Cherub Black Friday (34 page)

‘I want Natalka,’ Ryan moaned, pulling a cushion over his head. ‘Cancel that, I want to die.’

Amy whipped the cushion and blanket away. ‘What’s Zara going to think of me if you arrive back on campus looking and smelling like an alcoholic dosser?’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘I
told
you to stop drinking at ten o’clock,’ Amy said. ‘I’ve got no sympathy. Now move it before I kick your arse.’

As Ryan trudged towards the shower feeling extremely queasy, a team of men were loading Josef Aramov’s personal possessions into a lift. Since there was nobody left to see him, Ryan showered, then went down to the third floor wearing a pink towelling robe that had belonged to Tamara.

Over the previous ten days, Ryan had gradually moved all of his stuff into Natalka’s room. He’d laid out a set of clothes for the journey home when he’d packed the previous afternoon and he pulled them on before looking out of the window.

The last remnants of the Aramov fleet had been herded around the maintenance hangar and wired with explosives. On the runway stood a pair of modern Airbus 320s. One a passenger plane, one a cargo jet which was presently being loaded with a mixture of Aramov Clan archives, personal possessions and demolition equipment. The Airbus’ engines were ticking over to prevent them from icing up, but they were eerily quiet compared to the elderly Russian jets Ryan had got used to.

A tentative cup of tea and a stale piece of naan bread settled Ryan’s stomach. A lot of stuff was being taken out of the building and after letting two crammed lifts go by, he decided to slide his cases downstairs to the lobby.

By this time the heating had been off for several hours and with single glazing and cracked walls, the Kremlin’s usually stifling interior was starting to chill. Josef Aramov made a jokey announcement, but became emotional as he neared the end of it.

‘The Kremlin hotel will be closing its doors in fifteen minutes. Guests wishing to stay longer should be warned that their rooms may explode.’

Amy and Josef emerged from the elevator together, keeping up the pretence that they were a couple. At the same moment, Ryan thought of something and bolted back towards the staircase.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Amy asked. ‘You feeling OK?’

‘Just remembered, there’s a bag of Kazakov’s stuff still in my room.’

‘Is it important?’ Amy asked.

Ryan shrugged. ‘Maybe they could send it to his son or something. It’s nothing amazing, but it seems sad to leave it here.’

‘Go on then, but hurry up.’

The demolition crews were working down from the top floor, linking up the detonator fuses before going into every room making sure it was clear. Ryan had to dart in front of one of them as he bolted to his room. After grabbing the case with Kazakov’s stuff in, he walked to Natalka’s room at the end and caught her smell one last time.

‘Come on, hoppit!’ the demolition man shouted.

Ryan had already checked everywhere to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, and he choked up as he thought about all the times he’d spent with Natalka. She was probably at her aunt’s house in Russia by now  … 

‘Hey, are you deaf?’ the demolition man shouted, accompanying his words with furious gestures because he’d assumed Ryan was a local and only spoke Russian or Kyrgyz.

The burly demolition man looked surprised when he saw Ryan’s tears.

‘I’m going,’ Ryan said sadly.

Down in the lobby, Dan had arrived. The burly eighteen-year-old had been promised a new start in the USA if he agreed to help TFU infiltrate the Kremlin. But he looked almost as sad as Ryan when Amy approached him.

‘Everything OK?’ Amy asked.

‘I wish I could take my Lada,’ Dan explained. ‘I parked it near the top of the valley with the keys in the ignition. I just hope someone takes good care of it.’

Amy smiled as she opened a document wallet and handed Dan a US passport. ‘We’re flying to London,’ she explained. ‘Then you, me and Josef will fly on a commercial flight to Dallas where I’ll spend some time helping you to sort out your new life.’

By this time the demolition crews had cleared the upper floors and the demolition man who’d seen Ryan a few minutes earlier spoke impatiently in bad Russian. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I need everyone and their luggage to start walking to the plane. Thank you.’

As Ryan threw his luggage on to a waiting cargo trolley and began an icy walk towards the two jets, Josef Aramov stayed back to hand the de-icing crew their final wage packets, before giving them hugs and telling them to get well clear of the valley.

