Cherub: Guardian Angel: Book 14

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Hello?’ Ethan shouted.

  Ning looked behind and saw Ethan crawling out into the hallway, almost fifty metres away.

  ‘Nurse?’ Ethan shouted.

  Ning wanted to go back to Ethan and Kazakov, but Ryan was in the most immediate danger, so she ventured back on to the staircase. As she crept back on to the landing a door slammed at ground level two flights below.

  Kuban must have had a getaway driver because Ning heard a vehicle shoot off seconds later. By the time she’d crossed a bay filled with bales of dirty linen and stuck her head out into the night the number plate was a blur and all she could see were rapidly receding tail-lights.

  Ning called Amy again as she raced back up the stairs. ‘Dark-coloured people carrier,’ she said. ‘That’s all I’ve got.’

  ‘I’ll try getting someone out there,’ Amy said.

  ‘This is a big mess,’ Ning said. ‘Ryan’s kidnapped, Kazakov’s spark out. I’m all on my own.’

  ‘Stay calm while we think this through,’ Amy said, not sounding terrifically calm herself. ‘There should be an intelligence liaison at the British or American embassies who can send some people to help you out.’

  When Ning got back into the hospital corridor she saw nurses disappearing into Ethan’s room. She walked briskly, but didn’t run because she didn’t want to make it obvious that she’d been involved with what had happened.

  Ning stopped when she reached the nook with the sofas, which was still piled up with the luggage they’d dragged out of the limo. The knuckleduster-enhanced punch that had knocked Kazakov out had broken his skin and there were dots of blood along the corridor and a sinister trickle running through the door of Ethan’s room.

  A second nurse was bolting down the corridor, wheeling a trolley to take Kazakov for emergency treatment.

  ‘Possible fractured skull,’ a nurse explained. ‘He’s a big bugger, ready?’

  The nurses put the trolley to its lowest setting, then dragged Kazakov out into the corridor before rolling him on to it. A couple of other patients had heard the commotion and stood in their doorways watching.

  ‘We’ve got to deal with this man,’ the nurse said, as she leaned into Ethan’s room. ‘Stay right there. Someone will be here to clean you up and reconnect your drip.’

  As the nurses wheeled Kazakov down the long corridor, Ning approached Ethan’s room. She found him lying sideways on the bed, hunting for something.

  ‘Hey,’ Ning said. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Pretty freaked out,’ Ethan said, sounding stoned. ‘I think I just had a religious experience. I need to call my grandma. Can you help me find my mobile phone?’

  ‘Religious experience?’ Ning asked.

  ‘There’s this guy,’ Ethan said. ‘He’s like my guardian angel. He saved my life twice when I lived in California. My uncle sent some guys to kidnap me and this dude just came out of nowhere and saved me again.’

  Ning half smiled. ‘Ryan’s certainly not an angel,’ she said.

  Now Ethan looked really confused. ‘You know Ryan?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ning said, as she looked around the room and spotted a wheelchair. ‘I can’t go into details, but there’s a chance those guys will work out that Ryan isn’t you and come back here for another look.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Ethan asked. ‘This feels like some weird shitty dream that I can’t wake up from.’

  ‘I know that feeling,’ Ning said, as she kicked the brake off the wheelchair. ‘You’re just in for observation, aren’t you? You won’t go dying on me if I get you out of here?’

  ‘Out of here where?’

  ‘Good question,’ Ning said, as she rolled the wheelchair up to the bed. ‘But it’s definitely best if you’re not lying here when Kuban comes back for you.’

  ‘And you just popped out of nowhere,’ Ethan said, as Ning slid him across the bed and lowered him into the wheelchair. ‘Are you an angel too?’

  36. WAREHOUSE

  Ryan had made the decision to impersonate Ethan in an instant. Part of it was bravery, but there was also guilt in the mix, because he felt terrible about all the stuff Ethan had been put through.

  The people carrier drove through deserted 3 a.m. streets and they wound up somewhere near Sharjah Airport. It was a run-down building full of office suites. Ryan tried to hide his fear as Kuban, the big dude and the driver marched him up two floors, then down a long corridor, passing doors with company names on them.

  The plaque on suite 2019 said China Pacific Holdings. Ryan guessed that it was one of the dozens of small companies that the Aramov Clan used to disguise their illegal operations. Kuban tapped a code into a blipping burglar alarm and set strip lights ablaze by flicking a bank of switches.

