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  In her comm, she heard a grunt and James say in a dangerous snarl, “Eat dirt, you son of a bitch.” Apparently he had caught up with Yefimov.

  Quinn tuned out the subsequent conversation between James and Yonatan as they discussed what next to do with Yefimov. Her mind was focused on her and the kids’ precarious situation.

  She herded them to an unoccupied corner and had them sit on the floor. “My name is Quinn,” she said in Russian to the brown-haired boy. “What’s yours?”

  For the first time, the boy smiled, his mouth a jumble of partially grown-in adult teeth and empty spaces where baby teeth had fallen out. “Maksim.”

  Quinn smiled in return. “Hello, Maksim.” She turned to the boy next to her. With black hair, tapered eyelids, and incredible cheekbones, he appeared more Asian than Caucasian. “And what is your name?” He looked to be just barely a teenager.

  “Alikhan.” He didn’t smile, but Quinn observed deep curiosity lurking behind those guarded eyes.

  Quinn turned to the younger girl. “And you are Klara.” She was rewarded with a shy smile.

  As much as Quinn wanted to continue to speak Russian, it would take ten minutes for her to formulate each sentence telling them what she wanted to say. They didn’t have ten minutes. So she said to Mila, “Tell them I’m going to check things out. I’ll come back and get you when I’m sure it’s clear to leave.”

  Mila conveyed the message to the others.

  Quinn noted their sudden anxiety. “I will be back,” she said solemnly in Russian. “I promise.”

  She scanned the spines of the books on the shelves directly behind them. Most were picture books. These kids were too old for those. Eyes darting higher, she spied the perfect book to distract them while she was gone. Having run across a Hebrew translation of another book in the series in a youth hostel in Punjab, India, she wasn’t the least bit surprised by her current find.

  Quinn stood, slid the book from the shelf, and handed it to Mila. The teen’s eyes lit up the second they fell on the boy wearing round glasses and flying on a broomstick. “Garri Potter i filosofskii kamen,” Mila said.

  Hearing his name pronounced “Garry” made Quinn smile.

  The anxiety on the faces of the other kids was instantly replaced by awe. Quinn’s smile widened. The Boy Who Lived really was magic.

  Mila opened to the first page and began to read aloud in Russian of the Dursleys of Privet Drive. The listeners were so instantly enthralled they didn’t notice when Quinn slipped away.

  She walked toward the front of the library, her eyes never resting on a face for more than a split second. Alert and prepared for Mother Olga to descend on her like a shrieking raptor, she pushed through the front doors and outside again. No one pounced upon her. She heard no shrill curses or roars of anger. A sweep of the area told her Mother Olga was nowhere in sight.

  On the other hand, the woman could have been secreted in a nook or doorway, waiting for them to emerge from their hiding place.

  Quinn took stock of their circumstances. She had to assume Mother Olga was still nearby and a threat. To do otherwise would be both foolish and dangerous. Given that, her options boiled down to two: wait Mother Olga out in hopes she would eventually abandon her vigil, or make a run for it. Escaping their current predicament without further traumatizing the kids by enduring an additional run-in with their former minder was the better choice. Quinn could think of no better place to hide for the rest of the day than in a library.

  “Yonatan, Mother Olga might be lurking around,” she said as she turned on her heel and reentered the library. “We’re going to wait her out at our current location.”

  “Copy,” Yonatan replied.

  “We can come get you after Yonatan picks me and Yefimov up,” James offered.

  “Thanks, but I don’t want the kids seeing that vile piece of human debris ever again.”

  “Good point,” James said. “If you change your mind, say the word and we’re there.”

  “Thanks. We’re good.”

  Quinn was halfway back to the kids when a shout came from their direction. Her stomach dropped to her shoes.

  She raced through the stacks and arrived to find Mother Olga with Alikhan’s wrist in her grip, trying to haul him to his feet. Klara sat paralyzed with fear while Maksim crab-walked backward to get away. Mila was on her feet, whacking at Mother Olga with the Harry Potter book. Unfortunately, the paperback was ineffective.

