The best opportunity to catch the Snowman would be at the airport when he and Roman arrived in Vancouver, Alex realized, before he had a chance to go into hiding. He wondered if his uncle had booked a return flight. He went into Roman’s office and turned on his computer. His uncle didn’t seem to be too concerned about covering his tracks. The email from Air Canada with his itinerary was sitting in his inbox for all to see. He was returning Tuesday, in three days, at 17:25, airline time for 5:25 p.m. A second passenger was listed on the ticket. Giuseppe Mangano. Alex wondered how they came up with the name.
FIFTEEN
Lara and Stefan were already waiting in the school parking lot Tuesday afternoon when Alex arrived. The three of them nodded solemnly to each other and got into Lara’s mother’s car.
Nobody said anything on the twenty-minute drive to the airport. Alex knew they all shared the same hope—that they were somehow wrong about Roman despite the evidence that suggested otherwise.
Lara had been shocked when Alex first told her he suspected that Roman was involved in smuggling the Snowman out of Italy. “I don’t believe it,” she had said flatly, changing her mind only after grilling Alex at length about the conversation he’d overheard at the travel agency. Stefan was less skeptical. “Nothing a Berovian or a Maldan did would surprise me,” he said. “Not when it has something to do with the war. It’s impossible to understand unless you grew up there.”
Berovian blood ran in Roman’s veins, there was no doubt about that, but if he was trying to smuggle Koralic into the country it ran a lot deeper than Alex thought. If he got caught, and Alex was determined to make sure that happened, he would go to jail for a long, long time. He must really believe in his cause if he was willing to take that chance. This is going to kill Mom, Alex said to himself, as he pictured Anna’s reaction when she learned her brother was trying to protect one of her husband’s murderers.
The first thing they did when they got to the airport was confirm that Flight 242 from Rome was arriving on schedule. Then they cased out the arrivals area to find a hiding place where they could stay out of sight but still see the passengers coming through the doors. The pillar near the exit to the baggage claim area was perfect. They had a half hour to kill, so they went to Tim Hortons and ran over their plan one more time.
If Roman and Koralic came through the doors together, all three would follow them to the baggage carousel. If they came through separately, Lara would follow Roman and Stefan would follow Koralic. Koralic might be able to disguise his face but it would be impossible to disguise that body, so in the unlikely event that there were two passengers built like the Snowman, Alex would stay in the arrivals area to make sure both would be followed.
The plan was to confront Koralic before he left the terminal and scream bloody murder until the cops arrived. To help make their case, they had brought numerous photos of the Snowman along with newspaper articles that proved he was wanted by the War Crimes Tribunal.
They returned to their hiding place a few minutes before the plane was due to arrive. Fifteen minutes later Roman came through the arrivals door pushing a wheelchair. The man in the wheelchair had a blanket over his legs and his torso, and he was wearing an oxygen mask that hid half his face.
“Brilliant,” Alex whispered with grudging admiration. Lara and Stefan nodded in agreement.
Roman wheeled the man down the left side of the ramp and then stopped.
“What’s he waiting for?” Lara whispered. The words were barely out of her mouth when Roman’s wife, Sophia, walked through the arrival doors.
What the …? Alex said to himself. As he was trying to make sense of the situation, Sophia bent down and said something to the man in the wheelchair. He took off his oxygen mask to answer her. Alex’s first thought, when he saw the emaciated face with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes, was that Koralic had already undergone plastic surgery. Then he remembered he was having his operation in Vancouver. He stared at the face again. It wasn’t the Snowman. Even Peter Jurak couldn’t make him up to look like that.
Roman pushed the wheelchair in their direction. Alex, Lara, and Stefan inched around the pillar in order to stay hidden. After the wheelchair passed them, Sophia took a bottle of water out of her bag and handed it to the man in the wheelchair. “Have some water, Grandpa,” she said.
