that he needed pens and other school stuff, so they got the driver to drop them near a cluster of traders selling stationery and gift wrap. But after a couple of quick purchases and some doubling back to ensure that Leonid wasn’t having him followed, Ethan led Natalka past several hundred tightly stacked containers to an area that mainly attracted teenagers.
The containers here sold pirate music, software and DVDs, a mix of punk and Goth clothes, plus every kind of cheap Chinese-produced fake from Nike basketball boots to Nirvana hoodies and Star Wars light sabres.
Crowds of older teens hung out in web cafés, where network gaming was more popular than web surfing. The day was mild, but the heat from tightly wedged computers in poorly ventilated containers pushed the temperature way up and the clammy teenage patrons gave them a distinctly locker-roomish aroma.
Ethan picked one of the slightly less crowded containers and paid for an hour’s Internet. Natalka scowled at the gamer boys who eyed her up as they squeezed past lines of cheap office chairs and sat together in front of a glowing LED screen in the farthest corner of the container. A big electric fan swung from side to side, but it only shifted funky air from one spot to another.
‘I know better web cafés than this,’ Natalka moaned, as beads of sweat bristled on her neck.
‘But Leonid’s goons would stick out around here,’ Ethan explained, as he opened up his Facebook. ‘Everyone’s our age.’
‘Oooh, he’s cute,’ Natalka said, as she saw Ryan’s profile picture in Ethan’s friend list. ‘Not what I expected at all.’
‘What were you expecting?’ Ethan asked.
Natalka grinned. ‘More of a geeky loser like you.’
‘You’re too kind,’ Ethan said.
The Russian keyboard layout was confusing, but Ethan was soon tapping out a response to one of several Where are you, hope you’re OK type messages from Ryan.
I’ve got a memory key from Leonid’s computer , Ethan typed. I’m gonna load everything up to our FTP site. Maybe you can take a look if you have time? If not, I’ll look myself because I’m heading off on Sunday, starting school in Dubai on Monday. Plan is to grab a couple more USB sticks in the bazaar today. Leonid mainly works from a computer out at the stables so I want to know what he’s up to out there .
*
The Facebook, e-mail and MSN accounts for Ryan Brasker and Ethan Kitsell were monitored 24/7 through a CIA office in Dallas. Ryan’s BlackBerry bleeped, and within moments he was hurrying down the corridor of his posh Dubai hotel and banging on the door of Amy’s room.
‘Ethan’s back online,’ Ryan said excitedly, as Amy opened up dressed in a white hotel robe. She was rubbing her eyes and seemed half asleep. ‘He’s sent me a long message and he’s uploading files from Leonid’s computer to the FTP site.’
‘Can you log in and talk to him?’ Amy asked, as she stepped back to let Ryan in.
‘We’re screwed on the time difference,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s three p.m. in Bishkek. Ethan thinks I’m in California and it’s two in the morning there. It’s not credible for me to be online.’
Amy tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘Call Ted Brasker and let him know what’s happening. I’ll call the Information Management team in Dallas and make sure that the analysts start going through Ethan’s upload as soon as they get it.’
‘I hope this has been worth Ethan risking his neck,’ Ryan said. ‘Because I can’t help wondering if Leonid Aramov is the kind of guy who stores his darkest secrets on a hard drive . . .’
14. HAPPY
Dubai wasn’t the solution to all Ethan’s problems, but he wouldn’t miss the Kremlin’s gloomy strip lighting and tobacco-stained walls, and he liked the idea of putting some physical distance between himself and Uncle Leonid.
Grandma Irena was doing OK for someone who’d been given six months to live more than two years earlier. When Ethan entered her cramped bedroom
The containers here sold pirate music, software and DVDs, a mix of punk and Goth clothes, plus every kind of cheap Chinese-produced fake from Nike basketball boots to Nirvana hoodies and Star Wars light sabres.
Crowds of older teens hung out in web cafés, where network gaming was more popular than web surfing. The day was mild, but the heat from tightly wedged computers in poorly ventilated containers pushed the temperature way up and the clammy teenage patrons gave them a distinctly locker-roomish aroma.
Ethan picked one of the slightly less crowded containers and paid for an hour’s Internet. Natalka scowled at the gamer boys who eyed her up as they squeezed past lines of cheap office chairs and sat together in front of a glowing LED screen in the farthest corner of the container. A big electric fan swung from side to side, but it only shifted funky air from one spot to another.
‘I know better web cafés than this,’ Natalka moaned, as beads of sweat bristled on her neck.
‘But Leonid’s goons would stick out around here,’ Ethan explained, as he opened up his Facebook. ‘Everyone’s our age.’
‘Oooh, he’s cute,’ Natalka said, as she saw Ryan’s profile picture in Ethan’s friend list. ‘Not what I expected at all.’
‘What were you expecting?’ Ethan asked.
Natalka grinned. ‘More of a geeky loser like you.’
‘You’re too kind,’ Ethan said.
The Russian keyboard layout was confusing, but Ethan was soon tapping out a response to one of several Where are you, hope you’re OK type messages from Ryan.
I’ve got a memory key from Leonid’s computer , Ethan typed. I’m gonna load everything up to our FTP site. Maybe you can take a look if you have time? If not, I’ll look myself because I’m heading off on Sunday, starting school in Dubai on Monday. Plan is to grab a couple more USB sticks in the bazaar today. Leonid mainly works from a computer out at the stables so I want to know what he’s up to out there .
*
The Facebook, e-mail and MSN accounts for Ryan Brasker and Ethan Kitsell were monitored 24/7 through a CIA office in Dallas. Ryan’s BlackBerry bleeped, and within moments he was hurrying down the corridor of his posh Dubai hotel and banging on the door of Amy’s room.
‘Ethan’s back online,’ Ryan said excitedly, as Amy opened up dressed in a white hotel robe. She was rubbing her eyes and seemed half asleep. ‘He’s sent me a long message and he’s uploading files from Leonid’s computer to the FTP site.’
‘Can you log in and talk to him?’ Amy asked, as she stepped back to let Ryan in.
‘We’re screwed on the time difference,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s three p.m. in Bishkek. Ethan thinks I’m in California and it’s two in the morning there. It’s not credible for me to be online.’
Amy tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘Call Ted Brasker and let him know what’s happening. I’ll call the Information Management team in Dallas and make sure that the analysts start going through Ethan’s upload as soon as they get it.’
‘I hope this has been worth Ethan risking his neck,’ Ryan said. ‘Because I can’t help wondering if Leonid Aramov is the kind of guy who stores his darkest secrets on a hard drive . . .’
14. HAPPY
Dubai wasn’t the solution to all Ethan’s problems, but he wouldn’t miss the Kremlin’s gloomy strip lighting and tobacco-stained walls, and he liked the idea of putting some physical distance between himself and Uncle Leonid.
Grandma Irena was doing OK for someone who’d been given six months to live more than two years earlier. When Ethan entered her cramped bedroom
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