  Not wanting to brandish her pistol inside a children’s library unless it was her last resort, Quinn glanced around for a bigger, heavier volume to wield. She knew, from prior experience, reference books could do a lot of damage.

  None were nearby, but what she did spy sitting on the floor was even better. She ran over and picked up a wooden step stool. The rolling steel ones like she used in libraries back home would have done more damage, but she would make this one work.

  She held the stool by two legs and cocked it back like a baseball bat. A fireball of fury burned in Quinn’s chest when she charged at Mother Olga and growled, “Leave my kids alone, you hag.”

  At the sound of Quinn’s voice, Mother Olga glanced over her shoulder.

  With everything she had, Quinn swung the stool and clocked Mother Olga on the side of the head. The force caused the woman to spin around and crash face-first to the floor.

  The urge to pound on Mother Olga until the stool was nothing but splinters was strong. The urge to get the kids to safety was stronger.

  Quinn’s clocking of Mother Olga was certain to draw the attention of library staff. The authorities would probably be called in as well. It was time to leave. And fast.

  “We have to go,” Quinn said, desperate to get away from the groaning Mother Olga. “Now.”

  Maksim and Alikhan scrambled to their feet and stood next to Mila. Klara, ashen and slack-jawed, remained motionless. Quinn scooped her up and ran for the exit, the other three at her heels.

  They sped past the circulation desk and skidded around the corner. Quinn stretched out a hand, crashed into the door, and shoved it open. Behind them, the wail of a high-pitched alarm pierced the air as they tumbled out of the library. “Crap!”

  “Quinn!” James shouted.

  “Can’t talk.” Quinn threw a glance over her shoulder to make sure the kids were with her. When she saw the Harry Potter book in Mila’s hands, she understood why an alarm had sounded. The book had triggered the library’s security gates. Usually, committing such an egregious violation of library protocol would have Quinn contemplating self-flagellation as a form of repentance. In this case, though, the accidental “unauthorized borrowing” of a library book was inconsequential when the freedom of four children hung in the balance. Even so, Quinn promised herself she would return the book to the library before she left Russia.

  They ran down the street and rounded the corner. Three police cars, their lights flashing, were parked in front of the building where the kids had been kept.

  With Klara still in her arms and the van in her sights, Quinn and the kids dropped to a walk and crossed the street. She set Klara on her feet when they reached the van, unlocked the side door, and slid it open. The three younger kids scrambled into the back seats while Mila climbed into the passenger seat.

  Once they were clipped into their seat belts, Quinn hustled around to the driver’s side. She checked the area once more before taking her place behind the wheel. No one paid them any attention. She turned over the engine, put the van in gear, and pulled out into traffic.

  “James, Yonatan, we’re good,” she said.

  James heaved a sigh. “Thank God.”

  “Is the house in Olgino secure?”

  “It is,” Yonatan said. “You’re safe to head there now.”

  “Roger that.”

  The kids were finally on the road to freedom.

  Chapter Twenty

  Unlike the previous hour, the twenty-minute drive to the safe house in Olgino was blissfully uneventful. And at the b
eginning, they drove in complete silence. The kids were in shock, and understandably so. Their lives had been turned upside down. While it would ultimately be for the better, all the upheaval would take time to process. Quinn hoped the reigning quiet would act as a balm to soothe their confused and hurting souls.

  They were crossing the Bolshaya Nevka, an arm of the Neva River, when Mila broke the silence. She gazed out the side window and asked in a subdued voice, “Where are you taking us?”

  “To a safe house in Olgino.” Now out of range, Quinn removed her earpiece and stuck it in a pocket.

  “What will happen to us?”

  For the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, Quinn checked the rearview mirror. “When we know it’s safe, you all will go to a shelter set up especially to help kids like you.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes until you’re ready to return to your families.”

