“My God,” Curial said. “Where do all these guys keep coming from?”
“FSB, they’re everywhere. Come on.” Dina went into a luxury clothing shop and motioned for Curial to follow. She walked to the side, then ducked behind a display of mannequins. Curial followed her. She was crouched low behind and he did the same.
“What are we doing?” asked Curial.
“It’s called hiding, blockhead,” Dina responded while peeking around the mannequin to look out into the store.
“I feel like a sitting duck.”
“You feel like a duck?”
“It’s an American saying, it means—”
“Shhhh!” Dina put her finger to her lips and pointed out into the store. One of the men had entered and was looking around.
Curial began to shake. Dina put a hand on his forearm and squeezed. He looked at her and she narrowed her eyes at him.
He waited for what seemed like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. Then the man started to walk back out of the store.
That’s when the sneeze came. And it wasn’t Curial. He turned to see Dina covering her mouth and then turned back to the store as the man re-entered and looked towards the mannequin display.
They were in trouble.
The man wasn’t hesitating now. He was walking right towards them, a suspicious look on his face. Curial did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed the mannequin and, while screaming his head off, charged the man. Curial hit him full speed and the man toppled backwards. “Run, Dina, run!” Curial said as he scrambled to his feet. Dina hung a left out of the store and then screamed herself.
Curial ran out of the store to find one of the guys holding her, Dina kicking and clawing for her life. The man inside the store was on his feet now, coming right for Curial. He took a few steps toward Dina. “Get out of here Curial!” she yelled.
He hesitated. He heard angry Russian to his left and turned to see the man reaching for him.
Instinctively, like Hank had trained him to do countless times in the ring, Curial ducked, then he came up with a left followed by a right body blow. The man’s chin dipped down just in time for Curial’s left uppercut which hit the man flush on the chin, causing the man to shriek and stumble backwards while Curial felt like he’d just broken his hand against a brick wall.
He shook his hand as he looked back at Dina. He rushed towards her and when he did, she stomped on the foot of her attacker with the heel of her boot. The attacker let go and bent down just as Curial got there to deliver an overhand right that caught the guy in the jaw and sent him down to the marble corridor.
Dina looked at Curial with shock, her eyes wide with surprise. “You can fight?”
Curial shook his throbbing right hand. “I can box. Now let’s go.”
He and Dina sprinted past five more stores, took a walkway to the other side of the second floor corridor, then descended the stairs to the first floor, where she spotted another exit. They looked around. No scary men to be seen. They walked quickly out of the other side of the GUM, and Dina immediately started whistling for a cab. One stopped in the center of the street and Dina and Curial both jogged with their hands up.
A dark van came from their left and skidded to a stop in front of the cab. The door flew open. Arms grabbed Dina and Curial before they could run. Two men jumped out of the van and put dark bags over their heads.
Then as they kicked and screamed for their lives, Dina and Curial were carried into the van. Curial heard the door slide shut and the van surge forward, tires pealing in its wake.
Then he heard a strange click and felt something hard press up against his skull.
“Now please settle down,” the voice said in heavily accented English. “I have a gun and I know how to use it.”
Chapter Twenty-One – Kidnapped
Being kidnapped in a strange country by men who had guns and knew how to use them was bad.
But Curial had been through worse.
When his mom was first diagnosed with cancer—that was bad. But then the treatment worked and she got better. And then one day, out of the blue, she changed. For the worse. The cancer was back, and this time nothing was stopping it. And she knew.
And Curial knew that she knew.
Caroline Diggs was going to die.
He cried himself to sleep that night. And the next night. And quite a few nights after that.
That was the most scared he’d ever been and as he sat, shrouded in darkness, feeling the vibrations of the van as it drove through Moscow, his thoughts stayed with his mother.
And then when the sound under the van changed from mostly smooth concrete to crushed rock, the van suddenly stopped and the door opened. The man with the gun barked at him and Dina to move, and then Curial was dragged out of the van and dumped on the ground. He stumbled to his feet and someone pulled off his black hood.
