The Killing

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Gross,’ James said.

  Dave barged in behind him. ‘The other bedroom’s white, you want that one?’

  James shrugged. ‘OK.’

  ‘Cool,’ Dave grinned, as he bounced on the double bed. ‘I’m gonna have a different chick in this every night.’

  James grinned back and shook his head. ‘You reckon, do you?’

  James’ room was smaller, with a few girlie touches and a single bed. It made him a little sad because it reminded him of the room he’d had when his mum was alive. As he sat back on the mattress – which was still sealed in plastic with the price ticket on it – he could imagine banging on the wall to tell Lauren and her mates to shut up during one of their sleepovers, or his mum’s snores vibrating through the wall.

  *

  James was boiling by the time he’d made ten trips carrying things up the stairs, so he took a shower and changed into clean shorts and one of his Arsenal shirts. They’d brought a few cans of Coke and some junk food from campus, but the boys needed milk and other fresh stuff. They’d spotted a Sainsbury’s down the road when they arrived, so James headed off while Dave washed.

  He stocked up on the basics, like bread, milk and breakfast cereal, before heading towards the ready-meal cabinet. He grabbed microwave Chinese, some pasta dishes and a couple of curries for Dave. As he headed back into the courtyard around the flats he got his first sighting of a Tarasov: thirteen-year-old Max and a couple of his pals whizzing past on bikes.

  James got up to the locked door at the bottom of the stairs and realised he’d forgotten to put his keys into his clean shorts when he’d changed. He hit the intercom button for their flat and waited. After half a minute he pressed the button again and shouted tersely into the speaker.

  ‘Dave, let me up.’

  After another thirty seconds, James started getting seriously impatient. He glanced at his watch, and after deciding that Dave couldn’t possibly still be in the shower, he jabbed the buzzer half a dozen times and yelled:

  ‘Dave you moron, buzz me in. Are you deaf or what?’

  A girl’s voice came at James from the first-floor landing directly above his head. ‘Are you stuck?’

  James stepped backwards so that he could get a good look at her. He guessed the girl was a year older than he was.

  ‘My brother won’t let me up. He’s either gone deaf or he’s trying to wind me up.’

  The girl smiled. ‘I’ll open up for you.’

  James watched her come down the staircase through the safety glass in the door. First a set of flip-flops and purple-painted toenails on the top step. Tanned legs and a little denim skirt emerged as she moved further down. She gave James a big smile through the glass and flicked back her long hair as she released the catch on the inside of the door.

  ‘Cheers,’ James grinned back.

  ‘I saw you and that other guy carrying your stuff in. My name’s Hannah. I’m next door but one.’

  ‘I’m James,’ he said, as he followed the girl up the stairs with a Sainsbury’s carrier bag in each hand. ‘That other guy was my brother, Dave.’

  ‘I only saw the two of you. Where’s your parents?’

  ‘Six feet under,’ James said, as he rounded the top of the staircase and stepped out of the half-light on to the balcony.

  ‘Oh … I’m sorry.’

  James realised he’d imparted the information too casually and shocked Hannah. ‘I was four years old,’ he shrugged. ‘I can barely remember them.’

  ‘How come the two of you are allowed to live on your own?’

  ‘We were in foster homes, but Dave’s just turned seventeen so he gets a flat. I’m allowed to live with him on a trial basis, but we’ve got a social worker who’s gonna be checking up on me a few times a week.’

  Hannah giggled. ‘So you can’t go too wild.’

  ‘Nah, I’m afraid not,’ James said, as he stopped outside the door of his flat and rang the bell. He could hear music thumping inside.

  ‘So, it was good to meet you, James. I expect I’ll see you around.’

  James smiled. ‘Are you doing anything? You want to pop inside and say hello to my brother?’

  ‘Why not?’ Hannah shrugged.

  A blast of Baba O’Riley by The Who hit them as Dave opened the front door, dressed in nothing but a pair of cargo shorts.

  ‘Where’s your key?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Up my butt,’ James said irritably. ‘What do you think? I forgot it. Maybe if you weren’t trying to deafen the entire neighbourhood you would have heard me buzzing the intercom.’

