CHERUB: Maximum Security

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Statistics show that you have a seventy-per cent chance of being in a physical confrontation within your first two days inside an American prison. Where you’re going inside Arizona Max, I’d put the chances at closer to ninety-nine per cent. Dave is going to be a physical match for anyone in there, but James is going to be one of the smallest. Dave will have to protect him.’

  ‘I’ve done self-defence training,’ James said. ‘I’m a second-dan Karate black belt.’

  ‘It’s good that you can handle yourself,’ Scott said. ‘But nobody knows that when you walk through the cell door. All they’ll see is that you’re young and small, which makes you a target for the bullies. If someone starts on you, go in hard and try to make a good account of yourself. That way you’ll earn respect and find that other inmates want you on their side.’

  ‘What about Curtis?’ Dave asked. ‘Who looks after him?’

  ‘Curtis has a couple of seventeen-year-old skinheads called Elwood and Kirch who make sure he doesn’t get damaged. There’s also word out that anyone who touches Curtis will be stabbed to death by a biker.’

  ‘Are there any bikers in that cell?’ James asked.

  Scott shook his head. ‘No, bikers are mostly men in their twenties and thirties, but all the kids in your cell are doing long sentences. They’ll get transferred to the adult section of the prison when they turn eighteen and there will be a whole bunch of bikers ready to stab someone for Jane Oxford.’

  ‘How come?’ James asked.

  John answered the question. ‘One of the ways Jane has kept her organisation strong is by looking after anyone who gets sent to prison. That means quality legal representation, financial support for families and physical protection inside prison. She’s very loyal to people who stay on her side. That’s also one of the reasons we’re optimistic that Jane will be happy to help you guys out if you successfully bust Curtis out of prison.’

  ‘Of course, it’s a double-edged sword,’ Scott added. ‘People have tried to cut deals with the FBI and give information on Jane Oxford in return for immunity, or a shorter prison sentence. Most of them either met a nasty end inside prison, or withdrew their evidence when members of their family were threatened. One guy even got taken out by a sniper when he was supposed to be under protective custody.’

  James threw down a chicken bone and pushed away the last of his fries. Kyle, Gabrielle and the others had probably started their recruitment missions by now. Scott’s description of the brutality inside Arizona Max made him wonder if he wasn’t really the one who’d drawn the short straw.

  12. SENTENCE

  James kept his head down on Wednesday morning, staying in his bedroom reading background documents for the mission and feeling bad about the accident he’d caused the day before.

  His reading material included the inmate rulebook for Arizona Max, the personnel files of the officers who worked in the young offender block and criminal records of the twenty-nine inmates who currently shared the dormitory cell with Curtis Oxford.

  John managed to clean the gunge out of the pool filter and fill it up. They ate lunch in the sunshine at the poolside, while John re-tested the kids on their background stories and ran through the details of the escape plan. When he was satisfied that everyone understood their job, he went inside to make phonecalls.

  James and Dave sat next to each other in the shallow end of the pool. Lauren was a few metres behind, on a sun lounger. She resented the dressing over her foot, as she stared at the cool water and lazily fanned herself with a frond she’d snapped off one of the poolside palms.

  Dave looked at James. ‘You don’t seem like yourself. Are you scared?’

  ‘A bit,’ James admitted. ‘Gladiator school sounds brutal.’

  Dave smiled. ‘I always get the jitters the day before a mission. You ever been on a rollercoaster?’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘Missions are like rollercoasters. You know the bit when you first get on and you’re going clunk-clunk-clunk up the lift hill? And you’re thinking to yourself, Why the hell am I putting myself through this? Then after the ride, you get off and you’re buzzing. You want to run straight around to the back of the queue to have another go.’

  James nodded. ‘When I got back from my last mission, they told me I had to spend a few months catching up with schoolwork. I was so gutted.’

  ‘I couldn’t imagine leaving CHERUB and going back to being normal,’ Dave said. ‘It must be so boring having nothing in your life except school, homework and a few mates.’

