The Boy Who Stole From the Dead

by Orest Stelmach

  “That’s bull. I did no such thing.”

  “Was the trip worth it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did you learn anything from the Russians?”

  Lauren leaned forward. “The officer that interrogated me on Big Diomede. His name was Krylov. He was an FBI type. He said there was a similar incident last year. Richie, he said it was a woman and a boy. A woman and a boy, Richie.”

  “My God. You did do it all on purpose.”

  “No. Richie…”

  “And caused an international incident.”

  Lauren sat back. “No one said anything. There was nothing in any papers. There was nothing online. In America, or in Russia, last I heard.”

  “Just because it’s not in the papers, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a disaster. For you, the Sports Network, the country.”

  “What do you mean, the country? I mean, I know some people had to waste a little time on me, but it didn’t cost anything to get me back. It’s not like there was a prisoner exchange or anything like that.”

  “Lauren, the Russians accused you of being a spy. Of using your journalistic credentials as a cover to get a look at Diomede. Did you know they relocated all their natives off the island to Siberia? Did you know Big Diomede is a military installation two miles from the border of its arch-enemy, the United States?”

  “What do you mean it was a disaster for the country?”

  “Remember the Russian spy they found in Manhattan? She went by the name Lana Channing.”

  “The hottie. She was on the cover of all the papers.”

  “Her real name was Lana Alexandrova Blin. She had a bunch of affairs, including one with the CEO of a conglomerate that controls a major defense contractor. There were concerns she had access to plans for advanced weapon development. Word is she’s back in Russia. As part of a prisoner exchange.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “The Sports Network is in hoc to Washington for getting you out, baby. So you see, I’m afraid you crossed the line on this one. And I don’t mean the International Date Line. By the way, what was that like, did you feel older when it happened? I sure hope so. Because you’ve given all of us a lot of gray hairs in the last few days.”

  “Richie, I’m sorry. I didn’t do anything on purpose. I swear to you. But this is the story of a lifetime. I’m telling you. In the end it’s going to be worth it.”

  “Are you kidding me? Some might-be hockey player is actually Ukrainian? Who cares?”

  “No. It’s more than that. It has something to do with this locket.”

  “Locket? What locket?”

  “A locket that he kept around his neck. It fell off during a game and he stopped playing. He stopped playing. Who does that? I have the video on my computer. On my computer.”

  Richie looked disgusted. He turned and nodded at two heavyset guys at a table across the dining room. They stood up and approached.

  Lauren had spotted them early on. They had looked familiar, like former football players, but she couldn’t put names to their faces. Now she realized they weren’t former football players. They were former cops turned private security guards. She’d seen them at the Network’s headquarters before. To escort a volatile anchorman out of the building when he was fired.

  “You didn’t invite me to dinner for old time’s sake,” Lauren said. “You invited me here so I wouldn’t make a scene in front of the others.” A nail dug into her palm. Lauren realized she was gripping the steak knife with all her might.

  Richie removed a folder from his briefcase. He placed it on the table beside her half-eaten tiramisu. “This is your termination agreement.”

  “You prick.”

  “It provides you with medical benefits and severance for twelve months. That’s generous.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t fight for me. They say once you sleep with your boss, it’s only a matter of time until you’re fired. Especially if he’s married.”

  “Fight for you? You still don’t understand the magnitude of what you’ve done. The benefits and severance are contingent on your signing a confidentiality agreement. If you breach it, we will pursue any and all legal remedies.” Richie leaned closer. His tongue darted between his lips. “Which means if you try to tarnish my reputation in any way, I’ll make you wish you were still in a Russian prison cell.”

  Lauren remembered when she first met Richie. He dazzled her with charisma, romantic dinners, and five-star hotel rooms. Until he hired the next girl. “You mean your reputation for screwing the new girls?”

  “You’d just finished law school and realized you didn’t want to be a lawyer. I gave you your shot. I made you. And this is how you repay me? Go ahead. Call a presser. Say what you want. No one’s going to listen. Your integrity is shot. Your career is over.” Richie stood up. “The boys will drive you home. Your personal possessions are in boxes in the trunk of their car. Have a nice life, sweetheart.”

  “You, too, Richie. Drive fast. And when you see those red lights at intersections, ignore them. They don’t mean anything.”

  CHAPTER 24

  JOHNNY WAITED FOR Nadia on the bench near the carousel in Central Park. His stomach turned with giddy anticipation as it always did when he was about to see her. This morning the sensation was even more intense. He’d arranged for a surprise visitor. He was due to arrive in fifteen minutes. If the visitor upset Nadia, Johnny would bear the blame. No matter, he told himself. Her safety mattered to him the most, and this visitor could help ensure it.

  Nadia appeared on the hilltop first. Her eyes looked a bit worn but her expression was calm, her stride purposeful. When she got to the carousel, they hugged. He held her gently, like a lawyer and friend, and sat down. It was the exact same spot where they’d sat a year ago. Nadia had left for Kyiv the same day. She returned home with Bobby a month later. Johnny survived a mob interrogation on her behalf.