The cargo plane was taxiing for take-off as Ryan boarded his ride home. It was a regular passenger Airbus, chartered for the final evacuation. There were less than thirty passengers for the hundred-seater, so Ryan had three seats in which to sprawl out and nurse his hangover.

The demolition team were the last to board, beaded with sweat as they stood in the aisle stripping hard hats and orange overalls. Normally the demolition team would stay behind to monitor their explosions and clear debris, but blowing up large buildings without government permission is as illegal in Kyrgyzstan as in any other country and none of them wanted to be on the ground when the authorities worked out that someone had taken out an entire airbase.

Take-off from the cramped valley landing strip involved a twisting climb through a gap between two peaks with less than fifty metres’ clearance for the wings of a large jet. Having a rock face skimming past the windows as you took off always gave Ryan the willies and he was a happy boy when he saw clear blue sky, secure in the knowledge that he’d never make that manoeuvre again.

Clearing the peaks was also the signal for the demolition crew to trigger the detonation. The pilot had planned a flight path so that they could view the explosion from a safe distance and as the demolition team gave a bawdy countdown, everyone charged towards the windows on Ryan’s side of the plane.

‘Five, four, three, two, one  … ’

Nobody heard zero because the bang was overwhelming. As the Kremlin’s prefabricated sections collapsed inwards, sequential explosions punched huge holes in the runway, before a final blast took out a dozen aircraft, maintenance sheds and the refuelling facility.

‘Wow,’ Dan said, looking back at Ryan in the row behind.

‘I think I saw a boulder fly up and smash into your car,’ Ryan joked.

Dan smiled, but knew exactly how to get Ryan back. ‘I bet some Russian boy is banging Natalka already.’

The smoke and flames continued billowing out of the valley, but the Airbus was still climbing and the view blotted out as they rose through the first layer of cloud.

Nothing unified CHERUB campus like a karaoke night. The little kids chased in and out of the main hall, drinking too much fizz and getting rowdy. Tween girls took things seriously, dressing up, practising their songs and making up dance routines. By their teens, everyone had decided that karaoke nights were uncool, but still got up on stage and belted out songs in an ironic kind of way.

James had signed a bunch of papers in Zara’s office a few hours earlier. His contract defined his new job as
staff grade three
, which meant he got a room on campus, an unimpressive salary and had to spend at least six months working wherever he was needed, be it in training, care, education, or missions.

For his first night on duty James was supervising the karaoke. He was still knackered from the trip to the USA and he lost the will to live as he saw a bunch of seven-to-nine-year-old boys moving en masse towards the boys’ toilet.

The fact that every one of them was holding an empty beaker gave their intent away. James waited by the bathroom door while the sextet filled their cups with water and giggled about who they planned to throw it at.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ James shouted, making the boys jump as the first pair emerged into the hallway. ‘Empty the cups in the sink. Then you can either go back inside and act sensibly, or you can go back to the junior block and go to bed.’

‘They’re just drinks,’ a chubby little lad said, giving James baby-fawn eyes and a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression.

‘I’m really thirsty,’ another boy added, downing half his cup to make the point.

‘Behave or bed,’ James repeated.

So the boys filed back to the sinks and sulkily emptied their beakers. As they did this, one muttered under his breath.

‘At least I didn’t start a food fight in the canteen.’

And as the six boys giggled, another covered his mouth and blurted, ‘Or have sex in the campus fountain.’

This reduced all six boys to fits of laughter. James had to assert his authority or these kids would run rings around him forevermore, but if he overdid it he’d look like an arse and his punishment would get reversed by a more senior member of staff.

‘First of all, that’s just a stupid rumour started by my sister,’ James said huffily. ‘Secondly, you’ve splashed quite a lot of water on the floor. If I can see any of you in five seconds’ time, I’ll be sending you to the cleaning cupboard to get a mop and clean it up.’

The boys got the hint, binning their containers and scrambling back into the main hall. James was about to follow them when three ten-year-old girls started screeching out Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’. The sound reminded him of an angle grinder and he decided to let the hall survive unsupervised for a few minutes while he grabbed some air.

