The Boy from Reactor 4 - By Orest Stelmach Page 0,70

crate. What was inside? Last night she had assumed it was the tranquilized lynx, headed to a private zoo or, heaven forbid, a taxidermist. Was it another exotic animal? A different species of wild cat? Growing up, Nadia loved wild cats. The cougar and the cheetah were her favorites. Whatever was inside wasn’t moving. What was the harm in taking a peek?

Nadia glanced at Hayder. He was still in the middle of an animated conversation. She looked down at the crate. Saw the hinges on one side and the small clasp below it. Flicked the clasp and lifted the top before she could change her mind.

The three sides of the crate were reinforced with steel, as was the cover. A large metal object lay inside. It had a six-inch diameter. It looked like a motor of some kind. Beside it were two metal rods. Rigid steel dividers kept all three items from touching each other.

Nadia closed the box and secured the clasp. She looked up.

Hayder was running toward her through the rain, left arm extended, gun pointed at her face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he said, bug-eyed with disbelief.

“I heard a noise inside the cage. I thought it was an animal. I thought it was hurt.”

A maniacal laugh escaped his lips. “An animal? What kind of crock are you shitting here?”

“You took a lynx out yesterday, didn’t you? When I went to Pripyat last night, a poacher tranquilized a lynx in the Hotel Polissya. I just assumed that’s what you took out…and when I saw you with the same carrier…I thought I heard a noise. I swear.”

“Lynx? What lynx?” Hayder blinked hard twice, as though processing her words. His eyes widened with supposed recognition. “Mother of God. You are not here on the personal family business, like you tell Anton. You are here to hurt my business. You hunt scavengers, don’t you?”

“What? Hayder, no—”

Twin bolts of lightning cracked the sky. A clap of thunder erupted.

Hayder pressed the gun to her forehead. “Who sent you, bitch? Did the American government send you? Did the CIA? What is your real business here?”

“Hayder, please. You’re being paranoid. I’m sorry I opened your case. I didn’t mean any harm. I am not here to mess with your business. I’m exactly who I say I am.”

“No. No, you’re not. You’re the American. You’re the liar. And now you’re dead.”

“Hayder, stop.”

The voice came from the direction of the fence. The voice was familiar. Nadia strained to peer over Hayder’s shoulder.

It was Anton. He slipped through the fence and bounded up to Hayder. Radek’s van was parked behind the truck.

“Hayder,” he said. “Put the gun down. What are you doing?”

“She opens my box, man. She opens my box. Why did she do that?”

“Calm down.”

“She’s the government, man. She’s the CIA. She’s here to shut me down.”

“Hayder. She’s not government. She’s an American tourist. I picked her up at the airport in my cab. America couldn’t care less about the Zone. They don’t even know what the Zone is. To them, it’s a type of defense played by basketball teams.”

“What?”

Anton made soothing noises as though quieting an infant. He reached out and gently lowered Hayder’s arm. The gun fell to his side.

Anton glanced at Nadia. The bags beneath his eyes looked inflated with air, the stubble on his beard no longer stylish but in desperate need of a shave.

“Anton,” Nadia said, bouncing on her tiptoes.

He stepped past Hayder, smiled, and hugged her. Nadia buried her head in a nook between his chest and his shoulder. He smelled of mango, nicotine, and musk. It was the most pleasant place to spend a moment, a month, a year, or longer.

“You okay?” he said, holding her face in both hands.

“Yeah. Sorry for all this. And for calling on the spur of the moment. It’s been crazy—”

He put his index finger on her lip and shushed her. “Let’s talk about it in the van.” Anton twisted his body so he could see Hayder, too. “I’ll pay the man. You get in the van.”

Hayder shook his head. “I am not sure about her.”

“We have to get out of here. We can talk about it in the van. Agreed?”

Hayder glanced at Nadia, bit his lower lip, and nodded reluctantly. He thrust his gun beneath his forest-green rain jacket and under his belt.

He sat in the back of the van with his crate beside him. Nadia had no choice but to sit directly in front of him. She imagined his gun pressed to her