Black Friday Page 13

  ‘What about CHERUB?’ Ryan asked. ‘Zara was totally on our side in the meeting.’

  ‘Could be worth a shot,’ Amy said, smiling as she realised this was a decent idea. ‘You’re more than a pretty face, Ryan.’

  Ryan grinned, like you’d expect a teenage boy to grin when a hot girl throws out a compliment.

  ‘Igor wants to be my new best friend,’ Ryan said. ‘On the drive back to the Kremlin, he wanted to know if I’d heard any gossip. I mentioned that Andre Aramov was a mate. He got excited and told me he’d make it worth my while if I heard anything interesting.’

  ‘Good stuff,’ Amy said. ‘Tamara’s got this idea that Leonid will reach out to her if he hears that she’s in trouble.’

  ‘So do I tell Igor she’s in trouble?’ Ryan said.

  Amy shook her head. ‘Not yet. Keep friendly with Igor, but don’t push too hard or he’ll get suspicious. I’ll speak to Zara on campus. She’s got years of experience and we need to work out how to play this. We want to lure Leonid Aramov out of hiding, but he’s utterly ruthless, so we’ve got to do it in a way that doesn’t lead to Andre and Tamara getting killed.’

  The following morning, Zara Asker knocked on a door in the second-floor staff corridor on CHERUB campus.

  ‘I’m in the nuddy!’ James Adams shouted anxiously. ‘Gimme two secs.’

  James answered the door with dripping hair, a towelling robe and a dour expression.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Zara asked, as she glanced about. ‘You look rough.’

  The room was messy, with a brown stain where a coffee mug had been smashed against the wall.

  ‘I’ll clean that up,’ James said awkwardly.

  ‘I’m more worried about what caused it,’ Zara said. ‘Are you OK?’

  James shrugged. ‘My girlfriend, Kerry,’ he explained. ‘She was supposed to be flying to campus for Christmas once she’d sat her last exam. Now she’s saying the flight’s too expensive.’

  Zara looked surprised. ‘If Kerry has financial problems we can look into it. CHERUB supports all its retired agents.’

  James shook his head. ‘I’m not short of a few quid. I’d pay her fare, no problem. It feels like she doesn’t want to be around me any more.’

  ‘There’s counsellors on campus if you want to talk it over,’ Zara said. ‘I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, but I’ve got a full morning and I came here to talk to you about something else.’

  ‘Sorry,’ James said, as he picked a couple of china fragments off the carpet and dropped them into a pedal bin. ‘You’ve got four kids and a mental job. The last thing you want to hear about is my love life.’

  ‘I’ve been hearing good things about your work,’ Zara said. ‘Ning and Alfie were complimentary about the way you handled the driving course. Tough but fun, apparently. And Mr Pike says it’s been really useful having you helping out with training this week. There’s going to be a vacancy now that Kazakov’s gone. I’d look upon you favourably if you applied.’

  James nodded. ‘I miss the buzz of CHERUB. I like being back on campus, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a training instructor. You need a certain meanness to put kids through basic training and I don’t have it. I think the job would make me miserable.’

  Zara nodded. ‘I couldn’t do it either. But we’re looking to replace Kazakov. His role spanned training and mission control. Would you consider a role that mixed the two?’

  James smiled, then nodded uncertainly. ‘I think Kerry wants to stay in the US for at least a couple more years.’

  ‘We’re short-staffed right now,’ Zara said. ‘I’m happy for you to continue working for CHERUB on a casual basis for another month or two, but I’ll need a decision early in the New Year.’

  ‘I’ll have a think,’ James said.

  ‘I know you’ve been helping Mr Pike with on-campus training, but there’s something else I need you to do. A little side project.’

  ‘What?’ James asked.

  ‘You know Amy works for TFU?’

  ‘Yeah,’ James said. ‘She seemed to be really enjoying herself.’

  ‘TFU is getting axed because of its role in the Black Friday attacks. But Amy wants to track down a guy named Leonid Aramov before the shutters go down and needs our help. I’ll send you a briefing with the full background story on Leonid Aramov and TFU’s Aramov Clan operation, but it basically boils down to this:

  ‘Amy and I have devised a plan to find Leonid Aramov using his ex-wife and eleven-year-old son as bait. The trouble is, they’re likely to encounter moderate danger and neither has any kind of combat or espionage training.’