Even in January, the hall got muggy when there were a lot of bodies inside and James headed out of an open fire exit and up a few steps. He stood in front of the main building, staring towards the fountain and trying to think of a way to get Lauren back for starting the sex rumour, when he noticed a kid sitting at the fountain’s edge.

The kid looked upset and when James stepped up, he saw that he resembled Leon Sharma, who he’d taught on the advanced driving course a couple of months earlier.

‘You must be Ryan,’ James said.

Ryan nodded, but didn’t speak because he was choked up.

‘I know you’ve been on a long mission,’ James said. ‘So I’m guessing it’s a girl, outside chance of a boy if you swing that way.’

‘Girl,’ Ryan said, as he wiped a dewdrop of snot from the end of his nose.

‘Been there,’ James said. ‘Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?’

Ryan smiled slightly. ‘Are you James Adams?’

‘I might be,’ James said, as the pair shook hands.

‘Ever fall in love on a mission?’ Ryan asked.

‘On my first ever mission it was Joanna,’ James said. ‘I was only twelve, but I used to hang out with her after school and it felt so perfect. Then there was April. I didn’t exactly fall in love with her but she was hot. My fourth mission I spent a summer night sleeping on a rooftop with a chick called Hannah. We watched the sun come up and it was beautiful. And then there’s Kerry Chang, who I’ve kind of loved since I did basic training with her.’

Ryan pointed towards the fountain. ‘Was she the one—?’

James cut him off and sounded irritable. ‘My idiot sister started that rumour. Put your hand in the water for two seconds, it’s freezing. Plus it’s all lit up, and there’s like sixty bedrooms looking down on you.’

‘Pity,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s a good rumour. So you’re still with Kerry?’

James shook his head. ‘We lived together at uni for the last three years, but she’s dumped my arse for a history undergraduate called Mark Lee.’

‘Does breaking up hurt less once you’re used to it?’ Ryan asked.

James shook his head. ‘It’s like an elephant kicked you in the nuts, every single time.’

‘How long does it last?’ Ryan asked.

James laughed. ‘I’d say you’ve got about two weeks of serious misery and crying yourself to sleep at night. Then about a month of quiet desperation, and after that you’ll just think about her once in a while and feel sad. That’s not exactly scientific, but it’s how breaking up usually works for me.’

‘Sounds like crap,’ Ryan said.

‘Unless you plan on becoming a monk you’ll have to live with it,’ James said. ‘And look on the bright side: your Aramov Clan mission was a monster hit. I did missions where I took bad guys out, but have you any idea how rare it is that you actually dismantle an entire criminal organisation?’

‘Got my black shirt,’ Ryan said, as he stretched it out to show James. ‘All my mates are well jealous. I should be rubbing it in, but all I can think about is Natalka.’

‘We’re gonna be together after your post-mission holiday,’ James said. ‘I’m running the advanced driving course and you’re second on the list of eligible candidates.’

‘Ning and Leon said it was awesome,’ Ryan said, cheering up a bit. ‘Could have done with some better driving skills in Alabama a few weeks back.’

‘I should get back inside,’ James said. ‘I don’t want my first karaoke night turning into a riot. If you’re feeling depressed, don’t be scared to come and talk to me. Just don’t ask me for any advice on future relationships, because I’ve been going out with girls for ten years now and frankly I still haven’t got a clue.’

Ryan smiled as he got off the edge of the fountain and started walking after James. ‘My mates Alfie and Max are in there. They’re basically immature idiots, but they’re no worse than sitting out here freezing my arse off.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ James said.

‘I do feel better now I’ve spoken to you,’ Ryan said. ‘Thanks.’

Ryan was going to say something else, but as he reached the open fire door at the back of the hall, an eight-year-old ambushed him with half a bucket of freezing water. After gasping from the cold, Ryan looked down and saw his littlest brother Theo lobbing the bucket away before squealing and belting back inside.

‘You little shite,’ Ryan shouted.

He moved to give chase, but then looked around at James who had a wet leg where the water had splashed off the ground. Soaking a member of staff was serious and Ryan didn’t want his youngest brother getting into trouble.

‘He only meant to get me,’ Ryan said.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ James said, as he shook the bottom of his jeans. ‘Go have fun chasing your little brother. And when you catch him, make sure you tickle him till he pukes.’