The Boy Who Stole From the Dead

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The Boy Who Stole From the Dead Page 29

by Orest Stelmach


  “Will they send me home?”

  Johnny detected a strange note of reluctance. “Let’s see what Nadia found out about Valentine. Maybe she learned some things that will help convince the DA he had a volatile personality. You do want to go home, don’t you?”

  Bobby dropped his chin. Stared at the floor for a moment. “I don’t deserve to go home. I killed that woman. She was a good person. Not like the other hunters. She wanted to help us. It’s my fault she’s dead. I deserve to go to jail.”

  His comment caught Johnny off guard. All this time he’d thought the kid had remained mute strictly to protect Nadia. In fact, his motives were more complex.

  “It was an accident,” Johnny said. “Her husband and friends were shooting at you and your girl. The woman was pointing a rifle at you. You did what you had to do. Nothing that happened was your fault. Do you understand me?”

  Bobby continued looking at the floor.

  “And let me tell you something else. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  Bobby looked up at Johnny. Guilt shone in his eyes.

  “You may be the smartest guy in this room or any other, but that doesn’t mean you’re the wisest. Wisdom comes from suffering. Take it from someone who’s experienced and seen his share. It’s easy to forgive other people because you have no control over their actions. The hardest thing is to forgive yourself because you have control over your actions. You must forgive yourself right now for what you think you did. If you don’t, you’ll be miserable the rest of your life, and you’ll make everyone else miserable, too.”

  Bobby thought about this for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Don’t mention it, kid.”

  “How is Nadia? Where is Nadia?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I hope so.” Johnny cleared his throat. “Listen. I have to shift gears for a second. Your freedom is my main focus, I promise you, but Nadia told me to ask and if I don’t she’ll be upset with me.”

  Bobby raised his eyebrows.

  “The locket,” Johnny said.

  The emotion drained from Bobby’s face.

  “Nadia got some intelligence in Ukraine that suggests there might be more to it than you all originally thought.” Johnny studied the kid’s expression but he remained inscrutable. “That make any sense to you?”

  He kept a straight face.

  “Because if it does, and it’s with your personal possessions, it would be good to know ahead of time before you get released.” Johnny considered telling him Victor Bodnar might try to steal it from him, but didn’t want to alarm him yet.

  Bobby thought about it for a moment. “Yes, and yes.”

  “Yes there might be more to it, and yes it’s in an envelope with your personal possessions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Then we may have a little bit of a problem—”

  “Victor Bodnar.”

  Johnny’s jaw dropped. He studied the kid again but he was giving him nothing now. He was his father’s son once again.

  “How did you know?” Johnny said.

  “Iryna.” Bobby shrugged. “She told me everything without saying a word.”

  CHAPTER 56

  MARKO GOT BEHIND the wheel. Nadia navigated from memory. She’d travelled on one of the scavenger trails last year in an old Soviet military supply truck.

  An alarm sounded once they crossed the main road onto the path that led to the trail. Nadia guessed it was the fire alarm at the power plant. There had to be a fire truck on the premises. Nadia saw flames in the side view mirror coming from the direction of the babushka’s house.

  Marko drove twenty miles through the woods. They didn’t encounter the driver or the other hunters. They’d abandoned their posts per the General’s instructions. The trail was wide and well-worn by truck tires. Marko spun the wheel to avoid trenches, eased the throttle when the trail wound around trees. The SUV’s suspension absorbed dips, bumps, and sudden turns. They emerged out of the forest on the main road to Chornobyl three miles past the checkpoint. From there it took them a little over an hour to get to Kyiv.

  The navigation system was in Russian. It included a directory of destinations. Nadia programmed it to take them to the Intercontinental Hotel. When they got there, they circled the property and parked two blocks away. Wiped down their fingerprints out of paranoia, took Nadia’s luggage, and walked to the hotel. They got one room with two double beds so they could protect each other. Although the General and the rawboned man from Lviv were dead, they assumed they might be at risk out of sheer prudence.

  It was 12:07 a.m. by the time Marko posted the do not disturb sign on the door. Nadia checked her e-mail. Obon’s assistant had forwarded the picture of the Zaroff Seven. It was a black and white photo of six men and a woman standing around a large bear. Nadia recognized the General and the rawboned man from Lviv. They looked twenty years younger. Beside them stood Valentin, his hair darker and face fuller. An attractive woman pressed against him, undoubtedly his first wife. Nadia didn’t recognize the remaining three men. Although the General had told her Simeon Simeonovich wasn’t one of them, she still felt relieved he wasn’t in the picture.

  New York was seven hours behind. That made it 5:07 p.m. Nadia called Obon and thanked him for the e-mail.

  “The other three men are similar in stature to Valentine,” Obon said. “They’re all junior oligarchs, all still alive.”

  He read their names to Nadia. She wrote them down but they meant nothing to her. Afterward, she thanked him and hung up. She told Marko what she’d learned.

