Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu (24 page)

“Who is that?” She was jogging now.

“Seth, your ex-boyfriend.” Michael said calmly.

Anna’s eyes widened. “What!?” She caught up with him, “He’s here in Moscow?”

“Yes, he’s here. He tried to kill Kirilov.” Anna gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth in shock. Michael continued calmly, “So we need to get away from him as soon as possible and as far as possible.” Michael grabbed her hand again firmly and ran toward a busy road intersection: Seth had started to gain on them.

Traditionally, cars are money in Russia, making it equivalent to power to the Russian citizen. In other words, a Russian can drive where he pleases. Even in the downtown areas, cars travel quickly, their speeds easily reaching one hundred kilometers per hour. If traffic has stopped, a driver will use the sidewalk. The pedestrian does not have the right of way, even on the sidewalks. In fact, if a pedestrian gets run over by a car, he will be at fault for interfering with a moving car. The safest way to cross a busy street in Moscow is through their underground passageways.

The dangers were obvious, and they had been warned to use the underground passageways to navigate the streets. However, as Seth’s long stride brought him closer and closer, getting away quickly became their priority. Deciding to make a run for it, Michael squeezed Anna’s hand tighter and instructed her to “Run!” They bolted though the busy intersection, weaving between the constant, swift flow of vehicles. As they made their daring way to the other side, car horns blared loudly and brakes screeched on the wet road as Michael and Anna managed to dodge the vehicles.

Despite the constant danger of being overrun, they were just a few feet from the other side when Anna abruptly fell, her right foot twisted inside a pothole. Her arms stretched outward, her chin on the wet pavement, she swiveled her eyes to see a minivan bearing down on her. Anna closed her eyes tightly.

Suddenly, she felt strong arms lifting her into the air. When Anna opened her eyes, she was on the sidewalk, safe and sound, inside Michael’s arms. Stunned, Anna hugged her savior tightly as her tears mixed with the enormous raindrops that ran down her cheeks.

“It’s OK,” Michael murmured as he let go of her, “The worst is over.” Suddenly, they were startled by the piercing, screeching sound of car brakes. They turned their heads as a large, rusty blue van barreled backwards toward them. As they turned and ran down the sidewalk, a long, haunting scream could be heard over the commotion.

The air filled with the smell and smoke of freshly burned tire rubber. When the cars stopped moving, Michael and Anna rushed back to the scene, along with other pedestrians who had scattered down the sidewalk with them. They coughed and choked on the smoke, even though it was dissipating in the rain.

As she drew closer, what Anna saw sent sparks of chills down her spine. For a moment she pictured herself as the one pinned between the black Ford Crown Victoria and the rusted, blue van. But, miraculously, it was not her body in the mangled mass but that of her ex-boyfriend, Seth. People were screaming in fear at the grisly sight. Both drivers were still inside their crumpled cars, visibly stunned by the scene trapped between them.

Seth was dead.

Seth had been attempting to cross the street following the same dangerous maneuver Michael and Anna had successfully completed. The driver of the black Ford Crown Victoria was racing down the street when a car cut him off in a desperate attempt to avoid Seth. Swerving in the driving rain, the driver had overcorrected and careened head on into the line of vehicles moving in the other direction.

The force and momentum with which the two heavy vehicles crashed was what had compressed Seth’s body between them. The blue van was pushed onto the sidewalk with Seth’s head and body crushed inside its front grill. The Ford’s hood was completely crumpled by the impact that squeezed and mauled Seth’s body beyond recognition against the van. The street was splashed with shattered glass, car and body parts, and blood.

“What a horrible death,” said Michael, shaking his head as both drivers, obviously stunned and in shock, started climbing out of their cars. They were unharmed; saved by their seatbelts and deployed airbags. The crowd gathered closer to the gruesome scene.

“I used to love him,” Anna said slowly.

“There is nothing we can do for him now.”

“He slipped on the road the same way I did,” Anna looked at Michael gratefully and continued, “but he didn’t have a guardian angel to reach down and pull him out.”

