Belly of the Beast by Blake Crouch, Douglas Walker Page A

Niki.
    Yuri nodded. “There is a comfort in the way I hold my cigarette, my choice of food, and even the sound of my name. I had to give them up for twenty-seven years. The world finally changed and I retired. I can afford to be Russian again, but for most of my life I had to be American, as did your mother.”
    Fatigue and hunger sapped the full implication of Yuri’s words. “After we get something to eat, I want you to take me to her,” she said, then asked, “Is it expensive here? I don’t have much money.”
    “The least I can do is buy your dinner.”
    “And take me to my mother? Is she nearby?”
    The waiter interrupted with steaming borscht and black bread. Niki didn’t wait for a reply, hardly breathing as she ate.
    “I have bad news about your mother,” said Yuri when Niki finished.

CHAPTER SEVEN

     
    “You lied,” said Niki. “You said you’d tell my mother you saw me.”
    “And I will.” Yuri pushed his empty bowl to the center of the table. “Your mother is not dead; she’s just, well, empty. One day she was lamenting about leaving Russia, the next she was gone, except for her body. Now she just sits and stares blankly out the window. I will tell her about you, but she won’t know I said a word. She won’t respond.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” said Niki.
    Yuri frowned. “Of course it matters.”
    “I don’t care if she’s a mushroom. Just tell me where she is.”
    Yuri leaned forward. “I thought she could save your son?”
    “My son has leukemia. I need bone marrow, not conversation. In fact, it will be better this way.”
    Yuri leaned back. “I begin to understand. I admire your quest to save your son, but you do not understand the situation. I don’t know if you are being followed. I don’t know if there is a tracking device in your shoe.”
    “There’s nothing in my shoe, besides, why would—”
    “The Soviet Union has unfinished business with your mother. They would like to drag her back to Russia no matter what her condition.”
    “She was a teacher turned ski bum.” Niki almost laughed. “What would anyone want with her?”
    Yuri took out his cigarette, tapping it again. “You really don’t know who she was, do you?”
    “I thought I did.”
    Yuri finally lit a match and took a long draw of smoke. “She was a defector, officially a traitor.” Smoke seeped with his words.
    “I think you have been reading too many spy novels. Besides, the Soviet Union just collapsed or something.”
    “Russia still was its heart and soul; it will never die.”
    “If my mother defected, I’m glad,” said Niki. “There’s nothing good about Russia—and not much good about my mother. What do you care about her anyway?”
    Yuri sat a moment, then smoothed his brow with two fingers. “At some point in life you learn what is truly important. I care simply because she is human. I forgive her faults and admire her strengths. She too fought to save a child.”
    Niki stood. “I don’t have time to care what she did. I need to find bone marrow for Alex, and I need to find it now.”
    Yuri put a finger to his lips. “We don’t need to talk so loud. I’ll take you to Lana, but on my terms. Now it is I who doesn’t trust you.”
    Niki followed Yuri back to his car and got in.
    “Where are you staying?” asked Yuri as he started the engine and flipped on the windshield wipers.
    Niki looked through the rain splattered glass at the dark night. “The Sinbad Hotel,” she answered, “but the people at the consulate know I’m supposed to be there. If everything you say is true, they’ll be after me to get to my mother.”
    “There are other hotels.”
    “I left my purse on the plane. I called the airport before I called you. They found an overcoat, two hats, even a paint-on-felt portrait of Elvis, but no purse from my flight.”
    Yuri smiled. “No doubt the Elvis portrait was left on purpose.”
    “It’s not funny. Other people lose things too.” Niki slid her hand into her