Curial strained his eyes against the early evening rays of sun, peaking through the clouds in brilliant purples and pinks. He turned to see Dina looking at him, her breathing shallow, her eyes trying to communicate with him.
A man pushed him in the back of the shoulder and then they were walking. For the first time, Curial noticed he was in a driveway and looked to his left at the enormous neo-classical mansion. Mostly white, with yellow trim and green shutters. It looked, well, it looked like a museum.
The men walked him and Dina down the driveway, around the house and then through a back door. They walked up the steep steps of a narrow stairwell, up three flights. At the top of the stairs they turned right and walked down a narrow hallway with a ceiling dropped low and angled left to right, like they were walking through a funhouse. Then the man in front stopped in front of a yellow door and knocked three times. He pushed the door open and stood to the side. He waved Curial in.
Curial stepped in and was greeted by an older man. Sophisticated, powerful, dressed in a brown tailored suit. The man nodded.
“My name is Victor Koralenko, welcome to my home.”
Then without waiting, Koralenko stepped to the side and Curial’s eyes landed on Maurice. He was sitting in a chair, hands folded on the table in front of him. His eyes opened in surprise.
“I knew you’d find me! I told Victor here that we Americans don’t leave men behind.” Then Maurice’s face suddenly hardened. “But don’t tell this Russian pig a thing. I told him I wasn’t going to rat out my best friend Curial Diggs. I told him it didn’t matter what he did to me. Then he showed me a picture of an ancient Dutch torture device that appears to pull your arms out of their sockets, and I told him it might matter what he did to me…but thankfully it hasn’t come to that yet.”
“Shut-up Maurice,” Curial said, then turned to Koralenko. Although Curial hadn’t been kidnapped before, he was quite accustomed to being around and speaking with powerful and important people. He stood confidently. “I assume you know who I am?”
Koralenko tilted his head. “Naturally. The son of a very wealthy and very powerful man. It would be a shame to have to kill you. So just tell me why you and your friend have been asking about me and you can be on your way.”
Maurice tried to stand up but a large Russian kept his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t listen to him Curial, it’s a trick. You can’t trust these Rooskies, you’ve seen Rocky 4 haven’t you?”
Curial smiled at Koralenko. “You wouldn’t kill me.”
Koralenko shrugged and smiled back. “Look at you, smart poker player you are. You know I can’t kill someone like you. Too important, too many questions. I confess, you got me.”
Curial breathed a sigh of relief.
“Which means I’ll just have to kill your friends.” Koralenko waved with two fingers and two guards pulled Dina into the room.
“I said don’t listen to him Curial, nothing but a trick.”
But Curial wasn’t so sure.
The Russian man holding Dina started squeezing her by the shoulders. Curial could see the strain in her face.
&nb
sp; “Fine, I’ll tell you.”
“Don’t do it!” Maurice yelled.
“We’re looking for something, something valuable.”
“Something with an old symbol on it?” Koralenko asked.
“Don’t talk to this Russian pig Curial, don’t do it!”
But Dina was silent, the large Russian continuing to squeeze, her face growing more and more red.
Koralenko waved his hand. “Because that’s what my sources in St. Petersburg told me. Said the mouthy one here was asking all about this symbol.”
Curial nodded. “We’re looking for…the Romanov Dolls.”
Karalenko’s face went rigid. He looked down at Maurice and then over at Dina. He nodded to the large Russian man and he instantly stopped squeezing Dina.
Then Koralenko began to laugh.
“I am a man who is not often surprised but I must admit, I wasn’t expecting that.” He pointed at Curial. “So you think I know where the Romanov Dolls are?”
“We know the symbol on the bottom of the dolls was put there by a group within the Russian secret police, one tasked with tracking down for Stalin objects with special powers. We know that your father ran that agency. We know that you, like your father, were KGB and we know that you are one of the foremost art collectors in Moscow.”