  The carpet tiles were peeling and there wasn’t much furniture. Six identical desks with tatty drawer units underneath them, a kitchenette and an area full of industrial racking stacked with file boxes. Five desks were empty; the one closest to the window had an elderly Mac Pro computer, plus a telephone and a fax machine.

  ‘I can make this as hard or as easy as you like,’ Kuban said, as he leaned forward to switch the computer on. ‘You stole your uncle’s passwords and took his money. Now you must get them back.’

  When you’re being interrogated, the first rule is to try and dictate the pace, so Ryan kept quiet. He considered telling Kuban that he wasn’t really Ethan, but while Kuban could probably make some calls and establish the truth, chances were that a heavy villain like him would kill Ryan sooner than leave a potential witness alive.

  ‘Are you deaf?’ Kuban asked, as the driver shoved Ryan towards an office chair and wheeled him in front of the Mac. ‘Answer when I speak.’

  The Apple logo was on the screen and Ryan rocked the chair from left to right as the computer booted up.

  ‘You’ve gotta be brave to mess with Leonid Aramov,’ Kuban said. ‘I’ll give you credit for that.’

  Ryan kept silent until the Mac desktop came up. Kuban nudged the mouse across the desk towards him.

  ‘If I don’t see some action in three seconds this will get nasty,’ Kuban said. Then he slammed his palm against the desktop for dramatic effect.

  Ryan grabbed the mouse and opened up Safari web browser.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘You know what I want you to do,’ Kuban shouted. ‘The bulk of the money was in Industrial Trust. So start with that one.’

  Ryan took his time Googling Industrial Trust. Then he clicked on a link to a Bahamian bank with a similar name. He hoped to fiddle around with that site for a few minutes before pretending to realise his mistake, but Kuban instantly sussed the ruse.

  ‘Do I look that stupid?’ Kuban asked. ‘How about a taste of what happens when people screw with me?’

  Kuban pointed to the huge dude. ‘Give the brat a wash.’

  The giant grabbed Ryan’s collar and hoiked him to his feet. He then drove Ryan forward and used his head to bash open a small blue door that led into a washroom. There was a strong stench of piss and the urinal had a bin-liner taped over it and an out-of-order notice.

  Ryan found himself being thrust into a toilet cubicle. His legs were swept from beneath him and the huge dude suspended him by the neck of his T-shirt. The garment was ripping around the neck, but before it had a chance Ryan found his head getting thrust into the toilet bowl.

  The water was dark yellow where someone had taken a piss and there were cigarette ends bobbing about. Ryan found his face squished against the inside of the bowl, with his hair dangling in the yellow water. His bruised ribs were pressed painfully against the toilet bowl and he moaned with pain as his tormentor hit the flush.

  A torrent of disinfectant-blue water engulfed Ryan’s face and ran inside his nostrils.

  ‘How’s the weather down there?’ the big dude said cheerfully, as he closed the toilet lid on Ryan’s back and pushed down hard.

  Ryan was struggling to breathe. He wanted to cough, but his lungs were under pressu
re and his taste buds were exploding from a bitter substance designed to stop kids accidentally drinking the toilet cleaner.

  As the cistern gurgled, the big dude added to Ryan’s torment by adding the weight of his knee.

  ‘MFFFF!’ Ryan said.

  The big dude pulled up Ryan’s head.

  ‘You saying something, kid?’ he taunted. ‘Because this is nothing. It can get a hundred times worse if you mess us about. Understand?’

  Ryan was coughing and the disinfectant was making his gums burn, but he eventually managed to splutter, ‘I understand.’

  The washroom door opened and Kuban leaned in. ‘Was there a nice big turd waiting for him?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ the big dude said.

  ‘Maybe next time,’ Kuban laughed. ‘Stick him back in front of the computer.’

  Ryan’s hair dripped and his nose and mouth were on fire as he got shoved back towards the living-room.

  He had an idea as he sat in the chair and put his hand on the mouse.

  ‘I can’t remember,’ Ryan said, trying his best to look meek and honest. ‘Every account has security numbers and passwords and stuff. When I did this at the hangar I had notes and stuff sent through by my grandma.’