  ‘Sorry I didn’t slow the car down when you told me to. I was being a tit.’

  Dave shrugged. ‘I guess we all make mistakes. I’ve certainly made my share.’

  ‘What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done on a mission?’

  ‘Good question,’ Dave laughed. ‘There’s been a few. You know I nearly got kicked out of CHERUB after that mission with Janet Byrne?’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  Dave made a bulge over his stomach using his hand. James kicked his feet out of the water and burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh that,’ James giggled. ‘Janet’s totally hot. I can’t believe you got her pregnant.’

  The idea of Dave having a kid was funny, but James mostly laughed out of relief that Dave didn’t seem to be holding a grudge over the car wreck.

  ‘It’s not a joke, you know,’ Lauren said bitterly, suddenly looming over the side of the pool. ‘Janet’s my Spanish tutor. She cried in her room for days worrying about what to do.’

  James couldn’t control his giggling, so Lauren whipped him across the back with the dried-out palm stalk.

  ‘That hurt,’ James whined, as he scrambled out of range towards the deep end of the pool.

  ‘Good,’ Lauren yelled, as she hurled the palm away and stormed towards the house. ‘You’re both sexist pigs.’

  James made sure Lauren wasn’t coming back out before settling down beside Dave again.

  ‘In a few years’ time, some poor guy is gonna get a crush on your little sister and you can’t help but feel sorry for him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ James nodded, as he rubbed the red mark across his back. ‘All girls are nuts.’

  *

  Lauren came into James’ room at 5 a.m. on Thursday morning. Already dressed, she flicked her brother’s ear to wake him up.

  ‘John says you’d better get your worthless butt moving.’

  James scratched his head as he sat up. Lauren had barely spoken to him since the crash, so he was pleased when she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his sweaty back.

  ‘What’s that in aid of?’ James grinned.

  ‘Try not to do anything too stupid on the mission, eh? You might be an idiot, but you’re the only brother I’ve got.’

  James laughed. Lauren felt a twinge of guilt as her index finger ran over the scratch where she’d whacked him the afternoon before. ‘I’m making a nice cooked breakfast for everyone,’ she said softly.

  James was shocked when he got out of the shower and walked through to the kitchen. Lauren looked composed as she slid a trio of perfectly browned pancakes on to a plate, while bacon and scrambled eggs sizzled over the gas hob.

  ‘I remember you cooking when Mum was alive,’ James gasped. ‘Burned bits stuck to the pan and mess over the cabinets. When did you get so good at it?’

  ‘I did a few cookery classes on campus.’

  ‘You’re getting so mature,’ James said. ‘You’re always surprising me and you never seem to ask me for help and advice like you used to.’

  Lauren started to laugh.

  ‘What?’ James asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Lauren sniggered. ‘It’s just…’ She paused to let out a snorting noise. ‘The thought of asking you for advice. You’re not exactly Mr Maturity, are you?’

  James was wounded. ‘I’m mature,’ he said defensively.

  ‘If you say so, bro’,’ Lauren snickered.

  James didn’t get a chance to push the argument, b
ecause there was a white car pulling up on the driveway.

  The Arizona police car sprang up like it was letting out a sigh, as Marvin Teller hoisted himself out of the driver’s door and sited his cowboy hat on his head. Today’s suit was custard yellow, with white leather boots.

  Marvin walked around to the trunk and reached inside. James felt a nasty pang of reality when Marvin lifted out two sets of bright orange overalls and swung a body chain over each shoulder.

  Everyone gathered around the table to eat breakfast. Dave, John and Marvin raved about Lauren’s cooking and tucked away seconds; but James could only manage a few bites.

  His stomach was turning somersaults. He ran upstairs to the toilet and retched a couple of times, but didn’t bring anything up. All the stuff James had learned about the dangers inside prison was really getting to him. He splashed cold water on his face and took slow, deep breaths to try and get hold of himself.