“And that means I must have the Romanov Dolls.”
“Don’t you?” asked Curial.
Koralenko shook his head again, then licked his lips. “Look at you, rich American kid. So arrogant. So typical. You come into my country looking for a Russian treasure, one that nobody has found for forty years, and you think by talking to a woman at a museum you have figured it out.”
“And have I?”
“Such a disappointment. I thought you kids might be spies. Believe it or not, your CIA and Israel’s Mossad use young people sometimes. I was excited to try out some of the toys in the basement.” Koralenko sighed. “But turns out, you’re worse than spies, you’re treasure hunters. And by the looks of it, very bad treasure hunters. I do not have the Romanov Dolls. They remain, as they’ve always been, a mystery. From their creation at Abramtsevo to their residence in Winter Palace to their traitorous voyage to America and then poof…not much has ever been understood about the Romanov Dolls. And if you must know, I wasn’t even aware they had the symbol of my father’s unit. You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then I can only say the mystery continues.” Koralenko looked at his watch. “And I’m afraid you kids are out of time.”
Curial swallowed. “What do you mean?”
Dina stomped her foot. “My grandfather is a very important man in St. Petersburg, you can’t do this to us.”
Maurice strained forward. “I told you this Russian pig couldn’t be trusted Curial.”
Koralenko just shook his head in amusement. “Oh my, young people are always so dramatic. I’m not going to kill you. I haven’t killed anyone in…well, it’s been awhile. Frankly, I’m out of practice. I meant you’re making me late, I have a date to play bridge and I can’t keep my partner waiting.” He motioned with his fingers. “The boys will take you wherever you need to go.”
Koralenko looked down at Maurice. “And if this one gives you trouble, just drag him from behind the van.”
Chapter Twenty-Two – Sergiev Posad
Curial, Maurice, and Dina sat in the train station waiting for the SESPAN high speed train to arrive. Curial let out a long sigh. “Every single lead has resulted in a dead end. Every single lead.”
“Of course,” Maurice said overly loud, “I am alive and my arms are still attached to my body so there is that.”
“I don’t remember asking you to come to Russia to help me. Wait, in fact I remember expressly telling you not to come to Russia with me.”
Maurice’s expression soured. “You know what Curial, sometimes you’re like the crappiest best friend I’ve ever had.”
“I’m not your best friend, I’m not even your friend.”
“Well you’re sure not acting like my friend but…” Maurice raised a finger, “I of course am your friend so don’t worry dude, if you and I have to take that private jet of yours around the globe, visiting the world’s finest beaches and resorts to find those dolls, then that’s just what we’ll have to do.”
“You’re an idiot Maurice,” Curial said.
“And you’re a blockhead,” reminded Dina. “So the two of you should be very happy together.”
Curial stood up to stretch and found himself looking at the map of the trains. He was staring at the routes leading out of Moscow when a name jumped out at him.
“Abramtsevo Colony.” He turned around.
“What did you say?” asked Dina.
“Abramtsevo, just northeast of Moscow.”
Dina shrugged. “What about it?”
“Koralenko mentioned Abramtsevo. He said that’s where the Romanov Dolls were created.”
“You sure?” Maurice asked.
Curial nodded. “I’m sure.”
Dina tapped on her knee. “Okay, so what?”
“My mom thought the symbol etched into the dolls was important because it might tell us something about who or how the dolls were created. Until now, we’ve had no luck finding out who made the dolls or where they were created.”
Maurice smiled. “But apparently that good for nothing Rooskie Koralenko does.”
Dina glared at Maurice. “You do realize you’re surrounded by 140 million good for nothing Rooskies?”
“The guy threatened to pull my arms off, you want me to send him a Christmas Card?”