  ‘Are the notes back at the hospital?’ Kuban asked.

  ‘No,’ Ryan said, shivering as a big drip trickled down his back. ‘It’s all back at the hangar.’

  ‘Ruby’s office?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ Ryan agreed.

  Kuban turned and looked at the driver. ‘How far are we from the hangar?’

  ‘Ten minutes at this time of night.’

  ‘Will it be empty?’

  ‘There’s always a guard, and mechanics working through the night more often than not. But I have an identity badge, so it shouldn’t be a problem.’

  ‘Get over there then,’ Kuban said. Then he looked at Ethan. ‘Explain what he’s looking for and where to find it.’

  ‘Can’t we bring the boy with us?’ the big dude asked.

  Kuban shook his head. ‘He has to stay out of sight. There’s only three of us and we don’t know what forces Irena can muster.’ Then he looked at Ethan. ‘Tell them what they’re looking for. And it’ll be more than a bog washing if you’re lying to me.’

  Dealing with two of Leonid’s goons would be better than three, but dealing with only one would be best of all.

  ‘Ruby locked some paperwork and stuff up,’ Ryan said. ‘The list of new passwords I wrote out. Plus a bunch of faxes that my grandma sent through.’

  ‘Locked up in what?’ Kuban asked. ‘A safe?’

  Ryan didn’t want to say a safe because that might be off-putting. Also the driver sounded like he knew the hangar so he couldn’t be too specific.

  ‘I don’t think it was a safe,’ Ryan said, keeping things as vague as he dared. ‘It was a kind of . . . Like a metal cabinet.’

  The driver nodded. ‘I think I know what he means. Ruby runs Sharjah operations. There’s a fireproof cabinet at the rear of her office. It’s used to keep aircraft registrations and maintenance logs.’

  Kuban nodded. ‘Can you get inside it?’

  ‘I’d have to get hold of a crowbar or something,’ the driver said. ‘I’ve got tools at my apartment.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Two minutes’ drive.’

  Kuban thought for a second. ‘Both of you go,’ he said, to Ryan’s delight. ‘I can look after the kid and you might need some muscle to force the cabinet. If that doesn’t work, we’ll need to find where Ruby lives and grab her.’

  ‘She probably left her contact details with the hospital,’ the driver pointed out. ‘They might have already told her that Ethan’s disappeared. If they have, she’ll be on red alert.’

  Kuban rubbed his forehead, looking stressed. ‘You’ll have to be careful, but Irena can’t have many people she trusts around here. The guard we took out at the hospital didn’t even have a gun.’

  ‘True,’ the driver said.

  ‘You’re both big boys, use common sense,’ Kuban said. ‘And keep me in the loop in case Leonid calls.’

  The big dude nodded as the driver pulled his car keys out.

  ‘Be less than an hour with any luck, boss,’ the driver said.

  Ryan checked the room out as the pair left. The only obvious weapon was a big red fire extinguisher, but it was on the opposite side of the room near the exit.

  ‘They’d better find something,’ Kuban told Ryan. ‘Leonid’s a mental case, so don’t think being an Aramov will save your arse.’

  ‘Can I take a piss?’ Ryan asked.

  Kuban couldn’t resist making a joke. ‘But you just came out of the toilet.’

  As Kuban smirked, Ryan stood up and walked towards the toilet.

  ‘Hey,’ Kuban shouted. ‘Did I say yes?’

  Ryan stopped walking. ‘You want me to piss my pants?’ he asked.

  Kuban shook his head and made a get on with it sweep with his hand.

  Ryan hoped that Kuban would let him go alone, but Kuban kept a foot in the blue door. Ryan glimpsed himself in the mirror and was alarmed by the redness of his stinging eyes. The cubicle floor was puddled after his dunking and he looked for a weapon as he started to pee.

  The only things in sight were a spare toilet roll on the ledge of a frosted-glass window and a wooden-handled plunger. Although Kuban looked tough, Ryan had two advantages. First, Kuban had no idea that Ryan was a CHERUB agent who’d done advanced combat training. Second, Kuban couldn’t use his gun because he wanted the passwords.

  Ryan flushed, then as he zipped his jeans he spun around and bolted the door.

  ‘Open it, dick head,’ Kuban shouted.

