New Guard (CHERUB)

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘When?’

  ‘There’s a local electrician coming in to replace the burned-out supply box at 0800. Replacement consoles and the repair team are due in by lunchtime. Then the guy asked when they expected the well to be fixed. Boss guy said it depends on the engineers but hopefully they’ll be pumping oil again by tomorrow.’

  ‘Nice,’ Bruce said. ‘Looks like we timed our arrival just right.’

  ‘Don’t want to stick around any longer than we have to,’ James noted. ‘Be good to have a couple of cameras in the area before it gets too light.’

  ‘We can land a pair of micro-drones on the oil derrick,’ Tovah suggested.

  ‘Won’t they give the game away if they’re spotted?’ Ryan asked.

  James got up and pulled a boxed micro-drone out of his backpack.

  ‘Three centimetres, weighs less than ten grams, but has an HD camera,’ James explained. ‘Battery lasts three kilometres in flight, and transmits a picture for up to twelve hours. You just program coordinates, after which it’s totally autonomous apart from the landing. In flight, it looks like an insect. Chances of it being spotted in situ are very slim and the plastic is corn starch, so after a couple of days the structure and rotors dissolve and the remaining components look like plastic scrap from a kid’s toy or something.’

  Ryan picked it out of the box.

  ‘Don’t break it,’ James smirked. ‘That’s twenty-seven thousand pounds’ worth.’

  ‘Whoa!’ Ryan said, thrusting the device back at James.

  ‘Two will give us complete video coverage over the well site,’ Tovah said. ‘As long as it doesn’t rain.’

  37. SURRENDER

  At 13:05, Ryan lay chest-down on stony ground, sixty metres from the oil derrick. Two bearded men stood outside, using a crowbar to open a crate. When the plywood side panel snapped free, a torrent of Styrofoam packing peanuts subsided to reveal the side of a reconditioned Offshore Marine control console. He looked across at James.

  ‘See the gouge in the side panel?’ Ryan said. ‘I’d swear I saw that exact machine in Uncle’s warehouse five weeks back.’

  ‘Probably did,’ James agreed, wiping sweat off his brow as Kam Yuen stepped down from the control cabin.

  Kam had grown a wispy beard and walked with a slight limp. He spoke to the guys unpacking, as Gordon Sachs stood around the back talking to the electrician. But while the two engineers were running the repair job, a trio of bulky armed guards never let them out of sight.

  ‘Heavy,’ Ryan noted of Sachs. ‘Ten kilos at least since the last photos we saw.’

  But James was distracted, speaking to Tovah through his in-ear com unit. ‘I have both targets in plain sight. Three bodyguards; Ryan and I have clean shots at all of them.’

  ‘Understood,’ Tovah said. ‘Drone is in position. Lauren and Bruce are in position. Is it a go?’

  Ryan looked across as James felt like his chest was being crushed.

  ‘It’s go,’ James said.

  Back at the supermarket, Kyle stood guard while Tovah activated a half-metre-square quadcopter drone, which Lauren had placed on the ground two hundred metres from the well. The rotors spun up and the craft took off for a pre-planned coordinate, thirty metres from the hut. While the direction was pre-programmed, Tovah used a targeting screen with facial recognition capability. It had picked out Sachs, Yuen, the electrician and the three bodyguards.

  Tovah used the touchscreen to green-light the three bodyguards’ faces, then pressed T on the keyboard to make them active targets. As soon as the In Range icon flashed up, Tovah pressed the Q and W keys simultaneously.

  Out by the well, James instinctively covered head with hands as the drone skimmed overhead. Its final approach was the last thing the bodyguards ever saw, turning their heads as a pair of drone-mounted machine guns blew them apart.

  As Sachs, Yuen and the electrician dived for cover, Lauren and Bruce moved from the opposite side of the derrick towards a line of parked vehicles. Bruce shot the driver of the equipment delivery truck through the head as he stood smoking a cigarette. The two Mercedes that Sachs and Yuen had arrived in had armoured glass, which made them more problematic.

  As Lauren lobbed a grenade under the equipment truck, Bruce fatally shot the driver of the first Mercedes as he stood by his car making a call. The second car was an ML-class four-wheel drive people carrier. There was a reserve bodyguard asleep on the back seat, but the driver was at the wheel and got the engine running.

