People's Republic

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Sorry, ladies,’ the driver shouted. ‘Cyclist just tried getting himself killed.’

  The women were still straightening up when the van pulled off. Someone had stepped on Ning’s hand, slightly reopening her wound from the previous day. When the van’s back doors opened at the factory, the light revealed a bead of blood creeping out from underneath the sticking plaster.

  It didn’t amount to much and Ning wiped it on to her jeans as she stepped into the factory, but the bead of blood set off a chain of thoughts:

  Ning didn’t owe any gangsters money, but she didn’t want to stick around for weeks waiting to get paid. She somehow doubted they’d just let her walk out even when she did.

  It would be difficult to escape from the factory, or from the house when every room was crammed. But the factory’s strict hygiene regulations meant that no matter how short-staffed they were, workers always got sent home if they were sick, and Ning reckoned it wouldn’t be that hard to escape the house in the daytime when it was mostly empty.

  As the newly arrived workers formed a scrum, trying to get inside the cloakroom to change into their work gear, Ning cut around the back and headed for the ladies’ toilets.

  She shut herself in a cubicle, bolted a bright blue door and peeled the plaster off her hand. The dried blood made it look more dramatic than it was as Ning dug her nail into the cut and picked off the scab. As the wound broke open she gave it a squeeze. This was excruciating, but had the desired effect and sent two streaks of blood dribbling down her arm.

  Ning pressed a few squares of toilet tissue into her bloody palm and headed out of the toilet. She made sure that several drips of blood hit the spotless hallway floor as she headed for the food preparation area.

  ‘Hey,’ a fat supervisor shouted, as she raced up behind Ning and grabbed her arm. ‘Where are you going, young lady?’

  Ning copied Ingrid’s trick of rolling her eyes and acting like she was close to fainting. ‘I’m looking for Mei,’ Ning said, as she slumped against the wall. ‘It’s been bleeding all night. I think I’m going to be sick.’

  Someone spewing in the food preparation area was a supervisor’s worst nightmare. The fat woman grabbed Ning and led her towards a tiny first aid cubby under the staircase.

  ‘You can’t work like that,’ the supervisor said, as she settled Ning into a plastic chair. ‘You stay there. I’ll come back and dress it once the shift has started. Then one of the drivers can take you home for a rest.’

  33. HOME

  Less than an hour after she’d left, Ning stood back at the front door of the house waiting for Leo to answer. He was in his forties, well over six feet tall, with thick rectangular glasses and a stubbly beard. As far as Ning could tell, Leo’s wardrobe didn’t extend beyond tracksuit bottoms and Chelsea shirts.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Leo asked, as the van driver gave him a wave and drove off.

  Ning held up her neatly bandaged hand.

  ‘Right,’ he said grumpily. ‘Get down to your room and stay out of the way. I’m expecting people.’

  Leo kept his door closed when the women were around, so Ning got her first glance inside as she passed down the hallway. The room was a tip, with overflowing ashtrays and empty beer cans everywhere. Pride of place went to a huge TV, which was currently showing a PS3 game with PAUSED written across the screen.

  ‘Snout out, nosy parker,’ Leo said. ‘If I hear a peep out of you, you’d better be dying.’

  Ning tried to think as she walked down to her room. The basement windows were all boarded and she reckoned her best escape route would be out of the back door into the garden, or possibly through the kitchen window – smashing the large central pane if necessary.

  But the other women wouldn’t be home for another twelve hours and her escape was more likely to succeed if she took time to prepare. She still had her American dollars, but British money would be of more immediate use for buying food and travelling, and so would a better idea of where she actually was.

  Women like Mei who still owed money to the gangs that trafficked them weren’t allowed to leave the house, but women who’d paid off their debts could go out on their days off, if Leo gave them permission.

  From what Ning had heard, two of the quartet who’d bullied her that morning were the only ones apart from herself who didn’t owe gangsters. A search of their room might unearth something useful, such as money, a local bus map, or a letter with an address. If she was really lucky she might even find a mobile phone that would enable her to give Dan a call and tell him that she was OK.

  Ning badly wanted a shower, and this would also give her an excuse to go up to the first floor and have a quick rummage. She grabbed clean clothes, towel and soap and headed upstairs.

