The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark (The Nadia Tesla Series Book 3)

by Orest Stelmach

  “You sound like you know something I don’t.”

  Simmy pressed a few keys on his tablet computer. “I had my people do some research into the three living members of the Zaroff Seven. The richest and most powerful one, Constantin Golov, has a mansion on Baikal sixty kilometers from Irkutsk.”

  “Lake Baikal?”

  “There is only one Baikal. His mansion is outside a town called Listvyanka. Very popular with men of means in Russia. Some rich Azeri oilmen have built their castles there, too. The higher echelon of the Russian business world is a relatively small place. Employees change companies. People talk. My men learned from a good source that Golov is there now. And the other two Zaroff Seven members are on a vacation at an unspecified location at this very moment.”

  “Irkutsk,” Nadia said.

  Simmy nodded. “Irkutsk.”

  Simmy pressed a button for the copilot to come out. When he did so, Simmy told him to reroute for Irkutsk. The copilot spoke Russian with an unfamiliar regional accent. Nadia had to consider his words twice to understand him. The linguistic distraction reminded her of Bobby’s choice of language on the phone.

  “Oh my God,” she said.

  Simmy dismissed the copilot. “What?” he said.

  “He’s not alone.”

  “Who’s not alone?”

  “Bobby.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He spoke English to me. We don’t speak English to each other. We speak only in Ukrainian, unless there are English-speaking people present and we don’t want to be rude.”

  Simmy frowned. “So what are you saying? There’s an American with him and he didn’t want to offend him?”

  “No. On the contrary. He’s travelling with a Russian and he didn’t want him to understand everything he said to me.”

  Simmy considered the situation. “The operative word was Irkutsk. That transcends language. Everyone would understand that.”

  “True,” Nadia said. “If Irkutsk was the operative word.”

  “What else could it have been?”

  “Some other word. Something else he said that I didn’t hear.”

  CHAPTER 41

  BOBBY SAT IN the passenger seat of the buhanka, a cross between a minivan and a military jeep. Luo guided it along the two-lane highway from Irkutsk to Listvyanka. A series of steep descents followed protracted climbs of similar height. At each peak, the Lake flashed silver and blue on the left, only to vanish as Bobby’s line of sight fell below tree line.

  The buhanka reminded him of his escape from Russia a year ago. One of his father’s friends had used one to transport him over a long stretch of treacherous terrain. Bobby recalled his trek along the Road of Bones in the Kolyma region of Siberia, where snowcapped mountains and a desolate forest stretched for hundreds of miles. Bobby took comfort knowing the buhanka was indestructible, but it still would take them only so far. The castle where Eva had been taken by her captors was probably heavily guarded. They would have to park their car rental in the forest and cover the final half mile on foot.

  They’d arrived at the Irkutsk Airport at 5:10 p.m. Luo had insisted Bobby wait outside the domestic terminal while he made inquiries inside. A Siberian man could approach a fellow countryman working as ground crew more comfortably than if he were a party of two. Bobby’s presence would attract additional attention. Alone, Luo would not have to make explanations. Bribes were a way of life. He would simply offer money for information, he said.

  A cloud of steam formed in front of Bobby’s nostrils. The frigid air cleared his sinuses but left him trembling within a minute. Temperatures remained well below freezing into May, especially at night. He needed something heavier than his windbreaker.

  Bobby tried calling Nadia with Luo’s phone while he waited but she did not pick up. He did, however, leave her a voice mail. He feared she hadn’t heard any part of their previous call because it had ended abruptly. As a result, Bobby left Nadia a detailed account of what had transpired since he’d arrived at the ferry building in Vladivostok. Bobby used up the entire time allotted to a single message, and had to call back to complete his story. When he was done, he surprised himself when he admitted something else to Nadia in the second voice mail. The words rolled off his lips in a stream of consciousness.

