Fires of Kiev Page 28

  Petro, unfazed, continued his speech outlining his plan. “If there is still doubt of our power, we are ready with other missiles to continue destruction until we are recognized and respected as the Confederation of Novorossiya.”

  He stood back from the podium, but in place of the cheers and accolades he expected to hear, there was low talking or quiet. He stood smiling, and raised his hands in the air. The crowd, whether shocked or sickened, did not cheer.

  Have they changed their support? The defenders of Novorossiya should be cheering.

  Meredith felt the change in energy before she saw it. It started as a rumble and spread like shockwaves across the gathering. From the back of the crowd a man raised the red and blue flag of Novorossiya and yelled, “Novorossiya! Dawn by Fire!” He held his fist toward the stage.

  Taking up the charge, others started the chant, “Novorossiya! Dawn by Fire!” and started collecting in groups, challenging the Ukrainians in attendance. The chant soon mingled with the cries and curses coming from the struggle between East and West, cities and country, and Europe and Russia. Meredith watched the peaceful assembly evolve into a mob of impassioned rebels and confused bystanders. She stepped back from the podium as far as she could.

  “Meredith,” a friendly voice said behind her. “Now would be a good time to leave the square.”

  Olena, no longer dressed as a middle-aged empty-nester, had on tactical gear and a jacket with “U.N.” printed on the back. As she escorted Meredith off the stage, several other police and U.N. officers stormed the stage. Petro and Stas, surrounded by their guards, distracted the officers enough to escape on the opposite side of the stage where Meredith knew a car was waiting. Several of their men were arrested, but the Vlasenko brothers seemed to be unstoppable. With or without Stas and Petro on stage, the countdown to the missile launch continued.

  Olena handed Meredith a jacket similar to hers to put over her bright red suit, and handed her a few bills of money. “Lay low for a few hours. We’ll meet back here in the hotel lobby.”

  In a few hours, millions of people may be dead.

  Meredith was too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. When Olena left, she wandered to a café near the square and sat at the counter. Hoping to hide her appearance, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and snapped the jacket closed around her. Ordering a coffee, she sat and watched the television. The reports centered on the events at the square, and although she was in the pictures, it was surreal to watch herself in them.

  Then it happened.

  Everyone in the café went to the windows. In the distance, a line of fire was drawn into the sky, evidence of a large missile being thrust into space. The delayed sound waves rumbled through the city, echoing the intense forces needed to lift the fuselage into space. Meredith watched the trail of the rocket as it arced into the outer atmospheres of the Earth.

  Kostya had fixed the encoder and launched the missile. For me.

  A part of her wanted to cheer because she knew he would only allow the launch to happen if he thought it would save her. But she was sickened at the thought of where the missile’s warheads were going. Would they land in Washington D.C.? New Orleans? Paris? London?

  She watched the missile’s smoke trail lead into the sky. Shaking, she sat back at her place by the counter and let tears stream down her face.

  ****

  After a few blocks, the brothers abandoned their hired car and continued on foot into downtown Kiev. Zig-zagging through countless blocks, Petro finally unlocked the door to a rat-infested flat in the basement of a dilapitaed apartment building.

  No matter. They weren’t there to stay.

  Opening the wall safe, Stas pulled out the disposable phone kept there, while Petro organized the forged papers and money in their emergency stash. Stas turned on the phone and dialed.

  “Arthur Lennox.”

  “Are you watching the news, my friend?” Stas said. “We need your help.”

  “I don’t think so.” Lennox’s voice sounded forced. “There’s nothing in this for me anymore. Find another target for your games.”

  “You are mistaken. There’s still many things to play for,” Stas sneered. “Open your file cabinet and pull the file for ‘Jenny’.”

  “What have you done?” The strain on Lennox’s voice was obvious. “If you hurt her…”

  “Relax, comrade. Did you find the pictures? Do you see how close we can get to your daughter, even at her expensive private school?”

  Lennox’s breathing became labored until he finally sobbed. “What do I need to do?”

  “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Stas smirked as he gave the instructions. “We need an escape from Kiev…”

  Chapter 39

  The three men emerged from the underground silo just minutes after Petro Vlasenko made the announcement. The guards had given up holding a gun on their prisoner long ago and now were convinced their only chance at life was following him. By the main doors, Will and Ben sat on snowmobiles, ready to whisk the men away.

  Kostya, seeing them first, waved and the men ran to the vehicles. Will welcomed Alec on the back of his snowmobile, and Ben took Olek. Kostya looked around.

  “I am seeing a problem,” he said.

  “There’s no problem, Kostya, other than my sister who is probably freaking out about now,” Will said.

  “You don’t need to go to the bunker if you give me the code, Kostya. I’ll send the command to abort. In the meantime, we’ve got you another ride.” Out of the snow rose a military helicopter, flown by Serhiy. “He’ll get you to Kiev so you can wrap this mission up.”

