Vector by Robin Cook Read Free Book Online

Estonians were less than friendly to him as an ethnic Russian, and some Estonian youths had beaten him up one night, Yuri was able to earn enough money to buy fake papers that got him a job on a freighter plying the Baltic. In Sweden he jumped ship and applied for refugee status.
    Sweden questioned the validity of his being a refugee but permitted him to stay temporarily. He was allowed to work at menial jobs to earn enough money to book a flight to Toronto and then to New York. When he finally arrived on U. S. soil, he bent down like the Pope and kissed the ground.
    There were many times during the long, desperate quest to get to New York that Yuri was tempted to give up. But he didn't. Throughout the whole ordeal he was driven by the promise of America, freedom, riches, and the good life.
    A sneer spread across Yuri's face. Some good life it turned out to be!
    It was more like a cruel joke. He was driving a cab twelve, sometimes fourteen hours a day just to survive. Taxes, rent, food, and health care for himself and the fat wife he'd had to marry for a green card were all killing him.
    "You must thank Almighty God you got out of Russia when you did, " Harvey said, unaware of Yuri's state of mind. "I don't know how the people are coping." Yuri didn't respond. He just wanted Harvey to shut up. Suddenly the traffic opened up. Yuri stomped on the gas.
    The cab shot forward, throwing Harvey back against the rear seat. Yuri gripped the wheel and hunkered down. The tires screeched.
    "Hey, my meeting's not important enough to risk death, " Harvey shouted from the back seat.
    Approaching the next intersection and a red light, Yuri hit the brakes.
    The car started to fishtail. Yuri expertly turned into a skid. The cab shot between a bus and a parked van, coming to an abrupt halt behind a garbage truck.
    "My God! " Harvey called through the Plexiglas divider. "What kind of work did you do back in Russia? Don't tell me you were a race car driver." Yuri didn't answer.
    Harvey moved forward. "I'm interested, " he said. "What did you do?"
    Last week I had a Russian cab driver who taught mathematics before coming over here. He said he was trained as an electrical engineer.
    Can you believe that? "
    "I can believe it, " Yuri said. "I was trained as an engineer myself." Yuri knew he was exaggerating, since he'd been a technician, not an engineer, but he didn't care.
    "What kind of engineering? " Harvey asked.
    "Biotechnological, " Yuri said. The light changed and he pressed down on the accelerator. As soon as he could, he got out from behind the garbage truck and headed uptown, trying to get in sync with the lights.
    "That's an impressive background indeed, " Harvey said. "How come you're still driving a cab? I would think your skills would be in demand.
    Biotechnology is one of the fastest-growing fields in all of industry."
    "There's a problem with getting credit for my education, " Yuri said.
    "It's what you Americans call a Catch Twenty-two."
    "Well, it's a shame, " Harvey said. "My advice is for you to keep trying. It'll be worth it in the end." Yuri didn't answer. He didn't have to put up with the indignity of trying any longer. He wasn't staying.
    "Ah, it's a good thing that we won the Cold War, " Harvey said. "At least the Russian people have a shot at prosperity and basic freedoms.
    I just hope they don't screw it up." Yuri's irritation changed to rage. It drove him crazy to have to listen constantly to the falsehood that America won the Cold War and broke up the Soviet Empire. The Soviet Union had been betrayed from within, first by Gorbachev and his stupid glasnost and perestroika, and then by Yeltsin for no other reason than to indulge his ego.
    Yuri gunned the engine of the taxi and roared uptown, weaving in among the traffic, running lights, and intimidating pedestrians.
    "Hey! " Harvey shouted. "Slow the hell down! What's the matter with you?"
    Yuri didn't respond. He hated Harvey's smug superiority, his expensive clothes, his