  Leo had made it clear that he wanted Ning to stay out of the way, but although he yelled a lot none of the women seemed properly scared of him and when she reached the ground floor she was reassured to find his door was closed and his PlayStation blazing.

  With the shower in constant use, the bathroom floor was always puddled. The smell of cigarettes lingered and the bathtub had a layer of grime in the bottom and a plughole clogged with hair. Ning didn’t want to get the fresh dressing on her hand soggy and solved this by tearing the plastic off a new pack of toilet rolls and winding it over her hand.

  Even though the bathroom was grotty and her hand was in plastic, Ning still enjoyed the blast of hot water and took longer than she should have. She was washing the last shampoo out when Leo barged in.

  ‘Are you deaf, missy?’ he shouted. ‘What did I tell you?’

  Ning was naked and backed up behind a thin white shower curtain.

  ‘What did I say?’ he repeated.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ Ning said, shivering as her shoulder blades touched the wall tiles. ‘Can’t this wait?’

  ‘I told you to stay downstairs,’ Leo said, as he lifted the toilet seat and started taking a piss. ‘You’re going the right way about getting a slap.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind as long as I was quiet.’

  The doorbell rang before Leo could answer. ‘Bloody bollocks,’ he shouted, as he shook off hastily and raced outside doing up his belt. ‘Always when you start pissing.’

  As Leo raced downstairs and answered the front door, Ning decided it was best not to antagonise Leo by sticking around in the shower. She finished rinsing her hair, towelled off fast, dressed in clean underwear, jeans and a sweatshirt. As she stepped on to the first-floor landing she caught a putrid smell and overheard a man talking to Leo.

  He spoke in Chinese, and his tone made it clear he was Leo’s boss.

  ‘What are we supposed to do with them?’ Leo asked, sounding slightly worried.

  ‘Clean up and keep them out of sight, until someone comes to pick them up.’

  The reference to cleaning up made Ning think someone might be coming up to the bathroom, so she hopped across the hallway and dived into the evil quartet’s room. As she did she glanced downstairs, seeing Leo’s small but stocky boss, and two black-haired girls slumped against the hallway wall.

  ‘Christ, Ben, what happened to them?’ Leo asked, as Ning listened from the doorway of the quartet’s bedroom.

  ‘Driver was Polish,’ Ben explained. ‘Van and driver went missing a few days back. Last night I got an anonymous phone call telling us where to find it.’

  ‘Why would a driver abandon his truck?’ Leo asked. ‘Who called?’

  ‘Russians,’ Ben explained. ‘There’s a bunch of them trying to get a slice of our trafficking operations. We’ve got no idea if they killed the driver or just scared him off. But the vehicle was missing for six days and the women didn’t have much water.’

  ‘Why here?’ Leo asked.

  ‘You were nearest, the house is empty in the day. They’ll be gone before the workers get home.’

  ‘There’s a girl here,’ Leo said.

  ‘You said it was just you,’ Ben roared.

  ‘I was a
lone when you called, but they dropped her off from the factory with a busted hand.’

  ‘And you don’t bother to tell me?’ Ben shouted. ‘Where’s she now?’

  ‘She was upstairs taking a shower.’

  ‘Find her.’

  Ning shut the door and backed into the quartet’s room as Leo bounded up two stairs at a time. She jumped on to one of the women’s beds, grabbed a crossword magazine and pretended like she was reading it as Leo burst in.

  ‘Why are you in here?’ Leo shouted.

  Ning saw that she’d stupidly left her wet towel and toiletries bag by the door, making it obvious she’d been standing there listening.

  ‘I told you to stay in the basement,’ Leo said, as he picked up the toiletries bag and threw it furiously at Ning’s chest. ‘It was for your own good.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Ben shouted. ‘Get her down here.’

  ‘You heard him,’ Leo shouted. ‘Get up.’

  Ning slid off the bed and Leo held the door open as she stepped out on to the first-floor landing.

  ‘My oh my,’ Ben gasped, as he looked up at Ning from the bottom of the stairs. ‘What a pretty little thing.’