  ‘So, some kind of express training programme?’ James asked.

  ‘MI6 will take care of Tamara,’ Zara said. ‘They have an established rapid training program designed for diplomats being deployed to high-risk countries. But the only expertise in training a boy like Andre Aramov is here on campus.’

  James nodded. ‘So I’d be training this kid one-on-one. How long would I get?’

  ‘Ten days,’ Zara said. ‘That’s not enough time to significantly improve strength or fitness levels. You’ll need to devise a programme concentrating on essentials. Basic self-defence moves, weapons handling, safe communication protocol. I’ll get Mr Pike to help you draw up the programme, and this is high priority so you’ll have your pick of resources. If you need other agents or staff on hand, they’re yours.’

  ‘Why are you picking me?’ James asked warily. ‘Aren’t there more experienced instructors who’d do a better job?’

  Zara smiled. ‘First off, Amy says Andre’s timid and you have a good rapport with younger kids. I made you godfather to my eldest, after all. Second, Andre’s first language is Russian. His English is patchy and Kazakov was my only other Russian-speaking instructor. I’m sorry to throw you in at the deep end, but the training department is stretched supermodel-thin right now.’

  23. ROAD

  Eight days later

  Amy set her alarm for 4:30 a.m., dressed quickly and headed from her bed in Josef Aramov’s spare room to his brother Leonid’s old quarters down the hallway.

  Andre answered the door in pyjamas. Amy squeezed past wheelie bags and backpacks in the hallway and into a kitchen where Tamara stood at the stove warming a saucepan of milk.

  ‘All packed?’ Amy asked. ‘Don’t worry about what you’ve left. I’ll make sure nobody gets in here while you’re away.’

  Tamara made a big fuss of getting Andre to eat a hot breakfast. ‘It’ll be weird British food on the plane, Andre. I know how fussy you are.’

  But Andre was up three hours earlier than usual and his stomach could only handle a couple of mouthfuls. Ryan knocked twenty minutes later and Amy gave their plan a final run-through when Andre emerged from the shower.

  ‘It’s got to look like you two vanished into thin air to maximise the drama,’ Amy began. ‘Hoods and gloves on at all times to minimise the chance of you being recognised as you leave. Take the stairs down, go out the rear fire exit, cross country to the stables and up the side of the valley. The ground’s icy, so be careful.’

  ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’ Andre asked.

  ‘Ryan knows the way,’ Amy said. ‘I’m supposed to be Uncle Josef’s girlfriend. Too many questions will get asked if I’m seen helping you two escape. When you get to the top of the valley, there will be a car and driver waiting. He’ll have your boarding passes and British passports in false names. It’s forty minutes’ drive to Manas International. The British Airways flight takes off at eight a.m. We’re not expecting difficulties, but an MI6 agent posing as BA cabin crew will meet you once you’ve passed through security. She’ll take you to a VIP room, so that other passengers don’t see you before you board the plane.’

  ‘What time do we get to London?’ Andre asked.

  ‘The flight is about ten hours,’ Amy said. ‘But London’s eight hours behind so you’ll actually arrive around noon. Your instructors will meet you at the airport and t
ake you straight to your training centres.’

  Andre gave his mum a nervous glance. Ryan wondered how he’d cope with CHERUB campus, even on a training programme tailored to his needs.

  While Tamara sent Andre to his room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Amy backed Ryan up into the hallway.

  ‘Stick around at the airport until the plane leaves and call me if anything goes wrong,’ Amy said. ‘I’ve got to go wake Josef up and get him to sign off the Africa plan.’

  Amy was following orders to wind down the Aramov fleet. She had to move fast, but not so fast that the clan’s most important clients got spooked and blew seven months of intelligence work. Over the previous ten days, she’d arranged for three planes and their crews to do legitimate humanitarian aid flights on a long-term lease. Six more had been impounded at Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates. Officially, a mechanical inspection by the authorities there had shown the planes to be unflightworthy, but actually the clan had been flying dodgy planes in and out of Sharjah for years. It was just that they’d now stopped bribing officials to turn a blind eye.

