Mad Dogs

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘That does sound like fun,’ James said, as one of the kitchen staff placed Zara’s coffee on the table.

  ‘I’ve barely slept,’ Zara continued. ‘And when I did get home, Joshua was playing up and insisted on sleeping in our bed. He’s got his arm in plaster and he gets really frustrated when he can’t do something.’

  ‘Poor kid,’ James said. ‘If I get a chance I’ll pay him a visit.’

  ‘Oh please do,’ Zara grinned. ‘You’re still his hero.’

  ‘I’m due a week off after helping out with training, so I’ve got loads of spare time. And what’s this you said about the mission?’

  ‘Last night’s meeting was to determine the future of Gabrielle and Michael’s mission. We had all six ethics-committee members there, and to start with they were split down the middle: three in favour of pulling the plug because the gang war had gotten too hot; three who accepted my argument that all CHERUB missions are inherently dangerous and that you shouldn’t give up because one bad thing happens.

  ‘We also had the Intelligence Minister on a conference call from London. Surprisingly he sided with me, and after a couple of hours we got a five-to-one vote in favour of continuing the mission. And that’s where you come in.’

  James was taken aback. ‘I’ve just got back from Malaysia.’

  ‘Don’t worry about your week off,’ Zara smiled. ‘It’ll take time to set everything up. But we’re trying to infiltrate a gang known as the Mad Dogs and you’re uniquely placed to pull it off.’

  ‘How come?’ said James, confused.

  Zara pulled a black-and-white mug shot out of a cardboard file and slid it across the table. The head-and-shoulders shot showed a lad of about fifteen. He was a touch smaller than James with a stocky build and a daft goatee beard. The boy had matured since James had known him and he took a couple of seconds to catch on.

  ‘Is that Junior Moore?’ James gasped.

  Zara nodded. ‘Son of drug baron, Keith Moore. You two got pretty friendly when we were in Luton two years back.’

  ‘Yeah,’ James nodded. ‘We went to Florida together and we had a total laugh – well, at least until the drug dealers started shooting at us.’

  ‘Junior’s had a rough couple of years. His mother sent him to boarding school, but he kept running away and was eventually expelled for smoking cannabis. He moved back in with his mother and siblings near Luton, and despite her attempts to keep him under control, he’s been in and out of trouble ever since. Last October he was caught behind the wheel of a stolen car. He was over the alcohol limit and there were two kilos of cocaine under the front passenger seat.

  ‘Junior got off on the more serious drugs charge because the police couldn’t disprove his claim that the drugs had been in the car when he stole it, but he still got six months’ youth custody. He was sentenced before Christmas and released on a good behaviour bond two weeks ago.’

  James sucked air between his teeth. ‘Sounds like he’s turning into his old man.’

  ‘Anything but,’ Zara said pointedly. ‘Keith Moore was a professional criminal who ran KMG like a business. Junior Moore has drug and alcohol problems and is going the right way about spending serious time in prison.’

  ‘Junior’s dad stashed millions in a trust fund though,’ James said. ‘Why’s he risking his neck for a few grand’s worth of cocaine?’

  ‘Junior can’t access any of his dad’s money until he’s twenty-one. And like a lot of teenagers, I suppose he’s testing the limits and trying to make a name for himself by associating with the Mad Dogs.’

  ‘So the plan is that I go undercover, link up with Junior again and use him to get all the information I can on the Mad Dogs?’

  ‘If you’re willing to accept the mission,’ Zara nodded. ‘It would all be routine but for the gang war and the risk of further violence. Michael will be on the same mission, but he’ll be inside a rival gang so you’ll have to keep apart. And to be on the safe side, we want you accompanied by another agent who can cover your back.’

  James nodded. ‘If anyone’s going to be covering my back, I’d ask for Bruce Norris.’

  Zara hummed uncertainly. ‘We’re careful about the missions we use Bruce on. He isn’t the most mature fourteen-year-old.’

