New Guard

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Shit,’ Lauren shouted, grasping a pair of bloody fingers as she scrambled out of the tub.

  While Ning rushed across to help Lauren, Kerry moaned gently as Bruce and Kyle raised her out of the tub and lowered her on to a padded stretcher. Capstick was a trained medic and he took control.

  Once Kerry’s helmet and boots were gently removed and an oxygen mask fitted, Capstick asked where it hurt.

  ‘Cracked ribs I think,’ Kerry said. ‘And my right knee.’

  Capstick took a pair of scissors and sliced Kerry’s sodden flight suit from ankle to thigh. A couple of people gasped when they saw a gory mess around a badly displaced kneecap.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Capstick said, as he eyed a piece of black metal protruding from underneath the kneecap. ‘Her suit wasn’t punctured.’

  Bruce shook his head. ‘She injured her knee when she was ten,’ he explained. ‘They put metal pins in the joint. I guess they ruptured in the crash.’

  Kerry craned her head up to look, and felt queasy seeing all the blood. ‘I’m sorry I crashed,’ she told everyone.

  With Lauren busy getting her cut finger dealt with, James was free to move across and take Kerry’s hand.

  ‘You’ll be OK,’ James said, smiling slightly.

  ‘No I bloody won’t,’ Kerry said indignantly, but she squeezed James’ hand at the same time. ‘Mission’s in two days.’

  ‘Everyone back off,’ Capstick said indignantly, as he realised that Kerry was now encircled by people gawping at her wound. ‘Kyle, see if there’s something in that med case we can give Kerry for the pain. Bruce, you call Gibraltar coastguard. Tell them to send the nearest chopper for a medevac.’

  31. MEDICAL

  It was sunrise as James stepped out of a motor launch, wearing the bottom half of a flight suit, a baby-blue hospital-issue T-shirt and a precautionary foam neck brace. After thanking his Spanish captain, James yawned for a night’s lost sleep as he strode up a gentle hill.

  He sighted Tovah on her morning run, but she was beyond shouting distance. Everyone else was apparently sleeping off the drama of the night before. Too agitated to sleep, James stepped into the hostel’s admin building. The bloodstained stretcher Kerry had been carried on and the medical pack had been abandoned just inside the door. He crossed to a large, slightly shabby office which he’d been using to plan the upcoming mission with Tovah.

  A big map of northern Syria and its four-hundred-kilometre land border with Turkey was spread across two desks pushed together. Stickers had been applied, showing IS-controlled oil wells and green dots indicating possible locations of the two kidnapped oil technicians, based upon electronic chatter picked up by the UK–US-controlled Echelon electronic communication monitoring system.

  But James was more concerned with his girl than his mission. He flipped his laptop open and placed a video call to the British military’s medical emergency centre, which was based at RAF Northolt, west of London. He was pleased to recognise the duty lieutenant he’d spoken to several times overnight.

  ‘What’s the news?’ James asked.

  The lieutenant tapped at a keyboard for a few seconds. ‘Patient Chang landed at 0607 hours. Taken under sedation to the Harlow military hospital where she’s scheduled for surgery at 1100.’

  ‘Great,’ James said. ‘Did you get all the scans and X-rays from the Spanish hospital?’

  The lieutenant made a few more keyboard taps. ‘Imaging’s all here, along with some very detailed notes. Much better than you’d get from a British doctor.’

  ‘Good stuff,’ James said. ‘What about her ward and stuff, so I can contact her, or send flowers after the op?’

  ‘That will be assigned after surgery. If it comes through before my shift ends, I’ll email you the details.’

  ‘Fab,’ James said, stifling a yawn as he hung up.

  He spun his office chair and looked at the map, wondering how they could reconfigure the mission to deal with the loss of Kerry. But Tovah was a former Israeli commando and microlight aviation expert, and Capstick was ex-Australian special forces. So while James was officially in charge of the rescue mission, he’d taken their advice at every stage and decided to set up a meeting with the pair after breakfast.

  Missing a night’s sleep was never a good thing, but based on past experience James found staying awake and toughing it out for a day a better option than sleeping half the day and throwing out his body clock. And if he was going to stay awake, he’d need caffeine.

