CHERUB: The Recruit

by Robert Muchamore

  Meanwhile, Bruce had taken on the other one. The kid plucked Bruce off the ground. Bruce kicked him in the balls then put a sharp pinch on his neck. He’d been trained to target the main vein running up the side of the neck. It caused an instant build-up of blood in the thug’s head. He passed out and hit the ground like a falling tree, with Bruce holding on. Bruce clambered out from under his victim and ran towards Greg Jennings.

  Greg still had his trainer pressed in James’ crotch. There was a weird look on Greg’s face; like his brain wasn’t believing what his eyes were seeing. Greg reached inside his coat. James realised he was going for a knife. He dived backwards off the swing and grabbed Lauren.

  Greg pulled the knife. Bruce faced him off.

  ‘I’ll stick that knife in you if you don’t put it down,’ Bruce said.

  Greg lunged forward with the blade. Bruce stepped backwards. Greg lunged again, Bruce sidestepped. Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. The next time Greg moved, Bruce threw the coin in Greg’s face. Greg didn’t know what was coming towards him and blocked the coin with his free hand. Bruce used the distraction to grab Greg’s wrist, twist his thumb into a lock and slide out the knife. Now they were back facing each other, only Bruce was holding the knife.

  ‘I’ll stick this knife in you if you don’t start running,’ Bruce said.

  Greg was too proud to run, but he walked off fast. Lauren ran over to Bruce.

  ‘That was like something out of Jackie Chan,’ she said. ‘You’re the best fighter ever.’

  ‘I like to think so,’ Bruce said casually, tucking his coin back in his pocket. ‘At least for my age.’

  James was amazed. First Kyle had set the whole day up for him. Now Bruce had saved him from a beating.

  ‘You guys are great,’ James said. ‘I owe both of you.’

  ‘I’ll settle for cash,’ Kyle said, looking at the dirt on his trousers. ‘These are Billabong trousers. Sixty quid they cost and they’re filthy.’

  ‘You know what I really want?’ Bruce said. ‘Some business cards with Bruce Norris Kicked Your Arse printed on them. I can stick them in people’s mouths when I knock them unconscious, just in case they don’t remember me when they come round.’

  ‘Bruce, what you need,’ Kyle said, ‘is some serious time with a psychiatrist.’

  *

  The kids were gathered in a quiet corner of the car park outside Edgware station. Dennis King passed out copies of the mission briefing.

  ‘You all know the deal,’ he said. ‘Read the mission and sign your name at the bottom if you want to come along.’

  ‘Don’t sign it, James,’ Kyle whispered. ‘Remember you’re not supposed to be here.’

  CLASSIFIED MISSION BRIEFING

  TARGET:

  Bishops Avenue, London. Home of Solomon Gold, owner of Armaments Exchange plc. Gold is suspected of illegally selling American-made tank-buster missiles to terrorist groups in Palestine and Angola.

  OBJECTIVES:

  Solomon Gold has gone away for the weekend. His home is protected by a two man security post. Gas will be released inside the post. The gas will make the guards sleep for about three hours. This task will be undertaken by an M15 agent, posing as the security guard’s supervisor.

  Mr Gold is highly suspicious. The area around his house is monitored by thirty-six video cameras. Adult intruders will be suspected of being M15 agents or undercover police. A decision has been taken to use CHERUB operatives, who must behave like vandals to minimise suspicion.

  CHERUB operatives will enter the house through the main gate. Three operatives will search the office on the first floor for documents and make copies using handheld photocopiers. Six operatives will be issued with spray paint, bats and hammers. Their objective is to damage fixtures and fittings, creating the impression that the only intention was mindless vandalism.

  Afterwards all CHERUB operatives should leave the scene and meet at an agreed point two kilometres from the break-in.

  Local police have no knowledge of this operation. If an operative is arrested, they should give false identification details and await release.

  Bishops Avenue was locally known as Millionaires Row, though billionaires was more like it. The houses were all massive. Most were set back behind six-metre-high walls. Video cameras stared in every direction.

  A bus dropped the ten kids a few streets away. Solomon Gold’s house was fifteen minutes’ walk. James, Bruce and Kyle were at the back of the group, walking fast. It was dark and raining hard.

