The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark (8 page)

“Sorry, man. You must have me confused with someone else.”

The man’s jaw dropped. He looked as though he wanted to say something else but wasn’t prepared for Bobby’s answer.

Bobby bolted into the restroom, found an empty stall, and locked himself inside. He tried not to slip on the floor, which was wet and disgusting. The hook on the back of the stall door had been ripped off. Just like Ukraine. He wiped the toilet seat with a handkerchief and rested his bag on top of it. He was wearing jeans, a button-down shirt, the navy sports jacket Nadia had bought him in Alaska, and black loafers. He hated those clothes. Nadia said they made him look respectable but they felt stiff and wrong on him. They made him look like someone he wasn’t, an entitled prep school kid with rich parents. That made them perfect for misdirection.

He swapped the sports jacket for a forest-green fleece with a high collar and exchanged the loafers for his hiking boots. He put on a black cap with flaps that covered his ears. Ran his hand along the back and stuffed his long black hair under the cap. Lifted the collar to cover his neck. Donned a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. Zipped his bag shut and left it on the toilet seat.

Then he jumped up, grasped the top of the door with both hands, and vaulted into the air. He lifted one leg over the door to straddle it, swung the other one over, and jumped down to the ground.

Most of the other men stood at urinals with their backs to Bobby. One man was washing his hands at a sink. He stared at Bobby’s reflection in the mirror. Another traveler stopped in his tracks. Bobby sauntered past them toward the exit. The man at the sink turned his attention to his hands. The one who’d just walked in headed for an empty urinal.

This was New York. It was an airport. People did strange things all the time. Maybe the door to the stall was locked because the toilet was out of order. Maybe Bobby needed to go so badly he’d jumped the wall to use it. No one cared. Everyone had an agenda. No one wanted any trouble.

Bobby paused behind the line of men using the hand dryers. One man finished and started to leave. Another one did the same. Instead of stepping up to use one of the machines, Bobby lowered his head and followed the two men outside.

The man in the Rangers uniform stood to his left as he exited the restroom. Bobby circled to the right of the other two men, looked down, and powered past them. He marched back down the corridor away from the high-numbered gates toward security. He stopped near a cluster of pay phones in a center aisle and slid into one of the cubicles. Glanced back toward the restroom.

The man in the Rangers uniform was still standing near the door waiting for Bobby to come back out. A moment later, a young woman in a similar jersey emerged from the women’s room. They fell into conversation and walked away.

Bobby headed back toward the waiting area. He hugged the right wall to remain hidden from view. He spotted the Slavs. One was still seated behind Nadia. The other had moved across the corridor so he could keep an eye on the men’s room. He clearly hadn’t recognized Bobby when he’d come out.

Bobby ducked under the rope and walked up to a pair of agents at gate nine. One of them smiled and chatted with a customer, while the other banged away at her keyboard. Bobby chose the latter. She had an air of authority about her.

“This station is closed,” the agent said. “Would you wait in line behind the others, please?”

Bobby kept his head low so she couldn’t see his eyes below the bill of his cap. “Help,” he said.

“Yes. The agent to my left can help you.”

“No.” Bobby lowered his voice to a desperate whisper. “I mean,
help
.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just saw a man pull two guns from under the seat of the pay phones. They were taped to the bottom.”

“Could you repeat that please?”

“There are two of them. They said something about taking care of business. They’re here near the gate. They’re near the gate, do you hear me?”

“Where are these men? And could you look up as you speak to me, please?”

Bobby described the Slavs and their precise location. “I think they’re going to kill someone.”

The agent hesitated. Bobby couldn’t see her face but he could sense she was evaluating the risks of taking action or doing nothing. She picked up the phone, dialed three numbers, and turned her body away from Bobby and the other passengers. She whispered something, listened, and hung up. Then she put the phone down.

“You wait right here,” she said.

She turned and bustled toward a man in a suit and tie standing near the gate to the airplane.

Bobby took his phone out of his pocket and dropped it on the floor. He fell to his knees to pick it up. He scooped the phone up, kept his body bent, and ducked out of sight behind a group of passengers. Followed them back toward the restroom.

An unmarked door burst open along the wall. Two uniformed policemen emerged. One held a two-way radio close to his mouth. The other held his hand on the gun in his holster. They hustled toward gate nine.

Bobby marched past them into the men’s room.

A businessman with a briefcase was trying to open the stall Bobby had locked from the inside. Then a toilet flushed, a man stepped out of an adjacent stall, and the businessman took his place.

Bobby hoisted himself to the top of the door and climbed into the stall. His bag was sitting on the toilet seat exactly where he’d left it. He took off his cap, let his hair fall to his shoulders, and changed back into his original clothes. When he was done, he pulled out his cell phone and called Nadia.

“Where are you?” she said.

“Men’s room.”

“I thought so. I saw you go in but I didn’t see you come out.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, good.”

“I’m confused. All hell’s broken loose here. First a couple of cops showed up. Then six guys in suits joined them. Had to be TSA or Homeland Security or something like that. They broke into two teams of four and guess what they did?”

“Arrested the two guys?”

“They took them away. I’m guessing someone managed to accuse them of a crime of some sorts and they were hauled away for questioning. Is this your handiwork?”

“Nah. I’m just a constipated kid stuck in the bathroom.”

“You want to tell me how you managed that?”

“Later.”