  ‘No disrespect,’ James said warily, ‘I know you’re the boss, but I think Bruce gets a bum rap. He used to act babyish sometimes, but he’s really changed over the last year or so. He’s filled out, he’s less moody and I think going out with Kerry has really made him grow up.’

  ‘And there’s no friction because he’s seeing your ex-girlfriend?’

  ‘Me and Kerry fancied each other like mad, but it never really worked between us. She’s still upset because I dumped her, but she seems happier with Bruce than she ever was with me and I’m a million times happier with Dana.’

  ‘Your self-defence skills aren’t bad,’ Zara said thoughtfully. ‘But I can see the benefits of having someone with Bruce’s combat ability on a mission where some kind of physical confrontation is likely. And despite a few people saying he’s immature, he earned his navy shirt and I don’t ever recall him doing much wrong on any of his missions.’

  James grinned. ‘So, do you want me to tell him, or what?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Zara said. ‘I’d better run it by Chloe and Maureen to make sure they’re happy, but I’m inclined to agree that Bruce is a good choice.’

  15.SNEAKS

  James wasn’t the only one who’d got up early. Lauren crept into Rat’s room and leaned over his bed until her lips almost touched his ear.

  ‘COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!’

  Rat jolted so hard that he thumped his skull on the headboard. He rubbed the injury as he sat up and glowered at Lauren.

  ‘What was that in aid of?’

  Lauren was killing herself laughing. ‘I wish I’d videoed that on my mobile. The look on your face …’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Almost seven,’ Lauren said. ‘You’d better start getting ready. I’ve got a lesson at eight-thirty and we’ve got to have breakfast.’

  ‘I hate getting up,’ Rat groaned, picking a lump of sleep off his eyelid as he swung out of bed dressed in boxers and socks. It took him thirty seconds to pull on his trousers and a grey CHERUB T-shirt and slide his feet into his boots.

  ‘Ready,’ he announced, slapping his thighs as he stood up.

  Lauren was stunned. She’d spent longer than that doing her hair. ‘Don’t you want to comb your hair, or clean your teeth?’

  ‘Can’t be arsed at this time,’ Rat said, as he grabbed a watch off the window ledge and slid it over his hand. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Is that all you ever do when you get up in the morning?’ Lauren said, as they set off down the corridor towards the lift.

  ‘Sometimes I’ll take a shower, but I’ve got combat training at half nine. I’ll be all sweaty afterwards so what’s the point?’

  ‘Mr Hygiene rides again. You’re such a boy.’

  Rat tutted. ‘Do you want me to help you? If I’m not clean enough for you, I’d be happy to crawl back under my doona.’

  ‘You were all in favour of getting Large back last night,’ Lauren pointed out, as the lift doors parted.

  ‘Still am,’ Rat yawned. ‘But you know I hate getting up early.’

  Two other kids made a dash along the corridor and stepped into the car behind them, so they couldn’t say any more as they rode from the eighth floor all the way down to the basement archives.

  Agents rarely used the archives and this was the first time Rat had seen them. The main building on campus was thirty years old, and while the offices and accommodation above had been refurbished, the basement was still decked out in its original 1970s furniture, with avocado-green fittings and threadbare carpet tiles.

  The lift opened into a corridor with double doors at either end. To the left was the library, but Rat was attracted to the large space on the right which contained a mainframe computer the size of two
dozen fridge-freezers. It was surrounded by racks of giant data tapes and looked like something out of an old sci-fi movie.

  ‘Old skool,’ Rat grinned, giving a double thumbs-up as he peered through the glass door. ‘Do you reckon they still use it?’

  ‘Doubt it,’ Lauren said as she pulled a plastic pass out of her trousers. ‘Now stop lusting after the big computer, you geek. I need you to keep your eyes open.’

  She swiped the pass through a magnetic reader and the door clicked open.

  ‘Nice one,’ Rat nodded, as Lauren held the door open for him. ‘I wonder where Kyle got the pass.’

  Lauren shrugged. ‘Knowing Kyle he traded it for a stack of pirate DVDs.’

  The archive smelled of dust and furniture polish. It was only staffed during regular office hours so the reception desk was unmanned.

