Chapter Twenty-One

We’ve been in the back of this SUV for so long, I’m beginning to wonder if we’re even still in New York State. We’re certainly not in the city anymore and haven’t been for at least an hour. I sit so close to Will I’m practically in his lap. Partly because I’m almost desperate for anything I can draw a sense of security from, but also because it allows me a better view out the rear window to the SUV trailing behind us. The one my mother and Uncle Samuel are in. With Petrov. We got Vasili and Niko, and as intimidating as they are, they don’t hold a candle to their boss. In fact, they’ve barely acknowledged us the whole ride.

Eventually, we pull off the main highway and onto a dirt road illuminated only by the headlights. Niko flips the high beams on but doesn’t slow. Dark fields fly by outside the vehicle, and there isn’t a speck of light anywhere on the horizon. Every bump and divot in the road sends me jostling against Will, and I press myself closer to him for comfort. Never mind that I’m still a little pissed at him. He’s the closest thing I have to a safe place right now. His hands are bound at the wrists, but he lifts them to encircle me in his arms, pulling me tighter against him. My back is pressed to his chest, and I wear his arm like armor in front of me, clinging to it like a security blanket.

I’m unprepared when the SUV lurches to a stop, and I almost slide off the leather seat, but Will’s hold on me keeps me mostly in place. Vasili and Niko hop out as soon as the engine cuts off, slamming their doors behind them. They stand guard outside our doors as the other SUV slows to a stop behind us. I hear more car doors and male voices. I try to look out the rear window for any sign of my mother, but the other car’s headlights are blindingly bright, and all I can make out is the occasional silhouette moving in front of them.

When Vasili moves away from my window and Niko away from Will’s, I relax just the slightest bit. “Do you think they’re far enough away that we could successfully make a break for it? Try and get help or something?” The minute I ask the question, I know it doesn’t matter how he answers. I’m not going to run away and leave my mother in Petrov’s clutches. No way, no how.

Will shakes his head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. We don’t even know where we are, and it’s been ages since we’ve seen any hint of civilization. We could get lost out here in the middle of nowhere, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good. It’s better to wait until we have a real opportunity with a real chance of success.”

I nod my agreement. He’s right, and I know it. Even if I didn’t have to worry about leaving my mother behind, running right now wouldn’t be smart.

After that, Will and I sit in silence. I strain to try to hear what the voices are saying outside the SUV, and maybe he’s doing the same. The minutes stretch. Finally, Vasili returns to the SUV and yanks open my door. He settles a strong grip on my forearms and pulls me out so hard Will has to lift his arms out of the way quickly to avoid choking me.

After all that time sitting, my legs aren’t quite ready to bear my full weight, and I crumple to my knees. By the time I right myself and stand in front of Vasili, Niko is rounding the back of the SUV with Will in tow.

“Where’s my mother?” I demand, forcing the words out with venom and more bravery than I actually feel right now.

“Already on the plane,” Vasili answers, and grips my arm at the elbow. I look all around me in the small circle of light provided by the car headlights, but I don’t see any evidence of a plane. Have they taken her somewhere else? He drags me away from the car, out into the darkness of the surrounding fields. As my eyes adjust to my new surroundings, I catch a glimmer of something huge looming in the distance. It must be the plane.

Renewed by the idea that my mother is here, I let Vasili pull me through grasses that come up higher than my waist with no light to guide us. With every crunching, plodding step, I try not to think about what kind of wildlife we might be disturbing. Hopefully nothing that will come lashing out at me with sharp teeth or venom. Somewhere behind us, I hear Will and Niko traipsing through the same thick brush. A hundred or so yards later, the field of tall grass levels out to flat ground, then merges into faded blacktop.

The closer we get, the more solid the plane becomes in my line of sight, until we’re standing almost underneath it. A set of metal stairs leans against the fuselage, leading the way up to an open door. Dim light seeps through the opening, illuminating the top of the stairs.

“Up.” Vasili shoves me toward the bottom step, and I stumble over it; my knee slams hard into the third one up. I grit my teeth against the pain and try to right myself. By the time I’m back on the move, Vasili is already impatient over the pause and shoving me again. I scramble up, doing my best to balance with my hands tied in front of me in an effort to avoid being pushed again.