  When he got back down to the kitchen, John looked concerned. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nervous,’ James confessed.

  ‘You know the rules,’ John said. ‘You can pull out of this mission at any time and you won’t be punished.’

  It was true that James wouldn’t be punished. It was also true that if he bailed on a critical mission at this stage and ruined it, nobody would ever offer him a spot on another one. He’d spend the rest of his time at CHERUB doing routine surveillance, break-ins and security checks. James wasn’t prepared to throw away all the effort he’d put into training and missions, because he’d woken up with a touch of nerves.

  ‘Don’t sweat it,’ James said, trying to sound cool. ‘Once the mission starts, I won’t have time to worry.’

  Marvin took the boys through to the living-room, while John and Lauren stacked the dishwasher. Marvin told them to strip everything off, including watches and jewellery. They replaced their socks, T-shirts and underpants with prison issue. The underwear smelled of disinfectant, but the stains and rips were an uncomfortable reminder of previous occupants.

  The baggy orange overalls they wore on the outside were designed for high visibility, so that a prisoner who escaped in transit could be easily seen. Two suits with Omaha State Prison printed on them had been shipped in especially for the occasion. In addition, James and Dave had to pull on fluorescent yellow bibs, like the ones kids wear in football training. They had DANGER: ESCAPE RISK printed on them in huge letters. The only normal clothes the boys were allowed were their trainers.

  ‘You won’t get any toilet breaks once these are on,’ Marvin explained, jangling the chains.

  James and Dave both dashed upstairs and took a piss. When they got down, Marvin had the two sets of shackles laid out on the carpet.

  He put James’ on first. James winced as Marvin clamped the bracelets around his ankles.

  ‘Does it have to be so tight?’

  ‘It’s supposed to bite the skin so the bracelet can’t move,’ Marvin explained. ‘Someone would ask questions if I fitted them on loose … Hands front.’

  Marvin squeezed cold metal cuffs on to James’ wrists. A length of chain linked the ankle bracelets to the handcuffs, preventing James from raising his hands any higher than his waist.

  ‘Take a stroll around the room while I fix up Dave,’ Marvin said. ‘Moving around in those things takes some getting used to.’

  *

  The individual holding cells at the Phoenix courthouse were barely one pace wide by three long. The only facilities were a drinking fountain and a filthy steel toilet bowl. James had passed more than a dozen of these sweltering little cages on the way to his own and, judging by the shouts and screams passing in all directions, there were hundreds more.

  James and Dave were supposed to have gone into court first thing that morning, but something caused a hold-up and James had lost track of time. Inmates weren’t allowed watches and there were no windows. James guessed it was between twelve and one when a cling-film-wrapped sandwich and bottle of no-brand cola got passed through the bars, but that had been several hours ago.

  ‘Rose, James,’ a woman’s voice shouted.

  The stocky female guard stood by the bars outside the tiny cell holding a clipboard. She had a red face and a torrent of sweat drizzling out of her hair. James scrambled up from the floor. He still had the ankle bracelets on, but his handcuffs had been released on arrival.

  ‘Cuffs,’ the hack said sharply.

  James picked the handcuffs attached to his ankle chains off the floor and put them on a small metal shelf in the barred door.

  ‘Come on,’ she said crossly, ‘wrists.’

  James realised he was supposed to post his hands through the slot so the hack could fix the cuffs on. She squeezed them a notch further than Marvin Teller had done: tight enough that the tendons in his wrist hurt every time he moved his fingers.

  ‘What’s the dirty look in aid of, kid?’

  They walked past two rows of the tiny cells and up six flights of stairs to the second floor of the courthouse. This level was air-conditioned and James was pleased to catch sight of Dave waiting outside the courtroom.

  ‘What was the hold-up?’ James asked.

  Dave shrugged. ‘Like they’d tell us.’

  The hack knocked on the courtroom door and waited a few seconds, before the boys were ushered in. James had expected a grand setting, with loads of people in the room and wood panelling, like you see in the movies. He got a windowless office with frayed carpet, barely bigger than his room on campus.

