Alex didn’t budge. Behind them, the skyscrapers of New York were appearing on the horizon. Strelnikov was distracted when he spotted Alex’s lunch box. He bent down, opened it, and pocketed their life savings. He then picked up Elena’s suitcase, and after a cursory inspection hurled the contents overboard. “You won’t be needing those any longer,” he snarled.
Still Alex refused to move, until Strelnikov grabbed Elena by the arm, placed the blade of the meat cleaver to her throat, and began to drag her downstairs, leaving Alex with no choice but to follow.
Once they reached the lower deck Strelnikov stood aside and ordered Alex to open the door of the galley, before pushing him and Elena inside, and slamming the door behind them. Elena burst into tears when she heard the key turning in the lock.
Mr. Ling was lounging in the cook’s chair, clutching on to the remaining bottle of vodka. He didn’t even glance in their direction as he drained the last drop, and quickly fell asleep.
The sound of the ship’s foghorns as they entered New York harbor reverberated in the galley but Elena and Alex were powerless to do anything about it. They could feel the ship slowing down, until it finally came to a shuddering halt. Ling continued to snore peacefully as Elena and Alex sat helplessly on the floor, aware that when the ship returned to Leningrad, Strelnikov wouldn’t even have to lock them in.
It must have been an hour, possibly two, before Mr. Ling finally stirred. He stretched, rose slowly from the cook’s chair, and made his way over to his workbench. But instead of starting to peel another bucket of potatoes, he knelt down, lifted one of the floorboards, and rummaged around. A few moments later a large grin appeared on his face. He made his way unhurriedly across the galley, placed a key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open.
Elena and Alex stood and stared at him. Finally Alex said, “You must come with us.”
Mr. Ling bowed low. “No, not possible. This my home.” The first words they’d ever heard him speak. He closed the door behind them, and again they heard the key turning in the lock.
Alex cautiously climbed the staircase. Once he’d reached the top step he looked out, as if he was a submariner peering through a periscope searching for the enemy. He waited for some time before he was convinced that Strelnikov and the rest of the ship’s company had gone ashore, leaving only a skeleton crew on board.
He bent down and whispered to his mother, “I can see the gangway leading to the dock. When I say ‘Now,’ follow me, and whatever you do, don’t stop.”
Alex waited for a few more seconds, and when no one appeared he climbed out onto the deck and began walking quickly, not running, toward the gangway, only glancing back to make sure Elena was a pace behind. Just as he reached the top of the gangway, he heard someone holler.
“Stop those two!”
His mother ran past him.
He looked up at the bridge to see an officer signaling frantically at two deckhands who were unloading a crate from the hold. They immediately stopped what they were doing, but Alex was already halfway down the gangway. When he reached the dockside he looked back to see the two crew members running toward him, while Elena stood frozen by his side. He then heard footsteps coming from behind him and clenched his fists, although he knew he now had no chance.
“They won’t be any trouble,” said Dimitri quietly, as he took his place by Alex’s side. The two deckhands came to an abrupt halt the moment they saw Dimitri. They hesitated for a few seconds before retreating and climbing back up the gangway. “Two good lads,” said Dimitri. “Truth is, they’d rather lose a couple of days’ pay than a couple of teeth.”
“What now?” said Alex.
“Follow me,” said Dimitri, and immediately marched off, clearly knowing exactly where he was going. Elena gripped Alex’s hand. Her son couldn’t hide his excitement at the prospect of living in America.
Alex noticed that a number of passengers from other ships were heading in the opposite direction. Some of them were carrying leather bags while others were pushing laden trolleys, and one or two even had porters to assist them. Elena and Alex had no luggage. Everything they possessed had been either stolen or thrown overboard by Strelnikov.
They followed in Dimitri’s wake as he headed toward an imposing stone building that announced above its entrance in bold white letters, ALIENS.
When Elena entered the building she froze on the spot, staring in disbelief at the long queues of stateless people babbling away in so many different tongues, while all hoping for one thing—to be allowed to pass beyond the barrier and enter a new world.
Dimitri joined the shortest queue, and beckoned Alex and Elena to join him. Alex didn’t hesitate, but Elena remained rooted to the spot, immovable as a statue.
“Keep our place,” said Dimitri, “while I go and fetch your mother.”
“Elena,” he said as he reached her side, “do you want to go back to Russia?”
“No, but—”
“Then get in line,” said Dimitri, raising his voice for the first time. Elena still looked unconvinced, as if weighing up the lesser of two evils. Finally Dimitri said, “If you don’t, you’ll never see your son again, because he certainly won’t be going back to Leningrad.” She reluctantly joined Alex at the back of the queue.
Alex couldn’t wait to get moving, but had to watch a large black minute hand circle a massive clock three times before they finally reached the front of the queue.
He filled the time by peppering Dimitri with questions about what they might expect once they had c
rossed the white line. Dimitri was more interested in making sure they had their story straight before they were questioned by an immigration officer who’d heard everything. Elena was convinced that when they heard her unlikely tale she would be marched straight back to the ship, and handed over to Strelnikov, before making the one-way journey to Leningrad, where she would find Major Polyakov standing on the dockside.
“Make sure you both stick to the story we agreed on,” whispered Dimitri.
“Next!” shouted a voice.