  ‘You excited?’ Kyle asked.

  ‘Nervous,’ James said. ‘It said in the briefing about getting arrested. If I get arrested they’ll know I’m on the mission.’

  ‘Try not to get arrested, then,’ Kyle said. ‘Bruce will look after you.’

  ‘What about you?’ James asked.

  ‘I’m upstairs photocopying documents.’

  ‘Boring,’ Bruce said. ‘We get to smash stuff up. It’s gonna rock.’

  Ever since the fight Bruce had been in the best mood.

  ‘I thought missions would be all sneaking around and stuff,’ James said. ‘Not bursting in the front door and trashing the joint.’

  ‘What?’ Kyle said. ‘A bunch of twelve-year-olds creeping around in balaclavas and gloves, disabling burglar alarms and cutting holes in windows? Can you think of anything more likely to attract attention? The first thing you’ll learn in basic training is that a CHERUB always has to act like a normal kid.’

  Bruce laughed. ‘CHERUB has a fifty-year tradition of mayhem and destruction.’

  ‘I never realised,’ James said. ‘Cool.’

  The girl leading them stopped by an open metal gate. She was called Jennie. Fifteen years old, she was mission leader.

  ‘Everyone inside,’ Jennie said.

  James stepped through the gate last. He noticed the security guards asleep in their glass booth. A couple of kids were already in there grabbing the house keys.

  ‘We’ve got twenty minutes,’ Jennie whispered. ‘Keep the noise down and pull the curtains or blinds before you turn any lights on. The only exit is back the way we came, so if the police turn up we’re all spending the night in a cell.’

  It was a hundred metres along a path lined with sculpted hedges to the house. The hallway was huge. Kyle took a mini photocopier out of his backpack and ran upstairs to find the office. James and Bruce found the kitchen. Bruce opened the fridge, which was empty except for a packet of cream cakes and some milk.

  ‘Thank you,’ Bruce said, stuffing a whole cake in his gob and glugging the milk. ‘I’m starving.’

  James had popped the top off his aerosol paint and started spraying ARSENAL in metre-high letters on the kitchen units. Bruce found the crockery cupboard and tipped it all on to the floor. James stomped the few plates and cups that weren’t already broken. A girl came in.

  ‘Bruce, James, come and help us out.’

  They ran after the girl to the swimming pool. A few plastic chairs had already been thrown in. Two kids were trying to move a grand piano.

  ‘Come on, help us.’

  Five kids, including Bruce and James, lined up behind the piano and pushed it into the pool. A great wave of water sprayed up. The piano hit the bottom of the pool, making a crack in the tiles, before floating back to the surface. Bruce leapt on to the floating piano, pulled down the front of his tracksuit bottoms and started pissing in the pool. Before he finished, a huge air bubble burst out from under the piano lid and capsized it. Bruce fell in and swam to the side. James and the others were cracking up.

  They all ran to the living room. James tucked some DVDs in his jacket, then picked up a little coffee table and used it to destroy the plasma TV hanging on the wall. The room stank from all the aerosol paint that was being sprayed. James was smashing ornaments and really getting into the swing of mindless destruction when a deafening alarm sounded and the room started filling with purple smoke.

  Jennie was shouting from the
hallway, ‘Everybody get the hell out of here.’

  ‘Stay with me, James,’ Bruce shouted.

  They ran through the hallway. Jennie counted them out of the main gate. ‘Run away,’ she shouted. ‘Split up.’

  James and Bruce sprinted up Bishops Avenue. Two police vans were heading towards them.

  ‘Walk,’ Bruce said. ‘It looks less suspicious.’

  The vans sped past. James’ skin and clothes were stained purple from the smoke.

  ‘What’s this stuff?’ James asked.

  ‘Never seen it before. Probably harmless. Food dye or something,’ Bruce said. ‘Whoever did the security survey on that house messed up big time.’

  ‘There’s none on you,’ James said.

  ‘I suppose it didn’t stick to me because I’m still wet from the pool.’

  ‘What about Kyle? Did you see him?’

