Black Friday (CHERUB) - Robert Muchamore Page 0,90

got rules coming out of its ass these days. I’d rather be working, but I can’t go near headquarters till the doc signs a piece of paper.’

Amy heard Lyla mutter, ‘You can barely walk, Dad,’ in the background.

‘Your joints get fragile in extreme old age,’ Amy teased. ‘I’ve read the e-mail from James Adams and I think I’ve found a connection between Lisson Communications and the PGSLM missiles.’

Once Amy had explained everything and Ted had yelled at his daughter to fetch his laptop and reading glasses, he resumed speaking.

‘Lisson Communications had three directors,’ Ted said. ‘Galenka Aramov is dead; Leonid is our target; the third director and company secretary was their lawyer, Lombardi. If anyone knows how Leonid Aramov came to be in Mexico selling seventy-four guided missiles, it’ll be him.’

‘True,’ Amy said. ‘But Lombardi’s a lawyer. If we arrest him, he’ll keep his mouth shut and pull every legal trick to stop us questioning him or searching his property. And when we do question him—’

Ted interrupted brusquely. ‘We have to get information before Leonid sells these missiles, banks his twenty-four million and disappears.’

‘Andre gave James the impression that it’s not long until Leonid pulls off the deal and moves to the Caribbean.’

‘Legal methods won’t get anything useful out of Lombardi within our timescale,’ Ted said. ‘But seeing as I’m getting bounced into retirement when this is over, I’m prepared to take a few risks.’

‘You could lose your pension,’ Amy warned.

‘I could go to jail,’ Ted said. ‘But I’ve got my Marine Corps pension and my Marine Corps spirit. I may be an old geezer with a bad back, but I will not let a smartass lawyer and a bunch of due-process bullcrap stop me from making one last attempt to do the right thing.’

Amy laughed. ‘You could always defend yourself by saying the back pills are making you loopy.’

‘And besides all this missile nonsense, I’ll bet Lombardi knows more than we do about why Leonid killed Galenka. I’ve got fond of Ethan since he’s been living here. That guy deserves to know the truth about his mother.’

‘So I’ll leave this with you?’ Amy said.

‘Ted’s on the case. And don’t you go worrying about your next pay check either, Amy Collins. You’re a good agent and I’ve got plenty of friends.’

Ethan Aramov, previously Ethan Kitsell, now lived in Texas as Ethan Brasker. He’d set the alarm for an early start on the last Sunday of 2012, met up with two school friends and spent the day at a speed chess tournament in central Dallas.

‘No trophy?’ Ted said, when Ethan got home mid-afternoon.

‘Finished eighteenth out of seventy-four,’ Ethan said cheerfully. ‘Which isn’t bad, because I was one of the youngest and there were six grandmasters in the field.’

‘Did you get beaten by that nine-year-old again?’

Ethan smiled. ‘That little smartass wasn’t in my pool, but he beat my mate Josh and finished about tenth.’

‘You’ll get him one day,’ Ted said, keeping one hand on his painful back, as Ethan moved into the kitchen and grabbed a Dr Pepper from the fridge.

Ethan laughed and shook his head. ‘Your faith is encouraging, sir, but that kid’s a prodigy.’

Texas was warm even in December and Ethan had unbuttoned his shirt and stepped through to the living-room where he was surprised by the two enormous men on the couch.

‘Joe and Don,’ Ted explained. ‘Ex-professional wrestlers. A couple of recent vehicle felonies will be overlooked, provided they help us deal with our pal, Lombardi.’

The two giants made Ethan feel exceptionally puny as they offered crunching handshakes.

‘Chess,’ Don said thoughtfully. ‘That’s the game with the horsey that moves like an L.’

‘You got it,’ Ethan said, deciding it was best not to tell a man with a spiked fist tattooed on his neck that the piece was actually called a knight.

‘So I’ve scrounged up an FBI jet at Fort Worth,’ Ted said. ‘The plan’s fairly unsophisticated. We should get to California by about ten tonight. Then we drive out to the vineyard where Lombardi’s spending his Christmas vacation. We knock on Lombardi’s door, tell him you’re Ethan Aramov and that you want to know the truth about Leonid and your mother. If he’s any less than forthcoming, Joe and Don will use their persuasive skills to make him open up.’

As Ethan and Ted set off, James checked the spyhole in his dingy rented room and was pleased to see Lucinda on the other side of the door.

‘I’m not responsible for the smell in here,’ James told her, as she