  A derisive snort came from the back of Mila’s throat. “My brother and sister and I have no place to go. Our parents don’t care that we’re gone.”

  “That’s not true,” Quinn said. “In fact, it’s the very opposite.”

  Mila’s head snapped around.

  “When you and your siblings disappeared, your parents went to Slavnoye and Tver looking for you. They also contacted authorities in the United States. Your case is still open at the State Department in Washington, D.C.”

  Quinn looked at Mila, who was openly gaping at her. Returning her eyes to the road, Quinn added, “Until we found you in Turks and Caicos, no one knew if you and your sister and brother were even alive. I wasn’t there, but I was told when your parents learned you all are alive, they both broke down and wept with joy.”

  Mila turned her face toward the side window again. The hurt in her voice cut through Quinn like a knife. “They won’t want anything to do with us when they find out what we were forced to do. They’ll be ashamed of us.”

  “No, they won’t. They already know. They also understand it wasn’t your choice. They can’t wait to see you again. It was all we could do to keep them from coming here and joining the rescue team.”

  A tiny smile flickered on Mila’s lips when she looked at Quinn again. “I can’t really picture my mom smashing Mother Olga in the head with a step stool.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Quinn replied in all seriousness. “I bet she wouldn’t think twice about it.”

  The interior of the van fell silent again.

  Quinn steered off the dual carriageway and onto a smaller road that ran parallel to railroad tracks.

  Mila’s tone was soft when she spoke again. “My cousin Yana and her boyfriend, Alexei, invited me and my sister and brother to spend the day with them in Tver. She was twenty. We thought she was so cool. We could hardly believe she asked us to do something with them. We didn’t think she even liked us, being younger cousins and everything.”

  “I know what you mean, feeling like the tagalong. I have five older brothers.”

  “That’s how we felt, too. We were so excited to go to Tver. Up ’til then it’d been pretty boring around my babushka’s house.”

  “Hanging out with Grandma can be like that sometimes,” Quinn said.

  Mila sighed. “Yeah. We got to Tver and walked around and saw some of the royal buildings Catherine the Great had built. Stuff like that. Then Yana and Alexei told us they were going to take us to see a movie. On the way, we stopped off at a café. While we were sitting there eating, Alexei went and talked to a man. A few minutes later, he came back and sat down.”

  Quinn gritted her teeth. The next part of the story was sure to be bad.

  “We finished our food and then Alexei said, ‘I didn’t want to say anything before in case it didn’t work out, but that man is a friend of mine. He owns horses. His farm isn’t far away. We’re going to take you there so you can ride them.’ My sister Sasha was a horse freak. She almost came unglued. So we all piled into Alexei’s car and drove off.”

  Mila fingered the hem of her top.

  “We came to a farm and went in the house. Then the man gave Alexei some money and he and Yana left. I thought they went out to Alexei’s car for some reason. When they didn’t come back after a few minutes, I started to get really scared. I asked the man to tell us where we were and what was going on. He just sneered at me. Then I demanded he let me use the phone so I could call my grandmother. He laughed at me.”

  “Was that man Grigori Yefimov, the man we just took you from?”

  “No. I never knew this guy’s name. He was the one who sold us to Boss—Yef imov—though.” Mila’s nose wrinkled. “His teeth were so brown and gross. And his house smelled like cigarettes and cat pee.”

  “Yuck.”

  “No kidding. Anyway, I still had no idea what was going on, but I knew we needed to get out of there. So I told my sister and brother we were leaving and I got up.” Mila huffed a humorless laugh. “Like where were we going to go? I didn’t even know where we were.” She moved a shoulder. “I went for the door. He grabbed my arm and spun me around and backhanded me. Then he beat me half to death. We did what we were told after that.”

  Quinn gripped steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. “Barbarian,” she muttered.

  Mila fell silent.

  The abuse those innocent kids had endured was unfathomable and the damage done profound. Quinn desperately wanted to make things better, but knew care and support and time would be what healed their deep wounds.