  The tyres were reinforced, so Bruce targeted the passenger side window, taking chunks out of the bulletproof glass as the driver hit the gas. Bruce was almost through the glass, when he saw the bodyguard open a port in the side window and take a couple of shots back.

  ‘Shit!’ Bruce shouted, starting to run as the Mercedes roared off and the grenade under the equipment truck exploded.

  While Lauren and Bruce dealt with vehicles, James and Ryan approached their targets.

  ‘Come with me,’ Ryan said. ‘We’ve got bikes to get you out of here.’

  James covered the electrician. ‘Wrists together,’ he shouted, as he pulled out a set of plasticuffs. ‘Put these around. We won’t hurt you if you don’t give us shit.’

  ‘Where’s the boy?’ Ryan asked, referring to a lad of about thirteen who’d been running back and forth helping the electrician.

  ‘I think he went to the electrician’s van to fetch something,’ Sachs said, as he glanced warily at the assassin drone hovering fifty metres overhead.

  As James pulled the cuffs tightly round the electrician’s wrists, Ryan saw the boy dart out from under the hut and charge towards him with a screwdriver, screaming something in Arabic. Ryan tried to kick him down, but the assault rifle and a heavy pack threw his balance and the kid somehow got the screwdriver deep into Ryan’s bicep.

  Ryan roared in pain, feeling his arm lock up and his neck muscles spasm.

  The boy kept running. James took aim and had a clear shot between the lad’s shoulders that would have blown his heart out through his ribs. But the electrician was yelling, ‘Have mercy for my son,’ in Arabic.

  James raised his muzzle a few centimetres and sent the boy scrambling for cover with a shot that went high over his head.

  ‘Get back here, boy,’ James yelled, in wretched Arabic.

  ‘He’s just going to cuff your hands,’ Ryan added, as James fired another warning shot.

  As the boy stopped running and turned, hands raised in surrender, Tovah’s drone swooped in from behind and ripped him in half with a dozen bullets. James swore furiously as the electrician started screaming. James wanted to say something, but what do you say to a man who just watched his son die? All James could do was keep rolling.

  ‘Bikes,’ James spluttered, head spinning as he made hand signals for Sachs and Yuen to get moving. ‘Ryan, can you take Yuen with you?’

  ‘Haven’t got much choice,’ Ryan said, as Lauren and Bruce came running in from the side.

  ‘Mercedes got away,’ Bruce said. ‘Why’d Tovah shoot the boy?’

  ‘How the hell should I know?’ James roared furiously. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  There were four dirt bikes hidden at the roadside. Smoke from the burning truck cut the air as James grabbed his bike and eyeballed Sachs.

  ‘You been on a bike before?’ James asked, as Bruce and Lauren kick-started theirs.

  Sachs shook his head anxiously.

  ‘You let me ride,’ James said. ‘Sit up straight, put your arms around my waist. Tight, but not so tight that I can’t breathe. OK?’

  ‘There’s roadblocks,’ Sachs protested. ‘We’re eighty kilometres from the border.’

  ‘You think we’re that dumb?’ James said irritably. ‘Just do what you’re told. We need to get out of here.’

  The drone stood sentry overhead as Lauren and Bruce sped off across country. Ryan and James made more gentle starts, so as not to terrify their greenhorn pillion passengers.

  ‘Tovah,’
James said, shielding his view to avoid a final look at the teenager. ‘We’re heading out. Bruce said one Mercedes got away, so they could have radioed for help. What can you see?’

  ‘Nothing so far,’ Tovah said. ‘Drone only has two minutes’ fuel. I’m about to crash it into the control building.’

  James hoped the cuffed electrician would have had sense enough to start walking before the drone crashed. Riding with Sachs’ bulk was hell. His weight made the back wheel slam down on every bump. James had calculated that the 5km ride back to the supermarket would average 30kph and take around ten minutes, but even half that speed was making the bike unstable and Ryan was having the same problem with Yuen.

  Back at the supermarket, Tovah made final checks on the planes, while Kyle laid out explosive charges, so that Islamic State didn’t get hold of high-tech equipment that was too heavy to fly home. As he laid a charge under the makeshift control desk they’d built using crates and a door, he noticed something on one of the local surveillance cameras.

  ‘Shit,’ Kyle shouted. ‘Tovah, get over here.’