  Kostya smiled and gave both men a strong slap on the back as he hugged them. He passed on the information Ben needed and joined Serhiy in the helicopter. The snowmobiles headed to the bunker at the Melnyks’ home to save the world with some radio commands, and Kostya rose into the sky. As the chopper flew toward Kiev, the air around them shook and the orange flames of the missile’s rocket were visible behind them. Kostya, still serious, stayed on the radio with Ben for the rest of the flight, but anxiously, he worried about Meredith. How would he find her in a chaotic city of millions? But then, he knew exactly where she’d be.

  ****

  After coffee, Meredith hailed a cab and had it drop her at Mariinsky Park along the Dnieper River. She was carefully watching the sky for any evidence of the destruction that the missile was causing, although she knew nothing would happen for a few more minutes. It seemed like the earth was holding its breath, anticipating the blows.

  Where were the missiles heading? She wondered where her parents were and if they would be safe.

  Her random footsteps led her to a familiar place. She laughed as she looked up and saw it in front of her. What were the chances? But then she knew it was not an accident she was right here as the world turned upside down.

  This place represented the only thing that was right. Climbing the steps to the pedestrian bridge she began to read inscriptions on the many locks and ribbons. Initials and proclamations of undying love lined up side by side, crowded to make room for as many as could fit. She walked slowly to the center part of the bridge, measuring it against her memory, and she started to look.

  Each lock represented life, represented love that would not be undone. Hers had to still be here, didn’t it? It had been so long—perhaps they cleared them occasionally. But still, she looked frantically weaving through the ribbons and pushing the locks aside, until it was there. In her hands, her initials next to his. The gold-colored lock, tarnished with time and exposure, still bore their initials. She knelt next to the lock and tears began to flow again as she read, A wish on a star that came true.

  “You’re not going to use your key to remove that, are you?” Upon hearing his voice, she closed her eyes, leaned back and sighed. “Maybe we should have thrown these keys into the Dnieper River that day.”

  “Never,” she insisted. “With it, I never lost you.”

  He knelt next to her and t
ook her freezing hands in his, the lock still between them. “Meri, this lock is not the part of me you hold.” He took her hands and placed them on his chest, and wrapped his around them.

  “This, this living beating heart, has been yours since I first saw you asleep on the side of the road.” He wrapped his warm hands around her cold cheeks and kissed her. His touch warmed her skin, but inside, she was still cold with fear.

  “What are we going to do?” Meredith asked. “So many lives are going to be lost in just a few minutes.”

  He smiled and looked at his watch. Standing, he took her hand and helped her to stand as well. “Look over there in twenty seconds.”

  She stared that direction, unsure what to look for, when she saw a sudden pop on the horizon, and trails of smoke falling. “What was that?”

  “The missile being aborted, using radio waves, just as it flew over the Baltic Sea,” he said proudly. “It’s just one of the tasks I discovered that chip could do.”

  “No one’s going to die?” Meredith searched his eyes.

  “Well, not of a nuclear bomb blast.”

  Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him—happily, passionately, and symbolically, for they weren’t just celebrating their love, they were celebrating the gift of life.

  And life was good.

  Epilogue

  Four Months Later

  Meredith stood as the priest raised the baby out of the font. Holding the soft, white sheet, she gathered it around the baby, Ana Meri Dychenko—Ana for her grandmother, and Meri for her godmother. Larissa and Bohdan beamed when Kostya and Meredith returned with the infant dressed in her long christening gown. Kostya held his niece proudly as he led the small children around the font three times, and then, he returned the infant into her mother’s waiting arms.

  Larissa and Bohdan glowed with pride sitting with their growing family—Daria, almost nine years old, Kostyantin, an active five-year-old, and now the baby, Ana Meri. Bohdan gazed at his wife, whispered softly to her, then kissed her lightly.

  Kostya, taking his place next to Meredith, set his hand on her growing belly, smiling with pride. “Dushen’ka, do you think we’ll still be that in love after having three children?”

  Meredith placed her left hand over his. A gold band shone on her finger, placed there the day after the bomb exploded in November, during a small ceremony in Kiev.

  “Our love survived a nuclear bomb. What’s a few kids?”

  As if in response to his mother’s comments, the baby kicked their hands.

  “Did you feel that?” Kostya asked in wonder.

  “He’s got his father’s strength.” Meredith smiled.

  “You’re my strength, Meri.” Kostya wrapped his arm around his wife.

  He kissed her softly and turned toward the service with his hand still protecting the life they made together.

  A word about the author…

  Born in the same city that gave birth to the Atomic Bomb, Nichole D. Evans cut her teeth on the science and history of the Cold War. She became a teacher of twentieth-dentury history, telling stories of America’s strengths and struggles.

  Winning the James Madison Fellowship for teachers of American history in 2007, she earned her Master of Arts in American History and Government in 2012.

  Nichole writes stories inspired by the quest to do what is right even when the mission is impossible. A devoted fan of James Bond, Ethan Hunt, Jack Ryan, and any other Cold War spy franchise, her plots create struggles on a backdrop of historic or real-world events—resolved just in time to fall in love.

  Nichole is married to her real-life “Q,” and she has two children who are out saving the world on their own now.

  http://www.nicholedevans.com

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