Cherub: Guardian Angel: Book 14

  ‘Do you ever get an itch at the base of your right buttock?’ Ryan asked.

  Ethan looked confused as he reached around and pointed at his bum. ‘Right here. How did you know that?’

  ‘When your mother died, the CIA worked out that she was really Galenka Aramov. They planted a tracking device in your buttock. About eighty-five per cent of people who end up with one report some mild irritation.’

  ‘Mild,’ Ethan blurted. ‘I’ve spent hours scratching down there.’

  ‘It’s about the size of an aspirin, and you can’t really feel it because the outer layer has a similar texture to body fat,’ Ryan explained. ‘The idea was to track you back to Kyrgyzstan and then start investigating the people your grandmother used to smuggle you out of the USA.

  ‘Trouble was, the tracker device failed. So my dad got a call and I was asked to help keep track of you through Facebook and e-mail. They sorted you out with secret phones when you were in hospitals getting your arm fixed.’

  Ethan was brainy and understood how he’d been manipulated while living at the Kremlin. ‘So the spyware wasn’t your idea at all? The CIA wanted you to plant it so that they could find out what was on my uncle’s computer.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ryan admitted.

  Ethan crashed back into an armchair and sounded upset. ‘I thought you were my friend,’ he said angrily.

  ‘They put a lot of pressure on me,’ Ryan said. ‘You are my friend, Ethan, but when the CIA come knocking on your door they can be very persuasive.’

  ‘Like how?’ Ethan asked.

  Ryan shrugged, before spinning a carefully planned lie. ‘When the CIA wants you to jump, you jump or else. I didn’t want to get involved, but they threatened my dad’s businesses with a big tax investigation. They even threatened to fit me up on some robbery charge and have me shipped off to juvenile offenders.’

  ‘So when I was into Leonid’s bank accounts yesterday, it wasn’t his people in the system locking me out of the other accounts, it was the CIA?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ryan admitted. ‘You never should have got any money at all. But we – I mean the CIA – had a server crash that delayed everything by a few hours.’

  ‘I still got most of the money,’ Ethan said proudly.

  Ryan shook his head. ‘You left a draft message in your Hotmail with all the passwords. The CIA have transferred all the Industrial Trust money to their own accounts now and locked you out of the others.’

  ‘Shit,’ Ethan said.

  ‘I thought you hated your family in Kyrgyzstan,’ Ryan said.

  ‘I guess I’ve made a couple of friends there,’ Ethan said. ‘And without any money . . .’

  ‘That’s kind of what we want to talk about.’

  Ethan didn’t really take this in because he’d thought of something else. ‘But why were you here last night, at the hospital?’

  ‘They flew me in from California because they thought you’d have an easier time believing the truth if you heard it from me personally,’ Ryan said. ‘I was waiting for you to wake up when your uncle’s guys tried to kidnap you, but they knocked out the dude who was supposed to be guarding you.’

  Ethan sounded anxious as his brain suddenly filled with images from a dozen prison movies. ‘Am I in trouble with the CIA? All my hacking into accounts and stuff must have been illegal.’

  ‘They told me they’ll look after you provided you cooperate,’ Ryan said.

  ‘Cooperate how?’

  As Ryan said this, a petite American lady dressed in a tartan cape and thigh-high boots stepped into the room. It was obvious that she’d been listening from the adjoining dining-room.

  ‘Dr Denise Huggan,’ the woman said, as she reached out towards Ethan. ‘But you’ve gotta call me Dr D. I’m the head of the CIA’s Transnational Facilitator Unit.’

  ‘Trans-what?’ Ethan asked, as he shook hands warily.

  ‘Trans means across,’ Ryan explained. ‘National means nations. To facilitate is to help. So TFU targets criminal organisations that help move illegal shit between countries.’

  Ethan snorted. ‘Why not just call it the Anti-Smuggling Unit?’

  Ryan laughed and pointed at Dr D. ‘Ask her!’

  Dr D explained. ‘Most intelligence organisations have slightly cryptic names. It throws people off the scent if there’s ever a security breach.’

  This had never occurred to Ryan before, but now he knew why he worked for CHERUB, rather than the Kid Spy Agency.

