The Boy from Reactor 4

CHAPTER 2





A SECOND CAR crashed into the rear of the sedan. A clap of metallic thunder erupted. The big old American sedan lurched, sputtered, and quaked.

The barrel of the gun disappeared, as did the hand that held it. Tinted windows prevented Nadia from seeing more.

The second car was a muscular coupe. Its nose was smushed, but the engine was still burbling, ready to go again. The door opened—

Nadia’s head snapped downward. Milan’s hand grasped her collar. He pulled until his lips almost kissed her ear.

“Find Damian,” he said, his spittle warm and disgusting as it rained against her flesh. “Find Andrew Steen…They all…Millions of dollars…Fate of the free world—”

His hand fell limp to his abdomen. His chest stopped heaving and his eyes went dead.

“Mr. Milan!”

Nadia grabbed her shoulder bag and tore it open. Get cell phone. Dial 911. Check pulse, check airway, begin rescue breathing—

A man in her peripheral vision. Coming at her from the sports car.

Nadia looked up. Blue jeans. Long legs. Cobalt button-down shirt stained with white chalk. Short dark hair, touch of gray on the side. Face practiced in composure. Moving fast.

“He’s been shot,” she said. “I don’t know if he’s—”

“I called for help,” the man said, his tone even but incredulous. “They were going to shoot you next. I’m a doctor, let me—”

A second gunshot exploded.

Nadia ducked. The doctor did the same. A man in the American sedan pointed a weapon through his window at her. Nadia caught a glimpse of a round face and a shock of red hair.

A third gunshot.

Nadia fell flat to the ground.

“My car,” the doctor shouted. He grabbed Nadia by the arm and urged her toward his car, shielding her from the gunman. “Let’s go.”

A fourth gunshot.

Nadia grabbed her bag, kept her head low, and raced around the car. The doctor flung her door open. She jumped in.

The interior smelled of talcum powder and gas. A partially deflated airbag hung from the center of the steering wheel. Nadia tossed her bag between her legs and strapped on her seat belt.

The doctor jammed the gear into reverse, put his right hand behind Nadia’s seat, and sent the car hurtling backward. He swerved onto Avenue A, powered into second gear, and took off uptown.

Nadia grasped a door handle and kept her eyes glued to the side-view mirror.

“You see them anywhere?” the doctor said.

“No. I don’t see anything.”

“Me neither. I think we lost them.”

A car spun out of Tenth Street behind them, tires squealing. As it straightened, Nadia caught its profile.

It was a big old American sedan.