But at least it was safer than being trapped in a corridor: there was plenty of space and plenty of cars to dive between if someone came after him. James felt nauseous as he crouched between a Nissan and a Volkswagen, trying to gather his thoughts. He glanced at his wrist and realised that his watch was still on the table back in the flat.
There was one thought that he couldn’t get out of his head: What could possibly have gone wrong at the meeting? Maybe Boris and Isla had blown their cover, or maybe Denis Obidin had known they were MI5 all along. Maybe they’d unearthed one of the bugs he’d placed inside the house …
But none of this quite rang true. Denis was a smart man: he was used to the attentions of the world’s intelligence agencies and would have dealt with the situation clinically. Vladimir turning up and kicking down doors in the middle of the night suggested that the Obidins were angry about something that had taken them by surprise.
James could mull over theories all night long and he’d still be trapped inside this car park. He needed to escape first and think later.
Although the adrenalin made it feel as if an age had passed since he’d woken up, James knew it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes; and it was less than half that time since Vladimir had called for backup. The cops who guarded the gate had run up the stairs and nobody had been covering the fire escape because there were no other cops in the area.
At least, not yet.
In a few minutes there would be cops all over the joint, but James reckoned he had a decent chance of making it through the front gates if he didn’t hang about. As he sprang up, he heard a cop emerge at the top of the third-floor fire exit. He slipped over like James had almost done and yelled as he clonked down seven steps.
James ducked behind the parked cars as he raced towards the entrance gates. As usual there were two ancient Russian-built cop cars parked outside the entrance, but Vladimir Obidin’s bulletproof Mercedes had been parked across the road to stop any vehicles from escaping.
He emerged close to the headlamps of one police car and was relieved to find it empty, but a thuggish-looking driver was propped on the bonnet of the Merc, with a compact machine gun around his neck and a cigarette between his lips.
It wasn’t ideal, but James figured that one against one with surprise on his side was about as good as the odds were likely to get. Aware that the cop who’d slipped down the steps would soon be on his tail, he crept around to the back of the police car and poked his head up over the boot.
The driver looked spaced out and James considered shooting him, grabbing his machine gun and making off in the limo. But it would take time; his gun wasn’t silenced and with more police on the way, it could turn into a full-blown chase. Besides, there’s a big difference between shooting your way out of a corner and going on the offensive, and James wasn’t sure he had the heart to sneak up and shoot a man in the back.
So while the driver dropped his cigarette and ground it under a highly polished shoe, James ducked behind his car, crossed the deserted street and jogged stealthily into the blackness with only a trace of moonlight giving his position away.
He crossed a stretch of paving that ran between two high-rise housing blocks. By the time he’d reached a stairwell at the rear, three police cars and an ambulance had parked outside the Brezhnev Apartments, their flashing blue lights making quite a show in the powerless town.
James decided to run towards the derelict area near the edge of Aero City. He could hide in one of the thousands of abandoned apartments that had once housed the city’s factory workers. But first he had to get in touch with the CHERUB emergency desk and tell them what had happened.
He reached inside his jacket, then padded down his jeans and came to a horrible realisation.
His phone was still inside his school backpack and his backpack was still inside flat 2-17.
6. POOL
The boys’ gymnasium was one of the oldest buildings on CHERUB campus. It had recently been refurbished with the latest exercise machines and weight-training equipment. A small extension had been built to provide changing rooms and showers for girls and the derelict basement cinema where cherubs had watched newsreels and movies in the fifties and sixties had been stripped out and turned into a lounge, complete with pool, snooker and air hockey tables. Big-screen TVs showed sports channels, there were oversized sofas and the glass-fronted fridges and cupboards along one side of the room were stocked with snacks and soft drinks.
The lounge had been completed less than a month earlier and the novelty had yet to wear off. It was packed with cherubs whenever it was open and a rota restricted access to certain age groups to prevent overcrowding.