  As Rat peered down the fifty-metre-long lines of metal shelves and filing cabinets to make sure they were alone, Lauren sat in front of an old PC with a glowing green screen. She looked for a mouse, but after a few seconds she realised there wasn’t one and used the cursor keys to navigate down the screen to a field marked SEARCH.

  Lauren typed NORMAN LARGE and after twenty seconds a list of files and reference numbers scrolled up from the bottom of the screen.

  After moving through the list, she spotted the Personnel Record 1996 – present and jotted the shelf reference on to a Post-It, before pressing the escape button several times to clear the evidence of her search.

  ‘There’s nobody around,’ Rat confirmed, as Lauren stood up from the desk. ‘What’s down here? How come this place is so huge?’

  ‘There’s records on every CHERUB mission before 1992, after which they’re all computerised,’ Lauren explained. ‘Then there’s paper records for everyone who has ever visited campus and required security clearance, from the chairwoman all the way down to some bloke who popped in twenty-five years ago to replace the filter on a swimming pool. There’s also other stuff like contracts, building plans, accounts …’

  Rat’s face lit up with mischief. ‘Are our personal files down here?’

  Lauren shook her head. ‘Files on current agents and recent missions are in the mission preparation building, but they all get scanned and digitised after five years.’

  ‘Pity; a peek at our own files might have been a laugh.’

  ‘FGS-271C,’ Lauren said as she peered down one of the long lines of shelves. ‘Now where’s that gonna be …’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Rat said. ‘We’ll need to make photocopies. You start looking for the file; I’ll go over and make sure the copiers are switched on and warmed up.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Lauren said, as she set off between the lines of shelving, trying to figure out the filing system.

  It started out at AAA-000A, so she guessed that her reference starting with F would be in the second or third aisle. She found the Fs in less than a minute, but had to locate a sliding ladder and push it along the front of the shelving units to retrieve the chunky box file from its slot on the top shelf.

  As Lauren opened the file for a quick peek the mound of papers inside spewed over the carpet.

  ‘Balls,’ she cursed.

  Rat heard the noise and came jogging between the shelves to help her pick up. They were both tense, but couldn’t help laughing when they spotted a picture of a university-age Norman Large dressed in bleached jeans, sporting an extraordinary mullet hairstyle and holding a placard that said LSE Student Union boycotts South African goods.

  Once the papers were back in order, Lauren took the file to a small table that lay between the ends of two storage racks and sifted through cream-coloured wallets until she came to the one marked Descendants.

  ‘It’s spooky to think that CHERUB will keep files on us for years after we leave,’ Rat said. ‘And not just on us, but our kids and our wives and stuff.’

  ‘It’s a big job making sure CHERUB stays a secret,’ Lauren nodded. ‘I’ve heard that there’s an enforcement unit of some of the toughest ex-cherubs. They go around making sure nothing ever leaks out.’

  ‘Like how?’

  ‘Whatever it takes, I guess.’

  ‘Cool,’ Rat grinned. ‘Do you reckon they kill people? Like, imagine if someone threatened to publish a book about CHERUB and there was no other way to stop them.’

  Lauren shrugged impatiently. ‘I don’t know Rat, it’s just a rumour. At this moment, we have to look at this file and get out of here before we’re busted.’

  She opened the Descendants file and quickly read the title page:

  NORMAN LARGE

  Descendants – 1

  Name – Hayley June Large-Brooks

  Born – 16.05.1991

  Parents – N/A

  NOTE – Hayley is the adopted daughter of Norman Large and his long-term partner Gareth Brooks.

  ‘It’s all here,’ Lauren said excitedly as she flipped through the pages. ‘Hayley’s school photos, dental records, DNA records, details of her birth parents and of where she goes to school. It’s even got what clubs she belongs to and details of her closest school friends.’

  ‘The copier should be warmed up by now.’

  Lauren nodded as she followed Rat towards the copiers. The pages weren’t bound, so Rat pushed the entire stack into the document feeder and pressed the button to start copying.