Alex and Stefan were back home by seven, in time for dinner with Anna. He felt both better and worse than he had the past few days. It had been a huge relief to find out that his uncle wasn’t involved with the Snowman’s escape. But the revelation put an end to the hope that his father’s murderers would finally be caught.
A casual question to Anna tied up the loose ends. Sophia’s grandfather had been living by himself in Italy ever since his wife died a few years earlier. A month ago he had started to experience chest pains. The doctors said he needed to have a bypass operation. Sophia decided to bring him to Canada for the surgery so she could look after him. After the operation he was going to stay in Canada with Sophia and Roman.
Way to go, genius, the Voice said. Alex had been so quick to conclude that Roman was travelling to Italy to get the Snowman that he hadn’t considered any other possibility. If he had, he might have remembered his uncle telling Tomas that Sophia’s grandfather wasn’t well, and he might have recalled that Sophia had applied for a passport, and then he might have been able to connect the dots and avoid making a complete fool of himself.
“Roman didn’t even hesitate when Sophia asked him if her grandfather could live with them. Isn’t that something?” Anna continued. “That’s how you’re supposed to take care of aging relatives. I hope you two will remember that when the time comes,” she joked.
Alex just sat there and nodded. Roman was a good man. He’d proven it time and time again. His generosity toward Sophia’s grandfather was just another example. How could Alex have believed his uncle was capable of the kind of treachery he’d been so quick to accuse him of? He felt like a complete shit.
SIXTEEN
Alex’s initial thought when he woke up the following Saturday was that he would be seeing Roman for the first time since the fiasco. Thank God his uncle would never know what he had suspected him of. Alex felt foolish and embarrassed. The Stork and the Snowman headed Interpol’s Most Wanted list. Police agencies all over the world were looking for them. He must have been a lunatic to think that he would beat them to it.
Alex turned his mind to that night’s game against Chilliwack. It was Richmond’s first game of the regular season. The Cougars had romped to three pre-season victories, and looked impressive doing it. But those games didn’t count in the standings, and as far as Alex was concerned, tonight’s season opener was the real day one.
Chilliwack was one of the weaker teams in the league but Alex was still nervous. Coach Hampton had given Earl Bales plenty of ice time in the exhibition games, and he had played well enough to prove to all concerned that he was ready to step in if Alex faltered. Alex knew Hampton wasn’t going to yank him the first time he made a mistake. But with the team’s hopes as high as they were, he wondered how many mistakes he’d be allowed to make. Not many, the Voice predicted.
He did his push-ups and sit-ups, put on the University of Minnesota hockey shirt he always wore on game day, and logged on to his computer. A new item came up on the Twitter feed. The Berovian government was upping the reward to $250,000. Big deal, Alex thought as he headed downstairs. That wasn’t going to make a difference. All it showed was how desperate the government had become.
Anna was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. “The interview with you and Stefan,” she said, handing him the sports section. It was folded open to the second page. There was a picture of Alex and his brother standing beside each other in their goalie equipment. The headline read: SEPARATED BY WAR, UNITED BY HOCKEY.
Alex sat down and read the article. The reporter pushed all the buttons as she described the tragic circumstances that had separated him and Stefan, and the miraculous
way they’d found each other. Then she moved on to hockey. “Asked who was the better goalie, both brothers gave the same media-savvy response: He is. But that debate will be decided on the ice, and the answer may well determine which team wins this year’s championship.”
Alex could feel his stomach tighten up. The reporter had tapped into a secret fear, one as secret as the fact that he was a virgin—the fear that Stefan was a better goalie than he was. Fear or knowledge? asked the Voice. Knowledge, Alex admitted. He had known it ever since the game against Team Maldania when Stefan made saves he could only dream of making. It was weird. It didn’t bother him a bit then, when Stefan was just some dude from Maldania. Alex had nothing but admiration for the way he played. But Stefan wasn’t just some dude from Maldania. He was his brother, and Alex’s admiration had turned to jealousy. A classic case of sibling rivalry, he thought, although he seemed to be the only one who was aware of the competition.