  ‘He was upstairs. He wouldn’t have got out before us. Probably been nabbed. Better start running again. Those cops saw us, it won’t take them long to work out what’s going on and come back for us.’

  16. PENALTY

  ‘This is beyond stupid … This is beyond a shambles. And you three … I’m lost for words … You’re the biggest idiots of the lot, aren’t you?’

  Mac was pacing up and down his office. Not happy. Kyle, Bruce and James kept sinking lower in their chairs.

  Kyle had a black eye and his arm in a sling. He’d punched a policewoman trying to escape. Her three colleagues got revenge when he was handcuffed in the back of the police van.

  ‘We never messed up the security survey,’ Kyle blurted. ‘That was MI5’s fault.’

  ‘The security survey was fine,’ Mac said. ‘The alarm was deactivated. Unfortunately some idiots cracked the bottom of the swimming pool with a grand piano and the leaking water caused the security system to short circuit. That’s what set off the alarm and smoke.’

  James and Bruce sank lower still.

  ‘So, your punishments. What’s it to be? Kyle, you messed up in the Caribbean. You messed up at Nebraska House, now you mess up here,’ Mac said.

  ‘You told me I did a good job when I got back from Nebraska House,’ Kyle whined.

  ‘When you first got back, Kyle. Then two days later I hear from Jennifer Mitchum that the social workers want you punished. Something about filling someone’s room up with sand and spraying Coke everywhere?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Kyle said. ‘The guy was a dick.’

  ‘You and James were supposed to disappear quietly. No questions asked. I don’t like answering questions about where you’ve gone. I’m sending you on another recruitment mission, Kyle.’

  ‘No,’ Kyle said.

  ‘A delightful children’s home in a run-down area of Glasgow. I understand kids with English accents are particularly unpopular there.’

  ‘I won’t do it,’ Kyle said.

  ‘Do it, or I’ll put you in a foster home.’

  Kyle looked shocked.

  ‘You can’t kick me out,’ he said.

  ‘I can and I will, Kyle. Pack your stuff and get on the train to Glasgow tomorrow morning or you’re out of CHERUB for good. So, Bruce.’

  Bruce sat up in his chair.

  ‘Why did you go along with Kyle’s idea to take James on the mission?’

  ‘Because I’m a total idiot,’ Bruce said.

  Mac laughed. ‘Good answer. You spend a lot of time in the dojo, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bruce said.

  ‘For the next three months you’re suspended from missions. I want you in the dojo at the end of every day. Wash the floors, polish the mirrors, tidy the changing rooms and load all the towels and stinking kit into the washing machines. Then in the morning, unload all the kit, put it in the driers and fold it ready for use. Should take three hours a day if you work fast.’

  ‘Fine,’ Bruce said.

  But he didn’t look fine.

  ‘Now, James.’

  James was nervous. He didn’t know where to look.

  ‘You’re new here. Keen to make friends. Two qualified agents put you up to something. Basic training starts in a few days and should straighten you out. You get away with this one. But next time I’ll come down like a hammer. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, Mac.’

  ‘I’m Mac on a good day, James. Today you call me Doctor McAfferty or Doctor. Got that?’

  ‘Yes, Doctor.’

  James couldn’t stop a little smile. Then he saw how upset Kyle and Bruce looked and straightened his face.

  ‘Bruce, Kyle, you can go,’ Mac said.

  They walked out.

  ‘I understand you went to London to see your sister,’ Mac said.

  ‘Yes,’ James said. ‘I know I shouldn’t have. But I wanted to see her before Christmas.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you had difficulty getting access. I’ll try and sort something out.’

  ‘My stepdad doesn’t want me near her.’

  ‘I can be very persuasive,’ Mac said. ‘I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Thanks,’ James said. ‘I know it’s not my place, but I think you’re being too hard on Kyle. He only wanted to help me see Lauren.’

  ‘He’s nearly fourteen. Kyle should be in a navy shirt doing the most difficult missions; instead he keeps making silly errors of judgement. If you’d come and asked me, I would have let you go and see your sister. You could have waited at the station while the others went on the mission. Have you swum your fifty metres yet?’

