The Boy from Reactor 4 (The Nadia Tesla Series)
Nadia’s memories of her father are not happy ones. An angry, secretive man, he died when she was thirteen, leaving his past shrouded in mystery. When a stranger claims to have known her father during his early years in Eastern Europe, she agrees to meet—only to watch the man shot dead on a city sidewalk. With his last breath, he whispers a cryptic clue, one that will propel Nadia on a high-stakes treasure hunt from New York to her ancestral homeland of Ukraine. There she meets an unlikely ally: Adam, a teenage hockey prodigy who honed his skills on the abandoned cooling ponds of Chernobyl. Physically and emotionally scarred by radiation syndrome, Adam possesses a secret that could change the world—if she can keep him alive long enough to do it. A twisting tale of greed, secrets, and lies, The Boy from Reactor 4 will keep readers guessing until the final heart-stopping page.
jewelry. She had what Lauren called active eyes, the type that shone with a special light because the people behind them were readers and interpreters and not just lookers. “Nadia Tesla,” she said. “Hi. Lauren Ross.” They exchanged cool smiles and still-cooler handshakes. Nadia circled her way to the coach’s desk and assumed the seat of authority. Lauren sat down in front of her and opened her pad. “So you’re Bobby’s guardian.” “That’s right.” Lauren scribbled on her pad. “Coach Hilliard
box, back to the ground, and up to the next. Each jump was successively higher. “In 1979, I played in the Challenge Cup in Madison Square Garden,” Coach said. “NHL All-Stars versus Soviet National Team. We split the first two games, but we won the last game six to nothing. Yes. Of course we won.” Adam tried to focus on the height of his knees and ignore the story. He’d heard it only five hundred million times before. Hard as he tried to ignore the coach, though, he couldn’t. “New. York. City,”
to grind them into soup as a cure for scurvy. That saved his life.” “That was decent of him.” “Decent had nothing to do with it. It was about money. He knew I sent my brother sweaters, cigarettes, and food every three months. That all went to your uncle, or whatever the guards didn’t take.” Nadia glanced at Adam, who was on his second hunk of poppy seed roll. “How did you learn this trade?” “I worked in the Ministry. Department of Tourism. First in Moscow, then Kyiv. When independence came,
wrench while Misha’s bodyguard grabbed the spare tire. As they began to work, Specter kept glancing over his shoulder. Kirilo motioned for Victor to follow. He guided Misha around the bridge to an embankment that fell gently to the river’s edge, out of sight. When he got to the water, Misha placed his gun on a rock and bent over. He reached into the water with both hands. Kirilo thrust the cattle prod against his neck. Misha convulsed and made gurgling noises. He collapsed into the water.
Kolyma Trakt.” The Evenk peppered his phrases with affirmative grunting noises and Evenki words Nadia didn’t understand. “Why is that?” Nadia said. “Many people die in old Russia. Now new Russia. No more Road of Bones. Kolyma Trakt now. We take new Kolyma Trakt. Old Kolyma Trakt no good. Too late.” “Excuse me? What new Kolyma Trakt?” She glanced at Adam, who was sitting beside her behind the driver. He shrugged. “Two roads,” the Evenk said. “Old and new. Old, twelve hundred kilometers. New,