the Obidin family will appreciate what you’ve done, so I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thank you,’ Joe gushed.
One of the younger skateboarders opened up the 4?4, enabling Joe and Slava to bundle James across the back seat. He got a face full of leather smell and warm air, but pain erupted across his face as his nose hit the seat cushion. James reckoned the first whack with the skateboard had broken it.
Seconds later, he heard Slava getting in the front, clicking on his seatbelt and starting the engine. The potholed roads made James’ aching head bounce. Slava spoke as James struggled to sit himself up.
‘So why did MI5 decide to kill Denis Obidin?’
‘What are you talking about?’ James mumbled, as it occurred to him that Slava had spoken in English, with an American accent.
‘They killed him, James old boy.’
James was covered in blood, his head was thumping and he had a splitting pain in the bridge of his nose. It was hard to think straight and he decided it would be best to keep his trap shut.
‘How’s your sister Lauren doing these days?’ Slava continued. ‘Is John Jones your mission controller on this one, or someone else?’
James was stunned. Slava knew about CHERUB, which was impossible.
‘My handle’s Eric Partridge,’ Slava continued cockily, as he took a sharp turn. ‘I’m with the CIA weapons proliferation unit. Spent most of the last four years infiltrating Obidin’s organisation. I’ve gotta admire the balls of you Brits though: no messing about, you just send a couple of dudes in, set up a meeting and kill the top dog.’
James suddenly wanted to say a few things, but all he could manage was a shake of the head and a few mumbled words. ‘How come … You … My sister?’
Slava – or rather Eric Partridge – cracked into a big smile. ‘I’ve been on Obidin’s security team these past eighteen months. Been all around that big house planting bugs. Obidin had his own video surveillance system installed and we’ve tapped into that too.
‘A couple of weeks back, my colleagues in Washington DC started picking up interference when they were transcribing the recordings from our bugs. The boffins told us it was crosstalk: two coded listening devices of a similar type interfering with each other.
‘So I checked the security cameras to see if there were any new faces inside the compound. Would you believe that the interference started the first day that you turned up to give little Mark Obidin an English lesson?
‘I had one of my field operatives follow you back to your apartment. He poked around inside the next day when you were at school. Picked a few hairs off pillows and took swabs from your toothbrushes. We sent them back to our DNA lab and the damnedest thing happened: Uncle Boris and Auntie Isla drew blanks, but your DNA brought up a match to a highly classified file. Took us more than a week to get access. The request had to be approved by the heads of the CIA and the FBI.’
‘What file?’ James muttered as his fuzzy head struggled to grasp what he was hearing.
‘You’re quite a kid, James. When they finally gave me clearance, your file had all the details of your mission in Arizona two years back: busting out of Arizona Maximum Security Prison, driving across three states with the cops on your tail and catching Jane Oxford. File said that you’re part of some limey child spy unit known as CHERUB. I tell you, when I heard about that it pretty much blew my mind.’
James realised that he’d got lucky. The yanks might not be too happy that his mission had trodden on their toes, but they were unlikely to set upon him with a blow lamp.
‘How’d you get to me first?’
‘Took a bit of quick thinking, but it wasn’t too hard,’ Eric smiled. ‘Vladimir Obidin is a tyrant. His men are terrified of him. I suggested we offer a reward and set up a radio broadcast, then started organising the search. Everyone was happy for me to stick my neck out and get it chopped if things went wrong.’
‘Where now?’ James mumbled.
‘I’ve got a safe house on the edge of the city. We’ll head back there. You can wash up, put on a set of clean clothes and you look pretty messed up, so I’ll take a proper look at your injuries.’
‘Won’t you be compromised?’ James asked.
‘Sure,’ Eric nodded. ‘Those kids will splash their roubles around and shout off