  It only took one person to watch the copier. Lauren backed gingerly towards the reception desk. She’d covered her tracks, but she was paranoid and wanted to make absolutely sure. As she turned away from the desk, she heard the lift doors opening.

  ‘Rat, someone’s coming,’ Lauren gasped, as she dived beneath the desk.

  Rat looked around anxiously. He considered making a run and hiding amongst the shelves, but there wasn’t time and he ended up squeezing into a gap between the copier and the wall as a man stepped into the room.

  Lauren peeked through a tiny crack of light between the back panel of the desk and the drawer unit. She recognised the brown suit and bald head of mission controller John Jones. John had worked with Lauren on two of her missions and they’d always got along; but that didn’t mean he’d let her off if he caught her rummaging through secret archives without permission.

  John stopped walking and turned his head towards the noise coming out of the copying area, as the machine continued to swallow and spit pages from Hayley Large-Brooks’ file. John was about to head over and investigate, but Rat managed to squeeze his arm behind the copier and rip the plug out of the wall.

  This turned the heat on to Lauren. As John decided that the noise must have been a gurgle from the ventilation system, he turned back towards reception to look up a shelf reference in the computerised catalogue.

  There wasn’t much space under the desk. Lauren squeezed herself against the backboard as John’s shoe landed on the carpet, centimetres from her right boot. She’d be caught right away if John sat down and pulled the chair into the desk, but mercifully he was in a rush and he tapped at the keyboard while standing up.

  ‘Dammit,’ John said, as he thumped the keyboard and lowered himself into the chair.

  Lauren shuddered as John sat down. She put her hand over her face, because if John moved forward quickly his knee would smash her in the mouth.

  Please god don’t let him pull the chair in, she thought, crossing her fingers as the mission controller stared curiously at a sheet of paper. After fifteen seconds – which felt more like fifteen years – John suddenly kicked the chair backwards and reached across to grab the telephone from the desk return.

  The phone was as dated as all the other fittings in the archive. The metal bell inside dinged as John lifted the receiver and Lauren agonised as he entered the number using an old-fashioned dial.

  ‘Chris,’ John said, addressing his assistant. ‘I’m down in the archive, but I think I left the piece of paper with the list of documents I needed on my desk. I was wondering if you could remember the date of …’

  John paused as hi
s assistant said something on the other end of the line. When John opened his mouth again, he sounded a lot more cheerful.

  ‘So you came down and collected the documents last night …? Chris, you’re an absolute star! I was just on the way over to my office and I came down here to save on leg work … So they’re all waiting on my desk? Thanks very much and I’ll see you at the meeting this afternoon.’

  John put the phone down and let the chair shoot backwards into a metal cabinet as he sprang cheerfully to his feet.

  ‘You’re a good man, Chris,’ John muttered to himself, as he picked his briefcase off the floor and headed out towards the lift.

  Lauren crawled out and poked her eyes above the desk, then waited until she saw John’s legs disappear up the fire stairs before running over to Rat.

  ‘That was too close,’ Lauren huffed, as Rat plugged the copier back in. ‘He was practically touching me. I was already counting my punishment laps.’

  ‘Well we’re not out of the woods yet,’ Rat shrugged.

  The machine had been in mid-copy when Rat pulled the plug, and the result was jammed paper and a control panel ablaze with warning lights.

  ‘Can you fix it?’ Lauren asked, as Rat crouched in front of the machine and opened a plastic flap.

  ‘I guess all those years working in the office at the Survivor’s Ark did teach me something,’ Rat said, as he expertly released a lever, then twisted a green wheel until two jammed sheets of paper rolled into the output tray.

  He closed the flap and Lauren was relieved to see the red lights disappear and the words ready to copy appear on the touch screen.

  ‘Go and keep look-out,’ Rat said. ‘There’s only about six pages left. Then we’ll put the file back and get the hell out of here.’

  16.STING

  Hayley Large-Brooks was a Year Ten student at St Aloysius girls’ school, which was six kilometres from campus. Cherubs often saw Aloysius girls when they went into town, so everyone knew the uniform.