  ‘Without cash flow, your grandmother’s organisation will disintegrate quickly,’ Dr D explained. ‘Now you’re awake I’d like you to call her and explain what has happened.’

  Ethan buried his head in his hands. ‘She’ll gut me like a fish,’ he blurted. ‘Yesterday I was a hero, today it turns out I’ve allowed the CIA to rip off every penny my family has.’

  ‘You’ll be looked after,’ Ryan said soothingly.

  Ethan shot forward in his chair. ‘What, like when they shoved a tracking device up my arse and let my grandma’s people abduct me?’

  ‘It didn’t go up your arse,’ Ryan pointed out. ‘It’s embedded in the fatty part of your buttock.’

  ‘And what bloody difference does that make?’ Ethan shouted. ‘You were my only friend in the world, Ryan. I thought you really cared about me.’

  ‘I do care,’ Ryan said, as Ethan started to sob. ‘I didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘My whole life . . .’ Ethan sobbed. ‘Why did my mom have to die? I just want to be a normal kid, with a normal shitty life.’

  ‘If you don’t want to stay with your relatives when this is all over, we’ll find you a family to live with in the United States,’ Dr D said. ‘Your identity will be changed, and you inherited a significant amount of money when your mother died, so you’ll be wealthy too.’

  Ethan found the thought of a new life in some anonymous California suburb soothing, but he still resented being manipulated and the fact that he’d almost died in Botswana as a result.

  ‘All I’m asking is for you to call the Kremlin and introduce me to your grandmother,’ Dr D said. ‘It’ll take ten minutes.’

  ‘I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire,’ Ethan shouted, as he grabbed a cushion off the chair and clutched it to his chest.

  Dr D’s tone firmed up. ‘Ethan, I will help you if you cooperate, but you must have seen what the Aramov Clan does while you were at the Kremlin. Did you ever stop and think about those poor Chinese girls, shipped off, drugged up and forced to have sex with strange men? Or the heroin they take out of Afghanistan? Or the weapons dropped into war zones?’

  Ethan clutched his cushion tighter. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  ‘I’m in the intelligence game,’ Dr D said. ‘Sometimes we can only beat the bad guys by stooping to their level. Ethan, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did it because taking down the Aramov Clan might save thousands of lives in the longer term.’

  Tears streaked down Ethan’s face as he stared silently into his lap.

  ‘I’ve offered the carrot,’ Dr D said, as she moved closer to Ethan. ‘But there’s a stick as well. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have you flown back to the USA and placed in a federal young offenders’ institution, awaiting trial for laundering millions of dollars of drug money. I doubt we’ll have enough evidence to prosecute you, but it’ll take two or three years to bring your case to trial.’

  Dr D pointed at Ning. ‘Go get the telephone.’

  Ryan had always felt shitty about what had happened to Ethan and it was worse than ever as Ning rested the telephone on the arm of Ethan’s chair.

  ‘You’ll be OK,’ Ryan said, as he pulled a couple of tissues out of a box and threw them in Ethan’s lap.

  ‘Stop crying,’ Dr D ordered.

  Ryan spoke softly, playing Mr Nice to Dr D’s Miss Nasty. ‘Come on, Ethan, mate. Call your grandma. Then you can get on with your life.’

  Ethan looked up thoughtfully. ‘Are you still living in the be
ach house with Ted and Amy?’

  ‘Of course,’ Ryan lied, as Ethan rubbed his eyes. ‘They’ve finished the repair work after the explosions. We moved back in a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Do you think I could live with you?’

  ‘I’d have to ask my dad,’ Ryan said. ‘He always liked you.’

  ‘My mom wouldn’t be there, but I could go to my old school. And I’d be living in the same place.’

  Ryan ached with guilt as he elaborated on his lie. ‘Amy and my dad were both really fond of you. Pick up the phone.’

  ‘OK,’ Ethan said, taking a deep breath and dabbing his eyes with a tissue before picking up the receiver.

  It took a while to dial the Kremlin number and type in his grandmother’s extension.

  ‘It’s ringing,’ Ethan said.

  Dr D took the phone after Ethan had nervously told Irena where he was and what had happened with the money.

  ‘Irena Aramov,’ Dr D said. ‘Nice to talk to you again.’

  ‘Do we know each other?’ Irena asked.

