The Dealer

by Robert Muchamore

  “I’m with British Intelligence,” John smiled. “I have no authority here in the United States. All we’re doing is having an informal chat.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan,” Keith said. “I’m not saying one word until I see a lawyer.”

  “The local cops found a deceased member of the Lambayeke cartel and a bunch of unlicensed firearms in your house,” John said. “Somebody killed him, and unless the bad guys decided to start shooting one another, you’re the main suspect.”

  “I want a lawyer,” Keith said sourly.

  John turned and looked at Beverly. “What’s the standard sentence for a drug-related murder in Florida?” he asked.

  “Life without parole, on a good day,” Beverly said, smiling. “Though if the judge doesn’t like the look of you, he might bump that up to death by lethal injection.”

  “What if Keith claims self-defense and puts in a guilty plea to a charge of manslaughter?” John asked.

  “Between twenty and fifty years in prison,” Beverly said.

  “Man,” John Jones laughed. “They’re certainly tough down here in Florida. Keith Moore, I believe you’re in a big heap of trouble.”

  “I’ve got money,” Keith said, trying to sound confident. “I can afford a very smart lawyer.”

  “You reckon this case will ever make it anywhere near a courtroom?” John asked.

  “Why shouldn’t it?” Keith asked.

  “You’ll be charged with murdering a member of the Lambayeke cartel,” John said. “You’re a foreign citizen on a murder charge, so there’s not a hope in hell you’ll get bail. You’ll be banged up on remand, awaiting trial, in a Florida prison stuffed with members of the Lambayeke cartel. How long do you think you’ll last before one of them sticks a knife in your back?”

  Keith looked a lot less sure of himself when he thought about this. John theatrically slammed his mobile phone on the desk.

  “There’s my phone, Keith. Go ahead, call your big-shot lawyer if you want to. The Florida legal system will take you under its wing and you’ll be a dead man by Christmas.”

  “So what’s my alternative?” Keith asked.

  “You’ll have to sign a deal,” John explained. “The DEA will grant you immunity from prosecution in the United States, if you give a full and accurate account of your dealings with the Lambayeke cartel over the last twenty-whatever years. And you’ll have to agree never to set foot in the United States again.

  “The DEA will pass all the information you give to the British police. I’m sure you’ll have given them enough to prosecute you. You’ll face the full weight of British justice, which will probably be a twenty to twenty-five year prison sentence. With remission for good behavior, you could be a free man inside fifteen years.”

  “Why not leave me out here to rot?” Keith asked.

  “This deal makes everyone happy,” John said. “The Americans get lots of valuable information on the Lambayeke cartel, rather than a big bill for prosecuting you and trying to keep you alive in prison. Back in Britain, the home secretary gets to stand up in parliament and mouth off about the success of Operation Snort and his big crackdown on drugs. And most importantly, you’ll still be alive this time next year.”

  “What if the Lambayeke cartel comes after me in Britain?” Keith asked.

  “They might try to get at you,” John said, shrugging. “But Lambayeke members are thin on the ground in British prisons, whereas you’ll be on home turf. I expect a man with your resources will be able to find plenty of friends to protect you.”

  “You’ve got it all worked out,” Keith said, shifting uneasily in his chair.

  “This is a once in a lifetime deal,” John said. “There won’t be any negotiation. You’ve got one hour to make a decision.”

  Keith leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “You know what?” he said. “I reckon I’ve been in business long enough to know when someone’s got you by the balls.”

  He reached his arm across the table to shake John Jones by the hand.

  “I think you’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Jones.”

  • • •

  When the interview was over, James went back to Beverly’s office and called the house in Luton.

  “Kyle?” James asked. “Is that you?”

  “James, what’s happening?”

  “John Jones just nailed Keith Moore,” James said. “They arrested him last night and he’s cut a deal to save his butt.”

  “Excellent,” Kyle said. “We’re just packing up here. We’ve had to tell everyone we’re moving back to London.”

  “How was half-term?”

  “Ringo’s party was nuts. Kids were smashing up furniture, puking on the stairs. I met this cool kid called Dave, he’s really cute and—”

  “Stop, stop, stop,” James said sharply. “I can just about get my head around you being gay, Kyle. That doesn’t mean I want graphic details . . . What about Kelvin and that? I thought they were supposed to be looking after Keith’s house.”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Kyle said. “The police raided the boxing club on Tuesday night. They arrested Kelvin, Marcus, Ken, and that tall kid in your class.”

  “Del?”

  “Yeah, Del, and loads of other guys. The cops found the contact diary of the woman who used to organize the deliveries. They nabbed all the young couriers. You probably would have got busted if you’d been there.”

  “So is Kerry in?” James asked. “Can I have a quick word?”

  “She’s with Max Power.”

  “Who?” James gasped.

  “This new kid turned up in her class on Monday. They’re all over each other, snogging morning, noon and night.”

  James realized it was a wind-up. “Yeah, right, Kyle.”

  “I had you going for a second.” Kyle giggled. “Kerry . . . it’s your new beau. He wants to talk to you.”

  Kerry came to the phone.

  “We busted Keith,” James said. “He’s looking at twenty-five years.”

