The Boy from Reactor 4

CHAPTER 80





“BOBBY KUNGENOOK. BOBBY Kungenook. Please pick up any courtesy phone and dial two-one-one.”

Nadia had Adam paged, figuring it was safe to do so since no one knew his new identity. It was a long shot: even if he was still in the airport and heard his new name, would he understand the rest of the message?

She waited half an hour, but no one showed. After leaving her cell phone number with Emergency Services, Nadia hustled down to arrivals at Terminal 4. If he wasn’t in the airport, he’d left. Given his limited knowledge of English, he would have needed help to secure transportation.

The arrivals area was a melting pot of people and languages. Two Port Authority cops stood by the entrance, studying everyone, but Nadia didn’t want to arouse their suspicions by asking questions. She walked across the street to the taxi dispatcher.

“I’m looking for a teenager,” she said. “About six feet tall, athletic but thin. Black hair over his ears. He’s wearing a blue blazer. Speaks broken English.”

The dispatcher scratched his forehead. “Nope. Haven’t seen anyone like that.”

She ran back into the terminal. The cops and Homeland Security officers looked like the government. She could understand why Adam had gotten spooked, but why didn’t he wait down the corridor or in the arrivals area?

The information desk was no longer empty. An intense-looking woman with slits for eyes was standing behind it now. Nadia sliced her way through a group of tourists jabbering at each other in German.

“Have you seen a boy?” Nadia said. “He doesn’t speak English. Five foot ten. Hundred seventy pounds. Looks like an Eskimo. He had a knapsack and a duffel bag. He’s wearing a blue—”

“AirTrain.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He wanted to know how to catch the train to Manhattan. I told him how to get to the AirTrain.”

“Manhattan?” Nadia said.

“He had an address written on a piece of paper. He showed it to me because he wanted to make sure he got on the right train.”

“Do you remember the address?”

“Let’s see. Seven…Seven East Thirty-Third. That’s right. Seven East Thirty-Third.”

Nadia frowned. Murray Hill? Why would Adam visit someone in Murray Hill?

“Are you sure?” Nadia said.

The woman started to nod and stopped. “No. Wait. Other way around. It was thirty-three East Seventh Street. That’s it. A place called the Underground. Thirty-three East Seventh Street.”

The Underground was a Ukrainian dive bar favored by an older generation of immigrants. Maybe it was an emergency address his father had given him, a place to go to if he got lost. If that were the case, though, why hadn’t Adam shared it with her? An eerie feeling washed over Nadia. Was Adam’s disappearance related to the formula? It had to be. Had Damian arranged a sale to a less-than-savory party in New York City? Had that been the plan all along?

Nadia called information and got a phone number for the Underground. She called the bar four times on the way to Manhattan, but no one answered. It probably didn’t open until the afternoon. Was Adam waiting on the doorstep? When her taxi from the airport merged onto FDR Drive, Nadia checked her watch. It was 11:41. She’d never be on time for her appointment with the radiobiologist if she tried to go to the Underground first. But Adam and the locket were essential to the meeting.

She tried calling Johnny to tell him to call the professor and inform him she’d be late, but it went straight to voice mail. While she left him a message, her driver passed the United Nations.

She was on her way back to the East Village, where it all had started.