  There was a filter coffee maker in a staff lounge across the hall, but as James was about to step out, he heard a grunt and a sound like stuff falling off a table in the next office along. Since all the hostel buildings were dilapidated, he thought maybe a rat or fox had found a way inside. But the moan he heard next was entirely human and he leaned into the hallway to investigate.

  The door of the next office was pushed shut, but the glass in the top half was only lightly frosted and James could see the outline of a couple kissing. Both about the same height, girl with long black hair.

  ‘Mmm,’ Bruce moaned, as he kissed the girl’s neck.

  James was intrigued. She was too tall for Tovah, the caretaker’s wife was sixty and had grey hair and the female training assistant was practically a skinhead.

  ‘Aww, shit,’ the girl gasped.

  James gasped too when he realised it was Ning.

  ‘What happened?’ Bruce asked anxiously.

  ‘Your watch strap caught in my hair,’ Ning said. ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Bruce said, as Ning started kissing him again.

  James was torn. On one hand, Bruce was his mate, Bruce was a decent guy and he never seemed to have much luck with women. On the other, Bruce had been teaching martial arts on campus, which meant he was CHERUB staff, and since Ning was seventeen and an agent, this broke all kinds of rules.

  James watched as Ning backed up and sat on a desk in the middle of the room. Bruce leaned over, kissing her, while running a hand through her hair. James wondered if Bruce would kick his ass if he burst in and told him to stop.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Ning said soothingly, as she clenched Bruce’s bum. ‘I want you to. I’m seventeen. I’m not a kid.’

  Bruce backed off, running a tense hand over his face.

  ‘I want to know what it’s like,’ Ning begged. ‘I want you to be the one.’

  Bruce sounded frustrated. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ he said. ‘But staff and agents is a big no. I shouldn’t even be kissing you.’

  ‘Temporary staff,’ Ning said. ‘You’re going back to Thailand straight after this mission. Which isn’t even a CHERUB mission.’

  ‘Temporary staff is still staff,’ Bruce noted sadly.

  Ning seemed a bit upset, but then stood up and gave Bruce a kiss. ‘Trust me to fall for the only guy on campus who wants to keep his dick in his pants.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ Bruce said. ‘You’re smoking hot.’

  Ning laughed as Bruce held her wrist and looked into her eyes.

  ‘You’ll leave CHERUB early next year,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ll sort you a job in Thailand and then we can be together without breaking any rules.’

  ‘I’m gonna miss you so much when you leave,’ Ning said. ‘I could quit CHERUB.’

  ‘You’re still not eighteen,’ Bruce reminded her. ‘And besides, what’s the rush? You’ve got the rest of your life to not be a CHERUB agent.’

  ‘We’ll have to Skype.’

  ‘Every day,’ Bruce agreed. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I really like you.’

  Ning smiled coyly. ‘Since you’re still refusing to deflower me, I suppose I could go for some breakfast.’

  ‘We’d better not be seen together,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ve already had a few sly comments from the twins about the chemistry between us. You head off first.’

  James ducked back into his office as Ning made a swift exit. As soon as she was out of sight, James stuck his head around th
e frosted glass door and found Bruce picking up the stuff he’d knocked off the table.

  ‘Caught you!’ James shouted.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bruce blurted, shooting upright and looking mortified.

  James smiled. ‘Mate, I’m bloody impressed that you took the moral high ground.’

  ‘Rules are there to protect kids from abuse by adults,’ Bruce sighed. ‘My pre-CHERUB years were no bed of roses, so I respect them.’

  ‘Fair play,’ James said.

  ‘Are you gonna tell on us?’ Bruce asked. ‘I think technically, my employment contract with CHERUB expired when I flew here and signed up for an off-the-books mission.’

  ‘Nah,’ James said. ‘You’re one of my best mates and one of the nicest guys I know. Ning has worked as my assistant in mission control. She’s clever, funny and I totally get why you like her. Plus, you’re both nuts about beating people up. So basically, it’s a match made in heaven.’

  ‘Six-year age gap,’ Bruce said, smiling awkwardly. ‘You won’t be the only one who calls me a cradle snatcher.’

