run me some errands. Between the car lot and the two pubs, I can always use a dogsbody for a few hours here and there. You can work off your tab at a fiver an hour.’
Dave nodded, ‘I really appreciate that, Mr Tarasov. And I’ll work hard, I swear.’
‘How do you manage to insure that car?’ Leon asked. ‘Seventeen-year-old driving around in a two-litre Mondeo. That must have set you back a few bob.’
Dave acted uneasy. ‘I got insurance quotes, but it was over a grand. There’s no way I could ever pay that much.’
Leon shook his head. ‘You want to be careful. When some middle-class kid gets pulled up, he gets a fine. Magistrate sees some peasant like you or me driving without insurance, they’ll throw the book at you. Especially if you’ve got previous.’
‘Have you got previous, Dave?’ Pete asked.
‘I’ve been in a few scrapes,’ Dave said, acting ashamed.
CHERUB had carefully tuned every detail of James and Dave’s background stories to maximise their chances of getting close to Leon Tarasov. The broken-down car enabled Dave to approach him for advice on getting it repaired, while the combination of criminal records and a shortage of money made James and Dave the kind of youngsters that experienced crooks like Tarasov enjoy taking advantage of.
‘I got nicked driving a stolen car a couple of years back,’ Dave explained. ‘I thought I was gonna get sent down, but they put me in this special programme where you learn to fix cars and stuff.’
James had to smother a grin as he caught the glimmer of opportunity in Leon’s eye. It was spooky how a well-planned CHERUB operation could manipulate someone.
‘You know, David,’ Leon said, interlocking his sausage-shaped fingers and grinning. ‘My late brother and I arrived in this country thirty years back. All we owned were rubber boots and overalls spattered in fish guts. So when I see kids like you and James, my heart goes out. I know what it feels like and I’m gonna see what I can do to help you out.’
Dave and James both smiled. ‘Thanks Mr Tarasov,’ Dave said. ‘We appreciate it.’
*
James was back home, watching TV with his feet on the coffee table. Five hours after lunch he still felt bloated from Sacha’s cooking; it was no wonder the Tarasovs were all on the porky side. Dave came in holding a microwave curry with Bombay potatoes.
‘How can you eat after that lunch we had?’
Dave demonstrated the technique as he sat down next to James. ‘Stick in fork, remove from dish, insert in mouth. Want a chunk?’
Dave held a fork-load of curried chicken under James’ nose. He batted Dave’s arm away.
‘Don’t,’ he said angrily. ‘If your stinking curry makes me spew up, I’ll be turning my head in your direction.’
‘You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself,’ Dave said. ‘You ate that massive bowl of stew, then pork chops, roasties, piles of veg and three chunks of cake. You ate as much as Leon and he must weigh a hundred and twenty kilos.’
James contemplated Sacha’s frosted carrot cake. He couldn’t reconcile how amazing it had been when he’d eaten it, with how ill it now made him feel just thinking about it.
‘Do you still feel sick?’ Dave grinned, as he swallowed a mouthful of Bombay potato. ‘What would you least like to eat right now? Runny eggs? How about nice sloppy trifle? Or a beef burger, all raw in the middle so you feel the blood trickle out when you bite into it?’
‘Dave, you’re not funny,’ James tutted. ‘Can’t you shut up and let me watch this?’
Dave cracked up. ‘What, you’re seriously watching Songs of Praise? I never had you down as the religious type.’
James shrugged. ‘I was watching this show about hippos. I wanted to change channel when it ended, but I think the remote went down between the cushions and I’m too stuffed to move.’
This made Dave laugh harder and James couldn’t help seeing the funny side of his own predicament.
‘Stop taking the piss,’ he grinned, rubbing his belly. ‘I’m in agony here.’
‘Tell you what,’ Dave said, turning serious for a moment. ‘I think there’s indigestion medicine in that green first-aid box Zara gave us. I put it on the shelf in the bathroom.’
‘Oh cool,’ James said, pulling himself up off the sofa. ‘A swig of that should do the trick.’
19. BRIGHT
The medicine helped and James felt OK by half-ten when he went to bed. He slept through until the doorbell rang at 8 a.m., Monday morning.