“That won’t work. I can’t get new passports for Anya and Utkin over to you that fast. But if you gave me your route from there—”
“I don’t know it yet. Considering all that’s happened, it’s hard to plan more than a step in advance. All I know for sure is the next step: free Anya.”
“Then hold on for a minute.” The line went silent, then she was back. “After you fetch Anya, can you get to Volgograd? As the crow flies, it’s six hundred miles south of Kazan.”
Tucker pulled a laminated map from his back pocket and studied it for a few seconds. “The distance is manageable.”
“Good. If you can get to Volgograd, I can get you all out. No problem.”
Out sounded good. So did no problem.
But after all that had happened, he had no faith about the outcome of either proposition.
14
March 13, 2:13 P.M.
Kazan, Russia
By that midafternoon, Tucker stood on a sidewalk in central Kazan, staring up at a bronze monolith topped by the bust of a dour-faced man. Predictably, the plaque was written in Cyrillic.
But at least I came with my own tour guide.
“Behold the birthplace of modern organic chemistry,” Abram Bukolov announced, his arms spread. “Kazan is home to the greats. Butlerov, Markovnikov, Arbuzov. The list is endless. And this fine gentleman depicted here, you surely know who he is, yes?”
“Why don’t you remind us, Doctor,” said Tucker.
“He is Nikolai Lobachevsky. The Russian pioneer in hyperbolic geometry. Ring any bells?”
Maybe warning bells.
Tucker was beginning to suspect Bukolov suffered from bipolar disorder. Since leaving the hotel at dawn Bukolov had cycled from barely contained excitement to sullenness. But upon reaching Kazan’s outskirts a short time ago, the doctor had perked up enough to demand that they go on a walking tour of the Kazan Institute of Biochemistry and Biophysics.
Tucker had agreed for several reasons.
One: To shut Bukolov up.
Two: To scout the campus.
Three: To see if he could detect a general alert for any of them. If they were being pursued, their hunters had chosen a more discreet approach.
But most of all, he needed to find out where on this research campus Anya Malinov resided or worked. He hoped to sneak her out under the cover of night.
Utkin followed behind with Kane. He had a phone at his ear, trying to reach Anya. He spoke in low tones. Matters would have been easier if her father, Bukolov, knew where she lived or where her office was located.
I’ve never been here was his answer, almost tearful, clearly fraught with worry for his daughter.
Not trusting Bukolov to be civil, Tucker had thought it best for Utkin to make an inquiry with the institution.
Utkin finally lowered the phone and drew them all together. “We have a problem.”
Of course we do.
Bukolov clutched Utkin’s sleeve. “Has something happened to Anya?”
“No, she’s fine, but she’s not here.”
“What do you mean?” Tucker asked. “Where is she?”
“She’s at the Kremlin.”
Tucker took a calming breath before speaking. “She’s in Moscow?”
Utkin waved his hands. “No, no. Kazan has a Kremlin also. It lies a kilometer from here, overlooking the Volga.”
He pointed in the general direction of the river that bordered Kazan.
“Why is she there?” Tucker asked, sighing out his relief.
Bukolov stirred. “Of course, because of the archives!”
His voice was sharp, loud enough to draw the eye of a passing campus guard. Not wanting any undue attention, Tucker drew the group along, getting them moving back toward their hotel in town.
Bukolov continued. “She mentioned finding something.” He shook his head as if trying to knock a loose gear back into place. “I forgot about it until now. Something she was going to retrieve for me. Something very important.”
“What?” Tucker asked.
The doctor looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “The journal of the late, great Paulos de Klerk.”
“Who is that?”
“All in good time. But De Klerk may have the last piece of the puzzle I need.”
Tucker decided not to press the issue and returned his attention to Utkin. “How long until she returns to the institute?”
“Three or four days.”
“We can’t wait that long!” Bukolov demanded.
For once, Tucker agreed.
Utkin also nodded. “According to what I learned, security is actually tighter here on the campus than at the local Kremlin. Over where Anya lives and works at the institute, there are guards at every entrance, magnetic key card access, and closed-circuit television cameras.”
Tucker blew out a discouraged breath.
Then it looks like we’re breaking Anya out of the Kremlin.
3:23 P.M.
An hour later, Tucker followed a tour group onto the grounds of the Kazan Kremlin. He and a handful of others had been separated out and handed over to an English-speaking guide, a five-foot-tall blond woman who smiled a lot but tended to bark.
“Now stay close!” she called, waving them all forward. “We are passing through the south entrance of the Kremlin. As you can guess from the massive wall we are crossing under, the structure was designed to be a fortress. Some of these structures you’ll see are over six hundred years old.”
Tucker searched around him. He had already done an intensive study of the Kazan Kremlin: scouring various websites, cross-referencing with Google Earth, and scanning travel blogs. A plan had begun to take shape, but he wanted to see the place firsthand.
“Here we are on Sheynkman Street,” the guide expounded, “the Kremlin’s main thoroughfare. Above you stands the Spasskaya Tower, known as the Savior’s Tower. It is one of thirteen towers. Going clockwise, their names are . . .”
This was the third-to-last tour of the day. Tucker had Utkin working on a project back at the hotel, assisted by Bukolov. He left Kane to watch over them both.
As the group continued across the grounds, he tuned out the guide’s ongoing monologue, concentrating instead on fixing a mental picture of the grounds in his head. He’d seen the Moscow Kremlin twice, and while that had been impressive, the Kazan version seemed somehow more majestic.
Enclosed by tall snow-white walls and turrets, the interior of the Kazan Kremlin was a mix of architectural and period styles: from the brute practicality of medieval barracks to the showy majesty of an Eastern Orthodox cathedral. Even more impressive was a massive blue-domed mosque with sky-scraping tiled towers.