  Considering what her grandson had just told her, Dr D thought Irena sounded remarkably calm.

  ‘We met sixteen years ago in Moscow,’ Dr D explained. ‘You tried to smuggle a batch of stolen nuclear triggers from Israel to North Korea. I negotiated a price with you. The triggers were fake, of course. You lost three aircraft and nine of your flight crew got long prison sentences.’

  Irena sounded irritated. ‘Then you’re a clever girl, Dr D. I’m sure you’re very proud of yourself.’

  ‘We’ve got your money,’ Dr D said. ‘The collapse of the clan is inevitable. It’s a question of whether it’s a delicate wind-down, or a destructive orgy.’

  ‘I’m not a fool,’ Irena snapped. ‘I’m old and sick, but I don’t need you to join up dots for me.’

  ‘Your family can be protected,’ Dr D said. ‘Any members of your immediate family who fully cooperate while the Aramov Clan is dismantled will be given safe passage to the United States and immunity from criminal prosecution.’

  Dr D heard two laboured breaths before Irena responded.

  ‘There’s an oncologist in Philadelphia,’ Irena said. ‘Someone showed me a magazine article that said she’s getting excellent recovery rates for my type of lung cancer using an experimental drug therapy.’

  ‘You’re not in a strong negotiating position,’ Dr D pointed out. ‘Chaos within the clan will begin as soon as bills stop getting paid.’

  Irena laughed. ‘You don’t want chaos any more than I do.’

  ‘True enough,’ Dr D said. ‘I’m prepared to make that concession. TFU gets to run the Aramov Clan while it winds down. If you’re medically suitable you’ll get your drug treatment and immunity for all family members who cooperate with us. If we have a deal, I need your answer right now.’

  There was another long pause before Irena spoke. ‘I suppose we have a deal,’ she said sadly.

  38. CHOCOLATES

  It was 2 p.m. on Friday when Ryan, Ning and a bruised-and-stitched Kazakov arrived back on campus. Kazakov said goodbye as he stepped out of the lift at the second-floor staff quarters, while Ryan and Ning rode on up to their rooms on seven.

  There was nobody around because it was the middle of afternoon lessons. Ning was at her door as she got a text message.

  ‘Mission debriefing in Zara’s office at five,’ she told Ryan. ‘Mystic Ning the Fortune Teller sees a navy T-shirt in your very near future.’

  Ryan tried to act modest, but couldn’t completely hide a smile at the thought of getting promoted. ‘I’d swap a navy shirt for not having messed Ethan’s life up.’

  ‘He’ll be OK,’ Ning said. ‘Ethan’s got a few days to decide what he wants to do with himself.’

  ‘He hardly spoke to me after I said he couldn’t come and live with us,’ Ryan said. ‘He’s got no other mates, so I’m gonna try and keep in touch.’

  ‘They won’t let you,’ Ning pointed out. ‘In training they told us about this girl Bethany. She got kicked out of CHERUB for keeping in touch with a boy she’d met on a mission.’

  By this time Ning had her door open and she was erupting into a yawn. ‘Hot shower, big bag of Munchies, then a quick power nap,’ she announced. ‘See you down at the debriefing.’

  Ryan unlocked his room a few doors along the hallway. He ditched his bags and crashed on his bed. He’d slept for most of the flight and wasn’t tired, so he grabbed his phone to push it into a speaker dock and play some tunes, but the connectors on the bottom were all mangled and it wouldn’t plug in.

  Ryan smiled at the thought of getting a new phone. He’d had the BlackBerry since he’d first joined CHERUB and he hoped his upgrade would be one of the latest Android phones, or an iPhone like Ning’s. He kicked off his trainers and stared at the ceiling, but his ribs were aching so he decided to chill in the bath instead.

  He stayed in long enough to get wrinkly and by the time Ryan had towelled off, kids were finishing lessons and there was loads of noise out in the hallway. He put on some running shorts and wondered if this would be the last time he ever had to pull a grey CHERUB T-shirt over his head.

  There was a box of fancy Swiss chocolates poking out of Ryan’s flight bag and he slid them out before walking to Grace’s room and knocking on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said.

  Ryan was nervous. Even after tangling with Boris Aramov, getting bog washed by a giant and slugging it out with Kuban, Grace remained a scary proposition.

