the slippery sidewalk. He heard someone in the crowd talk about Christmas lights on Canyon Road.
The baby kicked him again.
“ Pyotyr, you won’t like what I do to you,” Andrei swore.
The baby whimpered.
“ Don’t cry,” Kagan murmured.
“ I’m doing my best to calm him,” Meredith insisted.
“ I know,” Kagan answered gently.
Muscles tightening, he continued to stare out the window toward the falling snow. He couldn’t suppress the suspicion that somehow the baby was warning him, as crazy as that seemed.