  ‘I’m rechecking the wing pressures,’ she said irritably. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Dust trails,’ Kyle said as he zoomed a surveillance image. ‘Looks like a pick-up truck with a big gun on the back and a couple of cars.’

  Tovah ran so fast that she skidded and almost turned her ankle. ‘How the hell can they know we’re here?’ she yelled.

  ‘Maybe someone saw the bikes leave,’ Kyle suggested. ‘Or heard Bruce’s shot.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter how,’ Tovah said, as she picked up her assault rifle, then pulled a radio off her belt to speak to the four riders on their com units. ‘We’ve got incoming,’ she warned. ‘Get here as fast as you can and don’t be surprised if you have to shoot at something when you do.’

  38. CLUSTER

  Two pick-ups headed towards the mall from the east. A Toyota, closing at speed with six guys bouncing in the back, and a Mitsubishi double cab, with five plus driver inside and a 20mm anti-aircraft cannon welded into the rear compartment. From the west the bulletproof M-Class Mercedes threw up a trail of dust, with a white van right behind.

  ‘Planes are ready to roll,’ Tovah told Kyle, as she stood inside the supermarket stuffing things into her backpack. ‘I’m gonna hold these dudes off. You run communication, OK?’

  ‘Right,’ Kyle said, as Tovah swapped her headset for an in-ear com unit, snatched her assault rifle and dashed through the remains of plateglass windows.

  The Mitsubishi crawled tentatively into the parking lot as Tovah took cover behind the rubbled side wall of a florist’s shop. The rear cab door flung open and two guys jumped out, keeping low as they headed towards the fuel station. The rest drove deeper into the lot.

  Tovah watched through her rifle sight, seeing the confused body language of a team with nobody giving orders. At the same time, the Toyota had circled to the rear of the mall. It stopped by an exit on to the main road and the men in the back started jumping out.

  Lauren’s voice came over the intercom, the engine of her speeding dirt bike in the background. ‘Bruce and I have the mall in sight, over.’

  ‘Circle around and deal with the Toyota,’ Tovah said. ‘Be aware there are two hostiles near the gas station.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Lauren said.

  As the Mitsubishi slowed down, Tovah turned the polarising filter on her gun-sight to cut out the reflection coming off the windshield. The instant she had a clear view, she aligned the crosshairs with the driver’s nose and took a shot.

  The truck jerked forwards as his head exploded. Doors flung open and panicked guys jumped out. IS clearly sent its best troops to forward areas, because these were guys in their fifties, armed with careworn Kalashnikovs, plus a kid of about sixteen.

  The teenager was first to die. A shot in the gut and another through his head as he crumpled. Tovah was aware of shots coming from the guys getting out of the Toyota, but her position was well covered and only a freak ricochet could cause a problem. The old guys getting out the other side were trickier, because the pick-up gave them cover.

  Tovah dug into her trouser pocket, pulled the pin on an anti-personnel grenade, then bobbed up and made a ground-skimming throw that ended with the grenade bouncing off the underside of the truck. The grenade was filled with hundreds of metal flechettes and screams erupted as the blast lifted the back end of the Mitsubishi, and knocked the men on its opposite side unconscious.

  Tovah bobbed up, thinking she might be able to take the vehicle and use the big rear-mounted gun, but the hot metal had also punctured the fuel tank. The rear end was ablaze and she didn’t fancy being this close when strands of 20mm ammunition clips heated up.

  As Tovah scrambled out the back of the crumbled florist shop, Lauren and Bruce jumped off their bikes and took cover, squatting by the mall’s perimeter fence, fifty metres from the Toyota and five middle-aged guys taking sporadic shots at Tovah’s position.

  Lauren was a good shot, but she felt sick as she crashed down in the dirt beside Bruce. ‘You ever killed anyone before?’

  Bruce shook his head nervously. ‘There’s a lot of them and a few of us. Gotta make it count.’

  Lauren took a one-knee firing position and looked through her scope. ‘I’ll work from left.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Bruce said. ‘Ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  Lauren felt grim as she looked through her sight. Greying hair, sweaty necks. Someone’s husband, someone’s granddad. She shot two guys between the shoulder blades, while Bruce did exactly the same. The fifth target was in front of the truck, but seemed to think the bullets were coming from Tovah’s direction and actually stepped out of cover and right into Lauren’s field of view. It was so easy it seemed unfair.