  “The General told us he took this responsibility on himself,” Marko said. “Didn’t sound like the other three were in on it at all.”

  “Agreed,” Nadia said.

  “And it’ll take some time for them to find out what happened. We should be able to get out of the country.”

  “But even if we do, bottom line is there are three more guys out there, who may or may not care about revenge.”

  Marko shrugged. “It’s not neat and tidy, is it?”

  “No it is not.”

  “Life rarely is.”

  Nadia called Johnny. She got voice mail but he returned her call immediately. They exchanged updates. Between the two of them, they knew everything now, Nadia thought. Except for one thing.

  “What about the locket?” Nadia said.

  “He found some markings under the gilding. He thought it might be chemical compounds of some sort.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “No one.”

  “Not even Iryna?”

  “He says no.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “He told you he’d never lie, didn’t he?”

  “Johnny. Do you believe him?”

  “Yeah,” Johnny said, without hesitation. “I believe him. Iryna doesn’t know anything. She’s not a concern. When are you coming back to New York?”

  “New York. I used to think of it as the rat race. Now it’s sanctuary. I miss it so.”

  “It misses you.”

  She told him she’d call back with flight information as soon as she had it. After hanging up, she took a shower and fell asleep while Marko watched local news to see if there was a report on the fire in Chornobyl.

  At 7:00 a.m. she dialed the cell phone number Simeon Simeonovich had given her. Perhaps he could expedite their departure from the country.

  “You didn’t call the office,” he said. “You called my personal cell phone. I don’t say this often. I’m flattered.”

  “That makes two of us since you gave me the number in the first place.”

  “I’m pleased to hear your voice. Did your trip to Lviv reach a satisfactory conclusion?�
��

  “Yes. Very much so.”

  “Good. And did you discover something that might help you with the boy’s case?”

  “Yes. I’m optimistic.”

  “Outstanding. Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “I need to leave Kyiv this morning. I was hoping you might put in a call and ease the way with Immigration.”

  Simeonovich paused. “The Orel Group simplifies entry and exit to and from the Independent States for its contractors. Unfortunately, your assignment ended. So it would be inconsistent with our corporate policy for the Orel Group to act on your behalf.”

  “Of course.” Nadia cringed. “I shouldn’t have asked. It was unprofessional.”

  “But if there were prospects for us to do business again soon, that might change matters.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’m always considering acquisitions. I’ve been looking at a small coal company in the U.S. The stock has gotten killed. I’m scheduled to be in New York City next week. Would you be interested in discussing it over dinner?”

  “I’d have to check my schedule but I might be available.”

  “I may need help with the menu.”

  “That could possibly be arranged, too.”

  “Call my assistant with your flight information. She’ll arrange VIP.” He softened his voice. “Until the day we meet again.”

  “Yes,” Nadia said, savoring that familiar electric current over the phone. “Until that day.”

  After she hung up, she saw Marko staring at her, head propped up on a pillow.

  “Are you going to be dating a Russian guy?” he said.

  “No. I’m not dating anyone. I’m going to have a business dinner with him. That’s all.”

  “Didn’t sound like business to me. You realize if he steps out of line I may have to kick some ass.”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded, satisfied. Then turned serious. “And if I didn’t say it, thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For coming back for me. You’re a good sister.”

  He’d never said anything like that to her. Ever. If she thought about it any more, she feared she’d show her emotions, which was unthinkable. She burst into motion and started packing.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “It was a purely selfish act. If you’re gone, who’s going to protect me?”

  “You got that right, Nancy Drew.”

  CHAPTER 57

  THE GUN DROVE the Town Car around the same block slowly three times. Tall lamps cast circles of light at the street corners. Victor admired Johnny Tanner’s home. It was an old English style house made of stone. It even contained a turret that looked like a rook. Victor had to hand it to the lawyer. He didn’t look like a man of good taste, with his slick black suits and that horrific ponytail. But here he was, living the American dream.

  “This is one of the best neighborhoods in Elizabeth,” the Ammunition said, reading from the screen of his cell phone. “It’s called Westminster.”

  Victor grunted. “That’s no surprise. You see a beautiful building or taste good food in America, more often than not you can thank a foreign country. Like England.”

  The Gun parked behind the house, a block away. Victor and the Ammunition walked to the front door. The Gun went to the back of the house.

  The Ammunition rang the front doorbell. A curtain parted in a room to the left. He rang the doorbell again. The door swung open and Johnny Tanner appeared.

  He looked shocked. He glanced quickly in each direction as though he was afraid someone would see Victor on his stoop. “What do you want?”

  “You have a beautiful home,” Victor said.

  “Thank you. I bought it at an auction. Why are you here?”

  “I’d love to see the inside,” Victor said.

  “And I’d love a summer house in Spring Lake.”

  “Would you rather I talk with Nadia when she returns instead?”