Inside, the plane is brighter, lit from multiple angles, including accent lighting behind the wood-grain molding surrounding the windows. I’ve never seen the inside of a private jet before, but this is every bit as luxurious and rich as I would have imagined…if I spent much time imagining the inside of private planes. On one side, four gray leather captain’s chairs face one another in pairs across a polished wood table with a metal chessboard inlaid into the top. Glass chess pieces top the board out of order, evidence that someone is in the middle of a game. I’m halfway tempted to knock all the pieces to the floor in spite as I pass. But I don’t.

A bench seat upholstered in the same buttery gray leather as the captain’s chairs runs the length of the opposite wall until it meets a gray-veined black marble wet bar at the other end. Glasses are suspended on racks on the underside of a cabinet above the bar, which is topped with more bottles of liquor than there probably are people on this plane at the moment.

And surprise—Uncle Samuel is holding up the wall next to the bar, glass full of amber liquid in hand. Well, he’s certainly on the right plane—this must be heaven for him. Across from the bar, behind the chess players’ section, are two more forward-facing rows of captain’s chairs, and in the last row seated next to the window is my mother. A white cloth is stuffed into her mouth and tied behind her head in a makeshift gag, but other than that, she appears no worse than when I last saw her back at Petrov’s brownstone hideout. I let out a relieved sigh, then check over my shoulder to make sure Vasili wasn’t close enough to hear. I don’t want to show any more weakness or vulnerability than I already have, don’t want to give them any more leverage to hold over me.

When I turn back to my mom, she meets my gaze with a pointed look I can’t quite decipher. I wish I were better at reading looks. Or minds.

Vasili nudges me toward the back of the plane and pushes me down into the window seat in front of my mother. Then he steps over to the bar to join Uncle Samuel in pouring himself a drink. No sooner do I have butt in seat than Will appears in the cabin door with Niko herding him along like an animal to the slaughter. When they reach us, Will shrugs off Niko’s hold on his shoulder, and the larger man retaliates by punching Will in the kidney, hard. Will grunts in pain and drops into the seat next to me with his elbow pressed protectively against the side where Niko punched him.

Vasili meets Niko in the aisle with a half-filled tumbler, and together they head for the seats surrounding the chessboard. Uncle Samuel follows but lumbers past them to plop haphazardly down on the far end of the bench seat. He keeps his eyes downcast, like he’s too ashamed to make eye contact. And well he should be.

A beefy, dark-haired man I haven’t seen before now emerges from the cockpit and moves to shut the cabin door. There’s no sign of Petrov. Is he already on board and tucked away in some other section of the plane? Is he not coming with us? No one else seems to notice that he’s not in the room, which means they must know where he is, whether he’s on the plane or not. The idea that he could be in some other section eats at me. I don’t like the idea that he could sneak up on me again.

Except now, I’m already his prisoner, so it doesn’t really matter if he gets the drop on me.

Muscles goes back to the cockpit, and a few minutes later, the heavy whirring of the engines begins to build. Uncle Samuel is still drowning his shame in his cup, and Niko and Vasili are heavily involved in their game.

I take advantage of their distraction and the growing noise outside the plane to turn to my mother and peek at her through the gap between Will’s seat and mine. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

She nods and tries to say something around her gag, but all that comes out is a muffled, garbled mess of grunts and disconnected syllables. Her expression is both sad and earnest, and it occurs to me that she might be trying to apologize.

“This isn’t your fault,” I tell her. Her eyes glass over, and she shakes her head sadly.

“She’s right,” Will confirms. “Petrov is the one to blame here. Petrov and his lackeys.”

My mother nods, but I can tell by her expression that there’s so much more she wants to say. Unable to do so around the gag, she turns to look out the window as we begin taxiing down the runway. I do the same.

Darkness stretches on the horizon, made even darker by the light inside the cabin. Where are we? Where are we going? My future seems just as dark, just as mysterious as the world outside this plane.

…

We’ve been flying over water for hours. It’s full daylight and has been for quite some time before we’re over land again. Petrov must be taking us to someplace in Europe. Someplace where he has power. The landscape we’re now flying over is a checkered pattern of green pasture, farms, and fields in various shades of greens and browns, with the occasional building cropping up here and there.

My eyes are gritty and ache from lack of sleep. I dozed off a couple of times during the flight, despite my best efforts not to, but each time, it only lasted for a short while before fitful dreams jarred me awake again. Will is awake and staring past me out the window, glassy-eyed. Has he been awake all this time?

