Black Friday (CHERUB) - Robert Muchamore Page 0,104
to the elderly Russian jets Ryan had got used to.
A tentative cup of tea and a stale piece of naan bread settled Ryan’s stomach. A lot of stuff was being taken out of the building and after letting two crammed lifts go by, he decided to slide his cases downstairs to the lobby.
By this time the heating had been off for several hours and with single glazing and cracked walls, the Kremlin’s usually stifling interior was starting to chill. Josef Aramov made a jokey announcement, but became emotional as he neared the end of it.
‘The Kremlin hotel will be closing its doors in fifteen minutes. Guests wishing to stay longer should be warned that their rooms may explode.’
Amy and Josef emerged from the elevator together, keeping up the pretence that they were a couple. At the same moment, Ryan thought of something and bolted back towards the staircase.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ Amy asked. ‘You feeling OK?’
‘Just remembered, there’s a bag of Kazakov’s stuff still in my room.’
‘Is it important?’ Amy asked.
Ryan shrugged. ‘Maybe they could send it to his son or something. It’s nothing amazing, but it seems sad to leave it here.’
‘Go on then, but hurry up.’
The demolition crews were working down from the top floor, linking up the detonator fuses before going into every room making sure it was clear. Ryan had to dart in front of one of them as he bolted to his room. After grabbing the case with Kazakov’s stuff in, he walked to Natalka’s room at the end and caught her smell one last time.
‘Come on, hoppit!’ the demolition man shouted.
Ryan had already checked everywhere to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, and he choked up as he thought about all the times he’d spent with Natalka. She was probably at her aunt’s house in Russia by now …
‘Hey, are you deaf?’ the demolition man shouted, accompanying his words with furious gestures because he’d assumed Ryan was a local and only spoke Russian or Kyrgyz.
The burly demolition man looked surprised when he saw Ryan’s tears.
‘I’m going,’ Ryan said sadly.
Down in the lobby, Dan had arrived. The burly eighteen-year-old had been promised a new start in the USA if he agreed to help TFU infiltrate the Kremlin. But he looked almost as sad as Ryan when Amy approached him.
‘Everything OK?’ Amy asked.
‘I wish I could take my Lada,’ Dan explained. ‘I parked it near the top of the valley with the keys in the ignition. I just hope someone takes good care of it.’
Amy smiled as she opened a document wallet and handed Dan a US passport. ‘We’re flying to London,’ she explained. ‘Then you, me and Josef will fly on a commercial flight to Dallas where I’ll spend some time helping you to sort out your new life.’
By this time the demolition crews had cleared the upper floors and the demolition man who’d seen Ryan a few minutes earlier spoke impatiently in bad Russian. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I need everyone and their luggage to start walking to the plane. Thank you.’
As Ryan threw his luggage on to a waiting cargo trolley and began an icy walk towards the two jets, Josef Aramov stayed back to hand the de-icing crew their final wage packets, before giving them hugs and telling them to get well clear of the valley.
The cargo plane was taxiing for take-off as Ryan boarded his ride home. It was a regular passenger Airbus, chartered for the final evacuation. There were less than thirty passengers for the hundred-seater, so Ryan had three seats in which to sprawl out and nurse his hangover.
The demolition team were the last to board, beaded with sweat as they stood in the aisle stripping hard hats and orange overalls. Normally the demolition team would stay behind to monitor their explosions and clear debris, but blowing up large buildings without government permission is as illegal in Kyrgyzstan as in any other country and none of them wanted to be on the ground when the authorities worked out that someone had taken out an entire airbase.
Take-off from the cramped valley landing strip involved a twisting climb through a gap between two peaks with less than fifty metres’ clearance for the wings of a large jet. Having a rock face skimming past the windows as you took off always gave Ryan the willies and he was a happy boy when he saw clear blue sky, secure in the knowledge that he’d never make that manoeuvre again.