He asked me if I’d like to make a better world.”
“ So you went to the Rocky Mountain Industrial Academy. I taught there twenty years ago. That brings back a lot of memories.”
“ He promised I wouldn’t be bored.”
The boy stood at the living room window, watching the snow fall. Behind him, the music changed to “Jingle Bells,” but the normally cheerful song only reinforced how empty he felt. As he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, he heard footsteps behind him, his mother leaving the master bedroom and coming along the hallway to the living room. When he turned, he saw that her right hand continued to press the ice pack against her cheek.
She wore a red dress now. Its cloth was shiny and smooth-looking. The bottom part was long and spread out. Its red emphasized her blond hair and made him think of an angel ornament that hung on the Christmas tree.
“ It looks very nice,” he said.
“ You’re always a gentleman.”
Limping, he followed her into the kitchen. For the cocoa, they heated rice milk instead of cow’s milk because he couldn’t digest the latter. There was just enough to fill two mugs. His mother put marshmallows on the steaming liquid.
“ See, we can still have a party.”
“ I won’t let him hurt you again,” Cole vowed.
“ Don’t worry-he won’t.” She squeezed his hand. “I won’t allow him a second chance to do it. We’ll pack tonight and leave.” She gave him a searching look. “Are you okay with that, with leaving your father?”
“ I never want to see him again.”
“ Not the best Christmas, huh?”
“ Who cares about Christmas?”
“ I’m sorry.” She peered down at the table and didn’t speak for several seconds. “He has the car keys. We’ll need to walk.”
“ I can do it.”
“ We could leave right now, but with Canyon Road blocked and so many people crowding the street, we won’t be able to get a taxi.” She looked at the smashed phone on the counter. “And we can’t call for one, either. Canyon Road isn’t open to traffic until after ten. That’s when we’ll set out. We’ll find a pay phone somewhere. But even then, if the snow keeps falling, a lot of other people will want taxis. We might need to wait a long time. And since it’s Christmas Eve, the hotels will be full. I don’t know where we’ll stay.” She tried not to look at his short right leg. “Cole, are you sure you can manage a long walk?”
“ I won’t slow us down. I promise.”
“ I know you won’t. You’re the strongest son a mother could ever want.”
It all makes sense now, Andrei thought, advancing through the crowd, only eight people away from his target. The disguised containers of Soviet-era rocket launchers that customs officials managed to discover being smuggled through the Newark docks. The Middle Eastern visitors who were intercepted by the Coast Guard before they could be brought ashore one moonless night on Long Island.
Most assignments had gone as planned. There hadn’t been any pattern to the failures. And Pyotyr had been so fierce on every job, doing whatever he was told-no matter how brutal-that no one had suspected him.
Certainly, I didn’t, Andrei thought.
Although his waffle-soled boots were insulated, he felt cold seeping into them. But the discomfort was nothing compared to the frigid pain caused by the inferior snow boots he’d worn while on winter marches in the Russian army. Our unit was Spetsnaz! he thought with pride and bitterness. Elite. We deserved better treatment.
The snow fell harder.
Carolers sang, “ Away in a manger…”
Focus, Andrei told himself. Objectify. This isn’t Pyotyr. This isn’t the man who betrayed my friendship, the man I can’t wait to punish. This is simply a target who needs to be eliminated.
Moving nearer, he prepared to draw his sound-suppressed. 22 pistol from beneath his ski jacket, to hold it low against his side, where the crowd wasn’t likely to notice it. When he was close enough, he would raise his arm and place the suppressor’s barrel near the soft spot behind Pyotyr’s right ear. The small-caliber gun’s report would be so muted, like a snapping sound from one of the bonfires at the side of the road, that even people nearby wouldn’t react to it. The mushroom-type bullet would expand within Pyotyr’s skull, bursting into fragments.
As Pyotyr fell, Andrei would seem to try to help him but would actually be grabbing the infant from beneath his parka. His two teammates would block anyone who tried to interfere. In a rush, he would call for transport and use one of the few side streets to reach an area where traffic was allowed. Responding to his directions, a van would make its way through the snow to take him and the package out of the area.
Reflexes primed, Andrei followed the target through a four-way intersection. The next branching street was far ahead. Now the funnel truly began.
Despite his narrowly focused vision, even Andrei was aware that the most spectacular display on Canyon Road had come into view on the left. Dozens of tall trees bore lights and lanterns, the falling snow making them glisten. Past an open gate, evergreen shrubs twinkled with strings of bulbs that formed the outlines of giant candy canes, candles, and Nutcracker soldiers.
“ It looks like a holiday card,” a woman in the crowd marveled.
“ Used to belong to Glenna Goodacre,” another woman explained. “She designed the Vietnam Women’s Memorial in Washington and the dollar coin that shows the Indian woman who helped Lewis and Clark.”
“ Her daughter modeled for Victoria’s Secret, didn’t she?” the first woman replied. “Married Harry Connick Jr.”
Only five people separated Andrei from his objective.
Now, he thought, while the crowd’s distracted.
Suddenly, a bearded man approached with two German shepherds. A boy reached out to pet one. The dog snapped at him. The boy’s mother screamed. His father shouted.
People stopped to see what was happening. Others surged against Andrei, attracted by the commotion. Abruptly, the crowd became a wall.
Cursing, Andrei shoved through and encountered smoke from a bonfire. Shadowy figures moved beyond it.
Pyotyr! Where the hell are you?
Kagan didn’t plan it.
Under his parka, he felt the baby kick. Adrenaline shot through him. At the same time, he heard a disturbance behind him, a dog growling, a woman screaming, a man shouting.
Again, the baby kicked. Harder. Sensing death on his heels, Kagan responded to an overwhelming impulse and charged ahead through the crowd.
“ Buddy, watch where you’re going!” a man yelled.
Smoke from a bonfire formed a thick haze that Kagan ran through, shoving people aside. He darted toward an opening on the right, trying to hide by hurrying along a walkway that led between galleries.
Ahead, a laughing woman stepped from a side door, a drink in her hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of Kagan charging toward her, about to slam into her. With a gasp, she spilled her cocktail glass and lurched back inside the gallery.
He sped into a courtyard, startling a man and woman who held gloved hands and admired a display of Santa’s reindeer. The display was outlined by flickering lights. Surprised by Kagan’s sudden arrival, the woman jerked back and almost fell onto Santa’s sled.
“ Hey!” the man shouted. “Watch it!”
Kagan spotted a lane that led straight from the rear of the gallery. As he raced down it, the snow fell colder and faster. Now that he was away from Canyon Road, he realized how noisy it had been-the countless overlapping conversations, the singing, the laughter, the crackle of the fires. In this less-traveled area, a hush enveloped him.