Uncle Samuel is passed out with an iron grip on his umpteenth glass of liquor. How he can be unconscious and still hold his drink perfectly upright is beyond me. Vasili is nose deep in a thick book, and Niko is equally involved in some game on his phone.

I turn to check on my mother, but a door behind us opens and I drop back into my seat facing front. A heartbeat later, Petrov strolls past us, looking fresh and fit, as if he’s slept peacefully all night. That’s probably exactly what he was doing, I realize. His black slacks and yellow polo are precisely pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Even his black loafers look freshly shined.

I sink lower in my seat in a futile attempt to become invisible. Then Will settles his hand over mine, where it clutches the armrest between us. I still haven’t forgiven him, but his touch is comfort and strength, and I use it to muster all the bravery I don’t feel right now. Which turns out to be completely unnecessary as Petrov passes us and heads straight for the cockpit without even so much as a backward glance in our direction.

“Where do you think we are?” Will asks me once the cockpit door closes behind Petrov.

I shrug, then answer quietly, “Somewhere in Europe, I guess.”

The entire cabin exists in some weird sort of quasi-silence for the next few moments. Then Petrov comes out of the cockpit and heads for Uncle Samuel. “Wake up.” His voice is deep and gruff and filled with annoyance, and he follows up his command by kicking Uncle Samuel’s foot.

Uncle Samuel snorts and wakes with a start, sitting up quickly. Through it all, his drink stays perfectly balanced in his hand. He rubs his red-rimmed eyes with his free hand and looks up at Petrov with something like fear in his expression. Petrov turns away from him and claims the seat next to Vasili.

“Put on your seat belts. We’re about to land,” he says to no one in particular as he secures his own over his lap. I do my best to collect both sides of my seat belt and clasp them together with my hands tied. The process takes longer than I would have liked, and by the time I’m officially buckled in, we’re already descending toward the ground.

The landing is bumpier than what I’m used to, and I’m not sure if it’s because we’re in a smaller aircraft or if it’s because we’ve landed at the world’s most rinky-dink airport. If this even is an airport. The tarmac below the plane is so narrow, it’s not even visible from my window, if it exists at all. For all I know, we’ve just landed in a dirt field.

Not far from us, a tall chain-link fence separates our grassy area from another equally barren area on the other side. In the distance, hills roll across the horizon, and I think there might be a farmhouse or two out there, but all in all, the entire place looks pretty deserted. No real airport terminal, no real buildings even.

As soon as we roll to a stop, Petrov is out of his seat and standing at the front of the cabin preparing to address us. His expression is gleeful and expectant. He claps his hands in front of him. “Okay, here’s how this is going to go…” He pauses to look pointedly at me. “You and your little boyfriend are going to go with Vasil here to retrieve the…items. I am going to stay with your uncle and keep your mother company to ensure your swift return. And you will return swiftly, won’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question, and I nod my agreement immediately. It’s not like I have any other choice in the matter. “Good, good. Vasil, do see that our young friends behave.”

Vasili rises from his seat and stretches. His shirt pulls up at the waist to reveal a holstered gun on his hip. A glance at his face tells me he meant to reveal his weapon, likely as some sort of silent threat regarding what he’ll do to us if we step out of line.

Will and I stand together, and he leads me down the aisle toward Vasili, keeping his body between us, trying to offer what little protection he can. Without further discussion, Petrov opens the cabin door and waits for us to file through. On the other side, the airstairs stretch down to the tarmac ready for us to depart. I’m last to exit, and before I do, I turn back to get a good look at my mom.

I love you, I mouth, and she nods back at me.

“Don’t worry, your mother will be fine. As long as you bring back what your father took from me,” Petrov says and gives my shoulder a little shove toward the exit. I step through into bright sunlight and carefully pick my way down the steps. On the ground, another black SUV with darkly tinted windows is already running, and Vasili holds the rear passenger door open in wait for me.

A timid-looking man with more hair on his face than on his head is dressed in a nondescript olive jumpsuit and yellow reflective vest and haunting the space at the bottom of the steps. An airport worker maybe? The only sign that this is even an airport is the narrow strip of asphalt under the plane and a single flight tower at the far end. I think about asking the worker for help, but when I glance back up the stairs, Petrov is there watching me. Besides, I don’t even know what country we’re in or what language to ask for help in. I climb peaceably into the SUV and resign myself to going with Vasili to God only knows where to retrieve God only knows what.