'Now, here's the question. Do you need any firewood?'
'No, thanks,' said Zhenya.
'It's no problem.' Yakov pointed to the logs stacked outside the back door. He picked up the largest piece of wood, set it on a stump, and split it with the ax. Like a man snapping a toothpick. 'It won't take a second. No one will know I was even here. No? You're sure?'
'I'm sure,' Zhenya said.
'Well, only trying to help. It's going to rain tonight. Good for the farmers.'
As soon as Yakov got back to the farmhouse, he sketched an outline of the dacha, all the access points, the windows and doors and chimney, driveway, dock, fields of vision. Then he sat back and waited for rain.
The rain was perfect, a steady downpour with no lightning. A friend of Renko's watched from a Lada at the front door. It didn't matter. The man who called himself Yakov Lozovsky swam across the pond to the least defended side of the dacha. In his wet suit, he was virtually invisible. All he carried was a waterproof sack containing two smoke grenades and a ballistic gas mask with huge eyes and a silicone seal. In a leg sheath was a SAS fighting knife, good for slashing as well as sticking. He watched from the vantage point between the rowboat and the kayak as lamps went out in the dacha one by one. As the last lamp was doused and Yakov slowly rose from the water, the rowboat flipped and he was slit open from his sternum to his balls.
Arkady pitched himself backward as an effusion of warmth spread through the water. A hand clutched his ankle. He kicked free but lost his knife and backpedaled to deeper water, where standing upright on the spongy bottom of the pond was a balancing act. Holding his skin together like a vest, Yakov got a handhold on Arkady's belt and embraced him from behind. There was a little jiggle; that would be Yakov drawing a knife, Arkady thought. The man unraveled, yet here he was, a professional, carrying on. Arkady heard Victor shout from the front of the house, too far away to help. Zhenya jumped in from the dock but he could barely swim.
What distracted the man was the sight of Maya in the glow of a lantern at the edge of the pond. Here was the child whore he had been chasing almost in his grasp. Her lantern shined and laid a golden path across the surface of the water. All he had to do was follow the reflection.
Arkady ducked out of the man's grip and dove. From the bottom of the pond, he looked up at a silhouette of Yakov turning left and right in a cloud of blood.
Arkady surfaced long enough to say, 'Are you the last one?' He dove before Yakov could strike.
'Will they send anyone else?' Arkady surfaced in a different direction.
'Who are you?'
But the man who called himself Yakov Lozovsky died like a scorpion, spinning and stabbing the water.
36
A stage was set up where the trailer had been. The acts were simple: marionettes, trained dogs, a sword swallower, a juggler and a monkey who collected money in a cap. Although the cap was shabby and the monkey had the mange, an outdoor circus on a sunny day drew young families that usually avoided Three Stations.
To add to the holiday air, the piano from the Yaroslavl Station waiting room had been brought outside. For all the times Arkady had come in and out of the station, he had never heard the piano being played. Someone was playing it now, despite the fact that the piano had not been tuned in years. Unexpected sharps and flats abounded, and some keys were totally dead.
In short, Arkady thought, Russia set to music.
Some men chase butterflies; others let butterflies come to them. Arkady stayed by the circus while Maya and Anya ran after every stroller and Zhenya and Victor patrolled the sidewalk. Maya's hair was growing back but she was frail and drawn from weeks of search.
Arkady noticed that a little girl with a baby in her arms was taking in more money than the monkey. It bared its teeth at her and she shrieked.
'Does he bite?' she asked no one in particular.
'Well, he's sulking at the moment. He's embarrassed about his cap.'
'Is he really? How can you tell?'
'Look at him, downcast eyes, runny nose. He's in a state.'
'I like dogs. I had a friend who had a dog. Tito.'
'Good dog?'
'The best.' She started to tear and caught herself. 'I'm with Madame now but she can't come out because of the sun.'
'That's a pretty blue blanket. What's the baby's name?' Arkady asked.
She hesitated in her snuffling.
He asked, 'Is it Katya?'
'I'm just taking care of the baby until her mother comes.'
'I can see what a good job you're doing. It's a big responsibility.'
'Who are you? Are you a magician?'
Arkady said, 'Kind of. I can't make rabbits pop out of hats. That's not useful anyway; people don't have room for rabbits. First you have two, then you have twenty. I'm more useful. I know things.'
'Like what?'
'I know that the baby's blanket has a pattern of ducklings.'
'That doesn't prove anything. You could have peeked.'
'And if you lift the hair on the back of her head, there's a birthmark in the shape of a question mark.'
'Is not.'
'Look and see.'
She shifted the baby to examine the back of her neck. When she saw the mark, her jaw fell open.
'How did you know?'
'First, I'm a magician and second, I know Katya's mommy. She's been looking for Katya for weeks.'
'I didn't steal her.'
'I know that.'
Emma teared up again. 'What do I do?'
'Very simple. Take Katya over to her mommy and say, 'I found your baby.' There she is.' Arkady pointed out Maya at the circus entrance. With her short hair she wasn't difficult to spot.
Emma said, 'She's just a girl.'
'That's enough.'
The monkey tried to drag Emma back toward the ring, where dogs were performing, jumping over each other like a self-shuffling deck of cards. Emma tried to shake the monkey off. Arkady lured it away with a five-ruble note. He watched Emma's tentative progress around a clown with a red nose, blowing bubbles. Past an acrobat on stilts, who took slow-motion strides. Past children of seesaw age queuing at a miniature roller coaster and past older kids tossing quoits. And through a maze of strollers, to the moment when Maya looked up and light leapt into her eyes.