  She maybe couldn’t help them in the long run, but when she spotted a global icon on a sign along the road, an idea for an immediate indulgence sprang to mind.

  Quinn angled the rearview mirror down and checked on the kids in the back. They gazed out the windows with faces filled with wonder. They deserved this.

  She slid her phone from her pocket and placed a call.

  The phone barely rang once before James answered. “Hey, baby. You okay?” His voice was thick with worry.

  “We’re fine.” Connecting with him made her feel a thousand percent better. “Driving into Olgino now. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Got Yefimov bound and gagged in the back of my van. I’m waiting outside the police station for Reem. She and the police are bringing Viktor and the other two guys in from the flat.”

  “Yeah, I saw the police cars in front of the building. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

  “Not very. Why? Can’t wait to see me?” There was a smile in his voice.

  “You know I can’t. But that’s not the only reason why I called.” She slowed and turned onto a narrower street. They entered a residential area with large houses, security fences, and copses of maple, birch, spruce, and oak trees. “There’s a McDonald’s on the way to Olgino.”

  “I remember going by it when we went to check out the safe house the other day.”

  “I thought about stopping with my kids. But with everything that’s happened, I didn’t know if it was a good idea.”

  “You want me to stop and pick up some food on my way there?”

  Quinn turned right again onto a one-car-width lane. The van jolted when a tire hit a deep pothole. “I do, but let me check with Marina first. I don’t want to step on her lunch plans. We’re almost to the house so I’ll call you back one way or the other in a few minutes.”

  “Roger that.”

  They ended the call at the same time Quinn pulled up in front of the closed gate. After a call to LT, it slowly swung open. She maneuvered the vehicle through the gap and parked to one side of the courtyard.

  The second Quinn turned off the engine, the three in the back began to chatter. Mila was the first out of the van. She opened the side door and reached in to get the others out.

  “I got them,” Quinn said. “Go. Find your sister and brother.”

  Mila didn’t have to be told twice. She sprinted across the courtyard and zipped past LT standing guard at the front door. “Sasha! Ilya!”

  Maksim and Alikhan u
nclipped their seat belts and jumped out of the van. Klara needed a little help with hers. Once she joined the other two, Quinn slid the door closed. Klara slipped her hand into Quinn’s as they walked together toward the front of the house.

  When Quinn noticed the kids’ steps grow more hesitant the closer they came to LT, she said in Russian, “This is my friend. His name is LT.”

  LT squatted down and greeted them with a wide smile. “Privet.”

  Now at the kids’ level, he was no longer the unapproachable giant. With shy smiles, they skirted past him and entered the house.

  Inside, it was like a giant slumber party. Some kids explored the house, chatting excitedly and carrying the teddy bears Dave had provided for each to receive upon their arrival. A few of the more timid kids sat in chairs or on couches clutching their bears, bewildered.

  Marina Khodyreva, the woman from the shelter, approached carrying three teddy bears in her arms. In her mid-fifties, she had a round, pleasant face and wore her dark hair short. She exuded warmth, comfort, and acceptance. “Welcome,” she said in Russian. “My name is Marina.” She asked them their names and handed each a bear. Klara took hers and tucked it under one arm while never letting go of Quinn’s hand. Once the introductions were made, Marina said, “If you need anything, you can come to me.”

  All three nodded. Maksim and Alikhan wandered away. Klara stayed with Quinn.

  “My husband and I thought it might be fun to treat all the kids to McDonald’s for lunch,” Quinn said to Marina in English. “He’s on his way here now and could pick it up. We wanted to check with you first.”

  With a perceptive smile, Marina said, “It is extraordinary day. Why not eat extraordinary lunch?”

  Thrilled to do this for the kids, Quinn bounced on her toes. She called James and said, “Operation Mickey D’s is a go.”

  “Copy that. See you soon.” From the excitement she heard in his voice, he sounded as if he had embarked on the most important mission of his career. In its own way, it kind of was.