  ‘Screw the lot of ’em,’ James said, smirking. ‘I’ll come visit you in Thailand when you’re all settled down with four kickboxing brats and a family dojo.’

  32. WEIGHT

  James tried to stay awake by keeping himself occupied. Nobody else was around to clean up, so he went into the little sick bay in the admin building and restocked the medical pack. Thoughts turned to Kerry as he scraped her dried blood from the stretcher and nuked it with bleach spray, before setting it to rest against a wall. It was a quarter to eleven, so she was probably getting wheeled into surgery back in the UK.

  Before heading out, James sighted a set of scales under a sickbed. He hooked them out with his foot and stepped on. 74.5 kilograms clothed was comfortably inside the target he needed to fly, so he allowed himself a slight grin as he crossed the hallway to the planning office.

  Capstick sat at a computer, scanning through a fifty-page Echelon chatter report. Tovah had her feet up on the map table, playing Monument Valley on her Galaxy Note.

  ‘So, what’s the verdict?’ James asked. ‘Are we good to go without Kerry?’

  Tovah sat straight as she spoke. ‘Sickness or injury were always possible, which is why we built redundancy into our plans. Six is better than five, but we’ll be OK, as long as we don’t lose anyone else.’

  James looked at Capstick. ‘McEwen weighs over seventy-five kg, but you’d be OK.’

  Capstick smiled and shook his head. ‘Did my share when I was in Aussie SAS. I’ve got three young kids and a wife who’d flip if she found out I’d gone on a mission in Syria. And you’re not poaching my assistants either. I’ve got twelve kids starting basic training in three days, and we’re way behind with the prep work because we’ve been out here helping you lot.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell your wife,’ Tovah pointed out, making Capstick shake his head and laugh.

  ‘Done enough death-defying stuff for one lifetime,’ he said firmly.

  ‘Fair enough,’ James smirked. ‘So what’s our configuration?’

  Tovah looked serious. ‘We’ll go in with four planes, plus a spare for emergency. Kerry wasn’t topping the flight rankings so the pilot roster stays the same. I’ll pilot, obviously. Lauren tops the pilot training ranking by some distance, so she’ll pilot, as will you and Bruce. Kyle as first backup, which means we now have three empty seats for our two hostages. The other thing to bear in mind is, at the range we’re flying, the microlights can take a maximum of one-fifty kilos for two passengers. Yuen and Sachs are big fellows, so one will fly with me since I’m lightest. Since you’re heaviest, James, you’ll now fly back with an empty seat.’

  James scowled. ‘So all that dieting was for nothing?’

  Tovah laughed. ‘Kerry told me you’ve got a six-pack for the first time in years.’

  ‘Bloody watermelon!’ James moaned. ‘I never want to see another slice …’

  Tovah looked at Capstick, who was clicking through the electronic chatter report from Echelon monitoring. ‘So we’re trained up and Kerry’s absence is a blow, but not a critical one. Question is, do we strike as planned?’

  Capstick scrolled to a report summary on his laptop screen, and began reading aloud. ‘No direct communications related to Sachs and Yuen detected for twenty-six days—’

  ‘No surprise,’ Tovah interrupted. ‘All Islamic State groups use strong encryption.’

  Capstick nodded. ‘Which is why they’ve been monitoring routine Internet and phone traffic in areas close to IS oil wells. Electronic chatter indicates that a well twenty kilometres east of Al Hakasah was out of operation for several days last month. There’s even a report of a Facebook message from someone presumed to work at the well saying Back to work tomorrow. Chinaman came and fixed the console. Which quite probably refers to Kam Yuen.’

  Tovah smiled. ‘Every bit of electronic chatter indicates that Sachs and Yuen are alive.’

  Capstick nodded. ‘UN estimates four million dollars’ worth of black oil is being smuggled out of northern Syria every week. Guys who can keep pumps working are too valuable to kill.’

  ‘Is there any indication of the kind of security detail Sachs and Yuen are travelling with?’ James asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Capstick sighed. ‘They’re probably travelling in some kind of lightly armoured convoy. Three to six armed guards. Anything more elaborate would make them conspicuous.’