  ‘No,’ James said.

  ‘Only five days to go, James. I won’t be happy if you fail.’

  17. WATER

  Amy and James walked towards another swimming lesson.

  ‘I spoke to the head swimming instructor,’ Amy said. ‘He suggested we try something different. It’s a bit drastic, but there are only two days left. Your stroke is good enough to swim fifty metres. What’s holding you back is your fear of the water.’

  They reached the learners’ pool. James stopped.

  ‘We’re not going in there this morning.’ Amy led James to another set of doors. There was a red warning notice: Danger. Diving Pool: No Admittance Without A Qualified Diving Instructor.

  James stepped through the doors. The pool was fifty metres long. At one end diving suits and oxygen tanks hung from hooks. The water was clear, cleaned with salt instead of chlorine. James read the depth markings: six metres at the shallow end, fifteen metres at the deep end.

  ‘No way am I swimming in that,’ James said, scared out of his mind.

  ‘I’m sorry, James,’ Amy said. ‘There’s no more time for the gentle approach.’

  Paul and Arif were walking towards James wearing swimming shorts and bright red T-shirts with Dive Instructor printed on them. James had seen Paul and Arif around, but hadn’t spoken to them since they’d helped him through the obstacle course.

  ‘Come here, James,’ Paul shouted. ‘Now.’

  James started walking. He looked back at Amy. She looked worried. Paul and Arif walked James to the deep end of the pool.

  ‘These are the rules,’ Arif explained. ‘You either dive in or we throw you in. If you swim fifty metres that’s the end. If you climb out before you swim fifty metres, you get a one-minute rest before you jump back in or we throw you back in. After thirty minutes you get a ten-minute rest, then we go for another thirty minutes. If you still don’t swim fifty metres we’ll do more lessons with the same rules. Don’t try to run off, don’t fight, don’t cry. We’re bigger and stronger than you. It won’t get you anywhere and it will make you tired. Do you understand?’

  ‘I can’t do this,’ James said.

  ‘You haven’t got a choice.’

  They were at the end of the pool.

  ‘Dive in,’ Arif ordered.

  James stood at the edge and hesitated. Arif and Paul each took an arm and a leg and flung him into the water. It was freezing. Salt burned James’ eyes. James tipped his body forward to start swimming.
His head went under and he breathed a mouthful of salty water. He started panicking. The side of the pool was only a few metres away. He struggled to the side, pulled himself up and took a long gasp of air.

  ‘One minute,’ Arif said, looking at his diver’s watch.

  James could hardly see.

  ‘Please don’t make me.’

  ‘Thirty seconds,’ Arif said.

  ‘Please, I can’t do this,’ James begged.

  Paul took James by the arm and marched him to the end of the pool.

  ‘If you dive in you get an easier start than if we throw you,’ Paul said.

  ‘Time,’ Arif said.

  James tried not to think about the fifteen metres of freezing water below him. If he could just get his stroke going and not drink any water it wouldn’t be so bad. James managed to swim ten metres, but the salt was blinding him and he had to give up.

  By the fourth attempt James was used to the salt and cold. He made it nearly halfway along the pool, as far as he’d ever gone without stopping.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Amy shouted. ‘You can do this, James.’

  James was tired but Arif and Paul showed no mercy, giving him one minute and making him dive back in. James only got a few metres before his aching arms got the better of him.

  ‘Not good enough,’ Arif said. ‘You don’t deserve a rest.’

  James could hardly hear above his pounding heart and gasps for air. They marched him up the pool and James jumped rather than suffer the humiliation of being thrown. He was so tired he’d forgotten to be scared. He swam a few metres, but his stroke was weak and he swallowed some water. Paul had to lift him out of the pool. James started coughing up water and snot on the poolside. Arif found a cloth and threw it at James.

  ‘Wipe it up, fast.’

  James meekly bent over and wiped the tiles. He was in a state, but he didn’t want Paul and Arif to see. Paul grabbed him to march him back to the top of the pool. He broke free and swung a wild punch.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ James shouted.

  Paul grabbed his arm and twisted it tight behind his back. James sobbed in pain.