Cherubs usually had lessons on Saturday morning, but the lounge had been specially opened for the twenty-six kids who’d returned from the aborted training exercise in the Yorkshire Dales. After making grave threats to a bunch of younger kids who’d been hogging one of the full-sized snooker tables for more than an hour, Lauren, Rat, Bethany and Andy managed to get a game.
None of them was very good. Rat was the most naturally gifted player, but he’d spent the first eleven years of his life inside a religious cult and was struggling to master the rules.
‘So I’ve knocked in the red. Now what colour do I have to pot first?’
Lauren tutted. ‘Whatever colour you nominate, for the third time.’
‘But I thought you had to do yellow, green, brown, or whatever,’ Rat said.
‘That’s only after all the reds have been potted at the end.’
‘Right,’ Rat said. ‘Blue ball, corner pocket.’
Lauren, Andy and Bethany all went quiet as Rat lined up his shot.
‘AWWWOOOOOOOOOO,’ Andy howled, trying to sound like a wolf as he made Rat totally miscue his shot.
‘No way,’ Rat said, as he grabbed the white ball off the table. ‘I’m retaking that.’
‘Cheater,’ Bethany grinned.
‘Well it was out of order,’ Lauren said.
‘Oh there’s a shock,’ Bethany said, before making a smoochy sound. ‘Lauren defends her secret love.’
‘Bite me,’ Lauren said, as she flicked Bethany off.
Rat took the shot for the second time and the blue rattled in the jaws of the pocket, but didn’t drop.
‘Righty ho,’ Andy said, as he grabbed his cue. ‘One-four-seven break, here I come.’
Rat sucked a mouthful of orange juice from his carton before moving to stand alongside Lauren. ‘I’m glad we told everyone,’ he smiled.
Bethany huffed, ‘Oh yeah, it was such a big secret. We all knew what was going on anyway.’
Bethany was starting to wind Lauren up. Lauren had put up with several of Bethany’s stupid crushes, but now that she had a boyfriend, Bethany was acting all jealous.
Bethany’s brother Jake and some of his mates were sitting on a sofa waiting for the next game. Jake started singing: ‘Rat and Lauren sitting in a tree, B-O-N-K-I-N-G.’
Lauren turned her head sharply and glowered at him. ‘Unless you want this cue rammed up your arse, I’d suggest that you shut it.’
‘Ooooh, tetchy,’ Jake giggled.
‘Do you want me to make you cry again, baby brother?’ Bethany threatened, suddenly on Lauren’s side again.
Andy missed an easy red. ‘Your shot, Lauren.’
Lauren knew she was hopeless and decided on a radical strategy. There was an unbroken cluster of red balls in the middle of the table and she clattered them as hard as she could.
‘Skill,’ Lauren howled, punching the air as a red ball dropped into a pocket.
‘You are soooo jammy,’ Andy tutted.
Even better, one of the flying reds had knocked the pink ball into the jaws of a corner pocket.
‘Come on, baby,’ Rat grinned, as Lauren lined up her next shot. ‘That’s six easy points.’
She smiled as the pink rolled in, but the white ball followed it.
‘Stupid girl,’ Jake yelled gleefully. ‘You should have put
some backspin on it.’
Lauren gave a couldn’t care less shrug. ‘I’ve only played snooker three times. I don’t understand how to do all that stuff.’
Lauren was sharing a cue with Bethany and as she handed it across, the room went oddly quiet. A bunch of lads who were fighting with Pepperamis, throwing crisps and making light sabre noises all settled back into their seats and tried looking innocent.
Lauren had to look over her shoulder to find the reason: Zara Asker, CHERUB’s newly appointed chairwoman, was walking down the spiral staircase that led into the lounge. Zara spotted Lauren and headed straight towards her.
‘Can we have a private word in my office?’ Zara asked.
Jake burst out laughing and made a sound like a whip cracking. ‘You’re in trouble,’ he sang, to the delight of his mates.
Zara turned sharply and jammed her finger under Jake’s nose. ‘You’re walking on very thin ice, Mr Parker. I’ve had several reports about your cheek in lessons and I can see punishment laps and a few months of washing-up duty on your schedule if you don’t sharpen up.’
