CHERUB: Guardian Angel (22 page)

‘Agreed,’ Irena said. ‘Now the thing is, Andre plugged the USB stick into my computer. He says there are hundreds of files, but he can’t open any of them.’

‘The files are stored on the key in a compressed and encrypted format,’ Ethan explained. ‘That way it looks like a bunch of corrupted files if someone stumbles on them by accident. The files need to be unzipped using a software tool that I’ve got stored on my FTP page.’

Irena sounded frustrated. ‘Ethan, I don’t know about this stuff. Andre’s trying, but he’s not a computer whiz like you.’

Ethan sighed. ‘If you upload the files and get me to a computer with a fast Internet connection I can open them up no problem. Is there nobody you trust at the Kremlin who knows about computer stuff?’

‘There’s an aircraft mechanic who fixes the network and backs up our server, but he’s one of Leonid’s people,’ Irena said. ‘Your mother handled all of our IT stuff. I should have recruited a replacement after she died – after Leonid murdered her – but I’ve been sick the whole time.’

‘Get the plane to take me somewhere with fast Internet,’ Ethan said. ‘Get Andre to start uploading the files on the USB keys to my FTP site. Once I’ve decrypted them all, it would be useful to have someone brainy to help me go through the information.’

‘Understood,’ Irena said. ‘You keep safe out there.’

Ethan laughed a little. ‘I’ll try my best. And you be careful too. Leonid’s not exactly Mr Popularity, but he still has friends around the Kremlin.’

*

Ryan’s sides ached as he swung his legs off the couch and sat up. When he threw the duvet off his lap, he saw that he’d slept in one sock, a bloodstained T-shirt and briefs. His mouth was dry so he padded through to the kitchen where Ted sat at the table playing Pac-Man on his laptop.

‘Old skool!’ Ryan said, as he found one of the less grubby glasses in the cupboard and filled it from the tap.

‘How you feeling?’ Ted asked.

Ryan shrugged and gulped water. ‘Depressed, I guess.’

‘You’re a kid,’ Ted laughed. ‘What have you got to be depressed about?’

‘I wanna be someone at CHERUB,’ Ryan explained. ‘But I got kicked off my first mission after shoving Dr D and I didn’t get the USB stick last night. So I doubt my name is gonna top any lists the next time mission control is dishing out a juicy mission.’

‘I can think of worse prospects than being stuck on CHERUB campus,’ Ted said, smiling. ‘Great facilities, good education and lots of babes. Speaking of which, how is your love life?’

Ryan laughed awkwardly as Ted lost his last life and gave his laptop a frustrated shove.

‘Grace still wants to kill me and most of the other girls on campus think I’m a pig because I broke up with her by SMS.’

Ted laughed. ‘You’re a good-looking guy, you’ll win ’em back. And didn’t Grace see you when you were back on campus doing your Kyrgyzstan prep?’

‘I was pretty busy,’ Ryan said. ‘She had lessons and I took most meals up to my room to avoid a confrontation.’

Ted found the idea of Ryan hiding in his room avoiding a girl funny, but he didn’t want Ryan getting annoyed so he changed the subject.

‘The others all went upstairs to grab some sleep,’ Ted said. ‘There’s a jet coming in to take you, Ning and Kazakov out of the country. It’s due in at noon, so you’ve got a while to pack up and make yourself presentable.’

‘Cool,’ Ryan said.

‘I had the devil’s job booking it. The mobile phone signals here are poor. I ended up using a satellite phone, and even then I couldn’t get a secure channel because TFU have got air-conditioning problems in Dallas.’

Ryan looked confused. ‘Air conditioning?’

‘Dallas is hot,’ Ted explained. ‘Computer servers are hot. When the air conditioning fails in the server room at TFU headquarters all the servers go into thermal cut-out. The system was supposed to be up and running within an hour, but TFU’s not a big organisation. There’s only one technician on duty and she told me the same thing three hours ago.’

‘That’s crap,’ Ryan said, shaking his head as he pulled up his T-shirt and peeled back the dressing over his abs. ‘I think it’s scabbed over.’

Ted took a peek and nodded in agreement. ‘You’ll be fine in the shower if you don’t rub your scabs too hard. I’ll fix you a new dressing when you come out, and
don’t
leave the shower tray all bloody when you’re done.’