“It’s a lovely article, isn’t it?” Anna said. Alex nodded. Just then Stefan came into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“Morning, dude,” Anna said. Now she’s calling him dude, Alex said to himself resentfully. He knew he was being petty but he couldn’t help it. He’d had Anna all to himself his entire life. It was going to take more than a month to get used to sharing her.
“Morning,” Stefan grunted. At least he’s not calling her Anna.
“Did you get your chemistry test back?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Stefan said. “I got 78.”
“That’s wonderful.” The phone rang. Anna picked it up. “Hello, Boris … I’m fine. How are you? … When do you arrive?”
Stefan perked up. “When’s he coming?” he asked, his voice rising with excitement.
“Yes, he’s right here,” Anna said. She handed the phone to Stefan.
“Hi, Dad,” he said in Berovian, his eyes lighting up the way they did every time his father called. “When are you coming? … How long can you stay for? … That’s great … Yeah, I got 78 percent …” Stefan started walking out of the kitchen so he could have some privacy. “We play Hollyburn. It’s going to be a tough game. They made it to the finals last year, and our top two scorers are injured.”
“When’s Boris coming?” Alex asked his mother.
“In two weeks. It will be nice for Stefan. He misses him a lot more than he lets on … I’ve got to go to the store in Abbotsford. Do you need a lift to the travel agency?”
“No. I don’t start work until eleven.”
“Okay. Good luck tonight. Remember, Stefan and I are meeting you at Lombardo’s after the game.”
“Okay,” Alex said. How come she’s going to his game, not yours? the Voice asked. Alex pushed away his resentment. Anna had never seen Stefan play, except at the TelCel Cup when she didn’t know he was her son. It was only natural that she’d go to his game.
His mom leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Love you,” she said.
“Love you, too.” Anna waved goodbye and headed off. There was an extra bounce in her stride. Alex had never seen his mom so happy. He pushed aside the resentment he felt about that, too.
He was eating a bowl of cereal when Stefan came back into the kitchen. “Everything okay?” Alex asked.
“All of it is good,” he said cheerfully.
“It’s all good,” Alex said, correcting him.
“It’s all good,” Stefan repeated.
“That’s great that your dad’s coming,” Alex said.
“It’s fantastic,” Stefan said, not trying to hide his excitement like most guys would. His brother came across as someone who took everything in stride, but Alex knew that moving to Vancouver was a bigger adjustment than he let on. As close as he had gotten to Alex, and to Anna, Boris was his anchor, the person who had been there all his life.
“How long is he staying?” Alex asked.
“Two weeks. He’ll be here when we play you guys.”
“No worries. He’s seen you lose before,” Alex said with a confidence he didn’t feel.
“It’s sad to see such a young person lose touch with reality,” Stefan said.
Alex laughed. He got to his feet. “I have to go to work. I’ll see you at the restaurant after the game.”
“What are you doing afterward?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“A friend of Emma’s from her dance class is having a party. I’m sure it would be cool if you wanted to come. Lots of good-looking girls will be there.”
“Could be fun,” Alex said, not committing himself one way or the other. “Good luck tonight.”
“You too.”
Alex headed out of the kitchen. He thought about warning Stefan about Jamie Balfour, one of Hollyburn’s players, but decided against it. Let him figure it out for himself. He stopped at the doorway, his better instincts taking over. “Watch out for number 37. He likes to camp out in front of the net. First time he crowds you, whack him on the ankle. He’ll back off after that. He acts tough but he’s a wuss … A wimp,” he explained when he saw that Stefan didn’t know what wuss meant. “Weak,” he explained again when he realized Stefan didn’t know what wimp meant either.
“Number 37?” Stefan asked, making sure he had it right.
“Yeah. All right. Later, bro.”
“Later.”
“Alex,” Roman called out from the doorway to his office. “I need a copy of the passenger list for the Greek Island tour.”
