Ekaterina (27 page)

This is why Kat had come to Russia. To find her family. To belong. The clarity of it rushed through her, making her gasp.

She could nearly hear great-grandmother’s voice. “You’ve always been different. I blame it on your grandmother. Edward should have known better than to get involved with such a woman. Risked her life the entire pregnancy, and I have no doubt that thrill of adventure leaked right into her womb and infected her offspring. Look at your mother. And now you.”

Kat had frozen, completely undone by Grape-Grandmother’s mysterious, telling, words. Her burning desire to find her ancestors, starting with unraveling the covert story of her courageous Russian grandmother, ignited right then. She wondered what other secrets ran ripe in the Neumann home. Instead of pointing out the obvious, however, Kat buried that truth deep inside the recesses of her heart, preferring not to dismantle the only family she’d ever known. She would find the mysterious Magda link, find her blood relatives, and the truth would never shatter the Neumann family.

She swiped a betraying tear and approached the Watsons. “I see Gleb is doing okay. How are you?”

Sveta didn’t need to answer. She radiated joy. John stood as Kat sat down on the plaid sofa opposite them. “Thank you so much for your help, Kat. I’m so sorry for what happened to you in Yfa. Did the FSB find the guy who attacked you?”

John looked so worried, it made Kat hang her head. She hadn’t stopped thanking the Lord for saving her, but suddenly she added gratefulness that, through the tangle of events, the Watson’s still managed to bring Gleb successfully into their family. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and answered his question. “No, not yet.”

“Are you leaving today?” Sveta picked up Gleb, and bounced him on her knee. A baby’s giggle filled the room and brought a smile to everyone’s lips.

“No, I have some more work to do in Russia. I’ll be staying a few more days.” The truth was, she was flirting with the sudden desire to put down roots, perhaps in Blagoveshensk, where she could help them run their adoption program, maybe get to know Pyotr’s mother. She had a gut feeling that unearthing her past, especially without her picture or Anton’s journal, might take longer than her visa allowed.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Sveta had the “mother” look as she glanced at Kat. “You look. . .”

“Pretty rough, I know.” Kat didn’t have to look in a mirror to see she looked like she’d wrestled a badger and lost. A yellow bruise scraped down her face. Scratches webbed her neck. Thankfully, her lip had shrunk to its normal size. She’d indulged in some make-up at the Hilton gift shop and, besides the stiff muscles and fatigue, felt like she had pulled herself together. “I’ll survive.”

“Look us up when you get Stateside,” John said as he sat down next to his wife and joined in playing with their new son. His attention was already lost to Kat. She smiled, delighted that she’d seen the birth of this new family.

“God bless you,” she said quietly as she stood and slipped from the room.

Kat had few possessions to gather, and had already purchased a new shoulder bag. She stopped by the office of her only other friend in town, Alicia Renquist, and picked up the bulging bag, leaving her suitcase stowed behind the door. “Thank you, Alicia,” Kat said to the petite brunette, who had nearly cried at Kat’s condition yesterday when she met Kat in the embassy lobby.

Unfortunately, the US government hadn’t been able to find a drop of information on Magda Neumann inside Russia. “The only thing we could find was the marriage certificate in Schenectady.”

“Yes, I know,” Kat said, and ruled out any hope of embassy assistance.

Alicia had spent the better part of the morning trying to convince her to head home, as the FSB instructed. “You haven’t broken any laws, but it would be against my better judgment to allow you to continue your tour here,” Alice now, as if tempted to launch into her previous sermon. Instead, she handed Kat her passport and visa. Kat noticed the exit date hadn’t been changed. She still had three weeks left on her tourist visa. “Good luck, anyway, Kat.” Alicia smiled, warmth in her eyes.

“Thank you.” Kat slung the bag over her shoulder.

Alicia walked her to the door. “Call me if you need anything. And Kat, be careful.”

Kat gave her a quick hug and high-tailed it to the lobby. 10:00 A.M. wasn’t too soon for Vadeem to send his army to muscle her out of the country.

