Cherub Black Friday (31 page)

For once, the vehicle’s lack of speed counted in its favour and they simply bounced off the fence, enabling Lucinda to steer back on to the road. The guard’s radio had dropped into the footwell and they could hear his colleague frantically yelling for backup.

The pick-up couldn’t pursue with its front tyre shot out, but any other modern vehicle would have no problem catching them up. James kept his gun poised, expecting something to charge out of the blackness every time they passed a slip road.

He felt more optimistic as they approached the park entrance and Lucinda had two wheels off the ground as they took a tightly curving slip-road back on to the highway.

‘That
really
spiralled,’ James said. ‘Jesus Christ!’

Lucinda pointed her thumb back towards the border. ‘In the USA, you get murdered, there’s a big investigation. Over here, thousands of murders, no honest cops. People can kill you and not get caught, so in a situation like that, guards see something suspicious and take you out just to be on the safe side.’

‘They’d have killed us?’ James asked.

Lucinda was still keeping a wary eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Only after torturing us for a few days, to see who we are and what we know.’

There was no sign of anyone behind them on the highway, but Lucinda took the next turn-off into a residential neighbourhood just in case.

‘I’ll have to lose this van,’ Lucinda said. ‘If those guards are well connected, there’ll be a five-thousand-dollar reward out for anyone who spots us.’

‘How soon?’ James asked.

‘I’m not driving it home, for sure,’ Lucinda said. ‘We’ll park in the centre of town and get separate taxis home.’

After bursting into Lombardi’s bedroom and slapping him around, Joe shoved the lawyer into a wing-backed armchair.

‘There’s a lot we already know,’ Ted warned. ‘The first time I catch you in a lie, I’m gonna go wake up your daughters.’

Lombardi and his wife exchanged frightened looks before he began speaking.

‘In the Nineties, Lisson Communications put in a bid to design and build the PGSLM,’ Lombardi said, still croaky from the throat punch. ‘Defence contracts usually go to bigger fish, but Lisson bribed a general and a senator. When the truth came out, Lisson got fined and the CEO had to resign.

‘Even worse, Lisson knew guidance systems, but had no expertise in missiles. The project went over budget. The Defence Department pulled the plug and re-awarded the PGSLM contract to another company.

‘Shares in a company are based on what people believe its assets are worth. Lisson would never win another government contract after the bribery scandal, so the stock market valued Lisson’s defence business at zero. But Lisson had been close to perfecting its guided missile, and Galenka Aramov knew the technology was worth millions to a foreign government or a terrorist group.

‘But all Galenka’s wealth was tied up in her security business. Her mother wasn’t interested in investing but Leonid had made money for himself and Galenka offered him a partnership.’

‘So where did you fit in?’ Ted asked.

‘I had to set up the Lisson deal so that nobody realised it was being bought by the Aramovs. At that time, nobody was predicting that billions of mobile phones would have GPS navigation chips built in. That part of the business made Lisson far more money than anyone ever expected it to.’

‘So what was the problem between Leonid and my mom?’ Ethan asked.

‘Your uncle and mother each owned half of Lisson Communications,’ Lombardi explained. ‘Leonid wanted to load all the info on to hard drives and make a fast twenty million bucks selling it to the Chinese, Indians or whoever offered the most cash, but Galenka saw something grander. Her idea was to complete the PGSLM design and manufacture it herself. She predicted sales of several thousand missiles per year at a quarter million dollars per missile.’

‘Billions of dollars,’ Ethan said admiringly. ‘My mom was a crook, but she was a smart crook.’

Lombardi shook his head. ‘Even with millions in US government research money, Lisson was struggling to manufacture the missile. Conducting a covert programme to build the missile was tough and instead of a fast profit, Leonid got drawn into a project that sucked up millions of dollars.

‘By 2003 the US Army had the first functional PGSLM missiles from the company that took over Lisson’s development contract. The design was closely based on Lisson’s original and Galenka paid an expert thief called Jane Oxford to steal a batch of functioning PGSLM missiles. But even with a functioning missile, Galenka still had a mountain to climb.’

Ethan looked confused. ‘Surely she could just copy it?’

Lombardi laughed. ‘I own a toaster, but that doesn’t mean I know how to build a toaster factory. Money got so tight that Galenka was working on the stolen missiles in a workshop in the basement of your California beach house.’