  The grey-haired judge sat behind a cluttered desk in her stockinged feet, sipping out of a Starbucks cup. Her shoes and handbag rested on the floor, beneath an American flag mounted on a pole. There was a stenographer sitting at a smaller desk off to one side, a guard armed with a shotgun and two lawyers, one of whom James and Dave had met briefly that morning before being taken down to the cells.

  The lawyer had explained that when an Arizona defendant pleads guilty, the case is dealt with using a system called plea-bargaining. The charges and prison sentence are haggled over in advance between the judge and the two opposing lawyers. The court hearing was a formality.

  James and Dave stood in the back third of the room behind a red line. A sign on the wall guaranteed a ninety-day sentence to any prisoner who dared step over it.

  ‘OK,’ the judge said, taking a quick glance at her watch. ‘It’s late, let’s roll this along. James and David Rose versus the state of Arizona, case number six-zero-one-nine-nine. Minors charged as adults, with one count of robbery and one count of murder. The defence council has offered to plead guilty to charges of robbery and second-degree murder, with an attached term of eighteen years. Does the prosecution formally accept this bargain?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ the prosecution lawyer nodded.

  The judge looked up at James and Dave. ‘Has your lawyer explained to you that by pleading guilty to these charges and accepting the bargain, you lose any right of appeal?’

  James and Dave both nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Very well,’ the judge said solemnly. ‘Let the record show that sentence of eighteen years has been passed on James and David Rose.’

  The two lawyers leaned forward and took turns shaking the judge’s hand. James looked at the clock on the wall and realised that he’d spent the whole day sweltering in a cell, waiting for a hearing that had lasted less than three minutes.

  13. INDUCTION

  The bus to Arizona Max had a metal cage blocking off the exits and bars over the windows. Two hacks with pump-action shotguns sat up front, facing towards a dozen prisoners riding a bus with room for more than fifty.

  James and Dave sat near the back. A couple of women had been placed in the middle, and the men were at the front. Pride of place went to a giant with a long red beard, who’d been put on board last and clamped into his seat with a tubular metal bar.

  James looked back to Dave in the row behind. ‘What the hell did he do?’

  The only other kid on the bus
leaned across the aisle and answered. He was a skinny fellow called Abe, who was no taller than James. The tuft of bristles on Abe’s chin was the only hint that he was nearly seventeen.

  ‘That’s Chaz Wallerstein,’ Abe said, as if this should mean something.

  James and Dave both looked blank.

  ‘You know,’ Abe said. ‘Bank robber, turned into a hostage deal. He shot up fifteen people, killed eleven of them. It was all over the TV news. Where have you two been, Mars?’

  James straightened up his overalls so you could read the word Omaha. ‘They had us in solitary up there.’

  Abe smiled. ‘Mars, Nebraska, same kind of thing I guess … You know you’re gonna cop trouble when the hacks see those escape-risk bibs?’

  *

  Arizona Max was opened in 2002 to deal with the state’s rapidly expanding prison population. It was a multi-role prison, capable of holding 6,500 inmates, inside fourteen H-shaped cellblocks. Nine blocks held maximum-security adult male prisoners, two held female prisoners, and two were super-maximum-security (supermax) units containing Death Row, along with the most dangerous inmates in the state. The final unit held close to 300 boys under the age of eighteen.

  The vast prison compound stretched over thousands of acres and was surrounded by three electrified fences and two stacks of barbed wire coils more than ten metres high. All vehicles or persons entering the prison had to pass through a single entry point.

  The bus carrying James and Dave drove through the first set of gates and into a small holding pen, surrounded by twenty-metre-high walls. These outer gates were operated from a control building beyond the prison perimeter, while the inner set operated from the main control room inside the prison. This dual-control security system, known as a sally port, means that inmates can’t escape, even if they manage to overpower every guard inside the prison.