CHERUB: Shadow Wave by Robert Muchamore

Author:Robert Muchamore [Robert Muchamore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781444910551
Publisher: Hodder Children’s Books
Published: 2012-08-21T18:36:34+00:00

20. THREATS

Helena opened one eye. She was hanging over the side of the king-sized bed with her legs tangled up in the duvet. Her head was pounding and her mouth tasted like sour milk.

Someone was banging on the door. ‘Miss Bayliss?’

‘What?’ she shouted irritably. ‘You’ve got the wrong room. I didn’t order anything.’

She wondered if it was the photographer, or the golf instructor, but the clock said it was nine and she wouldn’t have to endure that torture until noon.

‘It’s Michael Stephens, from Tourism Malaysia,’ the man explained. His accent was English public school. ‘Could I step into your room for a brief chat?’

‘I’m just having a … Hold on, let me put a robe on.’

‘No rush,’ Michael said calmly.

Helena sat up in bed. The mirror on the wardrobe caught her long hair, horribly tangled. Her soaked trainers had left a dark stain on the brand-new carpet. The shower was running and Aizat’s clothes were strewn over the floor.

She kicked his trainers under the bed, picked up his shorts and shirt and ran into the bathroom. It was a large space, with a jetted tub at one end and two sinks. Aizat was blasting himself in the shower cubicle at the far end.

‘Morning!’ he said cheerfully as he opened the shower door. ‘Are you coming in?’

He had the same triumphant morning-after expression as every other man Helena had ever slept with. She dumped his clothes on the slate floor, reached into the shower and shut off the water.

‘What the hell?’ Aizat protested, as streams of foam rolled down his chest.

‘You need to be quiet,’ she warned. ‘It’s a guy from Tourism Malaysia and he can’t know you’re here.’

She closed the bathroom door, hurriedly pulled on the hotel robe and rushed across the room to let Michael inside.

‘Sorry,’ she said, as she faked a yawn. ‘Jetlag and I’m a heavy sleeper. Did I miss something?’

Michael was a smoothie, dressed in a tailored linen suit and mirror-shined shoes. ‘I wanted a quick word,’ he said, as he glanced disapprovingly at the clothes, beer cans and half-drunk wine bottles strewn across the room. ‘Out on the balcony perhaps?’

‘Of course,’ Helena said.

She felt like a naughty little girl who was about to be told off as Michael settled into a chair on the balcony.

‘Is everything OK?’ Michael began.

‘It’s good,’ Helena agreed. ‘A really beautiful place.’

‘You went up to the resettlement camp with one of the locals,’ Michael said. ‘The security office was concerned for your safety.’

Helena realised this was going to be one of those conversations where nobody said what they really meant. Michael knew that she’d met with local activists who’d then trashed a car belonging to the hotel spy.

‘He seemed like a nice guy,’ Helena said. ‘I went out for a jog. We got chatting. He invited me up to his home. I suppose that’s a risk for a girl on her own in a strange place, but—’

Michael took some folded papers from the pocket of his suit. They were printouts of articles she’d written for the Guilt Trips website.

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