The locked door to the embassy offices whooshed closed behind her. Kat tucked the backpack over her shoulder and strode across the lobby. Coast clear. No leather-coated FSB agents hanging around like wolves at the entrance.

She strode past the security gates and burst through the doors, tasting freedom and her future in the damp Moscow air.

Kat scattered a group of pigeons as she fast-walked down the street.
Train station, here I come, and then straight to Pskov.
She didn’t know what she’d find there, but she’d start with a visit to the monastery, at least to pay her respects to the young monk who’d been murdered.

A shiver hissed up her spine at the grim thought. She clamped down on her fear. She had few choices—return to New York empty handed, or dive into the murky unknown, a prayer on her lips.

She’d take the leap of faith.

“Please God, help me,” she said, gathering speed. She wasn’t sure when the train left, but she hoped to be on it before Vadeem sent his bloodhounds to the embassy.

A hand clamped on her shoulder, hard and tight.

Kat whirled, nearly jumping out of her skin. She recognized Ryslan, Vadeem’s partner standing behind her.

“Good morning, Miss Moore.”

-

“You do this often?” Vadeem gripped his knees, hauling in searing breaths, sweat pouring down his face, his heart thumping through his chest. The clammy breath of mid-morning Moscow made him feel even stickier than he was after running five kilometers.

“What?” Pyotr asked, also hauling in breaths beside him.

“Follow people around.”

“Oh, you mean people that invite me to stay at their apartment, or challenge me to a foot race?” Pyotr smiled, looking not at all like a man who’d wrangled out the wretched story of a sinful man until three A.M. in a dimly lit apartment. Sweat ran in rivulets down his wide face, and his tawny blond hair stood up in spikes. “I’d say my army days paid off.”

Vadeem half-glared at him, not wanting to admit how well the man had kept up. . .and how much he enjoyed his company. He wasn’t ready to call the pastor
friend
yet, but the moniker skimmed close to actuality. What would he call a person who knew the demons that ravaged his soul and didn’t flinch at them?

A shepherd, perhaps.

It felt somehow freeing to be able to unload the story onto Pyotr, and see the man’s eyes fill with tears. To know that someone else grieved the loss of Vadeem’s family, and to hear the kind words, “It wasn’t your fault.”

It felt like his fault. Vadeem had brought it on by not listening to his father, by clinging so desperately to the need to be a part of something bigger than himself. He should have realized the importance of family.

Instead, he had betrayed them.

Just like he’d betrayed Kat.

He’d been running from that fact for the past five kilometers, and in his thoughts for most of the night. He’d betrayed the woman God had sent him. The gift meant to spark in him a little faith.

Pyotr’s words had found a soft place, burrowed deep, and grown like a sweet smelling fragrance over the past twelve hours. Kat, with her ever-present smile, her unconditional love, her buoyant faith, had been sent by God to remind Vadeem he was not alone. No, not by a long shot.

Perhaps he wasn’t the stone-hearted traitor he’d always labeled himself. Perhaps redemption waited for him, if he would find the courage to ask. Maybe he’d even find a woman to whom he could belong, and cherish as his own. The thought stole the breath right out of his chest. He leaned against his apartment building, cooling down, stretching his calf muscles, and listening to regret rush in its wake.

He had to send her home.

Or did he? Her words rang back at him. “You could help me.” He yanked open his apartment door, and started up the stairs, Pyotr breathing heavy on his heels.

Maybe Vadeem
could
help her. There had to be other clues out there, things they hadn’t yet considered. Anton Klassen had been clever enough to leave behind a journal. What if he left behind something else, something that could lead them to the Crest of St. Basil?

Find Grazovich’s prize and make Kat’s dreams come true in one turn. The idea sent new adrenaline coursing through his legs.

“Vadeem, pal, slow down.” Pyotr huffed a flight below, hanging on the stair rail.

“I have to stop Kat before she leaves.” Vadeem shoved his key into his apartment door lock.

