Cherub Black Friday (10 page)

‘Terrorists,’ Ryan repeated. ‘They’re about to send out a bunch of trucks to blow up shopping malls. And the guy I was with got shot in the shoulder.’

‘Whereabouts?’ the officer asked.

But the woman interrupted. ‘Check out his eyes, before you believe too much of what he says.’

The male officer dropped the Beretta into a zip-lock evidence bag then stared into Ryan’s bloodshot eyes.

‘Kid’s as high as a kite, ain’t you?’ the woman said.

‘I’ve just been awake a long time,’ Ryan said. ‘Please listen. You’ve
got
to listen. You must have heard about the plane blowing up by the stadium, it’s all linked to that.’

The male officer laughed. ‘Oh, was that you? Is this your daddy’s car?’

Ryan was so frustrated that he gave the female officer a little shove. ‘Please, just make
one
phone call. It’ll take twenty seconds.’

The big dude didn’t like seeing his partner get pushed. He grabbed Ryan under the arms, pulled him a step backwards, then slammed him over the bonnet of the truck before shooting a blast of pepper spray in his face.

‘You wanna mess with us?’ the man shouted. ‘Well now you can add assaulting an officer to grand theft auto, firearms and drugs. You got a long stretch in juvenile hall coming your way, boy!’

‘Listen,’ Ryan gasped, as the pepper spray burned his eyes and throat.

‘I’ve heard enough out of you,’ the officer said, as he grabbed Ryan’s cuffs and yanked him towards a cop car parked in a disabled space outside the Denny’s. ‘Now you sit in the car and behave while I go buy a box of bear claws for the station.’

They’d dragged Kazakov back to the ranch house. Someone had made a half-arsed attempt to stop the bleeding by tying a coat around his shoulder, but all it had done was ruin the coat.

‘Who did you speak to?’ someone shouted.

Even if Kazakov had wanted to answer he’d lost control of his mouth. The people bustling around the kitchen kept doing a little leap to avoid stepping in his blood. His vision was blurring, but the lack of oxygen had brought his mind to a mildly euphoric state that made the pain seem distant.

Kazakov found himself thinking about his thirty-four-year-old son. He’d not seen Olek in decades, not even a photo. But he’d always hoped to travel back to the Ukraine and track him down when he retired.

The interrogator can’t have been older than twenty and pinched Kazakov’s cheek.

‘Did you send out a message? Who did you speak to?’

Kazakov could see his body, but it no longer belonged to him. His heart and lungs struggled on automatic, but his consciousness had retreated into his brain and he knew there would soon be nothing at all.

‘I told you,’ Elbaz shouted, as he gave the interrogator a shove. ‘I’m blowing this joint. It doesn’t matter if he communicated. We can’t be sure, so we’ll act as if he did. We’re five men down, but we can still get eight trucks out on the road. So go join your partner.’

Kazakov was impressed by Elbaz. Combat had taught him that the best field commanders aren’t always the cleverest or strongest. They’re men like Elbaz who cut out background noise and keep functioning when plans go tits up.

‘Two minutes,’ Elbaz shouted, as he stood by the patio doors. Then he grabbed someone. ‘Get upstairs, go room to room making sure it’s empty.’

Two of the ten vans wouldn’t be leaving because their crews were dead or injured. Six had already left the ranch and two remained outside, making final preparations for departure.

‘Get that explosive in!’ Elbaz shouted. ‘Take all you need, then pull over and finish wiring up somewhere along the way.’

Kazakov watched as Elbaz stood at the kitchen counter, pushing a small radio detonator into one of the pizza-box-sized explosive wedges.

‘Some secrets in that head of yours, eh?’ Elbaz said, giving Kazakov a half-smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, your boy Ryan seems to have given us the slip.’

Ryan being safe made Kazakov want to smile, but now his vision was changing. It was like he was viewing everything through a pair of long black tubes.

‘All clear, boss,’ the guy Elbaz had sent upstairs said, before turning to look at Kazakov. ‘Is he dead?’

‘If he’s not he will be when this place blows,’ Elbaz said, before breaking into a shout. ‘Two minutes, people! I’m detonating as soon as my car’s a couple of hundred metres clear. And if you’re not in front of me, that’s your tough shit.’

The two blocks of Chinese explosive Elbaz wired up in the kitchen were enough to vaporise the ranch house, but the real taste of the IDoJ threat came from a secondary blast in one of the explosive-packed trucks that hadn’t made it off site.