  From a peak of eighty-six large cargo planes, TFU had so far whittled the Aramov fleet down to fifty. Although the Africa plan would only take four more planes out directly, they were going to be seized by the US Air Force while stuffed with illegal weapons. The aircrews would be held in a US military prison, facing lengthy sentences for violating rules on the export of US military technology.

  Amy hoped this would scare the daylights out of the remaining Kremlin aircrews and give Josef Aramov a credible reason to temporarily shut down clan operations, without making his client base suspect that the entire operation had been taken over by TFU.

  ‘Rough night?’ Natalka asked, as she gave Ryan his good-morning kiss in the Kremlin lobby. ‘You look like crap.’

  ‘Didn’t sleep much,’ Ryan said, as he adjusted the school pack hanging off his left shoulder.

  Ryan had been up at four, then he’d escorted Andre and Tamara through the snow with way more luggage than they needed, ridden with them to the airport, sat in a grubby terminal drinking bad coffee until the 8 a.m. flight to London was off the ground, then cabbed it back to the top of the valley.

  After an icy downhill run and a trip up to his room to put on dry clothes and grab his backpack, Ryan completed his adventure just in time to ride the school bus with Natalka.

  ‘I dreamed about you last night,’ Natalka said airily, as they passed the two armed guards on the Kremlin’s main door and felt the bite of cold. ‘You were riding a horse with no shirt on.’

  Ryan laughed. ‘I bet that looked seriously sexy.’

  ‘Don’t get cocky,’ Natalka said. ‘But it wasn’t bad, actually.’

  They got on the bus, where a girl of eight had taken their usual seat at the back.

  ‘You want your face punched in?’ Natalka growled, bunching her fist and making the girl scuttle off.

  Natalka could be a bitch, but Ryan said nothing because he enjoyed their morning bus rides. Natalka’s scarf dropped on the floor, and she looped it around both their necks before cuddling up as the mostly empty bus rolled away from the Kremlin.

  ‘Your face is red,’ Natalka said. ‘Did you go for one of your runs?’

  Ryan shook his head. ‘I think I’m getting a cold,’ he lied. ‘You should probably back off if you don’t want my germs.’

  ‘If it’s going around I’ll get it anyway,’ Natalka said, surprising Ryan by moving in for a snog.

  Her mouth tasted like the two cigarettes she always smoked before school. It was gross, but Ryan had learned that you can put up with a lot when you’re in love.

  ‘Mum was going bananas this morning,’ Natalka said, breaking away from Ryan as the rear of the bus swung over the edge of the valley on a tight turn.

  ‘That’s hardly news,’ Ryan said. ‘You two fight every morning.’

  ‘She wasn’t having a go at me for once,’ Natalka said. ‘One of the other pilots screwed his landing last night.’

  Ryan nodded with recognition. ‘Just after midnight? I heard a bang. They even had that rattly old fire truck out, just in case.’

  ‘Tore up his undercarriage. Three days minimum to fix it. So my mum only got in late last night, but this morning she gets a call saying she’s gotta fly off to Africa.’

  Ryan jolted in shock.

  ‘What?’ Natalka asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Ryan said unconvincingly. Then to cover his tracks, ‘Bet she’ll be in a fouler mood when she gets back as well.’

  Natalka had no idea that her mother’s plane was about to pick up a load of US-made weapons in Pakistan. Halfway to Congo, Dimitra would see a pair of F18 fighters cruise up beside her plane and order her to land at the nearest US airbase. After forced landings, the crews of the four planes would be placed in military custody, charged with trafficking in classified US technology and thrown in a military prison facing thirty-year prison sentences.

  For Ryan’s sake, Amy had arranged things so that Natalka’s mum had an earlier flight too close for her to get picked for the Africa operation, but she could only steer what went on by telling Josef Aramov what orders to give. She didn’t control minor operational details, like who got drafted in if a plane was wrecked.

  Ryan wondered what to do. Cellphones didn’t work at the Kremlin, but if he bunked out of school he might be able to contact Amy on a landline. But even if he did that, how could they pull Dimitra off the mission right before take-off without it seeming horribly suspicious?

