Chapter 34

The train pulled into Kiev a few minutes past twelve, and Meredith’s attendants picked up her bag and ushered her from the train and led her to a waiting black Town Car. This time when the guards put her in the car, they did not get in as well. Instead they stood to the side of the car with the driver and waited.

Something wasn’t right. Meredith watched from the side mirrors, unsure what they were waiting for. If Kostya had failed his task, would they be bringing in the death squad already? Or was she going to be tasked with some other forced role?

A few uncomfortably quiet minutes passed, then Vlasenko, leading his entourage, arrived in front of the car. His bags were loaded into the Town Car, and the door was opened for him to take his place on the backseat next to Meredith. Then, one of his entourage sat in the front passenger seat and the driver got in and pulled the car into the airport traffic.

“You seem surprised to see me, my dear. Did you think I would ignore my guest?” Vlasenko practically purred to her.

“Ignore your guest, no. But your hostage…” Meredith shrugged.

“I’m surprised at you, Doctor St. Claire. I am much more polite than you give me credit.” He feigned shock.

“What do you want, Petro?” She tilted her head and blinked at him, unaffected by his chatter.

“Tomorrow we celebrate a great day in Kiev, and the date will soon be known throughout the world. You are very fortunate to be here to witness the change in leadership that will occur.”

“I am deeply honored,” she said sarcastically.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head as if to scold her. “Don’t you know the only thing keeping you alive is others’ actions on your behalf?”

“And here I thought we were starting to get along.” Meredith faced the window, breathing mist onto the glass.

“Meredith, you overestimate your worth—to me, to Kostya, to your father—you are not as valuable as you might think.” He straightened his jacket and tie. “Your death would be of slight notice to me.”

“We are all food for worms, Vlasenko,” Meredith challenged. “If I die, let me do it protecting something I love.”

“Love?” He laughed out loud. “Now there’s something that will disintegrate quickly.” He brushed his hands over the sleeves of his jacket and straightened his slacks. “Do try to compose yourself. We are arriving at the hotel, and I would hate for your emotional outburst to embarrass you.” Vlasenko looked at her coldly as they pulled into the drive. “There will be a dress for you in your room. Please wear it for dinner tonight.”

As soon as the car stopped, his door was opened and he strode into the hotel. Meredith followed, guards close behind, but she lagged back to put distance between herself and Vlasenko. She needed to keep her cool, or she could risk Kostya’s life.

The Hotel Ukraine was situated right across from the Independence Square, Maidan, the site of the Kiev riots and the planned commemoration the next day. From her room on the sixteenth floor, she could see the preparations the city was taking to handle all the activities. She stared out the window for a long time, lost in a game of ‘what if’s. Could Vlasenko succeed in his attempt to launch a missile? If he did, what would happen to the Ukraine? Where would the missiles target? What was Kostya doing to stop it?

She read her text from Will again. She had told them she was okay, so she shouldn’t be surprised that they weren’t coming straight for her. Stopping the needless nuclear attack on thousands and thousands of people would trump her safety anyway. She shouldn’t feel selfish, but a part of her did. She’d make a really poor superhero.

Then she was inspired by the risks that Kostya was making to ensure the missile didn’t deploy. Here he was a fugitive, although wrongly accused, yet he put his own well-being aside to stop Fire of Dawn. And she was complaining about being held in a hotel.

She came back and sat down on the bed, studying the dress that Vlasenko had left for her. It was as close to a replica of the dress she wore to the fundraiser as he could have gotten without consulting the original designer. He must have had an army of seamstresses studying paparazzi pictures to fashion so close a likeness. He even had gotten a pair of the Louboutin pumps like the ones her brother had bought her. It was creepy.

Then, inside the closet, there was a red business suit for her to wear, she assumed for the ceremony tomorrow. Hanging with the suit were two packets of lingerie—one set dressy and lacy with silk stockings for tonight, and one set sheer and black with pantyhose for tomorrow. Even if she allowed him to pick her clothes, Petro picking her underthings made her shudder.

She would wear the dress, she decided, although the whole idea made her skin crawl. She would go to dinner and play nice to keep Kostya safe. If it went beyond creepy and into terrifying, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

Knowing that she still had a few hours before dinner, Meredith laid down on the bed. She let the sounds of the hotel wash over her—footsteps of people in the hall, squeaking pipes from an upstairs neighbor’s shower, the machinery setting up in the square—and she fell into a light sleep.

****

Kostya had been given a break—four hours to sleep, shower, and eat before he had to get back to work on the encoder. Quarters were one level up, so he climbed the narrow ladder into the living space meant for the control center crew. There was a small kitchen, sleeping area, and a lavatory. Passing on everything else, he fell onto one of the cots. Up for nearly twenty-four hours, his focus was struggling and he needed sleep.

The encoder was ready. He had been stalling for a while, actually having finished the work hours ago. All that was left was plugging in the code, a code using the algorithm he had deciphered back in the storage space in Kiev. Better to let them think he was busy. Who knew what would happen to him when he was no longer needed.

