CHERUB: The Recruit (8 page)

‘James,’ the sergeant asked, ‘bearing in mind that the off-licence you were arrested in has three video cameras inside, do you admit trying to steal twenty-four cans of beer?’

‘Yes,’ James said.

‘On the video you can make out a couple of monkeys holding the door and not letting you out of the shop. Would you care to tell me who they were?’

‘No idea,’ James said. He knew he’d be dead if he grassed on four of the hardest kids in Nebraska House.

‘Why not tell me, James? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.’

‘Never seen them before in my life,’ James insisted.

‘They looked like Vincent St John and Paul Puffin to me. Do those names ring a bell?’

‘Never heard of them.’

‘OK, James. I’m ending the interview.’

Sergeant Davies turned off the cassette recorder.

‘Play with fire and you get burned, James. Hanging out with those two is more like playing with dynamite.’

‘I messed up,’ James said. ‘Whatever punishment I get I deserve it.’

‘Don’t worry about this one, James. You’ll go to juvenile court. The magistrate will probably give you a twenty quid fine. It’s the bigger picture you want to look at.’

‘What do you mean?’ James asked.

‘I’ve seen hundreds of kids like you, James. They all start where you are now. Cheeky little kids. They get a bit older. Spottier and hairier. Always in trouble, but still nothing serious. Then they do something really stupid. Stab someone, get caught selling drugs, armed robbery, something like that. Half the time they’re crying. Or so shocked they can hardly speak. They’re sixteen or seventeen and looking at seven years banged up. You might get off easy at your age, but if you don’t start making better choices you’ll be spending most of your life in a cell.’

This room was flashier than the one at Nebraska House. It was a single for starters. TV, kettle, telephone and miniature fridge. It was like the hotel when his mum took him and Lauren to Disney World. James didn’t have a clue where he was or how he’d got here. The last thing he remembered was Jennifer Mitchum asking him up to her office after he got back to Nebraska House.

James burrowed around under the duvet and realised he was naked. That was freaky. He sat up and looked out of the window. The room was up high overlooking an athletics track. There were kids in running spikes doing stretches. Some others were getting tennis coaching on clay courts off to the side. This was clearly a children’s home, and miles nicer than Nebraska House.

There was a set of clean clothes on the floor: white socks and boxers, pressed orange T-shirt, green military-style trousers with zipped pockets and a pair of boots. James picked the boots up and inspected them: rubbery smell and shiny black soles. They were new.

The military-style kit made James wonder if this was where kids ended up if they kept getting in trouble. He put on the underwear and studied the logo embroidered on the T-shirt. It was a winged baby sitting on a ball. On looking closer the ball was a globe and you could see the outlines of Europe and the Americas. Underneath was a set of initials:
CHERUB
. James spun the initials in his head, but they didn’t make any sense.

Out in the corridor the kids had the same boots and trousers as James, but their T-shirts were either black or grey, all with the CHERUB logo on them.

James spoke to a boy coming towards him.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ James said.

‘Can’t talk to orange,’ the boy said, without stopping.

James looked both ways. It was a row of doors in either direction. There were a couple of teenage girls down one end. Even they were wearing boots and green trousers.

‘Hey,’ James said. ‘Can you tell me where to go?’

‘Can’t talk to orange,’ one girl said.

The other one smiled, saying, ‘Can’t talk,’ but she pointed towards a lift and then made a downward motion with her hand.

‘Cheers,’ James said.

James waited for the lift. There were a few others inside including an adult who wore the regulation trousers and boots but with a white CHERUB T-shirt. James spoke to him.

‘Can’t talk to orange,’ the adult said before raising one finger.

Up to now James had assumed this was a prank being played on the new kid, but an adult joining in was weird. James realised the finger was telling him to get out at the first floor. It was a reception area. He could see out the main entrance into plush gardens where a fountain spouted water five metres into the air. The sculpture in the centre was the winged baby sitting on a globe, like on the T-shirts. James stepped up to an elderly lady behind a desk.

‘Please don’t say
Can’t talk to orange
, I just—’

He didn’t get to finish.

‘Good morning, James. Doctor McAfferty would like to see you in his office.’

She led James down a short corridor and knocked on a door.

‘Enter,’ a soft Scottish accent said from inside.

James stepped into an office with full height windows and a crackling fireplace. The walls were lined with leather-bound books. Doctor McAfferty stood up from behind his desk and crushed James’ hand as he shook it.

‘Welcome to CHERUB campus, James. I’m Doctor Terrence McAfferty, the Chairman. Everybody calls me Mac. Have a seat.’

James pulled out a chair from under Mac’s desk.

‘Not there, by the fire,’ Mac said. ‘We need to talk.’

The pair settled into armchairs in front of the fireplace. James half expected Mac to put a blanket over his lap and start toasting something on a long fork.

‘I know this sounds dumb,’ James said. ‘But I can’t remember how I got here.’

Mac smiled. ‘The person who brought you here popped a needle in your arm to help you sleep. It was quite mild. No ill effects, I hope?’

James shrugged. ‘I feel fine. But why make me go to sleep?’

‘I’ll explain about CHERUB first. You can ask questions afterwards. OK?’

‘I guess.’

‘So what are your first impressions of us?’

