Cherub Black Friday (20 page)

When Ryan got to his room, he scoffed a couple of pieces of fruit, then changed into the cotton tracksuit and mud-crusted New Balance that he used for running. After tuning the Voice of America on a tiny shortwave radio he’d bought at the bazaar, he jumped the stairs three at a time and burst out of a Kremlin side entrance on to the footpath towards the airfield.

As Ryan ran, the Voice’s 5 p.m. news bulletin announced that thirty-two male aircrew and one female pilot had been charged in front of a US military tribunal convened at an airbase in Poland, while in Louisiana the US President had attended a memorial service for those who’d died in the Black Friday attacks.

‘
In a press briefing, a presidential spokesman refused to be drawn on whether further military action or arrests were expected in relation to the Black Friday terror raids
 … ’

Eighty minutes later Ryan came back to his room and a voice in the dark scared the crap out of him.

‘Jesus,’ Ryan gasped, hoping for Natalka but seeing Amy reach out and flip on his bedside lamp.

‘Nice to see you too,’ Amy said, then sounded more alarmed as she saw that Ryan’s tracksuit leg was ripped and blood pooled in his sock. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Ryan said, still catching his breath from the run. ‘I was on a steep track coming down the side of the valley and I lost my footing.’

‘That’s
not
nothing,’ Amy said, pointing to a tatty armchair. ‘Sit down and take your sock off.’

‘Don’t make a fuss,’ Ryan said irritably. ‘Why were you sitting in the dark?’

‘Because the less we’re seen together the better, and people might know I was waiting for you if I left the light on.’

‘You know what blood’s like,’ Ryan said, as he sat down. ‘It always looks dramatic, but when you wipe it off the cut’s the size of a pinhead.’

Ryan winced as Amy rested his foot on the edge of the bed and started peeling off his sock.

‘I’m getting worried about you,’ Amy said.

With the sock down and his tracksuit leg pulled up, Amy had revealed a bloody mass of grazes going up to the knee.

‘You’re not to run down the valley in the dark any more,’ Amy said. ‘Run in daylight, or stick to the airfield perimeter.’

‘OK, Mom,’ Ryan said acidly.

‘I think you’re depressed,’ Amy said. ‘I have to consider your welfare as well as the mission.’

‘I’ve been happier,’ Ryan said. ‘Natalka dumped me and Kazakov was a grumpy sod but I got fond of him. But don’t worry. I’m not gonna jump off a balcony or do anything else that makes you look bad.’

Amy walked to the kitchenette and hunted around for a piece of clean cloth to wipe his leg down. ‘Christ, Ryan, you need to clean this sink. Is that pee I can smell?’

‘It’s a long way to the toilet in the night,’ Ryan explained. ‘There’s bleach under the sink.’

‘I’m not your cleaning lady,’ Amy said, as she ran cool water on to a tea towel, then knelt at Ryan’s outstretched foot.

‘Oww!’ Ryan hissed, as she started mopping off the worst of the blood.

‘I could probably find an excuse for you to go away for a few days,’ Amy said. ‘Spend Christmas with your mates on campus. Get this dreary place out of your head.’

‘I’m fine,’ Ryan said, liking everything about Amy’s idea apart from the fact that it would take him away from Natalka.

‘Ryan, you’re pouring sweat, your feet are blistered. Pushing yourself like this has got nothing to do with passing your fitness assessment when you get back to campus.’

‘I’ve been here eight months,’ Ryan said firmly. ‘You’re planning to have this whole place closed down in a few weeks. After everything I’ve been through, I think I have the right to stick it out to the end if I want to.’

Amy shook her head as she inspected the grazes. ‘There’s nothing that needs stitching, but it’s below freezing out there. What if you’d slipped and knocked yourself out? You’d catch hypothermia before anyone found you.’

‘OK, stop nagging,’ Ryan said. ‘I’ll run laps around the airfield. I’ll finish the mission here, then I’ll have at least six months on campus. I’ll hang with my mates, see a counsellor, do some training and try not to think about Natalka.’

‘Ryan, you’re a good kid,’ Amy said. ‘You know you can talk to me about anything?’

‘Sure,’ Ryan shrugged. ‘So why were you waiting for me?’

‘Tamara and Andre have nearly finished their training,’ Amy said.

‘How’s Andre coping?’

‘Not too bad, apparently. So once you’ve showered and put that muddy kit in a bucket for a soak, I need you to find Igor.’

Ryan had expected this and nodded.