  ‘Well look what the cat dragged in,’ Grace said sourly, as she sat on her bed pulling a shin pad over her foot.

  ‘I got you these,’ Ryan said, as he reached out with the chocolates. ‘Breaking up with you by text message was mean. I should have manned up and done it to your face.’

  Ryan placed the chocolates on the end of Grace’s bed as she dug striped hockey socks out of a kit bag.

  ‘So are we OK or what?’ Ryan asked. ‘I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just want you to be OK.’

  Silence hung in the air and Grace made no eye contact as she crossed the room to grab hockey boots from her wardrobe.

  ‘I’m around if you want to talk,’ Ryan said, as he backed up to the door. ‘I hope we can still be friends.’

  Ryan wished Grace had been more communicative, but at least she hadn’t gone mental like the first time he’d broken up with her. He quickly forgot about the whole thing because his littlest brother was in his room when he got back.

  ‘Hey, Theo!’ Ryan said cheerfully. ‘How’d you find out I was back?’

  ‘I could smell your stink,’ Theo said, grinning mischievously. ‘I made you this.’

  Theo held out a bunch of bog roll holders, stuck together with PVA glue and sploshed with orange and black paint.

  ‘It was a machine gun, but the shooting bit broke off,’ Theo explained.

  ‘I’ll put it on my shelf,’ Ryan said, as he admired the model.

  ‘I showed it to Daniel and Leon last night. They said it was pants.’

  Ryan hid a smirk as he placed the junk model on his bedside shelf, in between framed photos of their dead mum and dad.

  ‘The twins are trying to wind you up,’ Ryan said. ‘How many times have I told you to ignore them?’

  ‘How was your mission?’ Theo asked.

  ‘Yeah, good,’ Ryan said.

  ‘I didn’t lock the hamster cage and they all got out,’ Theo said. ‘I got two punishment laps. My first ever.’

  Theo sounded quite proud of his punishment laps, but before Ryan could answer his door burst open.

  ‘Here’s what I think of your bloody chocolates,’ Grace shouted.

  She’d taken the cellophane off and the box turned into a chocolate cluster bomb as it spiralled across Ryan’s room sending brown balls in all directions.

  ‘Possessive,’ Grace screamed, as she whacked the back of Ryan’s legs with her hockey stick.

  ‘Oww!’ Ryan yelled. ‘I didn’t say you were possessive
.’

  ‘I overheard Max and Aaron,’ Grace said. ‘So don’t lie to me, dirt bag!’

  Theo looked startled, but recovered quickly enough to scoop two rolling chocolates off Ryan’s bed and cram them into his mouth.

  Ryan jumped out of the way as Grace swung the hockey stick again, but the return swing painfully cracked his kneecap.

  ‘Put that down,’ Ryan shouted. ‘Are you a mental case, or what?’

  ‘You’re a piece of shit.’

  ‘It didn’t work out so I broke up with you,’ Ryan said. ‘It happens all the time. I apologised for the way I did it, now get the hell over it.’

  ‘I hate you,’ Grace shouted.

  She swung the hockey stick again, but this time Ryan grabbed hold and ripped it out of Grace’s hands. Ryan shoved her back against the wall and pinned her chest behind the stick.

  ‘You’ve whacked me twice now. Next time I’m not holding off.’

  Ryan let the hockey stick drop and backed away from Grace.

  ‘I’m not scared of you,’ Grace spat. ‘Try hitting me. See what you get.’

  ‘I’m taller and stronger, just cut it out,’ Ryan said, then he caught sight of Theo cramming more chocolates into his mouth. ‘Theo, stop that! They’ve been all over my floor and let’s face it, I’m not big on vacuuming.’

  ‘Pig,’ Grace shouted, as she whacked Ryan with the hockey stick again.

  This time Ryan lost it and slapped Grace’s face.

  ‘Go play your stupid hockey match,’ Ryan shouted, as he bundled her towards his door.

  Grace looked shocked and Ryan felt bad for hitting her. Everyone would slag him off for slapping a girl if news got around campus. And news about stuff like that always got around campus.

  ‘Right,’ Grace roared.

  Ryan thought she was going to charge him, but instead Grace snatched a handful of Ryan’s school exercise books from a pile near the door and made a run for it.