  “In my brain, I know I’m not supposed to believe that Luo is Eva’s father. But in my heart, for some reason, I have an urge to trust him. But don’t worry Auntie, I’m just telling you how I feel. In the end, you’re the only one I trust.”

  Luo emerged from the terminal less than half an hour later.

  “A woman, two men in suits, and a roughneck arrived in a private jet two hours ago. The plane’s registered to a private company named Baigal Industries. Baigal is the ancient Yakut word for sea, ocean, and Baikal. It’s probably a shell company. People with private planes value their privacy. That’s why they built their homes here in the first place.”

  “But do you know where they went after they landed?”

  Luo rubbed a piece of paper between his fingers. “That I do. It’s called the Swallow’s Nest. It’s a re-creation of a famous castle built on a cliff on the Crimean coastline. Near Yalta, in the south of Ukraine. The man knew the terrain well. He drew me a map. It’s right on Baikal about twenty kilometers past Listvyanka. Which is a total of ninety kilometers from here.”

  “Who owns it?”

  Luo shook his head. “No names. He didn’t offer. I didn’t ask. A man says a name out loud. Someone overhears it. Next thing you know he’s gone without a trace. But he drew me a map.”

  “How can you be sure he told you the truth?”

  “He got paid. He knows I know where to find him and I made it clear my face would be the last one he ever saw if I had to return.”

  They rented the buhanka at the airport and drove through the city center. They passed a shopping mall as though they were in New Jersey. A mall. In Siberia. It was surreal.

  Luo stopped at a western-style sports store called Fanat. It offered camping, hiking, and fishing equipment. Some of its inventory was specially tailored to leisure activities on Baikal. Luo picked out the necessary equipment. They bought cold-weather hiking jackets, too.

  “I want to pay for my share,” Bobby said.

  Luo smiled. “You’re a good kid but I’ve got it.”

  “No. I insist. My father didn’t raise me to be a freeloader.”

  “Are you paying cash or by credit card?”

  “I’m low on cash. Has to be credit card.”

  “That’s what I thought. If you use your credit card, and someone with resources has been searching for you, they’ll know where you are.” Luo patted him on the shoulder. “You can pay me back when we’re done.”

  Bobby’s gut told him that opportunity would not arise. He didn’t know why. It was just one of those ill feelings a person had now and then.

  As they drove toward Listvyanka, Luo proposed a plan of attack. Bobby listened and asked questions. It didn’t take long for him to realize how low his odds of success would have been if he were alone. Bobby hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on logistics up until that point. He didn’t want logic to stop him. He wanted his heart to propel him to Eva regardless of the risk. He thought he would use his guile and athleticism to free her and escape. Now he knew he’d been purposefully fooling himself to maintain his momentum.

  Luo expected the first leg of the trip—the part they were covering by buhanka—to take less than two hours. Fifteen minutes into the trip, Bobby made a startling realization.

  “This road is perfectly straight,” Bobby said. “There are no twists or turns.”

  Luo chuckled. “Not a single one.”

  “Yeah. It’s like someone took a ruler on a map, drew a straight line from Irkutsk to Listvyanka, and told the engineers to cut through the mountains even if that wasn’t t
he cheapest way.”

  “That’s exactly what they did.”

  “You’re kidding me. Why?”

  “It was 1960. The peak of the Cold War between the USSR and the United States. Diplomats for both countries arranged a visit for the American president, Eisenhower. His itinerary included a stop in Irkutsk and a visit to Russia’s sacred sea—Lake Baikal. There was no road from Irkutsk to Baikal, so the government set out to build one. A proper one.”

  “In a straight line.”

  “To prove to the West that neither cost nor nature would prevent them from creating the most direct route between two points.”

  “And what did the American president think?”

  “He didn’t,” Luo said. “He never went on the trip.”

  “Why not?”

  “Right before he was supposed to depart, an American U2 spy plane—the pilot’s name was Powers—was shot down over Russia. The thaw between the two countries turned into a deep freeze again.”

  “That’s too bad,” Bobby said.