  Kerry let out a big shriek. James had to move the phone away from his ear.

  “Brilliant,” she said. “We’re heading back to campus tomorrow morning. When will you be home?”

  “I’m flying out of here this evening,” James said. “I’ll probably get to campus about the same time as you guys.”

  “You were serious about the boyfriend-girlfriend thing, weren’t you?” Kerry asked.

  James smiled. “Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to see you.”

  Chapter 32

  LAST

  James walked into Meryl Spencer’s office, which overlooked the athletic track on CHERUB campus. Even though the window was open, you still got a hint of the damp smell from the changing room across the hallway.

  “Ewart is impressed,” Meryl said. “Zara’s impressed and even Mr. Jones from MI5 is impressed. I have to say it, James, I’m impressed.”

  James smiled at his handler as he placed a blank bin liner on the desk and sat down opposite her. Meryl tipped out the contents. There were clothes, trainers, CDs, an envelope with over five hundred pounds in cash, and the five PlayStation games he’d stolen from the Reeve Center.

  “I trust there’s nothing else hidden up in your room?” Meryl asked.

  “No,” James said. “That’s everything I either stole, or earned from selling drugs. Except for money I spent on food and going out, some presents I got for Joshua, and Lauren’s birthday money.”

  “Which charity do you want me to give it to?”

  “Me and Kerry looked on the Internet. She found this hostel near Luton that helps young people with drug problems. Gets them off drugs, finds them jobs, and gets them places at college and stuff.”

  “That sounds excellent,” Meryl said. “You’re due over thirty pounds’ pocket money for the time you were away, and the clothes won’t go for much in charity shops. If you want, I’ll put the pocket money in the envelope and you can keep the clothes
and trainers.”

  “Cool,” James said. “I’ll go for that.”

  “You know, James,” Meryl said. “It must be Kerry’s influence, I could almost mistake you for a reformed character.”

  James couldn’t help smiling at the compliment. “I’ve been at CHERUB for exactly a year,” he said. “I reckon I’ve spend too much of that time scrubbing corridors, peeling vegetables, and running punishment laps to mess you around any more.”

  Meryl burst out laughing. “That’s what I like to hear,” she giggled, “total obedience . . . But seriously, James, your performance on this mission shows that the training and hard work have paid off. When Keith Moore was being held hostage a few nights ago, you kept your head in a very nasty situation and thought your way out of it. If you’d found yourself in that position before you came here, I’m sure your reaction would have been very different.”

  James nodded. “I probably would have freaked out, like Junior did.”

  “And the bond you made with Keith Moore was tremendous.”

  “Keith’s really nice guy,” James said. “I know he’s a drug dealer, but I almost feel sad that he’s gonna go to prison.”

  “Well, don’t,” Meryl said sharply. “Keith had enough money and power to keep his distance from the nasty side of the drug business. He might have spent his days swanning around his pool acting like a cool guy, but he knew what was going on. KMG was a ruthless organization that didn’t hesitate to use violence and intimidation to get what it wanted. For every person KMG made rich, there’s probably a thousand more who messed up their lives with drugs. Either by taking them, or getting caught selling them.”

  “Keith said breaking up KMG wouldn’t even make a difference to the amount of cocaine being sold on the streets.”

  “Maybe there’s some truth in that,” Meryl said. “But you can’t stop fighting against something just because it’s difficult. That’s like saying there’s no point having doctors and hospitals because everyone eventually dies.”

  “So when’s my next mission?” James asked.

  “Ah,” Meryl said, “bad news on that score, I’m afraid. You’ve been on two long missions already this year and you’ve missed a lot of school. We’re not looking to send you off campus again until the new year.”

  “That’s not so bad, actually,” James said. “Missions are hard work. It’ll be nice to go a few months without waking up every morning wondering what my name is and if I’m gonna get shot at.”

  “I heard about the man you killed. We do all we can to keep our agents out of situations like this, but it’s an unfortunate fact that drug dealers and guns are inextricably linked. Have you thought about it at all since you got back?”

  “A bit,” James said. “But I get more freaked-out wondering what would have happened if me and Junior hadn’t decided to go down the beach for a boxing—erm . . . For a swim, that night.”

  “Have you had trouble sleeping, or nightmares?”

  “I was lying awake thinking about the car chase on the plane home,” James said. “The woman sitting next to me said I looked pale. She got me a little tub of mineral water.”

  “I’ll arrange some sessions with a counselor,” Meryl said. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience and it’s important that you talk about your feelings with someone.”

  • • •

  Kerry was sitting on a bench for the athletics track waiting for James when he got out of Meryl’s office. He gave her a quick kiss and sat next to her.

  “How many punishment laps did Meryl give you?” Kerry asked.

  “None,” James said.

  “That’s got to be a first.”

  “I didn’t do anything bad.”

  Kerry started giggling. “Another first.”

  “They don’t want to send me on another mission until the new year. It’ll be cool if we can just chill out on campus together. Watch movies, do homework and stuff.”

  “That’s OK for you to say, James. You’ve already fluked into the lead role on two major missions and earned your navy T-shirt. I’m still a nobody.”

