CHERUB: The Sleepwalker - Robert Muchamore Page 0,77

Asif was planning to go and collect some valuables and fake documents from a warehouse. They didn’t mention an address, but I suspect it’s a rented warehouse I saw mentioned in the Bin Hassams’ accounts.

‘I’m in my car now, but the traffic’s solid. MI5 are trying to get someone out to the warehouse, but you two are nearest. Is there a vehicle there you can use? If we lose Asif now, there’s a chance that we’ll lose the whole family.’

‘Hassam’s cars are all here,’ Lauren said, as she opened a door into the garage.

She grabbed the door handle of a Bentley Azure, but it was locked. ‘Rat, go look for car keys,’ she shouted.

‘I’ve got the address,’ Mac said. ‘Have you got a pen and paper?’

Lauren found a notepad and jotted the details while Rat searched.

‘Took you long enough,’ Lauren moaned. ‘We’ve got to get out of here before the ambulance turns up.’

‘It’s a big house,’ Rat said, as he rushed into the triple garage, jangling a starter fob for the big Bentley. ‘Lucky Hassam left it in the jacket hanging on his bedroom door.’

Lauren climbed into the sumptuous leather driving seat and pressed the engine start, followed by the button that activated the garage door and main gate, but Hassam was a big man and she had to waste valuable seconds adjusting the electric seat so that she could reach the pedals.

Rat sat in the passenger seat. He tapped the address Lauren had written down into the satellite navigation as she rolled the big car on to the gravel drive.

‘Trip programming complete,’ the synthesised voice said, as Lauren warily pulled the luxury saloon out of the front gates. ‘Distance three point two kilometres. Estimated arrival time, eight minutes.’

‘Think I can hear the ambulance,’ Rat said, as he looked down into the footwell and saw the mess their bloody trainers were making of the cream-coloured carpet.

31. FEAR

Hassam dragged Fahim out of Asif’s BMW X5 and shoved him across the street towards a Volvo coupé usually driven by his sister-in-law.

‘Call me when you leave the warehouse,’ Hassam said, looking back at his brother. ‘Is there anything I need to do at the house?’

Asif shrugged. ‘You can pray they’re not following us, that’s about all.’

Fahim didn’t dare look at his dad as his aunt’s little Volvo crawled through Saturday morning traffic. He peered aimlessly out of the window, envying the normal lives of the people around him: kids being driven to football games and adults in weekend-wear heading for Ikea or the shopping centre.

‘Is Mum dead?’ Fahim asked unexpectedly.

Hassam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and pretended not to hear him. ‘I don’t like driving automatics,’ he said, reaching for a gear lever that wasn’t there as they pulled away at a junction, before turning right for the beginning of the M1 motorway.

Fahim had always been scared of his father, but in some ways the revelation of his betrayal was liberating: whatever he said now could hardly make things any worse.

‘If you don’t answer, I’ll take it as a yes,’ Fahim said. Then, as the car pulled off the curving slip road and accelerated to motorway speed, ‘Why did you kill her, Dad?’

Fahim turned to look at his father. His knuckles gripped the steering wheel so tight they were white and sweat streamed down his face.

‘Don’t stare at me, Fahim,’ Hassam growled. ‘I swear to god, I’ll pull this car over and blow your head off.’

‘You gave the gun back to Asif,’ Fahim said. ‘Why did you kill Mum?’

‘She left me no choice,’ Hassam said finally. ‘She took a vow to obey me. When she broke her vow she became nothing to me.’

Fahim had believed his mother was dead for days, but he’d always harboured faint hope and the confirmation hit him hard. ‘What about me?’ he asked, smudging a tear.

‘I can’t stay with you,’ Hassam said, smiling coldly. ‘Even in Abu Dhabi I’ll be a wanted man, but there are many places to hide. I’ll see that your grandfather sends you off to school. Pakistan perhaps, in the mountains. Five or six years of frost, bad food, reciting the Koran and regular beatings should scour the Western mush from your head.’

‘Are we flying?’ Fahim asked, trying his best not to sound upset.

‘You’ll know what you need to know when you need to know it,’ Hassam said sternly. ‘I might not have the appetite to kill my only son, but when we get to the safe-house you’ll feel my belt like