PAULINA ROSTAKOVA’S ADVENTURES
AUGUST 5
1:02 a.m.
Kazan, Russia
Vitale stole our car. And my passport, and my clothes, and Dixon’s clothes, and . . . well, pretty much everything.
Am exhausted. More later.
AUGUST 5
8:16 a.m.
Kazan, Russia
Dixon and I just had our first official argument. It started off when, while we were checking in to a motel on the outskirts of Kazan (keeping a low profile in case the Essex team was around—Tabby and Sam have been sworn to silence on their location, but from the looks Tabby keeps giving me, I think they’re just barely ahead of us), Vitale drove off in the Thomas Flyer.
“Hey,” I said, spinning around when I heard a familiar roaring sound go past the tiny lobby of the motel. “Holy s**t! Dixon, that’s our car heading out—”
“What?” Dixon spun arou