  “It’s not such a big deal,” James said casually. “It’s just a T-shirt.”

  Kerry huffed. “If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s people who have something and say that it doesn’t matter. It’s like those rock stars on MTV who go on about how their millions and supermodel girlfriends haven’t made them any happier. But you never see them giving it all away and going back to live in Mummy’s trailer home, do you?”

  James thought it was best to change the subject before Kerry got into one of her moods. “Do you fancy taking a stroll over to the back of campus?”

  “That would be nice,” Kerry said, breaking into a smile. “The leaves are pretty colors at this time of year. I never thought you had a romantic side, James.”

  “Actually, Kyle and Lauren are up there cleaning out ditches. I thought we could go over and wind them up a bit.”

  Kerry gave James a gentle shove. “I might have known you didn’t have a romantic side. . . . What happened about Lauren, anyway? The last I heard, everyone was gonna go up there and help her out.”

  “Mac said Lauren had to be punished and that anyone caught helping her dig would have to run thirty laps every day for a month. Everyone’s making her life easier in other ways though: doing her laundry, letting her jump the queue in the canteen, copying homework, that kind of stuff.

  “It was so funny when Kyle got back from ditch-clearing last night,” James continued. “You know how he’s always immaculate? His uniform was plastered in mud and it smelled so bad. A lot of the water in those ditches runs off the farms around here. It’s all full of cow and pig manure, and God knows what else.”

  “Serves him right for taking drugs,” Kerry said.

  “Give over, Kerry, all he did was take a puff on a joint. He would never have got caught if Nicole hadn’t collapsed.”

  “I don’t care,” Kerry said. “If something’s against the law, you shouldn’t do it. Especially drugs.”

  James started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” James said. “You’re always such a Goody Two-shoes.”

  Kerry jabbed a finger in James’s ribs.

  “What was that for?”

  “I’m not a Goody Two-shoes.”

  James grinned. “Little Miss Perfect.”

  “Take that back or I’ll make you sorry.”

  James mocked her voice. “Take that back or I’ll make you sorry.”

  “Don’t start repeating what I say.”

  “Don’t start repeating what I say.”

  “That’s it, James,” Kerry said angrily.

  “That’s it, James.” James leaned forward and planted a cheeky kiss on Kerry’s face. She broke into a smile.

  “I knew you weren’t really mad at me,” James giggled. “I’m too delightful.”

  He stopped giggling when he realized it wasn’t Kerry’s nice smile. It was her evil smile. She jabbed James in the ribs again, then used the moment while he was in spasm to wrap her arm around the back of his neck and wedge him into a headlock under her arm.

  “Still Goody Two-shoes, am I?” Kerry grinned as she tightened her grip.

  “No,” James croaked.

  “Quite sure?”

  “You’re not a Goody, Kerry,” James squirmed. “Just . . . Please . . . Let me go.”

  Kerry let James loose. As he straightened up, James couldn’t but help see the funny side of being effortlessly humiliated by a twelve-year-old girl wearing pink and white striped socks with penguins embroidered over the ankle.

  Kerry got off the bench.

  “Where are you going?” James asked.

  “Romantic stroll,” she explained, as she marched towards the trees. “Are you coming or not?”

  • • •

  After their walk, James, Kerry, and a big bunch of other kids spent Sunday evening at the bowling alley in the nearest town. They got
beaten three games to two by the identical twins Callum and Connor. James and Kerry had a total laugh. James had never felt so relaxed with a girl before. Now he’d asked Kerry out, it seemed dumb that he’d spent so long finding excuses not to.

  James lay awake until gone midnight. His body was still running on Miami time and it was early evening over there. He tucked his hands under his head and stared at the shadows on the ceiling.

  He wondered how Junior was doing in hospital and got pissed off when he remembered that April still had his Nike watch. But the KMG mission already seemed distant, like part of some other kid’s life. James Beckett was no more. James Adams felt warm and comfortable under his duvet. He realized he was the happiest he’d been since his mum died.

  James thought about life on campus. He knew the quickest routes around every building. He knew everyone’s names. Which kids not to start a conversation with in the lift because they’d bore you to tears. Which teachers would have a laugh with you and which ones would hammer you for the tiniest little thing.

  James knew there would always be mornings when he woke up and didn’t want to get out of bed for two hours’ combat training, or a brain-numbing double history lesson. But when he pulled on his uniform and walked down to breakfast, he knew most other kids looked at him with respect. Whenever James got to the dining room and looked around for a seat, there were always a few tables where he could sit amongst friends, spreading the latest gossip and winding each other up.

  A year earlier, CHERUB campus had been a bunch of strange faces, winding corridors, and scary teachers. Now it felt like home.

  EPILOGUE

  KELVIN HOLMES was sentenced to three years’ youth custody for conspiracy to supply drugs. Most of the younger boys who worked as delivery riders for KMG got off with police cautions and supervision orders. A few who had previous drug convictions received 3–6 months in youth custody.

  Without funding from Keith Moore, the JT Martin youth center and boxing club closed its doors for the final time after the 2004 Christmas party. No charges were brought against KEN FOWLER, who died of a heart attack a few months later.