  “Yes. It’s too bad for President Eisenhower. He missed seeing one of the Earth’s most perfect creations. You ever visit Baikal?”

  “No. I saw it from a train once.”

  “Lake Baikal is twenty-five million years old. Its water is so pure you can drink it. It’s filled with organisms that keep it pure. It is home to hundreds of otherwise extinct species, like the only freshwater seal known to man.”

  “Why?” Bobby said.

  Luo shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the sacred sea. That’s just how it is.”

  “No. It reminds me of Chornobyl today. Nature has returned because man left. That must be why Baikal is so special. Man is absent. He hasn’t screwed it all up yet. The minute he arrives, he will. It’s what he does.”

  “Not Baikal,” Luo said. “Even man cannot ruin the sacred sea. Earthquakes are a bigger risk.”

  “Earthquakes?”

  “Baikal sits on the deepest continental fissure on Earth. It’s almost as active as the ones in the seas of Japan. There are hot springs around the lake. And there are earthquakes.”

  Bobby glanced at Luo, the memory of Fukushima still fresh in his mind.

  “There are a dozen every year,” Luo said. “That may account for some of the legends of Baikal.”

  “Legends?”

  “Right now, the lake is still frozen. But in the summer, ships are devoured, vessels vanish. It happens every year. Last one I heard about was a Japanese crew of four aboard a boat called the Yamada. They were experienced sailors. Weather was fine. They vanished. Fishermen say the lake swallowed them whole.”

  “I have a hard time believing that,” Bobby said.

  “And then there are the mirages.”

  “What kind of mirages?”

  “The water is crystal clear. Fishermen swear they’ve seen trains, castles, and ships at the bottom of the lake.”

  “That sounds like nonsense to me. Unless there’s a scientific explanation.”

  “There may be. Scientists say when warm air rushes in over the cold water, they mix with the sun to produce light rays with fantastic forms. This type of phenomenon can cause magnetic disturbances, the kind that can cause navigation systems to stop working. The mirages, the disappearance of ships. They’re all part of the same thing. The mysteries of the sacred sea.”

  “Fortunately for us, there’s no warm air.”

  Luo grabbed the handmade map resting between them. “And our navigation system is a bit dated.”

  They weren’t the only ones driving along the sacred sea in a straight line. Bobby counted twenty-four cars going in the opposite direction during the trip. Two cars passed them in the same direction. Both contained a single occupant, an unidentifiable male driver. There was no sign of passengers inside either car that passed them.

  They arrived in Listvyanka at 7:45 p.m. Streetlights illuminated the road. An empty harbor lay to the right. The frozen lake shone for a few yards beyond it before yielding to darkness. Old wooden homes sat clustered on the right side. Smoke billowed from their chimneys. A dozen cars filled the lot of a restaurant. A couple trudged from a Soviet-looking jalopy toward the front door wearing only sweaters. It must be spring for them, Bobby thought.

  The center of town was no more than three hundred yards long. Buildings vanished in the side-view mirror. The forest reasserted itself.

  The main drag gave way to a neat gravel road. Luo took a left at the first fork onto a crude dirt road. The trail twisted and turned through the forest. The buhanka negotiated the turns effortlessly. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a second fork. Weeds and brush covered the road to the right. A chain-link fence blocked access. Private property and danger signs hung on the fence and the trees at each end. The fork to the left was a ninety-degree turn toward the lake. It was narrower but contained tire treads instead of vegetation.

  Luo took a left per the instructions on the map and descended to a clearing at the edge of the frozen lake. There was room for a pair of cars or pickup trucks. Luo took the entire parking spot.

  “Fisherman’s wharf,” Luo said. “Just like the man said. The castle is one and a half miles away. That’s why the fork to the right is the road untraveled now. It used to lead to high ground. Beautiful views. Popular with tourists. Now it’s billionaires’ row. The uninvited are unwelcome, and I bet you the closer one gets, the more ominous the warnings.”

  “Until a man with a rifle appears in front of you.”

