The Boy from Reactor 4

CHAPTER 62





A SHOTGUN EXPLODED behind him.

Kirilo ducked. The kid behind the wheel swore. The Volvo screeched and swerved to a halt on the bridge.

Kirilo waited, turned, and looked back through the rear window.

The second taxi, an old Peugeot, wobbled to a halt. The rubber on the front driver’s side wheel lay flat in a pothole. It wasn’t a shotgun. The tire had exploded.

“How far are we from Tommot?” Kirilo said.

“Ten kilometers.”

Kirilo glanced at his watch. It was 11:05 a.m. The train had probably arrived on time five minutes ago.

“You almost made it,” Kirilo said. “Excellent job.”

The kid frowned into the rearview mirror. “But I didn’t make it. I failed.”

Kirilo pushed his door open. Water rushed and chattered below the bridge. Victor opened the other rear door beside him.

“Failure creates opportunity, my friend,” Kirilo said. “You will be paid your bonus in full. Stay in the car and keep the engine running. We will be moving in a few minutes.” Kirilo turned to Pavel and the other bodyguard. “Step outside and keep our friends company. Especially the American.” He glanced at Victor. “You. Follow me.”

Kirilo put on his fur hat and a pair of finger-hugging Italian driving gloves. He stepped out of the car, leaving his warm cashmere gloves behind.

The other driver opened the trunk and removed the spare tire.

Misha had already gotten out of the other car. He pointed a gun at the driver’s head. Pus oozed from a sore festering on his sunken left cheek. Misha waved the gun as though it were a pointer. “You’ve got thirty seconds to change that tire,” he said. “Thirty seconds. We would have been on time. We were almost there. But no. You had to screw it all up.”

The driver’s hands shook so badly he couldn’t get his fingers under the spare tire to lift it out of storage. Specter and Misha’s other bodyguard helped him.

Kirilo made soothing noises and motioned for Misha to lower his gun. “There, there, my friend,” Kirilo said. “Sometimes bad news brings good news with it. Siberian waters are known for their antioxidants. The Lena River is known for its healing powers. People travel from all over Europe to bathe in it. Come down to the river with me. Fortunately for us, it’s late April, so the river melts during the day before freezing at night. Come splash some water on your face, and you will be instantly rejuvenated.”

Misha appeared baffled. “Where?”

“To the river. Down below,” Kirilo said.

“No,” Misha said. “Where are we?”

Specter started toward him.

Kirilo put his hand out for him to stop. “No, no. We’re fine. He’s just a little feverish from all the travel. You all help the man with the tires.” He turned to Misha. “You are in Russia. Past Tommot on the way to Yakutsk. The formula, my friend, the formula.”

“The formula.” Misha’s eyes lit up. “The formula.”

Specter stepped aside tentatively. He took the jack and lug wrench while Misha’s bodyguard grabbed the spare tire. As they began to work, Specter kept glancing over his shoulder.

Kirilo motioned for Victor to follow. He guided Misha around the bridge to an embankment that fell gently to the river’s edge, out of sight. When he got to the water, Misha placed his gun on a rock and bent over. He reached into the water with both hands.

Kirilo thrust the cattle prod against his neck. Misha convulsed and made gurgling noises. He collapsed into the water. Kirilo put the prod beside the gun. He hoisted Misha out of the river and rolled him on his back. Misha coughed and wheezed.

Kirilo wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Misha brought his hands around Kirilo’s. They felt weak, weaker than Victor’s had when he’d almost strangled him on his boat. Misha tried to speak. Kirilo eased his grip.

“American citizen,” Misha said.

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

Kirilo resumed squeezing until Misha’s body went limp and his pants moistened. Kirilo relaxed for a minute to catch his breath. After taking Misha’s wallet, passport, and diamond-crusted watch, he pushed the body into the water. The current swept it down the river around patches of ice.

Kirilo walked up to Victor beside the bridge, cattle prod in hand. “You were wrong,” he said, still wheezing.

“About what?” Victor said.

