CHERUB: Guardian Angel (11 page)

Natalka went unusually quiet, staring down at her wrecked turquoise Converse.

‘Ahh!’ Ethan smiled. ‘You’re all sad. You’re gonna miss me!’

He expected Natalka to tell him to piss off, or maybe a shoulder punch, but she looked across and nodded grudgingly.

‘You’re the only person I can have an intelligent conversation with around here,’ she said. ‘But don’t let that go to your head, or I’ll slap you one.’

Natalka saying she’d miss Ethan gave his self-esteem a nice boost.

‘Stop grinning,’ Natalka said, regretting her honesty.

‘Your mum’s still here,’ Ethan said. ‘I’ve only met her a couple of times, but she’s cool.’

Natalka tutted. ‘My mum’s great, but she’s away flying half the time. Besides, mums and mates aren’t the same thing.’

‘What about Vladimir?’ Ethan asked. ‘Your blond bimbo.’

Natalka suddenly looked angry. ‘Screw him. He’s getting tight with Boris and Alex and their manners are rubbing off on him.’

‘Partying with Chinese girls, I heard,’ Ethan said.

Natalka tutted again and changed the subject. ‘So, you got the memory key from Leonid’s office?’

Ethan nodded, then patted the pocket of his jeans. ‘I pulled it when I went to play Wii with Andre last night. We’ll find a web café and upload it for Ryan. But it’s been four weeks, so I hope he’s not forgotten about me.’

‘Can’t you look at what’s in the files yourself?’

‘Not without my own computer,’ Ethan said. ‘And it might be risky spending hours going through Aramov stuff in a web café. The good news is, every kid has to have a laptop at my new school. And since I’ll need it for homework and stuff, I don’t see how Leonid can stop me from bringing it home for holidays.’

A trashed Mercedes M-class 4×4 was rolling up outside. One of the Aramovs’ many Kremlin-based flunkies put a hairy arm out of the driver’s-side window.

‘Taking you to the bazaar, yeah?’ he shouted.

The driver was stubbly and looked like he’d gone a while since his last decent wash, but he got excited when he realised he’d be driving an Aramov and made a big fuss of getting out and opening the door for Ethan, while Natalka fended for herself.

‘Cigarette?’ the driver asked, as he floored the accelerator and got a little squeal out of the back tyres.

‘Thanks,’ Natalka said, as she snatched the packet off the armrest.

*

Ning swished a changing-room curtain and looked at herself standing before a mirrored wall: grey tights, grey pleated skirt, blue and white striped blouse and a straw hat.

‘I feel like
such
a twonk,’ Ning said.

They were in the school uniform section of one of Dubai’s biggest department stores. Alfie was in no position to criticise, because he looked almost as bad in the boys’ version of DESA’s uniform, but Ryan was only in Dubai to dole out Ethan-related advice and couldn’t resist taking the piss.

‘Don’t worry,’ Ryan said, as he looked on dressed in cargo shorts and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt. ‘You’ve only got to wear those monkey suits for ten or twelve hours a day, six days a week.’

‘Wool makes me itch,’ Alfie said, as he rubbed his blazer. ‘And who makes kids wear a get-up like this in the middle of a desert?’

Over at a glass counter, Amy Collins stood by a mound of brand new PE kit, while an Indian clerk with a dodgy wig went through drawers looking for gym shorts in Alfie’s size.

‘The computer says we have them,’ he said, when his head bobbed up. ‘But this isn’t my department and I can’t find them.’

Ryan looked at Alfie. ‘If you don’t have shorts, I bet they’ll make you do PE in your underpants.’

Alfie tutted. ‘Ryan, if you don’t shut up I will fart on your head when we get back to the hotel.’

‘I’m greased lightning,’ Ryan said, adopting a boxing stance and throwing half a dozen quick punches. ‘You wouldn’t get that fat piggy butt of yours anywhere near me.’

‘I’m starving,’ Ning moaned, as she stepped back into the changing cubicle, swapping the uniform for jeans and a singlet. ‘Can we get something to eat after this?’

They’d only arrived in Dubai the night before, but only Amy seemed to be suffering jet lag.

‘One shopping trip with you three is more than enough to persuade me never to have kids,’ Amy said wearily, as the assistant blipped several hundred dollars’ worth of school uniform and PE kit through a barcode reader. ‘It’s probably easiest to get room service back at the hotel.’

‘Can’t we just get something quick?’ Alfie asked. ‘Burgers or something.’