  Johnny let them in. Victor and the Ammunition followed him into a living room. It was filled with small furniture built in another century for smaller people. Victor saw dollar signs. He couldn’t help it. He was a thief.

  “You have some beautiful things here,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a collector.”

  “I’m not,” Johnny said. “This stuff came with the house.”

  Victor and the Ammunition sat down on a red velvet couch. Johnny slipped into a small chair the shape of a half-circle. He wore blue jeans and sparkling white tennis shoes. Sneakers, Victor thought. In his own home. Victor cringed. No foreign country deserved thanks for such a complete lack of class. That was America’s creation.

  “Since you’re here,” Johnny said, “I might as well be hospitable. You guys want coffee, tea? Something stronger? I’ve got bourbon. And vodka.”

  Victor was taken aback by the offer. He studied Johnny. Noticed his hands looked red and clammy. This was not a man who lost his cool easily. Victor knew from experience. Johnny was anxious because he knew why Victor was here. He was nervous because he did indeed have the locket. Best to let the evening develop slowly. In Victor’s experience, patience was a prerequisite to a non-violent resolution. And the pursuit of non-violent resolutions was the single biggest reason he was still alive today.

  “Since you’re offering,” Victor said. “Coffee will be fine.”

  Johnny glanced at the Ammunition, who shook his head.

  A fourth voice rang out. “I’ll have a Coke if you have one.” The Gun appeared in the hallway. “You should keep your backdoor locked. Nice neighborhood, but it’s still Elizabeth.”

  “It was locked,” Johnny said.

  The Gun put his hands on his hips. His sports jacket opened up to reveal a gun in his waistband. “Huh. Somehow I walked right in.”

  Johnny took a deep breath and regarded the twin with a mixture of respect and concern. “I don’t have Coke. I have Diet.”

  “Coca Cola Light? That’s for girls. I’ll have coffee instead.”

  Victor nodded to the Ammunition. The three of them went into the kitchen. Johnny described how he’d bought the house from a bank after the former owner was sent to prison for embezzlement. Victor wanted to interrupt him but couldn’t find an opening to say a word. Johnny simply wouldn’t shut up. No surprise, Victor thought. He was a lawyer.

  The water came to a boil before Johnny was finished. He fixed two coffees and a tea for himself. Victor and Johnny sat down at the kitchen table. The Timkiv twins stood, one near the hallway leading to the front door, the other blocking the way to the back door the Gun had jimmied open.

  “You know why we’re here,” Victor said.

  “I do?”

  “Yes. I could see it in your face as soon as you opened the door.”

  Johnny pretended he didn’t know what Victor was talking about. Victor stayed patient. Let him deny his accusation five times.

  “One last time,” Victor said. “You know why we’re here.”

  Johnny took a breath. “The locket,” he said.

  “Good. Where is it?”

  “You know where it is. In an envelope with Bobby’s other personal possessions waiting for his release.”

  Victor sipped his coffee. It was good and strong, the way he liked it. “I don’t think so.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Then where is it?”

  “Here. In your home. Or in a safe place of your own choosing.”

  Johnny laughed. He sounded nervous. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Of course it is. That’s what makes it so brilliant. The boy knew he was going to meet Valentine, didn’t he? That’s my guess. He must have known his life was in danger. And he knew the locket might be priceless after all. So did he wear it the day he ended up killing Valentine in
self-defense? Of course not. The last thing he wanted was for the locket to fall into someone else’s hands, or simply be lost. So he sent it to you through the mail for safekeeping instead. He knew you from his journey to America. He knows you’re the man Nadia trusts the most. In fact, he probably knew odds were high he’d either be dead or might need a lawyer. Making you an even better person to trust with his most priceless possession.”

  “That’s such a load of garbage I don’t even know what to say.” Johnny turned serious. “You didn’t come up with this on your own. Who told you this?”

  “I only act on impeccable information,” Victor said. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Impeccable information means an impeccable source.”

  Victor chuckled. “Are we going to dance all night? You know me. You know how I work. Do I need to remind you the pressure I can bring to bear to make you speak the truth?”

  “No,” Johnny said. Victor was certain he was thinking of Nadia. “You don’t have to remind me what kind of man you are.”

  Music started up on a radio. It was a song about a preacher’s son named Billy Ray. Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile telephone. Victor realized it was a phone call, not a radio. Johnny touched the phone and started reading the screen.

  “Stop,” Victor said. He extended his hand. “Make it loud so everyone can hear.”

  Johnny held both hands up, phone in his right. “It’s not a call. It’s a text.”

  “A text?”

  “A written message.”

  Victor snapped his fingers. The Gun stepped forward and took the phone from Johnny’s hands. He read whatever was written on the screen. Then he frowned, glanced at Johnny, and handed the phone to Victor.

  The message consisted of two words.

  It’s done.

  Victor checked to see who sent the message but he didn’t see a name. Just a random string of numbers and letters.

 

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