Michael kept quiet.

“Let’s get out of here. I need to get away,” Anna said softly, turning her face. They passed by an elderly man leaning on a cane, surveying the ghastly scene. He spoke to them in Russian. Although they did not understand the words, they understood their meaning. A two-tone ambulance siren filled the air as they nodded solemnly at the man and continued on their way.

Chapter 35

Orekhovyy Boulevard, Moscow, Russia

Saturday, September 23

9:29 p.m.

“A
nd just where do we find this storage locker?” asked Anna as their burgundy Soviet-built Volga GAZ-24 taxi sped through the streets. She felt overwhelmed trying to absorb everything: Seth’s attempt to murder dear Kirilov and his own gruesome death.

“Kursky railway station,” Michael repeated as he nervously glanced out the rear window. He dug into his jacket’s interior zippered pocket and held up a small key with a red-painted top. “Box number fifty-seven,” he said, carefully inserting it back inside. The Volga entered a four-lane highway and joined the constant, never-ending stream of vehicles. Soon they passed the magnificent Ostankino television center tower. Standing at 1,772 feet tall, it is currently the tallest freestanding structure in Europe and the seventh tallest in the world, surpassing even the Empire State Building in New York City. Michael did not notice. He twisted around and looked solemnly through the rear window. “I’m afraid someone is following us.”

“What?” Anna turned her head to look through the rear window.

“There!” Michael pointed to a black BMW stridently pursuing them in the neighboring lane. “See the passenger? That’s the Medjay.”

Anna gasped in horror as she recognized the Medjay’s familiar Afro-style hair. “Seth is dead, so he’s out for revenge.”

“Even if his partner-in-crime was alive, he would be pursuing us,” Michael contradicted.

“How in the hell did he get a car equipped with a personal driver so quickly?” Anna asked as they both kept their eyes glued to the rear window.

“We just need to lose him,” said Michael solemnly.

Knowing he was going to surprise his passengers by speaking in perfect English, the taxi driver could no longer hold his curiosity. “Is everything okay back there?”

Michael and Anna stared at each other and then turned in unison to stare at their driver. “You English is perfect!” Michael exclaimed, visibly stunned.

“Yes, I studied art in Chicago,” he replied proudly. “I am an artist, but this is my family’s taxi cab business.”

“Wonderful!” Anna exclaimed in delight.

Michael leaned toward Anna and whispered in her ear, “We’ve gotta tell him something if we want get away from the Medjay.” She nodded.

“Ummm …” Anna started, not sure how to calmly explain the situation. “Do you see that black BMW a bit behind you?”

The driver looked in his rearview mirror and smiled, finally seeing what Anna and Michael were so obsessed with keeping in view. “Oh yes! It is a beautiful car.”

“Yes … well,” Anna stopped and then plunged ahead, “The passenger, the man with the big hair, is trying to kill us.”

The driver’s grin instantly disappeared.

“Maybe he’s not really going to kill us. Maybe he’s just following us?” Michael wondered nervously, turning to glance out the rear window again.

“You saw what they did to Kirilov,” Anna said reproachfully.

Michael nodded sadly.

Anna leaned forward, “How can we lose that BMW?”

“Are you kidding me?” exclaimed the driver. “This taxi is held together with baling wire and duct tape.”

Michael groaned, “We’re finished.”

“Then we’ll outsmart them,” the driver offered, “we’ll go through the side streets.”

“That might just work,” Anna agreed. She positioned herself so she could stare out the back window. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Like a predator stalking its prey, the black BMW was getting closer and closer to their taxi.

“Hold on!” the driver warned. The taxi pulled out from the dense stream of vehicles and quickly jerked onto an exit, creaking from the spurt of speed. Moments later the pursuers performed the same maneuver. There was much less traffic on the side road, and soon the BMW was even closer.

“That was a really stupid move,” murmured Michael, grinding his teeth.

“Sooner or later they will catch up with us,” the driver retorted.