“Two more Port Authority cops showed up at gate nine. They talked to an agent—a large woman, looked like she was in charge. Then they went around the waiting areas—with the agent—as though they were looking for someone.”

Bobby looked down at his bag. His green fleece protruded from a gap in his duffel bag. He stuffed it inside and zipped the bag shut.

“They’re looking for someone who doesn’t exist.” He checked his watch. “Our flight is boarding. Meet you on the plane.”

The two Port Authority cops and the agent from gate nine were searching for him in the corridor, shops, and waiting areas.

None of them even noticed the well-dressed young man that walked by them. He looked like an entitled rich kid from Manhattan, not like a con artist’s son from Chornobyl.

CHAPTER 11

N
ADIA CALLED
S
IMEON
Simeonovich from the plane. He wasn’t available so she left a message with his assistant that she would be on a plane for thirteen hours and she would call back.

The Russian oligarch had recently retained Nadia’s services as a forensic security analyst to scrub the books of a Ukrainian energy company he wanted to buy. Nadia had travelled to Kyiv on his behalf and met with the company. She’d also investigated Bobby’s past during the same trip, and discovered the backstory behind his arrest for murder in New York. That information had helped Johnny win the case.

Simeonovich was forty-two years old, divorced with two young children, and dating a twenty-seven-year-old Russian socialite. Still, they weren’t married and Simmy, as his friends called him, was one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He was the opposite of what Nadia had expected—understated and humble. He’d helped Nadia and her brother get out of Ukraine when they’d feared for their lives. Simmy had expressed interest in seeing Nadia again in New York. They’d shared instant chemistry.

Nadia called him again an hour later. She was put on hold for less than ten seconds.

“Where are you?” Simmy said.

“Not sure. Somewhere over Canada?”

“Where are you headed?”

“I’m afraid I have to postpone our dinner plans for Friday night. There’s a risk I won’t be back home in time and I don’t want to cancel at the last minute.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate the call. It leaves me with a bit of a problem, though.”

“I know. You said you were looking at a new company. You need an analyst. If you can wait twenty-four hours, I’ll know more about my immediate availability. I still might be back in New York by Friday. If not, I’d be happy to recommend someone else.”

“Whoever it is you have in mind, that person won’t do.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“What are the odds this person will pick up a menu and know better than I do what I want for dinner?”

Nadia always started out the conversation with business, and secretly hoped he’d twist it into flirtation. “You never know,” she said. “Someone else might do an even better job than I did in Lviv. Imagine the implications if that person were a man.”

“The implications would be that I’d leave the restaurant hungry.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’d be asking for the check right away and getting out of there as fast as I could.”

“That’s understandable. We all react to temptation in our own individual ways.”

“How dare you . . .” He laughed. “You are so insolent sometimes. Nobody else talks to me like that. If you were working for me on an assignment right now, I would fire you for that.”

“That would be unhealthy.”

“Why?”

“Because there’d be no one to order dinner for you and you might starve.”

“I hate when that happens.”

“What? When you starve?”

“No. When I don’t have the quickest wit in the room.”

“Shall I dumb it down for you?”

“On the contrary. But I’ll tell you what you can do for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me where you’re going.”

A wave of disappointment washed over her. If only the repartee could have gone on indefinitely. But it couldn’t, and now he’d guided the conversation back to where he’d started. Her location. She was tempted to tell him. No, she realized. She wanted to tell him. She’d called to make sure he knew she might not make dinner on Friday. But she’d had a subconscious motive, too. She wanted him to know where she was. Simmy had offices all over the world, including a small one in Tokyo. Nadia had no one to rely on other than Johnny. A motivated billionaire could provide a safety net. The kind only global power and unlimited resources could buy.

Then an image of her father flashed before her, warning her that a Ukrainian should never trust a Russian.

“I’d like to tell you,” Nadia said. “But I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Simmy hesitated. “Still can’t trust the Russian, can you?”

Nadia started to protest.

“That’s okay. The oligarch doesn’t get love unless he’s giving his money away. Then the people adore him. Now. Let’s see. You’re somewhere over Canada and you’re flying for at least thirteen hours.”

“That’s assuming I told your assistant the truth. I could have made up the amount of time I was going to be in the air just to confuse you.”

“No. That wouldn’t be your style. You’re an honest person. Non-stop to Russia is only nine hours. Europe is even shorter. India is a bit longer . . .”

“Sometimes the fog is so heavy over San Francisco, it takes twice as long to get there.”

“Very funny. Africa is about right, but what personal business could you possibly have there? The Middle East is also the right distance. That’s a possibility. And then there’s Asia. Japan, Hong Kong, China.”

“I’ve always wanted to go on safari.”

“I’m intrigued. You know I love a good mystery.”

“I’m pleased you’re pleased.”

“I have offices in Beijing, Tokyo, and Dubai. Granted, they are small offices. Mostly consisting of two men, one local, one of mine. But my men are capable. They speak the local languages. If I can be of any assistance, you have my cell phone.”

His words carried an ominous foreboding. The last time Simmy had offered her his assistance, she’d ended up being chased by killers through the Priest’s Grotto, an underground network of gypsum caves in western Ukraine.

“I’m sure I won’t need any help, but it’s incredibly kind of you to offer.”

Nadia meant what she said, except for the first part.

She wasn’t sure of anything at all.

CHAPTER 12