“Ten million divided by two is not much more than ten million divided by three. But this formula…That’s a different matter.”

Kirilo replaced the cattle prod in the lining of his coat and put Misha’s gun in his pocket. When Victor and he climbed to the road, Misha’s bodyguard was changing the tire with his back to him. Pavel and Kirilo’s other bodyguard immediately drew weapons.

The bodyguard turned, dropped the lug wrench, and raised his hands.

“Your boss had an accident,” Kirilo said. “You were local hired help anyways. You want a job?”

“Yes, please,” the bodyguard said.

“Where is Specter?” Kirilo said.

“He went to take a piss,” Pavel said. “That way.” Pavel nodded at the wooded knoll on the near side of the bridge headed back toward Tommot.

Pavel stayed with one of the bodyguards while the other went with Kirilo to find Specter. They searched for five minutes but didn’t find him. When they got back to the car, the tire was changed.

“Nothing?” Pavel said.

“No,” Kirilo said. “He’s gone. He lied in the warehouse when we had the Tesla woman. He told me Isabella was on the phone to get me away until the police came. But Isabella never called.”

“Why would he do that?” Pavel said.

“Because he’s not who he seems to be.”

“Then who is he?”

“Looks like a bitch to me.”

“A government agent? Who infiltrated Misha’s operation? In America?”

Kirilo glanced at Victor.

Victor shrugged. “He was Misha’s man. I didn’t know him until a week ago. I don’t know where he came from.”

“Bitches die,” Kirilo said. “Who cares where they’re from.”

Kirilo turned to the two taxi drivers. “You guys have two choices. You can be paid handsomely for your work and forget that you had two more passengers. Or you and your families can cease to exist. Which will it be?”

Pavel joined Kirilo and Victor in the Volvo. The other two bodyguards remained in the other car. Kirilo told the kid to pass the other car. The kid gunned the engine, and the Volvo took the lead.

“Slow down, slow down,” Kirilo said. “There’s no need to hurry anymore.”

The kid eased up on the gas. “There isn’t?”

“No,” Kirilo said.

Pavel turned from the front seat and frowned. “Why not?”

“We know where she’s going. We’ve known where she’s been going all along.” Kirilo glanced at Victor. “Haven’t we, cousin?”

Victor didn’t answer him. Instead, he just looked out the window.

“It’s best to dispose of garbage in remote areas where no one will find it,” Kirilo said. “So we chase. But now that we’re rid of the garbage, we can stop chasing. She is going to Yakutsk. What is Yakutsk known for?”

“Diamonds,” Pavel said. “Twenty percent of the world’s diamond production.”

“What else?”

“Gulag,” Victor said.

“Yes. Gulag. Where did they bury the bodies in the gulags?”

“Ah,” Pavel said. “Of course. The Road of Bones.”

Kirilo looked at his hands. He tried to uncurl his fingers and straighten them completely, but he hadn’t been able to do so since wielding a pickax at the gulag for eight years straight.

“Yes. The Kolyma Highway. And where does the Kolyma Highway lead?”

“Magadan,” Pavel said. He turned forward, sighed with contentment, and relaxed in his seat. “It leads to Magadan.”

“Exactly,” Kirilo said. “Gateway to the Kolyma Region. Former transit center for prisoners being shipped to the gulag. The only major port in the area. Now services the lumber trade. We are five hundred kilometers from the Arctic Circle. The ice is melting. The rivers and lakes are flooding. There is one, and only one, road in the taiga, which may or may not be passable in late April. It is the Road of Bones.”

“They could fly from Yakutsk,” Victor said.

“No. They are not flying for a reason. It may have something to do with the boy, or it may be to stay off the radar. They will take the Road of Bones from Yakutsk to Magadan. Once in Magadan, they must take an airplane or a boat to leave Russia.”

“How will we get from Tommot to Yakutsk?”

Kirilo leaned forward and tapped the kid on the shoulder. “This young man will drive us for ten thousand rubles more. Won’t you, my friend?”