  Dave raced into the living-room and turned the music down so they could hear each other speak. He reached out to shake Hannah’s hand and she went all gooey.

  ‘Good to meet you, Dave.’

  James had managed three proper girlfriends and got off with a few other girls at parties and stuff. He didn’t think he was doing too badly for thirteen years of age, but Dave still made him jealous. When girls met Dave they turned bright red and giggled at all his jokes. He’d had a string of beautiful girlfriends, and according to most people you talked to on campus, he’d treated every one of them like dirt.

  ‘How’d you get that scar on your chest?’ Hannah asked, stopping her index finger a few centimetres shy of Dave’s blemish, as though his body was a beautiful ornament that she dared not touch.

  ‘I got a blood clot on my chest wall a few months back,’ Dave explained. ‘They had to put a tube in and suck it out.’

  Hannah recoiled, ‘Yuk.’

  ‘Ruined my chances of a career in modelling,’ Dave joked.

  ‘I better put this shopping in the fridge before it goes off,’ James said.

  ‘Good idea,’ Dave nodded. ‘Why don’t you make us all a cup of tea while you’re at it?’

  If Hannah hadn’t been there, Dave would have got a mouthful for being cheeky, but James headed into the kitchen and filled the kettle. As he stacked the food away, he looked over the fridge door and spotted Hannah in the doorway.

  ‘I can’t really stay,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ve got some homework I want to finish off before tonight.’

  ‘What are you up to?’ James grinned. ‘Hot date?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘There’s a big reservoir over the back of the estate. Loads of the local kids go up there when the weather’s nice. It’s just hanging out really, but you can come if you want. We’ll grab some booze and I’ll introduce you to a few faces.’

  James nodded. ‘Yeah, for sure. So, I don’t need to dress up or nothing?’

  ‘Well you could lose the Arsenal shirt,’ Hannah said, putting two fingers into her mouth and gagging. ‘It could seriously damage my reputation if I’m seen hanging out with a gooner.’

  15. PULLING

  The boys were eating microwaved lasagne in front of a TV with a crummy indoor aerial, when Dave spotted Sonya Tarasov walking past the window. He tripped over James’ feet as he dived out of the room, down the hallway and out of the front door. He jogged up behind Sonya and tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘Hey Melanie,’ Dave said enthusiastically.

  Sonya turned around. She was mousy and slightly overweight, with a circular face.

  ‘I’m not Melanie,’ Sonya said irritably.

  Dave put his hands over his face and acted embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he gasped. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just … You’re the absolute spitting image of a girl I used to go out with.’

  James crept out into the hallway with his lasagne and listened while he ate. As soon as Sonya realised she hadn’t just been accosted by some weirdo and caught a glance of Dave’s handsome mug, she broke into a big smile.

  ‘That’s OK,’ Sonya giggled. ‘I’ve done the same thing myself.’

  ‘I should have known it was too good to be true,’ Dave said. ‘You know, I’ve just arrived and I don’t know anyone.’

  ‘You just moved here?’

  Dave nodded, pointing his thumb back towards the fron
t door. ‘Me and my little brother moved into number sixteen.’

  Sonya smiled, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘So does much go down around here on a Saturday night?’

  Sonya pointed through the gap between the buildings. ‘There’s the King Of Russia over there, but that’s usually an older crowd. If you walk past there and go across to the opposite end of the estate, you’ll come to the Queen of Russia. That’s more my kind of crowd and there’s a live band most Saturdays. I actually work behind the bar sometimes when it gets packed out.’

  ‘Cool,’ Dave nodded. ‘If I pop in later, maybe you’ll let me buy you a drink?’

  Sonya bit the end of her thumb and grinned. ‘Sure, maybe I’ll even buy you one back.’

  ‘I’m Dave, by the way,’ he said, reaching out to shake hands.

  ‘Sonya,’ she replied.

  Dave took her hand and grasped it gently. ‘It was good meeting you, Sonya. I’d better get back, I’m making dinner for my little brother.’