“Just printing it up now,” Alex said.
Lara was on the phone. “I’ll mail the tickets to you right away … My pleasure …”
“Want to go to the new Jet Li movie tonight?” she asked Alex after she hung up. Alex wondered why Lara wasn’t seeing Jason on a Saturday night, but he wasn’t about to ask. Maybe she’s come to her senses and dumped him. “Jason’s cousins are in from Calgary and he’s got a family dinner,” Lara continued. Or not.
“Can’t,” Alex said with a regretful shrug. “I got a game and then I’m having dinner with Mom and Stefan. What about tomorrow afternoon?”
It was Lara’s turn to shrug. “I got practice.”
“When’s the tournament?”
“In three weeks.”
“Is Tonya competing this year?”
“Yup.” Tonya Livingstone had defeated Lara in the provincial muay Thai finals the year before. Lara would have to beat her this time in order to achieve her goal of making it to the national championships.
“You’re going to dust her,” Alex said confidently. Lara shrugged, unconvinced. “All that hard work will pay off. You’ll see.” Lara worked out two hours a day, five days a week. He’d gone to one of her workouts. It made hockey practice look like a walk in the park.
Alex took the passenger list out of the printer tray and went into his uncle’s office. Roman and Tomas were in mid-conversation.
“A $250,000 reward,” Tomas said to Roman in disgust. “I knew this government would be a disaster, but I didn’t know they’d be this bad. They should give a medal of honour to Zarkov and Koralic instead of pulling this shit.”
Alex couldn’t believe his ears. “What did you say?” he said angrily. Roman and Tomas turned around. “Those two men murdered my father and you want to give them a medal? Are you out of your freaking mind?”
“What are you talking about?” Tomas asked.
“Alex’s father died at San Marco,” Roman explained.
“He didn’t die. Zarkov and Koralic murdered him,” Alex said.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your father,” Tomas said. “But we didn’t start the war. The Maldans did.” It was a debatable statement, but Alex wasn’t in the mood for a debate.
“What did San Marco have to do with the war? The people in the church weren’t soldiers.”
“They had to do something. The Maldans were slaughtering every Berovian they could lay their hands on.”
“And that makes it okay to burn innocent people alive?” Alex said furiously.
Tomas ignored him. “All they did was stand up for their country. They’re heroes.”
Alex rushed at Tomas, his arm cocked, but before he could get to him, Roman stepped in front of Alex and wrapped his arms around him. “You’re a fucking asshole,” Alex yelled at Tomas. He tried to get free but Roman had him in a vice grip.
“Tomas, go to your office,” Roman ordered.
Tomas left, glaring at Alex, who glared right back at him.
“Let me go,” Alex said to Roman.
“Not until you calm down.”
“I’m calm.” Roman’s eyes searched Alex’s and then, satisfied, he released him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Roman asked.
“You’re taking his side? You agree with him?”
“No, I don’t,” Roman said firmly. “Zarkov and Koralic are war criminals and they should pay for what they’ve done. But that doesn’t excuse your behaviour. I’m trying to run a business here. I can’t have people running around acting like a bunch of lunatics.”
“So he’s allowed to just go around saying stuff like that?” Alex said indignantly. “I can’t believe you’re going to let him get away with it. You should fire his ass.”
“I can’t fire somebody for his political beliefs unless they interfere with the business. But what I can do, and what I will do, is read him the riot act and tell him that if he brings the subject up again here in the office, he’ll lose his job. I can’t do more than that.” He looked at Alex, seeking confirmation that he was being fair.
“That’s bullshit,” Alex said, not giving it to him. “Either he goes or I go.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. You need to settle down. Take the rest of the day off and think about it.”
Alex walked out of the office without saying anything. He didn’t have to think about it. There was no way he was going to work with that prick. Tomas was sitting at his desk. Alex stopped at the doorway.
Face-Off Page 8