Ethan had seen his mum spend hours in a locked basement room at his old home, and she’d never hired a cleaner because she didn’t like having strangers snooping around.

‘Fast-forward to 2011,’ Lombardi said. ‘Leonid had grown increasingly violent and erratic. When his mother got sick, she became wary of handing exclusive control of the Aramov Clan to Leonid. She reached out to Galenka, who by this time ran a highly profitable computer security business.

‘I don’t know all the details, but by the time she died Galenka had perfected the missile guidance technology, and set up a production facility capable of producing missiles as good as the US-built originals.

‘For Leonid this was a
complete
nightmare. Instead of taking the clan over like he’d always imagined, Leonid would become junior partner in a business run by his sister.’

Ethan nodded, and finished the story for himself. ‘Uncle Leonid’s ego couldn’t take that, so he had my mom killed and blew our house up to stop anyone else finding out about PGSLM.’

‘What about the production facility?’ Ted asked.

‘What about it?’ Lombardi asked.

‘Location?’ Ted asked. ‘Suppliers, logistics, finances?’

Lombardi shrugged. ‘The less I knew about the illegal stuff the better. But as Leonid Aramov has surfaced in Ciudad Juárez with missiles to sell, that’s where I’d start looking.’

Ethan felt strange. It was satisfying to finally understand why Leonid had killed his mother, but he’d always pictured her as someone who’d broken away from her family and succeeded as an honest businesswoman. But apparently the only thing separating his mum from the rest of the Aramovs was the scale of her ambitions.

‘One thing I still don’t get,’ Ethan said. ‘If the factory can make missiles worth billions, why risk everything by selling seventy-four missiles to drug smugglers right on the factory’s doorstep?’

‘Leonid’s a thug, not a businessman,’ Lombardi said. ‘He arrived in Mexico with a few thousand dollars and begged me to wire him some money. Based on past behaviour, I’d say that once Leonid’s sold the missiles he’ll have enough money to pack up the production line. Then he’ll sell it to whichever defence contractor or government makes the highest bid.’

Getting thumped and sneaking around his dad’s office meant Andre had barely slept the previous night. He slept solidly until his big brothers rolled in from a nightclub at 5 a.m. After fifteen minutes trying to ignore their racket he peeked out of his door to see what was going on in the open-plan kitchen and living-room below.

Alex and Boris both had company, though based on the women’s attitude and tarty dress it was the kind you had to pay for. Latino pop came out of a music channel as the quartet stood around the kitchen counter snorting cocaine. After a couple of lines each, they moved back towards a pile of beanbags and started stripping off.

Andre made a mental note never to sit on any of the beanbags downstairs again as he got back in bed and tried blotting out his brothers’ sex noises. The sounds made him uncomfortable and he kept hoping that Leonid would emerge and tell them to shut up. But the master bedroom’s double doors were apparently too well insulated.

Once the women took their money and strutted out on their high heels, Andre went back for another peek as Boris and Alex sprawled out in the open-plan living area, naughty bits on display as they slugged half-bottles of Jack Daniels.

‘I’m gonna ask my girl to marry me,’ Boris said.

Alex snorted with laughter, making the golden bourbon drizzle down his chin. ‘You soft shit!’

‘I’m gonna go all sweet on her,’ Boris said. ‘Tell her I
love
her. Tell her to pack her bags and come to the Caribbean with me. Then when we get to the airport, I’ll tell her I was joking.’

‘That’d be
so
funny,’ Alex said, as he pulled himself up and started staggering around looking for his trousers.

It irritated Andre that Alex could be OK, but never when he was under Boris’ influence. As Alex struggled to get his legs through trouser holes, Boris swaggered across to the dishwasher, opened the flap and started taking a huge piss inside it.

‘Madman!’ Alex said, howling with laughter as he grabbed the handrail and started walking up the stairs. ‘I’m going to bed. My brain’s fried.’

‘Nice present for the cleaner,’ Boris laughed, shaking off as he scooped some of his clothes off the floor and followed Alex up the stairs.

Andre ducked behind his door as his brothers staggered past to their rooms. He heard Alex’s shower come on as he stepped on to the landing and looked down to survey the wreckage. Besides the bottles, clothes, dustings of white powder and the streak of piss dribbling out of the dishwasher, Andre was delighted to see Boris’ car keys lying on the floor beside his jeans.