Jake liked acting cocky in front of his little crew of ten-year-olds, but Zara’s glare made him wilt as Bethany poked her tongue at him.
‘Is it about Mr Large?’ Lauren asked, once they were out of the noisy lounge and heading up the stairs.
‘No it isn’t,’ Zara said, as they reached the top and walked out into the fresh air, heading for the main building. ‘I think it’s best if I explain when we get to my office. Although I did have a phone call from Mr Large’s partner earlier. His condition is improving, but it’s still serious and there’s a possibility that he’ll need a bypass operation. And even if Mr Large recovers fully, he faces a disciplinary hearing when he comes back to work.’
‘Why’s that?’ Lauren asked.
‘I’ve read all the reports on the Dales incident and it sounds like Mr Large had a skinful before his heart attack. The odd pint or two is fine, but he was in charge of twenty-six children and drunkenness is unacceptable.’
‘Will he get the boot this time?’ Lauren asked, trying to hide a grin.
‘Probably not,’ Zara shrugged. ‘For all his faults, Norman Large is a hard man to replace. It’s unbelievably tough to find good training instructors. I mean, would you want to spend your working life running around a muddy assault course and making kids’ lives a misery?’
Lauren shook her head. ‘I suppose it takes a certain type of person.’
‘You came out well in Arif’s incident report,’ Zara said brightly. ‘He says that you had the situation under control when he got back to the camp.’
‘I got the others to pack up the tents and everything,’ Lauren nodded. ‘Fortunately, Arif got back from the supermarket just after the vet left and we managed to clear out before we had police and social services on our backs.’
‘I reckon you’re a natural leader,’ Zara smiled. ‘I can see you in politics or running a big company some day.’
‘Politics is boring,’ Lauren said, smiling back uneasily. ‘I certainly didn’t feel like a leader. The whole thing was pretty chaotic, to be honest. Especially when that old granny started freaking out on me.’
Zara smiled a little. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, we had to take Meatball to the vet.’
‘Is he OK?’ Lauren asked anxiously.
‘He wasn’t eating properly, which is hardly surprising because the vet found four of Joshua’s Lego bricks lodged in his throat. He’s recovering, but I have to keep telling Joshua not to leave toys all over the carpet.’
‘That dog will eat anything,’ Lauren giggled.
‘You know, you’re still welcome to come over and take him for walks any time you like.’
Lauren nodded. ‘I will, but I’ve had masses of homework and I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Rat.’
‘I see,’ Zara said, and grinned knowingly.
They passed the fountain and went up the steps and into the main building. It was a short walk through reception to Zara’s office. The previous chairman, Dr McAfferty, had lined the room with his collection of books, but Zara had yet to settle in. She’d only found time to put up a few family photos and the room looked bare.
Lauren felt a chill as she spotted James’ girlfriend, Kerry Chang, sitting on a chair in front of the desk. She had tears streaking down her cheeks.
‘James is missing,’ Kerry sobbed. ‘He might … He might even be dead.’
Lauren felt like a bomb had gone off inside her skull as her limbs went numb and a great ball welled up in her throat. She grabbed on to a chair to keep herself steady.
‘Sit down and I’ll explain as best I can,’ Zara said, as she guided Lauren into one of the leather chairs. ‘James’ mission was in a northern Russian town known as Aero City. The local oligarch is a man called Denis Obidin. He owns all of the production facilities, most of the land and housing and he’s even the city mayor.
‘MI5 suspects that Obidin is selling missiles and other sensitive technology to rogue governments and terrorist groups, but he has powerful friends in Moscow and the Russian government has consistently turned a blind eye.
‘James was working alongside two MI5 operatives. They aimed to set up a deal to buy some missiles and record evidence of every step in the transaction. Faced with such damning evidence, we were hoping to force the Russian government into taking criminal action against Obidin.