  ‘What about response time?’ James asked. ‘If a well stops working right now, how long until Yuen and Sachs reach the scene?’

  ‘On average, we have one to three days from first chatter indicating that a well has gone out of production, to the arrival of the engineers,’ Capstick said. ‘Obviously, Sachs and Yuen can only be in one place at a time, so if two go wrong at once …’

  James nodded. ‘Presumably they’ll try and fix the biggest well first. We’re targeting big wells to improve our chances. Speaking of targets, Tovah?’

  Tovah leaned across the map. ‘The well at Tall Tamar is my suggested target,’ she began, as she tapped a spot. ‘It’s a big well eighty kilometres south of the Turkish border. It’s in the heart of IS-held territory, which means the military presence will be light.’

  James was no military strategist and looked confused. ‘Why light if it’s at the centre of their territory?’

  ‘Military forces usually defend the edges of their territory,’ Capstick explained. ‘There’s no enemy to fight in the middle.’

  Tovah continued. ‘Israeli intelligence tells me that the border with Turkey is open. Main highways are damaged but passable and they can put me in touch with a driver who knows Tall Tamar and can find us a place to hide out until our targets arrive on the scene.’

  ‘Why is Israel so keen to help free two British hostages?’ Capstick asked.

  Tovah smiled. ‘Islamic State wants to destroy the state of Israel. Illegal oil is Islamic State’s biggest source of income and taking out Sachs and Yuen will greatly diminish their capacity to keep it flowing.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Capstick said.

  James cleared his throat. ‘So, just to be absolutely clear, you’re both saying we can call in the drone strike on the well at Tall Tamar and get this mission started?’

  Tovah and Capstick looked at one another and laughed.

  ‘This is risky shit,’ Tovah said. ‘But we’re as ready as we’re ever gonna be.’

  While James planned, the five Currents and three other remaining Crustys followed breakfast with a six-kilometre run around the island. The end point was a clearing on a seaside cliff, where the training assistants had dropped ten dirt bikes, ready for a ride back.

  But as the sweaty runners got to the bikes, they realised that the training assistants had sabotaged them. Back wheels missing, drive chains removed, and several bikes looked OK but didn’t start for less obvious reasons. Race driving had turned Lauren into a reasonable mechanic and she helped to get Bruce a
nd Kyle on the road. As she fixed a locked brake disc on a third bike for herself, she realised that the five Currents were all stumped.

  Although the idea was for the presence of the five young agents to motivate the older ones, the teens were learning too and after four weeks, team rivalries had mellowed.

  ‘You haven’t got a clue, have you?’ Lauren teased, approaching Ryan as the sound of Bruce and Kyle’s bikes faded. ‘We’ve had two lectures on bike mechanics.’

  Ryan looked sheepish as he held up oily fingers. ‘Maybe I didn’t pay as much attention as I could have. I can see the back wheel is out of alignment, and the fuel line is loose, but I can’t see where this tube goes.’

  Lauren laughed as she tapped her fingers under the seat. ‘There’s nothing to plug it into because the fuel tank is missing.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ryan said dopily. ‘So I won’t be able to get this one going at all?’

  Now Lauren was cracking up. ‘Without a fuel tank, I don’t think so.’ She pointed at another bike. ‘Take the fuel line from your bike, fit it to that one and put some air in the back tyre. You should be OK after that, but check the brakes just to be certain.’

  Alfie spoke as Lauren turned back to the bike she’d just fixed for herself. ‘Would you please mind helping out here?’

  ‘Oooh, aren’t we suddenly so polite!’ Lauren said. ‘What about when the seat broke in my plane and you said it was because I have an arse wider than the Grand Canyon?’

  ‘Just joshing,’ Alfie said. ‘You know I think you’re great, Lauren.’

  Lauren tutted as she looked around. ‘You’re all hopeless,’ she moaned. ‘Daniel, it looks like the electronic ignition is loose and needs screwing back in. Ning, you need air in your tyres and clean the crap out of the jammed rear brake. Leon, that lightning bolt on the speedometer means your battery is flat, but you’ll generate enough charge to start if you roll her uphill and push off from there.’

  Lauren moved towards her own bike and gave it a kick-start.