Page 88 of John’s Yearning

She glanced around the parked cars, but they all appeared empty. Nobody’s engine was running. Where the hell was Viktorov? Was he playing with her?

A ringing cell phone startled her. She whirled around, trying to see who had approached her without her noticing. There was nobody. Yet the ringing continued. Looking left and right, she saw nobody. The same ringtone continued. She zeroed in on it. It seemed to be coming from a trashcan. Carefully, she approached and saw a faint light. There, in the area above the trash receptacle that was reserved for recycling, lay a cell phone. She reached for it and pressed the accept button.

“About time, Savannah,” a male voice said.

She recognized it immediately: Viktor Stricklund, the man who’d had the audacity to come to her office and offer his help. But she couldn’t give away that she knew who he was. “Yes?” she said instead, allowing her fear to color her voice.

There was a movement next to her, and from the corner of her eye she saw the streetcar slowing for its stop. Two people got off, one was a man in a business suit, a scarf around his neck and a hat pulled deep into his face.

“I’m glad we’re finally connecting,” Viktorov said on the phone.

She stared at the man who was now coming toward her, but he wasn’t holding a phone in his hand.

“But before we can meet in person,” Viktorov continued, “I need to make sure you’re alone.”

“I’m alone,” she insisted.

“Whatever you say. See the MUNI train? Get on it. Now.”

The stranger walked past her without stopping. There was a beeping sound, indicating that the doors of the train were about to close. Savannah ran to the nearest door and jumped onto the steps. Seconds later, the doors closed and the train was in motion.

“Hello?” she said into the phone, but Viktorov had disconnected the call.

She dropped onto the nearest seat and glanced around without trying to be too obvious. Maybe a dozen people were in this carriage, and though she couldn’t see everybody’s face, nobody looked like Viktorov in terms of size and stature.

For several minutes, the train continued on its route, stopping once and letting off passengers. Nobody got on the train. What was Viktorov trying to do? Where the hell was he?

The cell phone in her hand rang again. She picked it up immediately. “Yes?”

“At the next stop get off the train. Then walk one block to Duboce Avenue and get onto the N-Judah train heading outbound.”

Before she could say anything, he’d disconnected the call. Savannah jumped up from her seat and walked to the door. Moments later the train stopped and she touched the handlebar to open the door. On the sidewalk she turned left and hurried to the next intersection. The N-train was already coming out of the tunnel, and she had to run to get to the stop on the other side of the street to catch it.

Breathing heavily, Savannah reached the last door of the train and got on. She let herself fall into the nearest seat and looked around. There were more people on this train than the previous one, but she knew that was normal. The N-train was always busy.

Clutching the cell phone with both hands, she stared down at it, willing it to ring. It didn’t. After another stop, the train entered a tunnel, and for the minute and a half that it made its way through it, the cell phone lost the signal. When the train finally emerged on the other side, and stopped right after the tunnel, the signal finally came back. She kept staring at the display, wondering if she’d missed a call, but nothing happened. The train continued on its route, another stop, and more people got off, then another one. And still no word from Viktorov.

Cold sweat was now running down Savannah’s back. If Viktorov was doing this to make her even more nervous than she already was, it was working.

The ringing of the cell phone in her hand nearly stopped her heart.

“Yes?”

“Get off at the next stop. Walk up Hillway Avenue. On Parnassus, turn left, then take Medical Center Way.”

Again, he disconnected the call immediately after his short instructions.

She did as he said, and alighted at the next stop. She crossed the street and looked up. Hillway Avenue was one of the steepest streets in San Francisco. Already exhausted, she started climbing it. By the time she reached the top, she needed to take a deep breath of air and a few seconds to calm her thundering heart. This was Parnassus, the location of the UCSF Medical Center. She’d been here many times with Buffy. She’d given birth to her here.

It was foggy and windy up here, and she shivered. There was little traffic now. Savannah crossed the street and headed for Medical Center Way, a dimly lit winding way that led behind the hospital and its research facilities up on the hill. A deep forest of Eucalyptus trees and other trees and shrubs provided a greenspace next to the concrete buildings.

She hurried along the narrow, deserted street, and the cell phone rang again. She pressed the button to answer it, but didn’t even get a chance to reply.

“Take the stairs on the left. All the way up.”

She stopped and looked up to her left. There, in the dark, was indeed a set of stairs, leading up the steep hill. She could have easily missed them. Breathing hard, she set her foot on the first step. She heard a sound behind her and spun around. But there was nothing. Only darkness.

Her nerves were frayed, she knew it. And her body was exhausted. It was what Viktorov intended. He wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t have any energy left to fight. And she had no choice but to comply.