Pyotr trudged up the stairs. “That’s what I’ve been hanging around all night to hear.”

Vadeem headed for his telephone while Pyotr dove into the shower. Pacing, Vadeem listened to the embassy phone ring. A sweet-voiced operator picked up and told him she had no listing for the American he was trying to find.

“Of course not, she’s a guest there.” He described her, thoroughly enough to make it obvious, even to himself, that he had her pegged down to her hiking boots. He guessed he didn’t have to add that she smelled so sweet it made a man cry, but he wanted to. The woman put him on hold while she searched, and he listened to a potpourri of wordless American tunes.

Finally, “I’m sorry sir, but she has already left.”

Vadeem slammed his hand into the counter. “Do you know who picked her up?”

“Just a moment please.”

Vadeem’s heart pounded out the seconds, dread pinching his chest. She probably ditched him. Again. Without a thought to her own safety, she’d most likely hightailed it to the nearest train station and was en route to Pskov, headed smack dab into the arms of one very bloodthirsty smuggler. Vadeem nearly pulled the cord out of the phone socket and tried to calm himself by bracing an arm against the wall.

“Sir? My name is Alicia Renquist. Can I help you?”

Ragged breath through his lungs, then, “Yes, I’m looking for Kat Moore?”

“She left, a while back. She, um, was going to go to the train, but. . .”

“What?” He knew it. He just knew it. She’d ditched him.

“Well, someone came in after she left, one of your FSB officers. I think he picked her up. She should be en route to the airport by now.” He thought he detected a tone of relief in her voice. “I can send a message for you with the Watsons. They are leaving soon. They’ll be taking the same flight home.”

He fought the sudden lump of regret in his throat. This was for the best. “No, that’s okay,” he said, and put down the receiver. Ryslan had picked her up. Odd, since he hadn’t asked the guy to do it. Especially odd since his partner hadn’t returned even one phone call.

But then again, he was Vadeem’s partner. And partners had a bond that went beyond words. Too bad he hadn’t noticed it until now.

Vadeem was leaning against his kitchen counter, drinking an orange juice and contemplating this new revelation when Pyotr emerged from the bathroom, looking like a bear, his hair spiked in all directions. “Did you find her?”

Vadeem shook his head. “She’s already headed to the airport. I guess my partner picked her up.” He held out the carton of juice to Pyotr who poured himself a glass.

“I thought you couldn’t get a hold of him.”

Vadeem shrugged, but didn’t ignore the strange expression on Pyotr’s face. Their confusion knotted into a tense silence.

“I’ve still got Kat’s book. . .” Vadeem said, nearly the same moment Pyotr suggested, “Maybe we should head out to the airport and say good-bye to the Watsons before they all take off.”

Vadeem didn’t even slow down to shower.

Chapter 18

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Kat said it for the second time, but she failed to halt Ryslan’s pace nor wrench herself from his vice-grip on her arm. Obviously, Vadeem had been serious about having her hauled off like a sack of grain to the airport. She sent a couple of
help-me
looks to passersby, hoping someone might meet her eyes, and have mercy on a woman tripping down the street.

Muscovites were clearly used to the oddity on their city sidewalks. Besides, the struggle didn’t last long. Vadeem’s hulk of a partner threw her into the back seat of a white Toyota Camry and slammed the door.

All four locks clicked while he crossed over to the driver’s side. Kat clutched her bag on her lap and swallowed her heart back into place.

Ryslan unlocked his door and climbed into the car, parked conveniently outside the US Embassy, where he’d stopped in to complete the mission on which he’d been sent.

She’d suddenly much preferred to have had the chance to say good-bye to the one FSB agent she actually cared about. She really had wanted to say good-bye. She couldn’t believe this was it, her quest was over. Deep inside she’d been harboring hope that Vadeem would come charging after her, book in hand, furious, of course, but with delight in his eyes, glad to see she’d disobeyed him and would be sticking around.