  ‘Shit, yeah,’ Bruce shouted, as he whacked Lauren on the back. But she was shaking and he realised he’d hit the wrong tone. ‘You OK?’

  ‘No,’ Lauren said, choking back tears. ‘No I’m not.’

  Bruce realised he needed to take charge. They were less than two hundred metres from the supermarket, so it seemed pointless going back to the bikes. ‘Let’s roll,’ he said, as he rubbed Lauren’s back. ‘You’ll be fine, mate.’

  Tovah came enthusiastically over the intercom. ‘You kiddies can shoot!’ she yelped. ‘Kyle, what’s the situation with incoming?’

  ‘James and Ryan are almost here,’ Kyle said. ‘Looks like the Mercedes and the van didn’t like what they’ve seen and are presently keeping their distance.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Tovah said as she started running in the open towards the Toyota. ‘There’s still two hostiles out by the garage.’

  ‘Will they attack after we just wiped their buddies out?’ Bruce asked.

  By this time, Tovah had jogged to within speaking distance, and could see that Lauren was shaken up. ‘Our wings are an eight-metre target and one shot will deflate them,’ Tovah said. ‘We can’t have anyone close enough to take pot shots.’

  Bruce nodded, but Lauren seemed spaced out. ‘Get back inside with Kyle,’ Bruce told her soothingly. ‘Get your plane running and leave when you get the all-clear.’

  ‘Right,’ Lauren said, unable to keep her eyes off the dead bodies.

  ‘You and me drive,’ Tovah told Bruce, glancing about warily as she opened the driver’s door of the Toyota, and pleased to spot a key in the ignition.

  ‘I’ve had my eye on them,’ Kyle said, over the com. ‘They’re around the garage. They’ve definitely not made a run for it.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Tovah said, as Bruce jumped into the rear of the pick-up.

  The garage was five hundred metres, heading away from the supermarket. The drive was a straight line, interrupted only by a couple of speed humps. Tovah kept super low, peeking over the dashboard as she rammed the accelerator. In the distance, she heard James and Ryan’s dirt bikes approaching from the opposite side of the supermarket. Then she jolted in fright as a bullet shot
through the cab, shattering both front and rear screens.

  ‘Crap!’ Bruce shouted, shielding his face as glass showered the open rear compartment.

  Another shot hit the engine block as Tovah threw the pick-up sharp right and stopped close by the garage’s buckled roof.

  ‘One up top,’ Bruce gasped, bashing his shoulder as his body slammed the pick-up’s metal casing.

  As Tovah scrambled out, Bruce bobbed up and took three quick shots. The last one hit a guy crouching in the buckled roof canopy. It was only a shoulder shot, but Tovah scrambled around the side of the bombed-out gas station and shot him through the chest before he’d landed.

  ‘One down,’ Tovah yelled.

  They circled the canopy, meeting up at the far side. The small garage shop was levelled and offered no hiding place. They were both mystified until Bruce spotted the holes where the underground fuel tanks had blown open.

  ‘Can’t be anywhere else,’ Bruce whispered, as he pulled a grenade and rolled it into a hole.

  ‘Laa, laa,’ a small figure shouted as it clambered out of the hole. Not even a teen yet, yelling the Arabic word for no.

  Tovah lined her pistol up to shoot, but Bruce saw that the figure was unarmed and knocked Tovah’s hand, sending the shot ripping through the canopy.

  ‘You already killed one kid today,’ Bruce shouted.

  ‘I targeted someone I saw running away,’ Tovah yelled furiously. ‘Drones don’t recognise surrender gestures.’

  As Tovah backed up, Bruce yanked out the small body, scrambled a few metres and dived for cover. Fortunately, the buckled canopy absorbed most of the blast, and Bruce’s combat helmet took the sting out of a fist-sized chunk of concrete.

  With ears ringing and dust subsiding, Bruce thought about the boy trapped beneath him. Why had he taken a dumb risk? What if the boy was about to pull the pin on a grenade?

  Bruce flipped into combat mode, grasping the boy’s arms. If he was unarmed, Bruce figured there was no harm in kicking him up the arse and sending him on his way. But when he rolled the boy on to his back, there was a rip in his grubby turquoise T-shirt. Beneath the rip, tightly strapped bandages had slipped down, exposing a boob.