Elbaz was driving out of the ranch gates and was shocked by the ferocity, while the mini-van filled with specialists who’d made bombs and rigged the remote control systems, directly behind him, had its back window blown in.

Five miles east, ground trembled and orange light flashed through a glass door as Ryan stood barefoot. He was in the lobby of a rural sheriff’s department office that was little more than a prefabricated hut, with a brick jailhouse for half a dozen inmates alongside.

The sergeant behind the desk looked like the cartoon character Elmer Fudd, but was obviously smarter than the pair who’d arrested Ryan. He’d quickly worked out that an olive-skinned kid with a foreign accent, turning up in an $80,000 Cadillac with a machine gun and blood-spattered trainers, amounted to more than just some crazy lad who’d swallowed a few pills and taken the family car for a joyride.

The sergeant looked across at McVitie, the female officer who’d been at the arrest scene. ‘The vacant farm this kid just described sounds a lot like Oak Ranch,’ the sergeant said. ‘Wouldn’t you say that’s roughly where that explosion came from?’

‘You want me to drive up there and check it out?’ the woman asked.

The sergeant shook his head contemptuously. ‘
Christ
, McVitie. This is not some call about a man slapping his wife. You can’t send a patrol car up to check it out. We’ve got no idea what’s up there.’

As the sergeant said this, two phones behind the desk started ringing, followed by the mobile of the big cop who’d dosed Ryan with pepper spray. Sensing that these three local cops were out of their depth, Ryan tried to assert himself.

‘There’s a contact on my phone called
Dallas
,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s part of an intelligence unit that’s after the terrorists. They’re blowing up shopping malls, using vans painted in shop liveries. You need to get
everyone
out looking for them.’

‘Where’s his phone?’ the sergeant asked, and then to Ryan, ‘And why would you have this number?’

‘I’ve been helping them,’ Ryan said. ‘I’m begging you to ring it. If I’m lying you can put me in a cell and pepper spray me all you like.’

As McVitie retrieved Ryan’s iPhone from an evidence bag, a switchboard operator was running into the room. ‘Sergeant, call on the red line: Homeland Security Protocol. A Dr Denise Huggan wants to speak with whoever’s in charge.’

Ryan gasped with relief. He hadn’t had a chance to leave a message when he’d connected to Dr D’s voicemail, but she’d clearly triangulated his phone signal and tracked him down to the police station.

The sergeant spoke to Dr D briefly before passing the handset to Ryan.

‘Kazakov was shot bad,’ Ryan blurted. ‘I doubt he made it. It sounds like Elbaz just blew the IDoJ base, but there’s ten vans packed with explosives.’

‘Heading where?’ Dr D asked.

‘Shopping malls,’ Ryan said. ‘Kazakov said something about tomorrow being this amazingly busy shopping day.’

‘Black Friday,’ Dr D confirmed. ‘We’ll get everyone on it. Local cops, state police, FBI. How are you doing?’

‘Haven’t slept since I left Kyrgyzstan,’ Ryan said. ‘So pretty exhausted, but no injuries.’

‘Well that’s something, at least,’ Dr D said. ‘We’ve got helicopters on standby. I’m in Montgomery, a hundred miles from you. I’ll get a local FBI agent to you for a full debriefing, and tell that sergeant to start looking for those trucks.’

After their early wake-up, James and Bruce took the four advanced driving students out to the track for some practice driving in dark and rain. But tracks can’t prepare drivers for buses, cyclists, pedestrians and all the other real-life hazards, so for the second part of the morning James and Bruce led their students on to real roads in a pair of BMW saloons. Each had heavily shaded windows to hide the underage drivers.

The task was to drive quickly but safely, on A-roads and motorways, and finally to navigate a busy town centre and multistorey car park. Alfie drove the first stretch in James’ car, with Ning set to pilot the return journey. After a ten-minute wait for Bruce, Leon and Grace in the other car, they headed into a pedestrianised shopping area and found Café Rouge for lunch.

James had picked up a couple of texts from his girlfriend Kerry back in California, but he hadn’t been able to look while he was concentrating on Alfie’s erratic driving style. He remembered to check them after he’d ordered a mayonnaise-free steak sandwich from the waiter.

Seen this weird terror thing? Dead scary!!!

James was mystified, but the restaurant had a good Wi-Fi connection and he managed to stream TV news on his phone. Bruce and the four trainees leaned in to watch the little screen in the middle of the table.

