CHERUB: The Killing - Robert Muchamore Page 0,33

to check on her nan.

A few kids stopped by to speak with Hannah and introduce themselves to James. When Max Tarasov reached over to give James a high five, it was 8 p.m. and he knew he couldn’t afford to miss a chance to pal up with his main target, even though it might endanger his chances of snogging Hannah.

‘You’re my balcony buddy, James,’ Max said. ‘It’s good to have another Arsenal fan in the neighbourhood.’

James grinned down at his shirt. ‘Seems like we’re an endangered species in this part of town.’

‘You know it,’ Max grinned. ‘West Ham and Chelsea scum is all you get.’

James was chuffed. CHERUB had set the situation up so that he had the best possible chance of getting on with Max, but sharing a football team made everything easier.

‘Me and a couple of other dudes are heading down to the off-licence to get more beer in,’ Max said. ‘You wanna tag along?’

‘I’ve got cash,’ James said, ‘but I don’t exactly look eighteen.’

‘We know a place. The owner would sell nerve-gas to a six-year-old if he thought there was a couple of quid in it.’

James grinned. ‘Does he have that in stock too?’

‘You can always ask.’

James got up. He glanced down at Hannah and caught resentment in her eyes. ‘I’m only going off to get some beers. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Why would I mind?’ Hannah shrugged.

But she was all thin-lipped and stiff-shouldered. James reckoned she minded quite a lot.

‘I’ll get you a prezzie from the offie,’ James said, trying desperately to reconcile the requirements of his mission with the fit girl sitting in the grass. ‘Chocolate bar, crisps, whatever you want.’

This won Hannah around. ‘Get us a Coke, a half-litre one not a can, and a small bottle of vodka to mix it with.’

James realised that was going to cost him the best part of a tenner, but it was food money from Zara lining his pockets, so he let it slide.

Two slightly older boys led the way downhill to the off-licence. James and Max walked a few paces behind.

‘You’re a customer, James,’ Max said. ‘Getting off with Hannah first night out.’

James tried to sound as cool as Dave had a couple of hours earlier. ‘It’s confidence, man,’ he shrugged. ‘Birds aren’t aliens from the planet Zog. You’ve just gotta talk to them.’

‘Yeah …’ Max slurred. James realised his new friend had downed way more than the single can of lager he’d shared with Hannah.

‘But Hannah’s been weird since that whole thing with her cousin last year,’ Max continued.

‘What was that?’ James asked.

‘Hannah’s cousin, Will. He was eighteen. Total hash-head, burnout, hippie, freak. He fell off the roof at the back of our block. Everyone reckons he was so stoned he didn’t know where he was.’

James hadn’t seen anything about this in his mission briefing, but there would have been no reason to because it had nothing to do with the Tarasovs.

‘Was Hannah close to him?’ James asked.

‘Not especially,’ Max shrugged. ‘But Hannah and Jane were standing five metres away from where he landed.’

‘No way,’ James gasped.

‘Yes way,’ Max grinned. ‘Front-row seats to watch your own cousin turn himself into spaghetti Bolognese. Seeing something like that has got to mess up your head.’

16. MAX

It was a twelve-minute walk to the off-licence, but the owner was as good as advertised, letting James buy Hannah’s vodka and a six-pack of beer without missing a beat. He didn’t even have to ask the two older guys, who were both fifteen, to go up to the till.

It was nearly dark when they got out, so they took a slightly longer route back to the field, using the road instead of the unlit paths around the reservoir. James twirled the bag containing the cans of beer as he walked. Max didn’t say much, but James preferred that to the type of kid who never stops yapping.

They had to clamber over a shoulder-height wall to get back into the field. There seemed to be fewer kids about and the atmosphere felt tight.

‘Bloody hell,’ Max said bitterly. ‘What are they doing up here?’

James spotted the new arrivals: four beefy lads aged sixteen or seventeen. They wore jeans and boots and the two girls who were with them looked rough.

‘Are they from round here?’ James asked.

Max nodded. ‘They’re from the Grosvenor Estate, over on the other side of the reservoir. You don’t usually see ’em up here.’

James spotted Hannah standing about fifty metres away. She’d rejoined Liza and a couple of other girls

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