‘There’s a food court,’ Ning added. ‘I think we’ve got to go back past it on the way to the hire car.’

‘When I get back to my room I’m having at least three gin and tonics from the minibar,’ Amy said.

‘Me too,’ Ryan joked.

The mall was quiet and they found themselves amidst less than a dozen diners in a food court with over two hundred tables. All the kids got McDonald’s, while Amy went for the strongest coffee on Starbucks’ menu and hoped the caffeine would give her a boost.

Amy looked at Ning and Alfie. ‘When we get back to the hotel I
don’t
want you two bouncing off the walls. Relax, have a swim or whatever. Then I want you to go back to your rooms and work. This will be your last proper chance to read through your notes on Ethan. Ryan, you be on hand to help them with any questions.’

‘I had one idea,’ Ning said, as she chomped a cheeseburger. ‘I’ve tried learning chess, but based on what Ryan’s shown me so far I’ll never be able to play competitively against Ethan. So I was thinking that if I got friendly with Ethan I could ask him to teach me to play chess.’

Amy nodded. ‘I’ve certainly heard worse ideas.’

Alfie tutted. ‘You could have thought of that before we spent
days
reading boring-arsed books on chess strategies.’

As Alfie spoke, Ryan’s BlackBerry chimed to indicate a text message.

‘Now who might that be?’ Alfie said, grinning.

The text was from Grace. Alfie read it over Ryan’s shoulder and burst out laughing:

U scum sucking dick hole. I hate U. UR dead!

‘She’s gonna kick your arse,’ Alfie predicted.

‘What’s this all about?’ Amy asked.

‘Grace is so possessive,’ Ryan said. ‘Texting me all the time, wanting to know where I’m going. I want a girlfriend to hang out with and have a bit of fun, but she was like a 24/7 job.’

‘He was too chicken to break up to her face,’ Alfie explained. ‘So he sent her a break-up text before we got on the plane yesterday.’

Amy gasped. ‘You broke up by text message! You pig; I hope she
does
kick your arse.’

Ryan looked uncomfortable. ‘Last time I broke up with Grace she threw macaroni cheese at my head, trashed one of my chemistry books and poured yellow paint on my best jeans. I figured if I sent her a text, she’ll have had time to calm down before I get back to campus early next week.’

‘It’s a shame I won’t be on campus when she catches up with you,’ Ning said. ‘It’s gonna be hilarious!’

‘Grace is only little, but she’s deadly with oven-hot pasta,’ Alfie added.

‘If the first time was such a nightmare, why go out with her again?’ Amy asked.

Ryan shrugged. ‘We were in the back of a taxi, chatting away. She looked hot and it’s not like heaps of other girls were throwing themselves at me . . .’

‘For some strange reason,’ Ning added.

‘I still say you need to fake your own death,’ Alfie said. ‘It’s your only real chance of survival.’

Ryan raised a finger. ‘Alfie, why don’t you go sit on my middle digit and spin?’

Amy found all this pretty funny. It also made her nostalgic because the banter between the kids reminded her of all the dramas during her own teenage years on CHERUB campus. But she didn’t want her three agents having a serious falling-out, so she put her foot down before good-natured jabs could turn nasty.

‘We need to forget Ryan’s love life and focus on our mission,’ Amy said firmly, as she glanced at her watch. ‘First impressions are critical and every detail needs to be
spot
on when you meet Ethan at your new school on Monday.’

*

The centre of Bishkek was mainly home to government buildings, international hotels and communist era monuments, but for locals Dordoi Bazaar in the northern outskirts was the city’s real heart.

The market stretched for more than two kilometres, with a mix of open and covered areas. Traders worked out of metal shipping containers stacked two or three high, with the ground-level container serving as a shop, and the ones above used for storage.

With over six thousand traders, most areas of the vast bazaar had become specialised. Ethan had told Grandma Irena that he needed pens and other school stuff, so they got the driver to drop them near a cluster of traders selling stationery and gift wrap. But after a couple of quick purchases and some doubling back to ensure that Leonid wasn’t having him followed, Ethan led Natalka past several hundred tightly stacked containers to an area that mainly attracted teenagers.

The containers here sold pirate music, software and DVDs, a mix of punk and Goth clothes, plus every kind of cheap Chinese-produced fake from Nike basketball boots to Nirvana hoodies and
Star Wars
light sabres.

Crowds of older teens hung out in web cafés, where network gaming was more popular than web surfing. The day was mild, but the heat from tightly wedged computers in poorly ventilated containers pushed the temperature way up and the clammy teenage patrons gave them a distinctly locker-roomish aroma.

