CHAPTER 26
The Ararat Park Hyatt was an amazing hotel, maybe five minutes from the Kremlin, Red Square, and Saint Basil’s Cathedral.
It was also pretty close to Moscow’s extremely famous Bolshoi Theater, which would’ve been even more exciting if any of us (besides Mom) liked ballet. We grew up on a ship. Nobody wears tights and leaps around like that unless he’s Peter Pan being attacked by pirates.
“We have your three rooms,” said the uniformed guy behind the front desk.
“We only need two,” said Mom.
“But Minister Szymanowicz specifically reserved—”
“Two will do.” Mom turned to face Larissa Bukova. “You’re fired.”
“Excuse me?” said Larissa.
“Your tour-guide and tutorial services are no longer required. You are terminated. Vy uvolyonnye s raboty—dismissed from employment. No more talking, just get walking!”
Mom didn’t explain her actions because (a) moms don’t really need to do that and (b) Russian eyes and ears were everywhere!
When we got to our rooms, Mom put a finger to her lips.
Something was definitely up.
Mom gestured toward our goodie bags with the Ministry of Disasters and Bad Stuff emblem stickered to them.
Without saying a single word, Mom ripped the sticker off her goodie bag, went into the bathroom, tossed the paper wad into the toilet, and flushed. Then, she pulled the phone charger and USB thumb drive out of the bag. Those, she dumped in the trash bin. She nodded and gestured to us to indicate that we should all do the same.
So we did.
After the final flush, Mom finally broke her silence.
“The goodie bags were bugged,” she told us. “There was a very thin, miniature microphone hidden inside the ministry’s official seal. The phone chargers and thumb drives were meant to tap into our e-mails, text messages and phone calls. The Russians executed a similar goodie bag espionage ploy during the G-Twenty summit held in Saint Petersburg back in 2013.”
“They’re spies!” said Beck.
“Yes,” said Mom. “But, then again, so were your father and I.”
“What about the rest of the goodies?” I asked, eyeing the chocolate.
Mom shook her head. “Sorry, Bick. They could have laced the food with something to make us sick. You can keep the hat and the dolls, though.”
Great.
Tommy raised his hand. “Um, why’d you fire Larissa?”
“She is also a spy. Probably for the Russian police. Maybe Minister Szymanowicz.”
“That’s most likely why he called her ‘Larachka,’” said Storm, who, don’t forget, remembers every word anybody ever says. “Use of her nickname indicates that Minister Szymanowicz and Larissa have known each other for a long time.”
I was right! I had a hunch those two were pals!
“Wait a second,” said Tommy. “Are you sure? Because I think she really dug me.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” said Mom. “You can’t trust anything she says or does.”
The doorbell rang.
As our muscle, Tommy opened it. A very pretty room service waitress was standing in the hall, holding a silver platter covered by a dome.
“Well, zdravstvuyte to you, too,” said Tommy, giving the waitress the flirty look he practices in the bathroom mirror every morning. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Inna.”
“Riiiight. Inna. That must be Russian for ‘Angel.’”
We were all rolling our eyes.
The waitress? She just laughed and handed Tommy the tray.
“Enjoy your time in Moscow,” she said, and then she turned on her heel and sashayed away.
“If you’re here, don’t worry—I will!”
The waitress just laughed again and kept on walking.
“Tommy?” said Mom, indicating with hand signals that Tommy should bring the tray into the room and close the door.
“And lock it,” said Storm.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because,” said Beck, “nobody ordered room service.”
She was right.
So what was underneath that shiny silver dome?