  Leo gave Ning a little jab in the back, nudging her down on to the top step. The intense smell coming up the stairs reminded Ning of the bin Dan pulled her out of in Bishkek. As she looked beyond Ben’s gold watch and tattooed arms, she saw that what she’d thought were two black-haired girls when she’d glimpsed between the stair rods were actually bodies. They were wrapped in cheap black bin bags that had split in several places as they’d been dragged up the hallway.

  34. MATES

  Ryan had been back on CHERUB campus for a week and lay face down on his bed when Max Black and Alfie DuBoisson dropped by. He’d bounced between a few different groups when he’d first joined CHERUB, but had formed a bond with Max and Alfie during basic training and they’d been tight ever since.

  Max was twelve and about the same height as Ryan, but with a slimmer build. His freckled skin and blond hair gave him an innocent look, but he was always getting into trouble and sometimes it rubbed off. It was never for bad-boy stuff like fighting or drugs. Max just had the boredom threshold of a two-year-old and was more or less allergic to sitting still, doing what he was told and following instructions.

  When Ryan first arrived on campus he’d been scared to talk to Alfie. Although he was still only eleven, Alfie was a head taller than Ryan and Max, with a chunky build that meant he’d have been fat without CHERUB training. Beneath menacing dark eyes and bushy eyebrows, Alfie was quietly spoken and had a posh French accent. He played flute and guitar and was irritatingly smart, even by the exalted standard of CHERUB agents.

  ‘So, Mr Ryanator,’ Max said eagerly. ‘How did the big showdown in the chairwoman’s office go?’

  Although Ryan had been home for six days, he’d been sick for the first three and ended up on antibiotics for a chest infection. By the time he was well enough to speak two sentences without hacking up phlegm, Zara had jetted off to New York to celebrate her wedding anniversary with her husband Ewart.

  ‘Fairly terrible,’ Ryan said, as he rolled on to his chest.

  Alfie spoke from back near the door. ‘So what’s the tariff for granny bashing these days? Max’s money was on ditch clearance, but my bet was on one-on-ones.’

  Both were common punishments for CHERUB agents in big trouble. Ditch digging was a coverall term for various kinds of manual labour that involved clearing the undergrowth and drainage channels in the wooded area at the back of campus. One-on-ones were painfully intense sessions with a physical training instructor.

  ‘Neither,’ Ryan said. ‘I’m suspended from all missions except recruitment missions for three months, loss of allowance for two months, confined to campus for one month and work duty in the recycling centre.’

  Max looked shocked. ‘You beat up some little old lady and all you get is the recycling centre? I got ten hours of one-on-ones just for crashing an electric buggy. You shouldn’t be sulking, Rybo. You should be celebrating.’

  ‘With buxom mademoiselles,’ Alfie added. ‘And deep-fried Mars bars!’

  Max looked back over his shoulder. ‘Alfie, can we leave your fantasies out of the conversation for once?’

  ‘Maybe the recycling centre isn’t as hard as one-on-ones,’ Ryan said, ‘but I’d rather do twenty one-on-ones than five hundred hours in recycling.’

  Max gasped, then laughed. ‘Five hundred! Holy shitting shit. Nobody ever got a five hundred hours of anything. That’s gonna take you months to work off.’

  ‘Zara says if I do two hours a night on weekdays and three hours on a Saturday and Sunday I can do it in six months.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Alfie said, shaking his head. ‘Training exercises and missions will delay things. I’d say more like eight or nine.’

  ‘Five hundred hours,’ Max said. ‘At least it’ll teach you not to go round bashing up old ladies.’

  Ryan found Max’s tone irritating and he sat up sharply. ‘I only shoved her. It’s not my fault she happened to be a thirty-kilogram midget who’d fall down in a stiff breeze.’

  ‘Calm down, tiger,’ Max teased. ‘You know what you’re like with those violent mood swings of yours.’

  Ryan simmered as Alfie started to laugh.

  ‘Are you guys here for any reason other than to take the piss?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘I think we’ve covered the piss-taking now,’ Max said, before looking back at Alfie. ‘Was there anything else on the agenda?’

  Alfie saw that Ryan looked upset and gave Max a look that said stop it.

  ‘You need a girlfriend, Ryan,’ Alfie said. ‘You’re gonna be on campus for at least the next few months.’

  ‘Grace,’ Max suggested. ‘Nice bum. Not a great deal in the boob department yet, but that’s bound to improve and she totally fancies you.’