Andre was towelling off in his room when he noticed a green light flashing on the tiny cellular receiver that James had given him. He grabbed it off a bedside chest and pressed the device’s only button before holding it up to his ear.

‘Everything OK?’ James asked. ‘Is your com broken?’

‘I’ve been in the shower,’ Andre explained, as he glanced at a bedside clock and saw a coincidence: 12:31 p.m. and 12.31 as the date on the line below it. ‘I’ll tweezer it back in a minute.’

‘How are you holding up?’

Andre grunted as he sat on his bed. ‘My brothers are
such
evil shits. Boris is talking about dumping his girlfriend before we go to the Caribbean. And he pissed in the dishwasher.’

‘What a gent,’ James said. ‘But you’re not gonna have to put up with either of them much longer.’

‘I hate it here, but I’m not giving up,’ Andre said firmly. ‘Mum and Dad went out, Boris and Alex are wiped from last night, so I went down to the garage. I got a bunch of addresses from the sat-nav in Boris’ car. Plus there were some papers in there, relating to a house purchase in Trinidad.’

‘Sounds interesting,’ James said. ‘But we think we’ve cracked the case already. You finding out about the PGSLM thing joined up a lot of dots for us. We sent your cousin Ethan with some heavies to rough up a lawyer who’s been wiring money to your dad. He gave us the whole story and one of the addresses in your dad’s sat-nav led me to an industrial unit. It’s got serious security and we’re fairly sure that they’re building PGSLM missiles there.’

Andre gasped. ‘
Building
them!’

‘Long story,’ James said. ‘I’ll be able to tell you face to face soon. I’ve spoken to Dr D and she’s agreed that you and your mum should be pulled out as soon as possible.’

‘We’ll have to sneak off together,’ Andre said.

‘Any idea when your mum’s back?’

‘They didn’t leave all that long ago,’ Andre said. ‘They were going shopping and they were talking about seeing a film. They’ll definitely be back by ten, because there’s some firework display in the courtyard. Boris was fuming because Dad said he wanted us all here, seeing in the New Year as a family.’

‘Some family,’ James joked. ‘The only thing is, until we actually get into the factory, we can’t be a hundred per cent sure that we’ve found the place where they’re making the missiles.’

‘How will you get into the factory?’ Andre asked.

James laughed. ‘The place was a fortress. It certainly won’t be me. I’m guessing they’ll have to hand the operation over to a Special Forces unit.’

‘One other thing,’ Andre said. ‘Does a PGSLM come in a kind of giant cigar-shaped tube?’

‘Yeah,’ James said. ‘Remember the plans you saw the other night?’

‘There’s a golf trolley in the storage room under the stairs. But my dad doesn’t golf, so I took a look inside and I’m pretty sure it’s a missile.’

‘I’m sure there’s a lot of people who’d like to examine that,’ James said excitedly. ‘They’ll want to strip it down, and see who’s been selling parts to the Aramovs.’

‘Want me to wheel it out to you?’ Andre asked.

James thought Andre was joking and didn’t answer.

‘Well?’ Andre repeated.

‘I might have trouble getting access to the pool again,’ James said. ‘That caretaker I knocked out will remember me.’

‘You don’t need to sneak around,’ Andre said. ‘My brothers are trashed from last night and my parents won’t be back for hours. I’ll buzz you into the building and give it to you at the front door.’

‘But your dad will notice it’s gone,’ James pointed out.

‘Not if we leave soon after they get back. It’s not like Dad’s gonna come home on New Year’s Eve and randomly decide to go look in some golf bag stashed at the back of the utility room, is it?’

‘If you’re sure,’ James said.

‘My brothers will wake up eventually. How soon can you get here?’

‘I’m a two-minute drive away,’ James said. ‘Call it ten by the time I’ve got shoes and stuff on.’

Six minutes later, James stood outside the apartment complex’s glass atrium. Once Andre buzzed him in, he walked fifty metres across seriously bouncy carpet and found Andre waiting by the front door of the apartment.

‘All right, mate?’

‘So far so good,’ Andre said, as he slid a long black tube across the kitchen tiles to James in the doorway.

‘I won’t hang about,’ James said, as he grabbed a thick nylon strap and swung the missile over his shoulder. ‘When your mum gets back, tell her you’ve got to leave first chance you get. And don’t start packing, or do anything else that’ll give the game away.’