The on-screen bar said
Thanksgiving Terror
and there was a grainy, distant shot of a huge explosion, followed by a cut to live footage of a smouldering ranch house. As the newsreader spoke to a terrorism pundit, the scrolling news bar spelled out the facts:

College football game called off after plane explodes on inaugural day of Alabama stadium • Cargo pilot’s family held hostage, then rescued in dramatic FBI raid • Explosion at ranch house • FBI hunting for ten explosive-packed trucks • Public told to stay away from shopping malls in Texas, Florida and six other southern states.

James was shocked, but also relieved because Kerry and his American uni mates lived in northern California, over a thousand miles from where everything was kicking off. As he sent Kerry a one-word reply saying WOW!, the presenter on his phone cut to a newsflash.

‘
News agencies are now reporting that a large explosion has occurred on a highway near the town of Jackson, Louisiana. Police there identified a truck fitting the description of one of the wanted vehicles. After a brief chase, suspects ran from the vehicle on foot but were apparently able to detonate the vehicle remotely. There are reports of damage to a footbridge and injuries from flying glass, but so far no information on fatalities  …  If this information is correct, it means that two trucks have been located, with eight still unaccounted for
.’

‘Heavy, shit,’ Leon said.

Grace seemed less interested. ‘There’s a Hollister across the street,’ she said eagerly. ‘Any chance we could pop in before we get back in the cars?’

James scoffed. ‘I’ve done enough clothes shopping with Kerry and my sister, Lauren. I’ve seen too many “quick pop-ins” that turn into hour-long sessions where you have to try on twenty-six garments and then walk out without buying anything.’

Ning smiled. ‘That’s a
highly
sexist generalisation. Although in Grace’s case you’re spot on.’

Grace scowled at Ning. ‘Whose side are you on?’

‘Mine,’ Ning growled back.

Alfie made a purring sound. ‘Me-ow, girls!’

The waiter came over with their drinks and their attention drifted away from the news broadcast until Leon’s phone started ringing.
Campus Calling
flashed up, and the voice on the other end belonged to CHERUB’s chief handler Meryl Spencer.

‘I wanted to check if you’d heard about Alabama?’ Meryl asked.

‘Watched it on James’ phone a few minutes ago,’ Leon said. ‘Why are you calling
me
about this?’

‘Agents aren’t supposed to gossip about their missions, but I know they often do and I didn’t want you worrying about Ryan.’

‘Ryan’s in Alabama?’ Leon gasped. ‘I thought he was in Keer  …  Kyar-git-stan or however you’re supposed to pronounce it.’

Everyone around the table tuned in when Leon mentioned Alabama. James whispered to Ning, ‘Is Ryan his older brother?’ and Ning nodded.

‘Well it’s nothing to worry about,’ Meryl told Leon. ‘Your brother’s been through an ordeal but he’s OK. Now I need you to put James or Bruce on.’

Leon handed the phone over and James spoke cheerfully. ‘Hey, Meryl!’

‘I need you and the kids back on campus by four,’ Meryl said. ‘Zara’s getting everyone together in the main hall. All lessons and training are cancelled and there’s going to be an announcement.’

Everyone had been called to the main hall a few times when James had been an agent. Usually it was an opportunity for the chairman to read the riot act about some behaviour problem. But that had always been first thing, or after dinner. He’d never known everyone to get called back to campus in the middle of the day.

‘Is it old chairman Mac?’ James asked. ‘I heard he’s been sick.’

‘James, if I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you,’ Meryl said. ‘But it’s definitely not Mac. The last I heard he was spending Christmas skiing with Fahim and some young drama teacher he met at a parents’ evening.’

Two staff manned the CCTV booth in the security building and a senior controller stayed on duty in mission control, but everyone else on CHERUB campus had crammed into the assembly hall, from tiny red shirts sitting cross-legged on the floor near the stage, to kitchen staff, teachers and gardeners clumped at the rear.

The only other time James Adams had seen this many people in the hall was for present opening on Christmas morning. A ripple of anticipation crossed the space as Chairwoman Zara Asker rose three steps on to the stage. She wore a flower-print dress with a black cardigan over her arms.

There was silence as Zara tapped the microphone to make sure it was on. ‘CHERUB is a family,’ she began solemnly. ‘Sometimes we forget the risks that young agents and staff have to take and now I must make the kind of announcement that every CHERUB chairman hopes they never have to.