Curial interrupted. “And for some reason, Koralenko thinks the dolls were made in this place.” He tapped on the map. “Abramtsevo. Wait a second, I know this name.” Curial bent over and held his head, then looked back up, a smile on his face. He pointed at Dina. “When you and I were at the doll shop, I asked Valeeni if he thought it was possible that Vasily Zvyozdochkin (ZV-YOZ-DOACH-KEEN) might have carved the dolls. In my reading, I learned that he had carved the first Russian matryoshka dolls back in 1890 and was the most famous doll maker in Russia. I figured he would be the obvious person to make a special set of dolls for Czar Nicholas. But what I forgot until just now, is that Vasily made his dolls in?”
“Abramtsevo,” Dina said, now standing up.
“Exactly.”
Dina shook her head. “We’ve been so busy trying to find Maurice, I totally forgot.”
“About what?”
“When we came out of Gennady and Valeeni’s, Maurice found us right as I was trying to tell you.”
“Time to tell me what?”
“Gennady, he was acting weird.”
“What do you mean weird?”
“When you were asking him about how the Romanov Dolls were made, I think, well, I think he was lying to you.”
“You think they know something about The Romanov Dolls?”
“I think Gennady knows something about how the dolls were made that he didn’t want us to know.”
“Which means we need to go to Abramtsevo. Is there a train going that way?”
“Not for an hour,” said Maurice. Curial and Dina turned around. Maurice was twenty feet away, smiling. “But I think this bus might work.”
Dina learned from the bus driver that just a few miles from Abramtsevo artist’s colony was the town of Sergiev Posad, where the Abramtsevo Russian Toy Museum was housed. And so it was, that forty-five minutes after they left Moscow, the bus dropped them off in the heart of the village of Sergiev Posad. Dina asked directions and within a few minutes, they were walking up the steps of a steep hill, to a reddish brick building that was shaped like a long rectangle with a squared off castle turret covering the entrance doors.
Dina paid their admission, had another Russian conversation with an employee, and then walked confidently through the exhibits like she knew where she was going. And it didn’t take Curial long to figure out what she wanted to show them.
And not just any matryoshka doll exhibit.
Dina pointed at the dolls behind a glass case. There were eight of them, the smaller four lined up in front of the larger four. All were exquisitely painted Russian peasant women.
“These were the very first Russian matryoshka dolls every made in 1890.”
Maurice stepped closer. “These? Right here?”
Dina leaned in to read from the plaque next to the exhibit. “Made in 1890. Carved by Vasily Zvyozdochkin and painted by Sergiev Malytunin.”
“They are really beautiful,” said Curial.
“I bet they don’t transform into a yellow sports car do they?” said Maurice.
Dina glared at him.
“But beautiful in their own way,” Maurice said with a smile.
Dina laughed. “American boys are very strange.” Then she walked over to a museum employee and asked him a question. Finally the employee started to speak in English and followed Dina back to the boys.
The man clapped his hands together and smiled. “I don’t get many Americans to the museum. Tourists seem to prefer Moscow and Red Square. So, you want to know something about these Romanov Dolls?”
Curial shook his head. “No, we want to know something about the Romanov Dolls, you know, the ones made out of previous metals and fine jewels.”
The employee’s face filled with understanding. “Ahhh, the Romanov Dolls. I apologize but I’m not sure what I can tell you. In fact, as far as I know they were in America before they were stolen.”
Curial leaned in. “But we were under the impression that the dolls might have been made here, in Abramtsevo?”
The man’s brow furrowed and his lip curled up. “Well, I have never heard such a thing.”
“So the famous Romanov Dolls were not made here?” said Dina.
The man shrugged. “I don’t think anybody has any idea where they were made. It is a Russian toymaker mystery.”
Curial practically growled. This was getting old fast.
“Well, the dolls were given to Alexei Romanov in 1909,” said Curial. “Do you have any record of who was making dolls at Abramtsevo around that time?”
Teenage Treasure Hunter Page 11
