Yulia frowned. “Probably Belgorod. It’s pretty close to the border. There’s not a lot between Kursk and Belgorod – mainly little farming communities.”
“That’s good. It means there won’t be inspections, if we’re lucky.” Jet indicated the last rail cars. “Ready? Let’s shoot for that last flat car, and once we’re aboard, we can make our way forward to one of the enclosed freight containers.”
They stood and approached the train and, after an agonizing jog alongside, were both lying on the platform as dawn broke over the valley. “That was the hard part,” Jet said, and pushed herself up before helping Yulia to her feet. “That next car looks promising.”
They navigated the swaying flat railcar, and Jet jumped to the next one. “Stay there. I’ll see if we can get in,” she called, and then moved to the rear panel of the container and tried it. The steel frame didn’t move, and after two more attempts, she returned to where Yulia stood. “There are rungs leading up to the roof. Doesn’t look like we can get in, but if we climb up, nobody will be able to see us from the ground as long as we keep down.”
“I can climb,” Yulia said with determination. Jet helped her across the gap between the cars and they ascended the rungs, the surfaces slippery from grime. Once on the roof, they lay panting from their efforts. The flat landscape slid by, leaving the carnage of the night behind them as the train crawled toward the border, and hopefully, freedom.
Chapter 42
Campulung Moldovenesc, Romania
“Did you brush your teeth extra well?” Matt asked Hannah as she exited their room’s small bathroom.
“Yeth.”
“Wash your hands?”
She gave him a sniff. “Course.”
“You hungry? Ready for a big breakfast?”
Hannah nodded her head vigorously. Matt smiled. He was glad to see that her usual sunny disposition had returned with a good night’s sleep. She’d only asked about Jet once, right after awakening, and had accepted Matt’s vague deflection with childlike innocence. Matt looked down at her feet. “I like the look, but it’s usually better to have two socks of the same color.”
Hannah’s eyes followed his and she shrugged. “Okay.”
Matt waited for her to make the suggested change, and when she’d slipped her sandals on over her now matching footwear, he held out his hand to her. “I’m starving.”
They descended the wooden stairs to the lobby area and the innkeeper looked up at them, her face as sour as though she’d been drinking vinegar. She rummaged around on the counter and called out to Matt. “You’re in four, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Someone called in the dead of night for you. Woke me up,” she said disapprovingly.
“They did?” he asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
“I don’t appreciate that sort of behavior.”
“I’m sorry. But I didn’t call.”
“Yes, well, anyway, I took a message. Here,” she said, holding out a yellow slip.
Matt approached and took it from her and, after staring at it, handed it back to her. “I’m sorry. I can’t read Romanian. What does it say?”
“Ah. Right. I forgot – it was so early in the morning.” The woman perched a pair of reading glasses on the end of her bulbous nose and translated it for Matt. “Mama is fine. Research Leo Philip. Russian attorney.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what it says.”
“Are you sure? Nothing about calling again or meeting us?” Matt asked.
“I…she might have said something about trying to call again.”
“Might?” Matt echoed, trying to remain calm.
“I…if it hadn’t been so early…I was fast asleep. You’re lucky I answered at all.”
“What time was it, exactly?”
“Oh, three forty. I remember that. I even wrote it on the slip.” She tapped the message slip and then caught herself, her frown deepening at the memory of the indignity.
“What was the attorney’s name again?” Matt asked.
“Leo Philip.”
Matt nodded. The woman was a dolt. He remembered the attorney in Moscow Jet had terminated had been named Filipov – they’d discussed the sanction at length. “Do you have a computer guests can use?”
“No. I’m sorry. Just the Wi-Fi connection. No computers.”
“Where could I find one I could borrow?”
“There are Internet cafés in town.”
“Thanks.” For nothing, he resisted adding as he looked down at Hannah. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get something to eat.”
“Mama call?”
“Yes. She’s fine.” He looked into the dining area, where a few tables of guests were masticating with the enthusiasm of the condemned. “I could eat a horse.”