‘I’m not a total slob you know,’ Ryan said cheekily. ‘And speaking of communication difficulties . . .’

Ryan had spotted his BlackBerry, on top of the washing machine where he’d dumped it the night before. The half of the case that hadn’t splintered was buckled, the screen had two big cracks and everything was smeared with dry blood.

‘There were a couple of spare phones amongst the equipment we brought out the back of the Toyota,’ Ted said. ‘Grab one if you want.’

Ryan shook his head as he turned the BlackBerry over in his hands. ‘I’ve got a bunch of contacts on this phone and it’s loaded with the special software for logging into TFU and accessing my Ryan Brasker persona. You think I might be able to get it going if I clean the dried blood off?’

‘Worth a shot,’ Ted said. ‘But don’t worry too much. I’ve already let Dallas know that your phone’s dead. And I’m sure the CHERUB tech department can have a new cell up and running by the time you get back to campus.’

‘Sounds good, boss,’ Ryan said as he put his empty glass in the dishwasher and headed for the door. ‘Guess I’d better go and scrub up then.’

Amina’s Samsung wasn’t getting the best signal, but Ethan managed to get GPS connected and downloaded enough location maps to work out that he was in the centre of Kanye. He needed to trek about six kilometres to reach the derelict school.

He made it to the edge of town as dawn broke, with a thumping headache and a ballooning right ankle that shot pain up his leg on every step. The last stretch on the road north was going to be a real problem. Not only was it getting light, but the broad verge alongside the road offered limited cover.

Ethan limped through the bush land off to the sides, ducking behind trees or bushes whenever he heard traffic. He got his first sighting of some of Kessie’s goons in over two hours as they climbed out of a Nissan 4×4 close to a school bus stop.

Over a dozen kids milled about waiting for their ride and a machine-gun-toting goon electrified them by waving a big wodge of money.

Ethan was behind bushes twenty-five metres away. He couldn’t follow because the goon spoke in Tswana, but waving money, excited kids and the phrase
white boy
made it obvious that he was offering a reward for anyone who found him.

The kids seemed really excited as the Nissan drove off. Ethan reckoned the school bus was imminent and decided to wait it out rather than risk being seen moving through the bush, but that option crashed when a lad of about eight gave a much older boy a cheeky kick up the arse before sprinting off in Ethan’s direction.

Ethan held his breath. The little lad was less than five metres from Ethan’s hiding spot when the big one brought him down with a rugby tackle. There was a shower of dust and stones as the little kid tried to kick free, but the bigger one had a good hold and lifted him up over his head.

‘AAARGH!’ the little kid yelled as the big one ran forwards and lobbed him into a bush.

Ethan had no choice but to scramble back as the little kid crashed through branches less than two metres away. A girl was coming over, yelling something along the lines of
leave him alone he’s only little
, and at least three boys were jogging towards the scene to get a better view of the action.

With his bad leg, Ethan wouldn’t be able to outrun anybody and he crawled into the next patch of bushes, sure that someone would spot him soon.

The little kid was furious about his excursion through a bush, but only his pride was injured and he bounced up and squared off against a much bigger opponent. However, the other lad was at least five years older. Any fist fight would have been so one-sided that the bigger kid burst out laughing and turned away.

While all this was going on, there was some shouting from up near the bus stop and a trail of dust coming off a shabby blue bus that had a plastic model of Jesus on the cross mounted between the headlights.

The kids boarded noisily as Ethan felt relieved. He was about to move off when the 4×4 with Kessie’s goons aboard shot past heading back towards town. Then he spotted a black Justin Beiber lunchbox.

Ethan opened it up and realised that he was starving when he saw two pieces of fruit, a carton of squash and a cling-film-wrapped parcel of what seemed to be mostly rice, with black beans and stuff in it. The rice stuff looked nasty, but he pushed the straw into the drink carton and guzzled it before setting off.

*

Ryan, Ning and Kazakov felt tense as they headed into the luxurious private jet terminal at Manas Airport. Their flight was being run by the CIA’s transportation unit and the US embassy had sent a driver to collect them, but the Aramov Clan had a lot of pull in these parts and for all they knew the clan had circulated Ryan and Kazakov’s description to every corrupt official in town.

Customs waved them through with nothing more than a bag X-ray and a little golf-buggy-with-trailer contraption glided them out to a waiting jet. The plane belonged to the CIA, but was logoed up with the name of an obscure Turkish aircraft leasing company.