‘James’ role in the mission was regarded as low to medium risk,’ Zara continued. ‘Our biggest problem was infiltrating Obidin’s compound and planting listening devices inside. Our MI5 team found out that Denis Obidin was planning to send his only child to a posh English prep school. The boy was having English lessons with a local teacher, but he was struggling. So we flew James out to act as the MI5 agents’ nephew, using some kind of background story about James staying with his aunt after his mother had a nervous breakdown.
‘Not long after James arrived, the aunt and uncle casually suggested to Denis Obidin that James give his son some informal English lessons. Obidin took the bait and James spent a few weeks giving the boy extra English practice after school. At the same time, he learned the layout of the house and began dropping some of our new pinhead-sized listening devices around the place.’
‘So what went wrong?’ Lauren sniffed, as Kerry reached across the desk and gave her a tissue.
Zara shrugged. ‘We’re not sure. All we know is that James’ aunt and uncle were scheduled to go to Obidin’s house for an important meeting late last night. According to other sources MI5 has within Aero City, a violent row erupted inside the meeting and Denis Obidin was killed.
‘Obidin’s brother Vladimir – who is also the local chief of police – set off from the compound with four other men to capture James and search the apartment where he was sleeping. According to some other Brits who live in the same building, there was a struggle. Several of Obidin’s goons were knocked out and Vladimir Obidin was shot in the thigh.’
‘So did James get away?’ Lauren asked.
‘We have absolutely no idea. With Denis dead and Vladimir helicoptered to a private hospital in Moscow, other members of the Obidin family are jockeying for power and nobody really knows who’s in charge or what’s going on. There are rumours that James has been captured, but we’ve also heard that the police are still running a giant manhunt.’
‘But he hasn’t communicated,’ Kerry said, stifling a sob for Lauren’s sake. ‘If he was OK, he surely would have contacted the emergency desk by now.’
‘Did he have a mobile?’ Lauren asked.
Zara nodded. ‘He did and even if he’d lost it, I’m sure there are call boxes and other facilities in the city. We can’t be certain, but he’s probably been captured by Obidin’s henchmen.’
‘They could be hurting him,’ Lauren gasped. ‘They … He might even be dead already.’
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ Zara said, as she grabbed Lauren out of her chair and pulled her into a hu
g. ‘Until we know for sure, you’ve got to stay calm and try not to think the worst.’
‘Oh god,’ Lauren bawled, as she squeezed Zara tight. ‘Please don’t let him be dead.’
Zara was crying too as she rubbed Lauren’s back. ‘James didn’t have a mission controller in Aero City because he was being looked after by the MI5 agents, but Ewart helped to set the mission up. He’s already on a flight to Moscow and should be in Aero City by this evening. There are other MI5 officers based in the area and they’re going to liaise with Ewart and try to locate James.’
But Lauren wasn’t taking anything in. She was sobbing so hard and breathing so fast that she was starting to feel light-headed. She remembered feeling the same way on the night her mum had died, three years earlier.
‘It might be OK, Lauren,’ Kerry sniffed. ‘You know James, he’s got a habit of wrangling his way out of things.’
‘But he would have called by now,’ Lauren screamed desperately. ‘Why wouldn’t he have called?’
7. COMMUNICATION
After escaping from the Brezhnev Apartments, James made a stop at one of the city’s twenty-four-hour grog shops. These illegal enterprises were mostly run out of shacks or ground-floor apartments and catered to the cravings of the Aero City’s addicts, selling cigarettes, alcohol and glue.
He spent the few roubles in his jacket on a stack of chocolate bars – easy to carry and packed with energy to fight off the cold – as well as a box of matches, four cans of Coke and a small bottle of vodka.
After that, James set off for the edge of town, with the gun tucked in his jeans, keeping an eye out for a telephone booth as he jogged. But he knew he was unlikely to find one outside of the heavily policed city centre.
The lack of telephones was down to a quirk of history. Aero City had been built during the cold war as a closed city, with all forms of access tightly controlled by the Russian air force. Until the nineties, non-residents had to apply for a permit to visit and foreign citizens were banned. Private telephones were not allowed and anyone wishing to make a personal call had to spend half a day queuing inside City Hall.