  “Same bench,” Nadia said.

  “You noticed.”

  “I didn’t know you were the superstitious type.”

  “Well…”

  “Or sentimental.”

  “You don’t know me at all.”

  “Really. For example.”

  “I have a surprise for you today.”

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  “You’re going to love this one. It’s going to make your trip to Ukraine ten times more enjoyable. Did you try to see Bobby today?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “He refused.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m going to break through to him.”

  “But you haven’t broken through yet. What makes you think he’s going to start talking all of a sudden?”

  “We have a lot in common. We both came from nothing. I’m establishing a rapport. Telling him stories about growing up on the docks. And then there’s the trump card.”

  “What trump card?”

  “Iryna. He’s worried about her. When his worry turns to fear, he’ll tell me everything that happened that night.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “He’s in love with her.”

  “No. I see that. How do you know his worry is going to turn into fear?”

  “It’s impossible to be in love and not be scared for the one you love.”

  Nadia opened a large envelope and removed a photograph. “This is a picture of Valentine’s father. I don’t have any reason to believe Bobby ever met him in Ukraine but I’d be curious about his reaction if you showed him the photo.”

  Johnny nodded. “He looks like a serious man.” In the picture, Valentine’s father wore a fancy gold ring with the number three carved from onyx. “Funny.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve seen that ring before.” Johnny opened his briefcase. “I got a large en
velope from the district attorney this morning. Discovery. Not sure it’s everything but it’s a start. Take a look at this.”

  He pulled out a stack of pictures of the victim at the crime scene. In the top photo, the gash in Valentine’s neck was so wide he was almost decapitated. Johnny leafed through the pictures until he found the one he was looking for. It was a close-up of Valentine’s right hand. It was curled into a half-fist. A band of gold and onyx shone around his ring finger.

  “It’s the same ring,” Nadia said.

  “Either they both had one—”

  “Or the father gave it to the son on his deathbed.”

  “I wonder what the number three stands for.”

  Nadia shrugged. “There was Natasha, the father, and the son. Not to be confused with the Holy Trinity.”

  “Who’s Natasha?”

  “Valentine’s second wife.”

  “Was she wearing a ring?”

  “Yeah, but it was a bit different. It had a diamond. The size of a golf ball. So what’s this surprise?”

  “I thought you hate surprises.”

  “I do. But it’s a long flight and there aren’t going to be any fun and games when I get there. Unless my billionaire oligarch client insists on taking me to dinner.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s he like? Does he expect people to bow before him?”

  “No. Actually, he does the bowing. He’s different. He seems nice, even caring. I like him. He has a presence about him. And twenty-five billion dollars doesn’t hurt.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Johnny hid his disappointment. “Your surprise just got here.”

  Nadia frowned.

  Johnny nodded at the man standing over her shoulder. “You’re going to have company on your trip.”

  “I am?”

  Nadia’s brother, Marko, gave her a bear hug from behind.

  “Yes, you are, Nancy Drew,” Marko said. “No way am I letting you go back there alone.”

  CHAPTER 25

  AFTER NADIA AND Marko left for the airport, Johnny drove to Rikers Island. His meetings with Bobby reminded him of when he first became a criminal trial lawyer. The man who hired him, a gritty litigator renowned for his ability to sway a jury, made him practice his opening and closing arguments pertaining to his first case for hours. Johnny remembered delivering his arguments to an audience of one in similar confines but feeling as though he was talking to himself. His boss rarely interrupted him. But when he did, his words left a mark.

  It was only a matter of time before Bobby talked, too, Johnny thought. And left his own mark.

  “The preliminary hearing is in seven days,” Johnny said. “The DA will probably offer a deal. The judge will encourage it. The system’s overloaded. He’ll try to save the State of New York the cost of a trial. Problem is, they have a confession and an eyewitness.”

  Johnny waited for some reaction but Bobby just sat there in his chair with his usual expression. Glum, bored, and arrogant, not giving a damn about anything Johnny had to say.

  “Did you hear what I said? They have an eyewitness. Does that make sense to you? Did you see someone watching you?”

  No reaction. None at all.

  “You’ve got to help me, son. If you don’t, they’re going to lock you up and throw away the key. And I don’t care how much you think she loves you now, Iryna is not going to sit around waiting for you to be released in the afterlife. She may be young, and she may be in love, but she isn’t going to be stupid in love for the rest of her life.”

  Johnny thought that might get a rise out of the kid. It didn’t. He kept his eyes on the floor.

  “You seen her recently?” Johnny said. “How’s she doing? I wonder what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she’s safe. Or if whoever caused you to stab Valentine is more of a threat to her than you realize. If you love someone, don’t you want that person to know the risks she’s facing every day?”