‘Tell Igor you’ve finally had a reply to the Facebook message you sent Andre. Say they’ve been staying in Dubai, but they’re running out of money and don’t know what to do.’

‘Igor will ask me to pressure Andre for more details,’ Ryan said.

‘Of course he will,’ Amy said. ‘And your motivation needs to be clear, so ask him for more money. Tell him you want twenty thousand som if you manage to get an address for Andre and Tamara.’

‘That’ll piss him off.’

‘Almost certainly,’ Amy said. ‘But if you make it too easy, Igor might get suspicious.’

‘OK,’ Ryan said, as he got out of the chair and hobbled towards a towel balled up on the floor. ‘It’s nearly seven. He’s usually down in the bar by now, so I’d better shift if I want to catch him before he’s had too much to drink.’

‘I’m in the car with James now,’ Andre said, speaking to his mum Tamara on his mobile. ‘I’ve just got this final thing he wants me to do. So how’s your training been going?’

He was in the passenger seat, as James steered a CHERUB-owned Mercedes coupé around a tight corner and cruised past restaurants and pubs packed with office workers celebrating Christmas. After ten days in which they’d spent every waking hour together, James and Andre had formed a bond but were also slightly sick of each other.

‘I can’t believe your instructors gave you Sunday off,’ Andre told his mum, before taking the phone away from his mouth and scowling at James. ‘My mum says she got a day off.’

‘Wouldn’t have minded a Sunday off myself,’ James said, as Andre listened to something on the phone.

Andre looked at James. ‘My mum said to tell you:
thanks for looking after me
.’

‘Tell her that I look forward to meeting her at the airport tomorrow.’

‘She heard you,’ Andre said, as James stopped at a pedestrian crossing.

‘We’re almost there,’ James said. ‘You’d better hang up.’

The street of bars and restaurants had turned down-market and they drove past mini-cab offices, takeaways and a betting shop. James took a right into an alleyway with garages, beyond which the graffiti-strewn walls of a housing estate stretched into the distance.

‘See you tomorrow, Mum,’ Andre said brightly, before hanging up. Then, looking out of the window, ‘What a dump. It’s like being back in Kyrgyzstan.’

‘One last chance to prove all that you’ve learned,’ James said. ‘And for the first time, you’re on a real operation. Keep your head and everything will be fine.’

As James said this, he reached across, flipped the glove box open and grabbed a police radio.

‘Tell me
exactly
what you’re going to do,’ James said.

‘You told me already,’ Andre said.

‘I know, but I want to know that you’ve memorised it.’

Andre smiled confidently. ‘I go up the steps behind the garages. There’s a shopping concourse, but all the shops are derelict. The dealers hang out in an alleyway beside the boarded-up travel agency. I go up to the guy—’

‘Which guy?’ James interrupted.

‘Joachim.’

‘And if Joachim isn’t there?’

‘His lieutenants are Gabriel with the wispy beard and the guy with the double chin they call Pugs. If any of those three are around, I give them the message. If none of them are around, I keep on walking.’

‘Good,’ James said, reaching behind his ear and doing a double tap to activate his com. ‘Testing, one, two, three.’

‘Loud and clear,’ Andre said. ‘One, two, three.’

James spoke into the police radio. ‘This is unit six. I’ve got the juvenile with me. Are you in position, over?’

A crackly blast came back through the speaker. ‘Good to have you on board, mate. One of our guys did a quick recon. Joachim and Pugs are around. Police units in position.’

‘Right,’ James said. ‘Sending my boy in now.’

James dropped the police radio in his lap and smiled at Andre. ‘Keep it safe, because I’m gonna look a proper Charlie if I get you killed on our last day together.’

Andre nodded as he opened the car door.

‘It’s no parking here,’ James said. ‘I’ll meet you by the playground on the other side of the estate in ten.’

As Andre jogged off towards the concrete steps, James clicked the Mercedes into reverse and backed out of the alleyway.

To minimise the risk of prosecution, well-organised drug dealers use a system where one person takes money and the buyer then walks to a second dealer who hands over the drugs. This second dealer only holds one or two packets of drugs at any time, and is fed by a third dealer who holds the main stash of drugs at a secret location nearby.

For the cops to successfully take out a gang of drug dealers, they need to arrest all the dealers and grab the main drug stash in one swoop. Andre’s job was to help the cops make this link. After hopping up the steps, he broke into a jog along an alleyway and got his first sight of the dealers across a hundred metres of cracked pavement and trashed street furniture.