  Natalka watched Ryan staring intently out of the window and gave him a nudge. ‘Earth to Ryan? Anybody home?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You’re acting so weird today,’ Natalka said.

  Ryan looked at Natalka and imagined her face red and tear-streaked when she found out that her mum was in prison halfway around the world.

  ‘Just … Sorry … My head’s not right this morning.’

  24. JOSEF

  Ryan had sneaked into a school office and called Amy, but the four crews were set for take-off and there was no credible way to pull Dimitra’s flight.

  Kremlin kids attended a Russian-speaking school on the outskirts of Bishkek. Facilities were primitive and the building was giving way to damp and mould. Ryan sat through double maths, history, lunch, science and art, feeling like a bomb was ticking and wondering what the chances were of something going wrong with the Africa mission.

  It should have been an enjoyable evening, cooking a simple supper with Natalka and curling up on Dimitra’s double bed listening to music, with the grouchy mechanic in the next room occasionally slamming his palm against the wall, urging them to turn it down.

  ‘Stop moaning, you old fart,’ Natalka shouted, as she banged back. ‘I’ve put up with your snoring every night for the last five years.’

  Ryan laughed. Natalka knelt on the bed, one striped sock, black knickers, white singlet and no bra. Ryan loved her desperately, but his mind was in faraway sky imagining F18s and Ilyushins, and Natalka’s mum laid out on the runway with a camouflage-clad Yank aiming a rifle at her. The bedside clock told him that the scene he kept imagining had probably played out about an hour earlier.

  ‘No parents,’ Natalka said, as she put her head in Ryan’s lap. ‘You wanna sleep here?’

  For all the time they’d been seeing each other, Ryan and Natalka had never actually spent the night together. Ryan wasn’t sure if Natalka was hinting that she wanted to have sex. The prospect excited him, but while he was a virgin, Natalka had knocked about with some older boys. He suspected she’d had sex before, and was scared that he’d do it all wrong. And if he did, Natalka was the kind of girl who’d laugh her arse off rather than show any sympathy …

  ‘I guess I could stay here,’ Ryan said. ‘Are we talking about … ?’

  ‘No we’re not,’ Natalka said firmly, and Ryan was kind of relieved. ‘My mum’s got vodka though. What say we get hammered and blow off school tomorrow?’


  Ryan laughed as Natalka rolled a bottle of cheap Russian vodka out from under the bed. ‘Get the Pepsi and some glasses.’

  It should have been great, but Ryan felt like puking.

  Just after 9 p.m., the Kremlin PA started gurgling. The system was a relic from Soviet days and most of the funnel-shaped wall speakers either didn’t work or had been ripped off. The closest one to Natalka’s room was down the far end of a hallway by the toilets and you could barely hear it.

  ‘What’s it saying?’ Ryan asked, cupping his ear. ‘Something about the assembly point.’

  ‘Probably drunks pissing about,’ Natalka said. ‘If it’s anything important they set off the fire alarm.’

  Natalka’s comment coincided with the fire alarm and they both laughed.

  ‘And there you have it,’ Natalka said, a touch drunk. ‘Confirmation of my genius.’

  ‘Best move, in case it is a fire,’ Ryan said, knowing it wasn’t as he reached for the floor and threw Natalka her jeans.

  If it was a fire, they’d have to go outside, so they put on shoes and hit the hallway pulling on their warm coats and making sure they had gloves. The fire alarm automatically locked out the lifts and they merged into bodies going down the stairs.

  There was no panic, and Ryan and Natalka quickly picked up rumours that everyone was being brought down to the lobby for some big announcement.

  ‘Nat-al-kaaaa!’ a guy called Vlad said, as he rudely pushed a couple of people out of the way.

  Vlad was eighteen, a fair-haired Russian. He was the son of a loadmaster and had a reputation for being not too bright.

  There wasn’t much to do at the Kremlin, but there was a big stack of outdoor weights in the yard out back and a lot of young guys were into bodybuilding. Ryan had bulked up there himself, but mainly used the weights for fitness and as an excuse to pick up gossip from the older guys. Vlad was at the other extreme and had reached his present size with the help of serious steroids.