Ethan picked one of the slightly less crowded containers and paid for an hour’s Internet. Natalka scowled at the gamer boys who eyed her up as they squeezed past lines of cheap office chairs and sat together in front of a glowing LED screen in the farthest corner of the container. A big electric fan swung from side to side, but it only shifted funky air from one spot to another.

‘I know better web cafés than this,’ Natalka moaned, as beads of sweat bristled on her neck.

‘But Leonid’s goons would stick out around here,’ Ethan explained, as he opened up his Facebook. ‘Everyone’s our age.’

‘Oooh, he’s cute,’ Natalka said, as she saw Ryan’s profile picture in Ethan’s friend list. ‘Not what I expected at all.’

‘What were you expecting?’ Ethan asked.

Natalka grinned. ‘More of a geeky loser like you.’

‘You’re too kind,’ Ethan said.

The Russian keyboard layout was confusing, but Ethan was soon tapping out a response to one of several
Where are you, hope you’re OK
type messages from Ryan.

I’ve got a memory key from Leonid’s computer
, Ethan typed.
I’m gonna load everything up to our FTP site. Maybe you can take a look if you have time? If not, I’ll look myself because I’m heading off on Sunday, starting school in Dubai on Monday. Plan is to grab a couple more USB sticks in the bazaar today. Leonid mainly works from a computer out at the stables so I want to know what he’s up to out there
.

*

The Facebook, e-mail and MSN accounts for Ryan Brasker and Ethan Kitsell were monitored 24/7 through a CIA office in Dallas. Ryan’s BlackBerry bleeped, and within moments he was hurrying down the corridor of his posh Dubai hotel and banging on the door of Amy’s room.

‘Ethan’s back online,’ Ryan said excitedly, as Amy opened up dressed in a white hotel robe. She was rubbing her eyes and seemed half asleep. ‘He’s sent me a long message and he’s uploading files from Leonid’s computer to the FTP site.’

‘Can you log in and talk to him?’ Amy asked, as she stepped back to let Ryan in.

‘We’re screwed on the time difference,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s three p.m. in Bishkek. Ethan thinks I’m in California and it’s two in the morning there. It’s not credible for me to be online.’

Amy tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘Call Ted Brasker and let him know what’s happening. I’ll call the Information Management team in Dallas and make sure that the analysts start going through Ethan’s upload as soon as they get it.’

‘I hope this has been worth Ethan risking his neck,’ Ryan said. ‘Because I can’t help wondering if Leonid Aramov is the kind of guy who stores his darkest secrets on a hard drive . . .’

Dubai wasn’t the solution to all Ethan’s problems, but he wouldn’t miss the Kremlin’s gloomy strip lighting and tobacco-stained walls, and he liked the idea of putting some physical distance between himself and Uncle Leonid.

Grandma Irena was doing OK for someone who’d been given six months to live more than two years earlier. When Ethan entered her cramped bedroom she was propped on pillows next to a breakfast tray, watching CNN. Her words slurred because she didn’t have her top denture in.

‘Take a look over there!’ Irena said, aiming her wrinkled arm at a space between the wall and a bedside table. ‘I don’t know of these things, but I’m told it’s good.’

Ethan brushed along the wall, being careful not to knock down picture frames. He beamed as he picked up a top-of-the-line Toshiba laptop, still in its box. Alongside was a plastic bag filled with accessories: mouse, office software, neoprene case and even a stack of the latest pirate games from the bazaar.

‘Awesome!’ Ethan said.

‘Is it a good one?’ Irena asked.

Ethan nodded. ‘Really good.’

‘I’m letting you go to school in Dubai and have a computer because you have a right to live your own life,’ Irena said. ‘But you
must
be sensible with things you’ve heard here, and don’t contact anyone you knew in the United States.’

‘Of course, Grandma.’

‘I know you don’t feel like one of us,’ Irena said. ‘But never forget that you’re an Aramov.’

Ethan nodded again.

‘Do I deserve a hug then?’ she asked.

Ethan smiled as he leaned across the bed and hugged his grandmother. Her nightdress smelled of menthol rub and her rings dug into his back, but he enjoyed the moment because it was the first time he’d ever felt an emotional bond with his grandmother.

‘You’re turning into a good-looking young man,’ Irena said, as Ethan moved back around the bed. ‘You’re so like your mother, in your gestures and your voice.’