‘Three guys,’ Andre mumbled. ‘Joachim is there.’

‘Nice,’ James said. ‘Be confident.’

Joachim was a beefy mixed-race guy, aged nineteen. He’d been convicted of drug offences, but never anything serious enough to get jail time. Pugs was fat and got his name because he was into dog fighting. One of his pit bulls was tied to a bike rack in front of the boarded-up travel agency. Ten metres further along was a nervous-looking lad in an Adidas tracksuit. He was the guy who passed off the drugs, holding a single plastic bag of heroin and keeping a couple more tucked into an exhaust vent in the wall of a former dry cleaner’s shop directly behind his position.

‘Are you Joachim?’ Andre shouted, trying to sound confident, but close to spewing.

Andre’s heavy Russian accent made him sound exotic in these parts.

Joachim took a step forward. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted aggressively. ‘Sayin’ my name. Who gives you the right to say my name?’

Andre acted breathless, like he’d been running for longer than he really had. ‘I’m Sergei’s nephew,’ he lied, referring to a high-level dealer who ran the drug trade in these parts. ‘A bunch of Slasher Boys rushed him at the snooker club. They’re out in force. Uncle Sergei told me to run down here and warn you.’

Joachim didn’t look convinced. ‘Sergei never mentioned any nephew.’

‘I’m staying for Christmas,’ Andre said. ‘I live in Moscow.’

As Pugs started untying his pit bull ready for a possible getaway, Joachim went for his mobile.

‘His mobile was hanging up in his jacket when they stormed the club,’ Andre said, knowing that Joachim wouldn’t get Sergei because the cops had blocked his phone. ‘I’m getting out of here. Uncle told me not to hang around.’

‘No reply,’ Joachim said, looking at Pugs and pointing at Andre. ‘You ever seen this kid?’

‘Nah,’ Pugs said. ‘But he speaks exactly like Sergei and I’m not chancing if there’s any taste of Slasher Boys. They tortured that crew in St Albans. Ripped out their toenails and made them eat ’em.’

Joachim pocketed his phone, then looked across at Vince. ‘Slashers in the area, mate. We’re closing shop.’

‘Shall I go tell Reggie?’

‘Yeah,’ Joachim said. ‘Just my dumb luck. Shut down when there’s Christmas money on the street.’

Pugs tugged his snarling pit bull and followed Vince. Andre walked a few paces in front, heading off to meet James on the other side of the estate.

‘We’ll leave the stash,’ Joachim ordered.

Pugs turned back, shaking his head. ‘That’s all our Christmas gear. You want it out of our sight when there’s Slasher Boys on our turf?’

‘All right,’ Joachim said reluctantly. ‘Fetch it. Then we’re outta here.’

The cops couldn’t let themselves be seen coming and going, so officers had been positioned inside boarded-up shops and the derelict flats above them since before dawn.

Vince shouted something through a doorway fifty metres off the concourse. Thirty seconds later, he came out with a backpack over his shoulder and another guy jogging behind holding an even bigger load. The instant these two joined up with Joachim and Pugs, the cops pounced.

Andre was twenty metres clear of the scene, but couldn’t resist a glance back as cops clambered off rooftops and pulled up graffitied metal shutters.

‘On the ground,’ someone screamed. ‘Down, down!’

The cops had all the angles covered. Only Pugs made a run for it and he got less than ten metres before a swinging police baton took his legs out. But while Pugs was flat on the ground getting his arms wrenched behind his back, the pit bull slipped from his grasp.

The animal took an almighty bite out of a policewoman’s arse, but a colleague beat it off with his baton. He tried grabbing the lead, but the dog was too strong. The animal snapped, but another baton swipe made it yelp in pain and bolt off down the alleyway.

‘Ripper, down, boy!’ Pugs shouted, police locking cuffs on the dealer’s wrists as he called after his dog.

Andre had begun walking again when he heard the powerful dog steaming his way, its metal chain clanking along the pavement behind. There was a chance the animal would run straight past, but it wasn’t a chance Andre wanted to take and he started to run.

In a blind panic, Andre reverted to his native Russian and screamed into the com, ‘There’s a pit bull chasing me!’

James sounded alarmed. ‘Stand your ground, but don’t look at it,’ he ordered. ‘Whatever you do, don’t run or it’ll think you’re prey.’

‘Too late for that,’ Andre gasped, as he rounded a corner and found himself belting down a footpath between wooden fences, with Ripper getting nearer.