  Dave strolled into the flat and closed the front door with an exuberant backwards kick.

  James’ jaw hung open. ‘I can’t believe you did that,’ he gasped.

  ‘What?’ Dave asked innocently.

  ‘You totally got off with her. You’d never even met her before.’

  ‘It’s not so hard,’ Dave said. ‘I used to be scared when I was your age, but birds aren’t swamp creatures from the planet Zog you know. Just go up and start a conversation with them. You either get somewhere or you don’t.’

  ‘Still,’ James said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Just walking up to a stranger and getting off with them is so slick.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dave grinned smugly, as he picked his lasagne off the coffee table, ‘it does help if women find you totally irresistible.’

  He swallowed a mouthful of food and did a gigantic belch.

  ‘Did you have to make me sound like a five-year-old?’ James asked as he settled back on the sofa beside Dave.

  Dave looked mystified. ‘You what?’

  ‘I’m making dinner for my little brother,’ James quoted. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but I’m the one who took it out of the cardboard and pierced the film.’

  *

  Hannah had a couple of girlfriends with her when she rang for James. He recognised Liza Tarasov’s podgy features from police surveillance photographs Millie Kentner had shown him. The other girl was called Jane.

  ‘Jane used to live in your flat,’ Hannah explained, as James pulled shut the front door and set off along the balcony with the girls. ‘She moved down to a ground-floor flat on another block, ’cos her nan can’t handle the stairs any more.’

  It was a ten-minute uphill stroll to the reservoir. The area around the man-made lake was a mixture of lawns and shrubs. Joggers and dog walkers used the paths and little kids played football or Frisbee on the grass while their parents kept watch. But the three girls led James away from civilisation into an overgrown area beside a quiet road. The only charming feature amidst the empty beer cans and car tyres was a fast-flowing brook that fed into the reservoir, but even that was partially dammed with rusted kitchen appliances.

  James had read up on the history of Palm Hill. He knew a £3-million youth and community centre had been built after the riots, along with teen-friendly zones on the estate where kids could hang out without their racket disturbing residents. But over the course of his missions, James had noticed that kids his age tended to reject any place they were meant to go, in favour of some unsavoury spot where they could get up to all the stuff their parents had nightmares about.

  There were about thirty kids aged between twelve and fifteen, mostly sitting in fours and fives. The atmosphere was mellow. A few of the younger lads made a racket as they whizzed around on bikes, but most kids sat in the long grass gossiping, as the sun dipped behind the houses beyond the field.

  James’ mission priority was to chum up with Liza and Max Tarasov, but Hannah was a major distraction. She’d made a big deal out of telling James that she didn’t have a boyfriend, and they were having a really good conversation about everything from Premiership football to ways of getting out of homework.

  Liza disappeared with a group of girls. That left James and Hannah sharing a can of Heineken she’d bummed off an older boy who blatantly fancied her, and Jane was feeling left out. Eventually, Jane got fed up and said she had to go home early to check on her nan.

  A few kids stopped by to speak with Hannah and introduce themselves to James. When Max Tarasov reached over to give James a high five, it was 8 p.m. and he knew he couldn’t afford to miss a chance to pal up with his main target, even though it might endanger his chances of snogging Hannah.

  ‘You’re my balcony buddy, James,’ Max said. ‘It’s good to have another Arsenal fan in the neighbourhood.’

  James grinned down at his shirt. ‘Seems like we’re an endangered species in this part of town.’

  ‘You know it,’ Max grinned. ‘West Ham and Chelsea scum is all you get.’

  James was chuffed. CHERUB had set the situation up so that he had the best possible chance of getting on with Max, but sharing a football team made everything easier.

  ‘Me and a couple of other dudes are heading down to the off-licence to get more beer in,’ Max said. ‘You wanna tag along?’

  ‘I’ve got cash,’ James said, ‘but I don’t exactly look eighteen.’

  ‘We know a place. The owner would sell nerve-gas to a six-year-old if he thought there was a couple of quid in it.’

  James grinned. ‘Does he have that in stock too?’

  ‘You can always ask.’