  “And behind you. Which is why we will go via the road where there are no warnings.”

  They took their gear from the back of the buhanka and walked to the edge of the ice. Six boulders faced the lake for viewing or fishing purposes. Luo and Bobby sat down and changed into their skates. A third pair of skates remained in a box in a shopping bag.

  “I’ll carry Eva’s skates in my knapsack,” Bobby said.

  Luo didn’t bother looking up. “I know you will.”

  Bobby took her skates out of the box and put them in his knapsack. He squished his high-top basketball shoes on top of them and slipped the bag onto his back. Secured his headlamp onto his forehead by tightening the strap around his head. Luo had just finished tying his first skate by the time Bobby was ready.

  “You laced those skates pretty fast,” Luo said. “As though you’ve done that before.”

  “Just once or twice.”

  Bobby imagined a mad scene at the castle. Guards running in one direction, while he and Eva escaped in the other. They’d skated together before in a hockey rink in Korosten. She’d been a competitive swimmer and was more comfortable in open water, but she was competent on ice, too. The wind would be at their backs, and their futures in front of them.

  They would fly side-by-side across the ice, and never be separated again.

  CHAPTER 42

  NADIA STARED OUT the window of the plane. The Irkutsk Airport was located in the middle of the city. Lights illuminated a sprawl of brick tenements and a low-level cityscape. The bridges over the Angora River added a welcome dose of aesthetic appeal to an otherwise gray and foreboding descent.

  “Living standards have improved in major Russian cities,” Simmy said. “Especially since oil went north of a hundred a barrel. Out here, though, not so much. You can tell by the look of the city. Money trickles in from Moscow. There’s some resentment.”

  They landed at 7:30 p.m. Evidently money had trickled in for a new domestic terminal. Its contemporary steel frame and floor-to-roof windows gleamed in the night. Nadia counted the seconds as the plane taxied toward its gate.

  Her mobile phone chimed. Once, twice, three times.

  Voice mail.

  She accessed it and found three messages waiting for her. All from Bobby. She listened to them, one by one.

  Relief washed over Nadia when she heard he had indeed
taken a cargo plane to Irkutsk. By the time she finished listening to the messages, however, reality had set in. The first two messages were two and a half hours old. The third was still two hours old. That meant he had a two-hour head start. And Bobby’s final two revelations disturbed her.

  “What did he say?” Simmy said.

  “Give me a sec. I want to try to call him.”

  Nadia tried calling Bobby. He didn’t answer. Instead, her call rolled into voice mail again. She left him a message regarding her whereabouts and asked him to call her immediately.

  Nadia gave Simmy an abbreviated account of Bobby’s trip from Vladivostok to Irkutsk.

  “He did say ‘father’ after all,” Nadia said. “Not ‘farther.’”

  “Whose father was he talking about?” Simmy said.

  “Eva’s.”

  “I thought he was dead.”

  “So did I. Apparently that was just a story her aunt and uncle made up. To minimize the pain of the mother dying and the father being absent.”

  “Or so this man says. How did he find Bobby?”

  “Apparently he followed him from Fukushima. He was the angel. The man with the boomerangs. He hitched a ride on the same cargo plane in Vladivostok.”

  “It’s a bit suspect, but then again . . . We weren’t a hundred percent sure Eva herself was alive, and now this man appears . . .”

  “Makes you think she really is Genesis II.”

  Simmy raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Did Bobby say what their plan was? Do they know where Eva is?”

  “He said they took her to a castle. Some billionaire’s estate called the Swallow’s Nest. Have you heard of it?”

  “The one in Crimea? Of course. Some knockoff in Siberia? Good Lord no. Every idiot with a mansion likes to put a name on it, and it’s always something painfully unoriginal. It must be Golov’s estate. The Zaroff Seven. They’re all there waiting for her.”

  “And now Bobby is on the way there, too.”

  “And if there are two parts to the formula, they will soon possess both of them.”