The vent in the wall by his cot blew in air from above ground, but cycled off making Kostya suddenly aware of other noises around him. He heard the crank and hum of the small elevator that gave access to the control center slowly sink the twelve levels below ground. The elevator’s door ratcheted up and voices drifted up through the vents. He recognized those voices. His guard’s voice was easy to pick out, even though he spoke Russian.

“By tomorrow the encoder will be installed and the missile will be ready to go,” his guard said.

“You need to watch Kostya. He’s a dirty pig and he’ll lie,” a second voice said.

Where have I heard his voice?

“We have a guard watching him every second while he’s working. He won’t do anything we don’t know about,” the guard said.

“Did you hear what happened in Cherkasy? We had to kill the kohkohl Melnyk because he was setting up a radio,” the familiar voice sneered. “Why else would he set up a shortwave radio now if not to communicate with Kostya?”

“Lots of things use radio waves to communicate. Maybe he’s just a hobbyist.”

“And maybe he was shot by mistake,” the voice jeered. “Are we monitoring the UHF band for possible outgoing messages or not?”

“We’ve had trouble collecting the equipment, but it should be up tonight.”

“Not before time.” The voice paused. “About tonight, are my plans ready?”

“Everything is in place. You’ll be in Kiev before nightfall,” the guard reported. “It should be a beautiful pre-celebration to Novorossiya’s new order.”

Kostya heard a phone ring, and the guard answer. “Sir, I have Vlasenko on the line.”

“Put him on speaker,” he called. “Brother? Are you there?”

“Stas, you made it!” the loud, pompous voice of Petro Vlasenko said. “Did you have any trouble with your travel?”

“No. Our American benefactor has influence in many places, including obtaining authentic travel documents. As far as Customs is concerned, I’m a U.S. citizen sightseeing in Kiev.”

“Ha! With as long as you’ve been in Washington, you might as well be Yankee trash,” Petro joked. “Lennox set you up so well I didn’t think you’d ever return.”

Stanislav Vlasenko. Hail, the prodigal son returns. Kostya shuddered, realizing Stas had been hiding in the United States under the protection of Arthur Lennox, the American businessman who bragged about his prospects in Novorossiya. Since he fled justice, Stas was still conspiring with his brother and planning a glorious return to the Ukraine.

“Thanks to me, we have entrepreneurs anxious to invest in Novorossiya, willing to pay a hefty commission for the privilege. Better to lay the foundation for our wealth than to slum with Cossacks.”

Kostya’s fists clenched at his side. What kind of man would use their influence to protect a killer?

For the atrocities at Maiden, Stas should hang; but Fire of Dawn’s plan of launching a missile eclipsed the Vlasenkos’ previous sins. Kostya had to do everything he could to stop the launch.

“I didn’t have a benefactor to help me create an impressive resume, to invite me to the right parties, and to insinuate me into Washington society,” Petro complained. “But we’ve been doing our part, as well. You heard that we will have the encoder ready.”

“Yes, I have,” Stas said. He laughed. “I can’t wait until you call the President of the United States with a missile pointed at his balls. The leader of the free world will squawk out orders to NATO in support of Novorossiya.”

“You have a big night, tonight, no?” Vlasenko teased. “My men have everything set for you. Tomorrow you will come with a big smile on your face.”

“I’ll have a big smile because I’m coming.” Stas laughed. He moaned raunchily, which caused more laughter between the speakers.

“I envy you, my brother. Meredith is one very nice prize,” Vlasenko said. “If you weren’t here, I’d take her to my bed.”

Meredith. Suddenly, Kostya struggled for control. How does Stas know Meredith? Why are they offering her to him?

“She’s nice, that’s true,” Stas whispered loudly. “But she’s too uptight, you know? Sometimes I want someone I can tell what to do.”

Have they already hurt her?

The men laughed.

“We’ll get you a nice accommodating mistress as soon as we are established in Donetsk. In the meantime, you can keep tapping her ice, eh?” Vlasenko said. He chortled at his own joke.

Kostya’s muscles tensed as he imagined strangling the smiles off their faces.

“You just wait, Petro,” Stas said. “You will have a woman giving you trouble before long.”

“We’ll argue about that when I see you in a few hours.” Vlasenko groaned.

“Yes, brother. Tomorrow, we’ll enjoy the dawning of New Russia together.” Stas ended the phone call and addressed the guard sharply. “Where is Kostya now?”

“He’s sleeping,” the guard said. “Four hours after working twenty-four straight.”

“Wake him after I’m gone,” Stas said. “I don’t want to distract the little Russian.”

Where have I heard that tone of voice?

Kostya heard the ratcheting of the elevator car door and quickly tucked himself in a corner by the elevator shaft. If he were lucky, he might catch a glance as the open car lifted past his floor. He wanted a peek at the face of the murderer who escaped him in Kiev when he was Spetnaz, and the man who had his filthy sights on Meredith. He heard the motor engage and the metal squeak as the car was pulled up. Kostya saw the lights on the car’s interior ceiling begin to rise and Kostya focused on the familiar occupant’s face.

Scott Jackson.