Black Friday (CHERUB) - Robert Muchamore Page 0,79

that finding Leonid is part of the mission we’re on here.’

‘So is it, or isn’t it?’ Ryan asked.

‘Well, our job is to wind down Aramov Clan operations. You could argue that finding Leonid is part of that remit, or you could argue that sending a mother and son off to Mexico to find someone who was kicked out of the clan six months earlier is completely separate.’

‘Politics,’ Ryan said dismissively. ‘Life would be so much easier if they just left us alone to get on with our jobs.’

‘True,’ Amy said. ‘But it’ll never happen.’

‘And did we get anywhere with the Lombardi thing?’ Ryan asked.

‘The information management team in Dallas has been digging. Ethan’s mum, Galenka Aramov, and his uncle, Leonid Aramov, set up a holding corporation called Vineyard Eight. They each owned fifty per cent of the corporation and Lombardi was the only other company director.

‘Vineyard Eight bought up a satellite navigation company called Lisson Communications. Lisson built navigation systems for US military vehicles and was one of the first companies to market in-car navigation. But their sat-navs never cut it and Galenka and Leonid bought a company that was nearly broke.’

‘Why buy a company that’s no good?’

‘It was a big risk, but the Aramovs did well out of it. Galenka sold off the navigation division to a larger rival, but Lisson retained a lot of valuable patents.’

‘I’ve never exactly got patents and trademarks and stuff,’ Ryan admitted.

‘Basically, if you invent something you have the right to patent your invention. Then you can either stop people from copying your idea, or charge them money for the right to use it. Lisson Communications did a lot of research into navigation technology and owned some very important patents. Now, every time someone makes a GPS system, Lisson charges the manufacturer one point three cents for using its patents. That doesn’t sound like much, until you realise that over a billion phones and other GPS devices are manufactured every year.’

‘So they make a lot of money?’

‘Galenka and Leonid paid sixteen million dollars for Lisson back in 1999. They sold assets worth at least six million, and Lisson now generates ten million dollars a year in patent revenues.’

‘I could live off that,’ Ryan said.

‘Lombardi’s law practice handles Lisson Communications’ legal business. They’re also used by Galenka Aramov’s computer security company, which has continued to do nicely since she died.’

Ryan laughed. ‘So our buddy Ethan is a rich bastard?’

‘Certainly is,’ Amy said. ‘But it looks like a dead end as far as our investigation is concerned. All it shows us is that Galenka and Leonid Aramov pooled some of their money and made a shrewd investment.’

‘Lombardi has been sending money to Leonid Aramov under a false name though,’ Ryan noted. ‘That must be illegal.’

‘But I’d be astonished if a clever lawyer like Lombardi hasn’t been moving the money in a way that makes it impossible to trace it back to him.’

‘So we’re back to relying on whatever Andre and Tamara find out in Mexico?’ Ryan asked.

Amy nodded. ‘And that’s a dangerous business. We’re giving them two weeks max, then we’ll pull them out whether or not they find anything incriminating on Leonid.’

Apart from kids on punishment or in basic training, every cherub got a holiday between Christmas and New Year. After taking Boxing Day off, James got roped into driving a bunch of kids down to London for ice skating and shopping on the 27th.

Two girls were over an hour late getting back to the meeting point, so it was ten when James drove the mini-bus through campus’ main gate, and he had a headache because his charges had been rowdy all the way home.

James wanted to go up to his room and crash, but he’d had a text telling him to get straight to the mission preparation building on his return. Ewart Asker was waiting. He was CHERUB’s head mission controller and husband of chairwoman Zara.

‘How were the sales?’ Ewart asked, as he sat behind a large glass-topped desk.

It had been nine years since James arrived on CHERUB campus as a twelve-year-old recruit, and Ewart had probably changed more in that time than any other staff member. Back then, Ewart was a junior mission controller, with pierced ears and ripped jeans. Now he had four kids, a receding hairline and a bit of a gut.

‘The less said about my day the better,’ James said. ‘I had two grey-shirt girls in tears when I said I’d report them for being late back to the bus,