‘Nice,’ Ryan said, as he eyed the luxurious interior.

His sides hurt and he’d been dreading the four-hour flight to Dubai, but he was pleased to see six huge recliner seats in which he’d be able to lie flat.

Ning took the seat across the aisle from Ryan and was amused as he pulled a slide-out table across his lap and produced a freezer bag filled with bits of his broken-down phone.

‘If you want to check your messages you can pop your SIM card in my phone for a minute,’ Ning suggested.

Ryan shook his head as he tipped out the parts. ‘I scraped the dried blood out of the battery compartment before we left. It might work.’

‘You’ll get issued a new one when you get to campus,’ Ning pointed out.

‘I know,’ Ryan said. ‘But I started trying to fix it and now I’m kind of determined. Plus, I’ve got a whole bunch of music and contacts stored on this one.’

Ning gasped with mock shock. ‘You mean to say you
didn’t
back your phone up regularly in accordance with CHERUB procedures?’

‘Who does?’ Ryan grinned, feeling a jolt as the plane started its taxi towards the runway.

Kazakov was fiddling with the seat in front as Ryan pushed the battery into his phone. Ning smirked as Ryan pushed on the phone’s battery cover. He then had to use a straightened hairclip to reach inside the case because the on/off button hadn’t made it back from the Kremlin.

The phone’s ringer had been damaged and instead of nice swoopy onscreen logos and a soothing little tinkle sound, Ryan got the top two-thirds of a cracked screen and a fart sound.

‘It’s gonna work!’ Ryan said, holding up crossed fingers. ‘Come on, you little beauty.’

Ning enjoyed the mini-drama as Ryan’s phone booted up. He entered his pin and watched as
searching for network
flashed onscreen.

‘Aren’t you a clever boy!’ Ning said.

Ryan nodded, but just as he got a connection a red-haired stewardess came out of the tiny galley at the back with a tray of drinks.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to turn that off,’ she said firmly. ‘
All
electronic devices need to be off during take-off and landing. You can use the plane’s Wi-Fi connection once we’re airborne.’

Ryan looked narked as he took a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice off the tray.

‘How come you never hear about planes dropping out of the sky because someone left their mobile phone on?’ he asked.

‘I don’t make the rules,’ the stewardess said, as she handed Kazakov a double whisky and Coke.

Kazakov smiled at the stewardess, then looked back and gave Ryan and Ning his
do-as-you’re-told-or-I’ll-make-you-run-laps-till-you-puke
look, which they both remembered from basic training.

It was a little plane, so rather than use the intercom the co-pilot leaned out of the cockpit door. ‘Sorry to rush you folks with those drinks,’ he said. ‘But we’ve been given our take-off slot and we’ll be airborne in around seven minutes.’

*

Back in California, Ethan had always got a spooky feeling when he came out of his after-school chess club and walked deserted corridors. The derelict boarding school on the outskirts of Kanye was like the same feeling multiplied by a hundred.

The main gate was padlocked, with a faded sign forbidding trespassers and giving the address and contact numbers for the school’s new site. But while the gates stood firm, scavengers had cut out whole sections further along the fence to sell as scrap, and Ethan got in by stepping on to a knee-height wall and making an excruciatingly painful jump into tangled grass on the other side.

The school buildings were modernist concrete, eaten away by weather and gradually getting swallowed by nature. Wading through waist-height grass took Ethan to a broad ramp leading up to what had once been the school’s main entrance. Now there were weeds growing through cracks and an arm-sized lizard basking in the early sun.

The doors were off their hinges and Ethan wasn’t surprised by the graffiti and broken glass inside. The bullet holes and shell casings were more alarming. Perhaps a resentful pupil returning to blast holes in his old school, or a shoot-out between smugglers using the airstrip.

The inside looked less treacherous than the overgrown bush around the school building, so Ethan cut through. Glass crunched underfoot as he walked through the school’s main lobby. He passed decaying signs in English as he headed towards the light on the opposite side of the building. After going up four stairs he found himself in a room with a panoramic view over the playground and playing fields.

This had clearly been the staffroom, and while anything of value had been stripped out, there were still timetables and rotas on a noticeboard and a cupboard with
Pupils’ Asthma Medicine
written on the door.