  ‘The last time I saw Grace she squirted half a can of whipped cream down my shorts,’ Ryan said.

  ‘Blatant flirting,’ Max said.

  ‘I’m pretty sure she hates me and I’m not even bothered,’ Ryan said. ‘I can get a girlfriend when I’m fourteen or something.’

  ‘I’d lick honey off Grace’s belly,’ Alfie said.

  Ryan and Max both laughed.

  ‘I swear, Alfie,’ Max said, ‘you seriously need help. You’re an eleven-year-old sex fiend. Have you ever considered an iced bath, or going for long runs?’

  ‘I’m half French,’ Alfie said. ‘We’re the greatest lovers in the world.’

  ‘Grace is tiny, Alfie,’ Max said. ‘If you got married you’d roll over in the night and she’d disappear up your arse crack.’

  Ryan felt slightly less miserable now that Alfie was the butt of the joke. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You need a big woman.’

  Max agreed. ‘Like Irene: you know, the canteen lady with the huge rack and the mole with hairs growing out of it.’

  Ryan burst out laughing. ‘I bet when Irene takes her clothes off, she’s got more giant moles,’ he said. ‘Whole massive clumps of them, growing under her pits like mushrooms.’

  ‘Aww, don’t,’ Max said. ‘You’re making me gag.’

  ‘Isn’t that your phone?’ Alfie asked.

  Ryan had his mobile on vibrate, but he hadn’t noticed over the laughter. Max took the phone off its charging stand and threw it across.

  ‘Hello?’ Ryan said, but there was nobody on the other end.

  The phone’s screen said, 1 Missed Call – Amy Collins. Ryan didn’t know what it was about, but he didn’t want Alfie and Max dicking about in the background.

  ‘Mission stuff,’ he said.

  For security CHERUB agents aren’t supposed to share details of their missions, so Alfie and Max left without fuss.

  ‘Meet you downstairs for lunch in ten,’ Alfie said.

  ‘I’ll try,’ Ryan said.

  He didn’t know what to think as he read Amy’s name on the screen. Ryan understood why she hadn
’t taken his side when he’d hit Dr D, but he’d grown fond of her when they’d lived together in Santa Cruz and on an emotional level he still felt betrayed by the way she’d sided against him.

  ‘Hi, mate,’ Amy said. ‘Are you OK? I feel really bad about how stuff turned out last week.’

  ‘I’ve gotta write Dr D an apology,’ Ryan said. ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘No damage,’ Amy said. ‘Ted reckons he’s been working with Dr D for years and quite regularly gets the urge to knock her on her arse.’

  Ryan laughed awkwardly. ‘Maybe that’ll be some consolation as I do my five hundred hours in the recycling centre.’

  ‘Five hundred,’ Amy gasped. ‘Wowee! Zara really threw the book at you, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes she did.’

  ‘I was going to call to see how you were doing,’ Amy said. ‘But this isn’t a social call. We’ve lost the tracker we implanted in Ethan’s thigh.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Ryan said. ‘Did it break, or do you think it was found and pulled out of him?’

  ‘Impossible to say at this stage,’ Amy said. ‘We thought we’d lost all trace of Ethan. But HQ in Dallas kept monitoring the phone and Internet accounts you set up under the name Ryan Brasker. An unknown number tried to call your Ryan Brasker mobile and we think it’s probably Ethan.’

  ‘Must be,’ Ryan said thoughtfully. ‘Nobody else had that number.’

  ‘I need you to go over to the mission control building,’ Amy said. ‘They can route comms so it’ll look like your call comes from a mobile phone in California. After I hang up I’ll send you an e-mail that the IM put together. It’s got a background story, saying where your Ryan Brasker persona is living now and what you’ve been doing since Ethan last saw you. You need to read and memorise the details.’

  After what had happened the previous week, Ryan didn’t appreciate Amy’s bossy tone, nor the way she just seemed to assume he’d do whatever she asked.

  ‘I’m suspended from missions,’ Ryan said.

  Amy sighed. ‘Ryan, this isn’t exactly a mission. You don’t even need to step off campus. We just need you to re-establish contact with Ethan and try to find out as much as you can about where he is and what he’s doing.’