“What does he want from us?!” Michael was absolutely infuriated and turning beet red.

“To kill us! Like Seth tried to kill Kirilov!” Anna exclaimed irately.

“Then why does he always pick car chases?” Michael pounded his fist on the seat in frustration.

Anna was studying the BMW as it tailgated their cab. “Brake!” she suddenly shouted.

“What?” Michael exclaimed, staring at her curiously.

“Hey!” Anna reached up and tapped the driver’s shoulder. “We’re gonna duck down and you’re gonna slam on the brakes!” she shouted. The driver obeyed, slamming on the brakes as Michael and Anna jumped down, curling into a fetal position. The steering wheel locked firmly in place, the tires screeching.

The BMW’s driver, who obviously did not expect such maneuver, had no time to react and with a loud, metallic BANG the vehicles collided.

After their taxi came to a stop, Anna and Michael lifted their heads and peered out the rear window. The BMW’s hood was smashed and the airbags had deployed.

“Now! Floor the gas pedal!” Anna commanded the driver, who was still in shock. Michael quickly ducked his head back down.

“You will be paying for the repairs!” The driver yelled angrily, but obeyed her order. The wrecked BMW remained behind.

A few minutes later, Michael heard Anna sigh with relief. “What, are we still alive?” He opened his eyes and looked around. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hands.

“Are you OK?” asked Anna. “How are your fingers?”

“What the worst that can happen? Besides putting them in a cast,” he joked, carefully moving his fingers one by one. He looked over at Anna, “At least it wasn’t my head that got smashed.” She grinned back at him.

Meanwhile, the driver pulled onto the nearest side road, then onto the next one and the next one.

“We’re not gonna get lost now, are we?” Michael asked, looking up from his fingers.

“Who cares? The main thing is to lose them!” Anna exclaimed.

“Well,” Michael said, looking at Anna with admiration, “that was amazing! I never knew you were an expert on street racing.”

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” she joked, “but no, that came from hours of watching NASCAR and, of course, the simple physics of braking distance,” she explained. “I was an A student in school, and every fifth grader knows that the braking distance is the distance that a vehicle travels while slowing to a complete stop. So, obviously, the higher the speed of the vehicle, the longer it will take for it to stop. Simple.”

“Simple indeed,” replied Michael with a broad smile.

The driver turned onto another street, under an arch.

“Do you really think I play cat-and-mouse games every day?” the driver asked his passengers sternly. He drove across a courtyard, turned the corner and then discovered that the street was a dead end.

“Damn it!” the driver pounded his fist on the steering wheel in frustration, “We have to get out of here!” He put the car in reverse, slowly moving backwards.

At that precise moment, the black BMW with its smashed hood and steamy radiator appeared out of nowhere and parked right behind them. Their only escape route was blocked.

“He’ll kill us!” Michael and Anna gasped as they looked out the rear window nervously; a trio of streetlights illuminated the scene.

“Not quite yet,” stated the driver, to their surprise.

The BMW’s passenger door swung open and the Medjay, with his bushy hair slightly waving in the breeze, jumped out of the damaged vehicle. His driver remained inside.

“Distract him,” the taxi driver whispered to them, keeping his eyes on the BMW.

The Medjay swaggered toward the taxi. “Get out of the car!” he ordered menacingly in a heavy Middle Eastern accent.

Anna and Michael exchanged bewildered glances and looked discretely, but curiously at their driver as they got out.

“Well, we meet at last,” the Medjay spoke to his captives with an evil grin. “I see you are a couple of brave ones.”

“What do you want from us?” Anna demanded angrily.

The Medjay flipped back his cloak to reveal the handle of his long, silver sword. “You will go with me,” he declared. “Get in the car!” he commanded, pointing his finger at the BMW, his eyes cold and intimidating.

“Let them go!” their taxi driver demanded from behind them. Michael and Anna whirled around to see him holding his left hand behind his back.

“What’s this?” demanded the Medjay.