  James got up. He glanced down at Hannah and caught resentment in her eyes. ‘I’m only going off to get some beers. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Why would I mind?’ Hannah shrugged.

  But she was all thin-lipped and stiff-shouldered. James reckoned she minded quite a lot.

  ‘I’ll get you a prezzie from the offie,’ James said, trying desperately to reconcile the requirements of his mission with the fit girl sitting in the grass. ‘Chocolate bar, crisps, whatever you want.’

  This won Hannah around. ‘Get us a Coke, a half-litre one not a can, and a small bottle of vodka to mix it with.’

  James realised that was going to cost him the best part of a tenner, but it was food money from Zara lining his pockets, so he let it slide.

  Two slightly older boys led the way downhill to the off-licence. James and Max walked a few paces behind.

  ‘You’re a customer, James,’ Max said. ‘Getting off with Hannah first night out.’

  James tried to sound as cool as Dave had a couple of hours earlier. ‘It’s confidence, man,’ he shrugged. ‘Birds aren’t aliens from the planet Zog. You’ve just gotta talk to them.’

  ‘Yeah …’ Max slurred. James realised his new friend had downed way more than the single can of lager he’d shared with Hannah.

  ‘But Hannah’s been weird since that whole thing with her cousin last year,’ Max continued.

  ‘What was that?’ James asked.

  ‘Hannah’s cousin, Will. He was eighteen. Total hash-head, burnout, hippie, freak. He fell off the roof at the back of our block. Everyone reckons he was so stoned he didn’t know where he was.’

  James hadn’t seen anything about this in his mission briefing, but there would have been no reason to because it had nothing to do with the Tarasovs.

  ‘Was Hannah close to him?’ James asked.

  ‘Not especially,’ Max shrugged. ‘But Hannah and Jane were standing five metres away from where he landed.’

  ‘No way,’ James gasped.

  ‘Yes way,’ Max grinned. ‘Front-row seats to watch your own cousin turn himself into spaghetti Bolognese. Seeing something like that has got to mess up your head.’

  16. MAX

  It was a twelve-minute walk to the off-licence, but the owner was as good as advertised, letting James buy Hannah’s vodka and a six-pack
of beer without missing a beat. He didn’t even have to ask the two older guys, who were both fifteen, to go up to the till.

  It was nearly dark when they got out, so they took a slightly longer route back to the field, using the road instead of the unlit paths around the reservoir. James twirled the bag containing the cans of beer as he walked. Max didn’t say much, but James preferred that to the type of kid who never stops yapping.

  They had to clamber over a shoulder-height wall to get back into the field. There seemed to be fewer kids about and the atmosphere felt tight.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Max said bitterly. ‘What are they doing up here?’

  James spotted the new arrivals: four beefy lads aged sixteen or seventeen. They wore jeans and boots and the two girls who were with them looked rough.

  ‘Are they from round here?’ James asked.

  Max nodded. ‘They’re from the Grosvenor Estate, over on the other side of the reservoir. You don’t usually see ’em up here.’

  James spotted Hannah standing about fifty metres away. She’d rejoined Liza and a couple of other girls and they all stood in a huddle. James split from the older lads and jogged towards them, with Max in tow.

  ‘Hey,’ James said. ‘Everything OK?’

  Hannah looked edgy. ‘We were just waiting for you two to get back before we split. You know what that lot are like. They’re bound to start something.’

  ‘Shall we go to the youth centre?’ Liza asked.

  A skinny girl called Georgia tutted. ‘That place is so lame. Ten-year-olds yelling their heads off and chasing around with ping-pong bats. Let’s just hang out on the estate.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Max nodded. ‘Grosvenor kids won’t come near our estate.’

  ‘How come?’ James asked.

  Max giggled. ‘ ’Cos they’d get battered.’

  ‘Where do you want to go, James?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘I dunno,’ James shrugged. ‘Whatever you guys do, I guess. I don’t know what goes on around here.’

  ‘Diddly squat’s what goes on here,’ Liza snorted. ‘Saturday night’s so rubbish. I can’t wait till I’m old enough to go out clubbing and stuff.’