  Bobby shifted his gaze to the wall. As his eyes passed Johnny, he looked through him, as though he wasn’t even there. That type of detachment wasn’t easy. Johnny knew from years of experience in the courtroom cross-examining witnesses and connecting with juries. The kid was creepy, the way he could disengage, but given what he’d endured as a child of Chornobyl, that probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. People avoided him. Viewed him as a pariah. Adults and kids alike. Folks around Kyiv had an irrational fear of being contaminated with radiation poisoning, Nadia had said.

  “Okay. I get it. You’re not going to talk to me. Fine. Continue to be selfish. You know what’s best. Your lawyer, the woman who brought you to America, your girlfriend—none of us matter. I still need you to do something for me, though.”

  Bobby didn’t move.

  “I need you to take a look at two pictures for me. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Obviously. But Nadia made me promise to have you look at them, and I don’t want to catch shit from her for not doing what she asked. You know what I’m talking about where that’s concerned, right?”

  Bobby’s lip curled upward.

  “Cool.” Johnny pulled out the picture of Valentine. “This is the victim after you finished stabbing him with your homemade screwdriver. Per your confession, that is.”

  At first Bobby didn’t move. A few seconds later, he glanced at the photo through the corners of his eyes. No reaction.

  “See how the right fist is half-closed? It looks as though he had his fingers curled against something. Like a knife. The knife you said he was carrying. But there was no knife at the crime scene. When you left Valentine, was he still holding the knife in his right hand?”

  Bobby looked away. Johnny counted to ten to make sure he wasn’t about to talk.

  Johnny revealed the second photo, the one of Valentine’s father. “What about this guy? He look familiar?”

  Bobby glanced at the photo. A look of fear washed over his face. It came and went in a flash but it was unmistakable.

  “Valentine’s father,” Johnny said. “Did you know him?”

  Bobby’s complexion darkened.

  “Did your paths cross in Chornobyl? In Kyiv?”

  Bobby turned away from Johnny.

  Johnny repeated his questions. Bobby didn’t respond.

  Johnny put the photos away. He locked his briefcase and stood up to leave.

  “We’ll see what Nadia digs up. She’s flying to Kyiv on business. While she’s there, she’s going to look into the old man’s past.”

  Bobby sat up in his chair. “No. She can’t do that.”

  Johnny stepped toward him. “Why, Bobby? Why can’t she do that?”

  “She just can’t. She must not. She must not do that.”

  “Why?”

  Bobby sprang to his feet. His cheeks swelled. “Because they’ll kill her. You’ve got to stop her. Are you listening to me? You’ve got to stop her now.”

  “It’s too late. She got on the plane after she called me.”

  Bobby collapsed into his chair. He didn’t say anything more.

  Outside the prison, Johnny called Nadia and left her a voice mail about what Bobby had said. She would hear it when she landed in Kyiv. Then he left Rikers Island, two of his predictions fulfilled. First, the kid had spoken and left his mark. Second, concern had turned to dread. A boy’s past threatened a woman’s life. Her predicament struck fear in a man’s heart.

  But it was Nadia, not Iryna, who was in danger. And it was Johnny who felt helpless.

  CHAPTER 26

  THE SCENE AT Passport Control at Terminal F at Boryspil Airport resembled a rugby scrum. Arriving passengers jockeyed for position among six lines. People argued in Russian and Ukrainian. Nadia had negotiated the scrum last year during her first visit to Kyiv. It took her two and a half hours to pass through immigration and find her baggage at another terminal.

  Sh
e sliced her way between two lines to a desk surrounded by two columns. Grabbed two customs forms and turned to Marko. She had Johnny to thank or blame for Marko’s company. She wasn’t sure which word applied yet. He’d been her big brother when they were kids but as adults they’d grown apart. She worked as a financial analyst, he owned a strip club. More importantly in this situation, she prided herself on proper conduct while traveling in a professional capacity. She was concerned her brother wouldn’t share that philosophy. Still, having him with her made her feel more secure. And two people could investigate faster than one.

  She caught his eye and motioned toward an empty line without a border official. “That’s us,” she said.

  Marko stood staring at the scrum. “This is a joke, man.”

  “Marko.” She nodded toward the vacant line. “Move. Before someone else gets there first.”

  “That line’s closed.”

  “It’s VIP. It was recently added for government officials, dignitaries, and other important visitors.”

  Marko raised his eyebrows. “And?”

  “You’re underestimating your sister. Let’s go.”

  He followed her toward the vacant line.

  Nadia and Marko had spoken Ukrainian since childhood. In Nadia’s experience, the choice of language defined a relationship. Switching to English would have felt awkward. Yet that’s exactly what they’d agreed to do once they landed in Kyiv. It reduced the risk of eavesdropping. Now that they’d exchanged words in English for the first time in their lives, Nadia realized the experience wasn’t as strange as she thought it would be. It was far worse. Changing languages removed intimacy. It was as though they’d have to get to know each other all over again.

  The border officials wore pale green uniforms. They looked like relics from the Soviet era. Nadia had heard stories ad nauseam from her father about the KGB. For her, the uniforms echoed with the sounds of persecution, detention, and torture.