  As Kuban shoulder-charged the door, Ryan grabbed the plunger and pushed the wooden end through the window. He had no sleeve to pull down and protect his hand, so he ripped his T-shirt over his head and wound it around his hand. He grabbed a long glass shard as Kuban’s third charge snapped the bolt off the door and sent him crashing sideways into the cubicle.

  Ryan swung with the shard, making a long slash across Kuban’s cheek and slitting his right nostril. As Kuban instinctively raised his hands to cover his face, Ryan dropped the glass, braced one hand against either side of the cubicle and launched a two-footed kick.

  Kuban slammed against the back of the cubicle as Ryan took a step forward and threw a nose-crunching punch. Three fast punches finished Kuban off and Ryan straddled his unconscious frame to exit the cubicle.

  He unzipped Kuban’s jacket and ripped out a bulging wallet before spotting a gun holstered inside his jacket. Ryan pushed it down his jeans and looked conspicuous as he exited the office with a bulging gun, stinging red eyes and blood-spattered hands.

  He moved into the corridor and jogged to the nearest set of stairs before pulling out his wrecked BlackBerry. He called Ning, but all he got was an engaged tone.

  When Ryan got down to ground level, he exited through a revolving door into a parking lot. It was the middle of the night. There were less than five cars spread over two hundred spaces and none of them was the people carrier he’d arrived in.

  Ryan was half sure he’d seen a car key bulging out of Kuban’s wallet. After confirming and pulling it out, he noticed a Volkswagen logo on the fob and pressed the door opener as he walked towards a silver Passat with a hire company logo inside the windscreen.

  There was a satisfying bleep and a flash of indicator lights. CHERUB had taught Ryan basic driving skills, but he’d yet to do the week-long advanced driving course and he didn’t feel entirely comfortable as he settled into the driver’s seat of the big car. He spent a couple of minutes adjusting the mirrors and familiarising himself with the main controls.

  Ryan thought he’d done something wrong, because there was a weird chirping sound when he pushed the engine start button. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that it was his wrecked phone playing a garbled version of his usual ringtone.

  Ning’s voice was o
n the other end of the line when he’d dug it out of his jeans and answered.

  ‘You’re OK?’ Ning asked.

  ‘I’ve had better nights, but I feel better for battering Kuban,’ Ryan said. ‘Where are you? Where’s Ethan?’

  ‘I’ve got Ethan in a wheelchair,’ Ning said. ‘I didn’t want to leave him in the hospital in case those thugs worked out you were faking and came straight back. I ran about half a kilometre from the hospital and now I’m in a parking lot around the back of some place that sells air conditioning. I was just on the phone to Amy. She said it’s too risky getting a taxi, so she’s trying to get someone from the British embassy to pick me up.’

  ‘I’ve got wheels,’ Ryan said, as he peered at the car’s centre console. ‘There’s no sat-nav in here, but there’s a map book under the seat. I’m gonna drive for a few kilometres just to get out of here. Text me your location and I’ll work out how to get to you.’

  37. CANCER

  Ryan managed to negotiate Dubai’s near-empty streets and picked up Ning and Ethan.

  ‘Two angels!’ Ethan said, as they helped him into the back of the car. But he was losing his battle with the sedatives and he was spark out before Ryan had even driven out of the parking lot.

  It was ten the next morning when Ethan woke up. It felt like a hotel room, but was actually part of a villa. He was still dressed in hospital-issue pyjama bottoms. He had a bandage around his upper arm where his drip had been ripped out.

  He peed in an en-suite bathroom before finding his way out into a large double-height living area. Ning sat in a black leather lounger, catching up with some homework on her laptop.

  ‘Your ankle’s gone down,’ Ning said, before turning back to shout. ‘Ryan!’

  ‘Hey, mate!’ Ryan said, as he jogged in. He was barefoot and wore damp swimming shorts and a T-shirt. ‘You want some breakfast?’

  ‘I want to know what’s going on,’ Ethan said. ‘If you’re not my guardian angel then I don’t know what the hell you are.’

  Ryan wasn’t going to tell the whole truth and admit to the existence of CHERUB, but he’d been briefed on what he should say when Ethan woke up. The idea was to tell the truth about tracking Ethan after his mother died, but to continue hiding the fact that Ryan, Amy and Ted had all originally been sent to California to make friends with Ethan and learn about the Aramov Clan.