Anna looked at Michael in total bewilderment and saw that Michael was just as puzzled as her. As far as they were concerned, their driver should be running away.

“Hey, taxi driver,” the Medjay shifted his attention to their cabbie, “You can take your taxi, and get out of here.” The Medjay shifted his glance back to his captives. “Get moving!” he demanded. With a flourish, the Medjay pulled out his sword and started walking toward Michael.

“Let them go!” the taxi driver suddenly shouted again. Michael turned to see the driver leveling an enormous silver pistol at the Medjay. The Medjay stopped, stunned. He shouted something in Arabic.

Abruptly, an average-sized man, well into his 40s emerged from the BMW. This new man was dressed entirely in black, including his trench coat. His face was hard and thin with a thin scar running down his cheek. Michael’s heart sank as he realized he was looking into the cold, sinister eyes of a mobster. They spoke in Arabic.

A window on the ground floor of the nearest building opened noisily. An old woman pushed her head out, calling out in Russian.

Anna turned and quietly asked the taxi driver what the woman had said.

“She is complaining about us waking her grandson,” interpreted the driver with a small twitch of his face. Anna turned back to face her persecutors, realizing the driver had a clever plan in place.

The driver interchanged several phrases with the woman from the window, his voice unnaturally loud. While they were having their small discussion, the windows on the ten-story apartment building started lighting up like mushrooms after a spring rain.

“Now she is saying she will call the cops,” the driver reported calmly from behind Anna and Michael.

Anna startled everyone by yelling, “Call the police! Help!” More and more windows opened up as the building’s occupants were curious by the screaming and commotion. The Medjay took a threatening step toward Anna, his hand gripping his sword. The taxi driver shouted something again. Then Anna let loose with a disturbing scream that must have been heard for miles.

Suddenly the lady from the first window screamed hysterically herself, slamming her window shut.

The BMW driver spoke urgently to the Medjay; it sounded like an argument.

Staring down Anna and Michael, the Medjay threatened, “I will be seeing both of you real soon.” He turned and jogged back to the crumpled BMW, stopping at the passenger door. “Consider yourselves lucky,” he added angrily, his eyes icy cold.

The two-tone signal of the local police wafted through the twilight air. Both pursuers dove inside their vehicle. Tires squealing, the black BMW backed up quickly and dashed away.

“Thank you for saving our lives,” Anna was breathless from screaming. She walked over to the taxi driver and hugged him.

“Thank you so much,” Michael said, warmly shaking his hand.

“We don’t even know your name,” said Anna.

“Victor,” said the driver, visibly overwhelmed.

“Victor, that was a quick thinking back there,” said Michael.

“Well, I’ve been a taxi driver for the past five years on the mean streets of Moscow,” he said proudly.

“And you did live in Chicago,” Michael added as they both chuckled. “We need to figure out how much we owe you for the vehicle damage and everything else.” Michael was mentally trying to figure out how much of a hit his credit card would take.

“Are you kidding me?” responded Victor, a broad grin spreading across his face. “I got at least 30 witnesses who will testify I was held at gun point by the two robbers who slammed their BMW into my taxi. You know how much insurance money I will get out of this?” he laughed out loud.

“I’m guessing it’s gonna be a big amount,” smiled Anna, relieved she was not going to be footing the bill.

“That’s right,” replied Victor, “I can buy myself a new taxi,” he added with a huge smile.

“Victor, I just have one question for you,” Michael was not able to fight his curiosity any longer. “What did you say to that woman in the window that made her so hysterical and shut her window?”

Victor smirked, “They have a gun.” Anna and Michael burst into laughter. The driver leaned into his trunk, pulled his pistol out of his back pocket and carefully hid it under the spare tire. After he shut the trunk, he grabbed his radio and said, “Now, I’ll call another cab for you.”

The new taxi arrived quickly. In short time their new driver was pulling up to the stretched building of the Kursky railroad station. Michael noted that it still bore the official seal of the former, glorious USSR.