‘I think some children’s homes are much better funded than others,’ James said. ‘This place is awesome.’

Doctor McAfferty roared with laughter. ‘I’m glad you like it. We have two hundred and eighty pupils. Four swimming pools, six indoor tennis courts, an all-weather football field, a gymnasium and a shooting range, to name but a few. We have a school on-site. Classes have ten pupils or fewer. Everyone learns at least two foreign languages. We have a higher proportion of students going on to top universities than any of the leading public schools. How would you feel about living here?’

James shrugged. ‘It’s beautiful, all the gardens and that. I’m not exactly brilliant at school though.’

‘What is the square root of four hundred and forty-one?’

James thought for a few seconds.

‘Twenty-one.’

‘I know some very smart people who wouldn’t be able to pull off that little party trick,’ Mac smiled. ‘Myself included.’

‘I’m good at maths,’ James smiled, embarrassed. ‘But I never get good marks in my other lessons.’

‘Is that because you’re not clever or because you don’t work hard?’

‘I always get bored and end up messing around.’

‘James, we have a couple of criteria for new residents here. The first is passing our entrance exam. The second, slightly more unusual requirement, is that you agree to be an agent for British Intelligence.’

‘You what?’ James asked, thinking he hadn’t heard right.

‘A spy, James. CHERUB is part of the British Intelligence Service.’

‘But why do you want children to be spies?’

‘Because children can do things adults cannot. Criminals use children all the time. I’ll use a house burglar as an example:

‘Imagine a grown man knocking on an old lady’s door in the middle of the night. Most people would be suspicious. If he asked to come in the lady would say no. If the man said he was sick she’d probably call an ambulance for him, but she still wouldn’t let him in the door.

‘Now imagine the same lady comes to her door and there’s a young boy crying on the doorstep.
My daddy’s car crashed up the street. He’s not moving. Please help me
. The lady opens the door instantly. The boy’s dad jumps out of hiding, clobbers the old dear over the head and legs it with all the cash under the bed. People are always less suspicious of youngsters. Criminals have used this for years. At CHERUB, we turn the tables and use children to help catch them.’

‘Why pick me?’

‘Because you’re intelligent, physically fit and you have an appetite for trouble.’

‘Isn’t that bad?’ James asked.

‘We need kids who have a thirst for a bit of excitement. The things that get you in to trouble in the outside world are the sort of qualities we look for here.’

‘Sounds pretty cool,’ James said. ‘Is it dangerous?’

‘Most missions are fairly safe. CHERUB has been in operation for over fifty years. In that time four youngsters have been killed, a few others badly injured. It’s about the same as the number of children who would have died in road accidents in a typical inner city school, but it’s still four more than we would have liked. I’ve been Chairman for ten years. Luckily, all we’ve had in that time is one bad case of malaria and someone getting shot in the leg.

‘We never send you on a mission that could be done by an adult. All missions go to an ethics committee for approval. Everything is explained to you, and you have an absolute right to refuse to do a mission or to give it up at any point.’

‘What’s to stop me telling about you if I decide not to come here?’ James asked.

Mac sat back in his chair and looked slightly uncomfortable.

‘Nothing stays secret for ever, James, but what would you say?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Imagine you’ve found the telephone number of a national newspaper. You’re speaking to the news desk. What do you say?’

‘Um … There’s this place where kids are spies and I’ve been there.’

‘Where is it?’

‘I don’t know … That’s why you drugged me up, isn’t it? So I didn’t know where I was.’

Mac nodded. ‘Exactly, James. Next question from the news desk: Did you bring anything back as evidence?’

‘Well …’

‘We search you before you leave, James.’

‘No then, I guess.’

‘Do you know anyone connected with this organisation?’

‘No.’

‘Do you have any evidence at all?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think the newspaper would print your story, James?’

‘No.’

‘If you told your closest friend what has happened this morning, would he believe you?’

‘OK, I get the point. Nobody will believe a word I say so I might as well shut my trap.’

Mac smiled.

‘James, I couldn’t have put it better. Do you have any more questions?’

‘I was wondering what CHERUB stood for?’

‘Interesting one, that. Our first chairman made up the initials. He had a batch of stationery printed. Unfortunately he had a stormy relationship with his wife. She shot him before he told anyone what the initials meant. It was wartime, and you couldn’t waste six thousand sheets of headed notepaper, so CHERUB stuck. If you ever think of anything the initials might stand for, please tell me. It gets quite embarrassing sometimes.’

‘I’m not sure I believe you,’ James said.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ Mac said. ‘But why would I lie?’

‘Perhaps knowing the initials would give me a clue about where this place is, or somebody’s name or something.’

‘And you’re trying to convince me you wouldn’t make a good spy.’

James couldn’t help smiling.

‘Anyway, James, you can take the entrance exam if you wish. If you do well enough I’ll offer you a place and you can go back to Nebraska House for a couple of days to make up your mind. The exam is split into five parts and will last the rest of the day. Are you up for it?’

‘I guess,’ James said.

Mac drove James across the CHERUB campus in a golf buggy. They stopped outside a traditional Japanese-style building with a single span roof made of giant sequoia logs. The surrounding area had a combed gravel garden and a pond stuffed with orange fish.

‘This building is new,’ Mac said. ‘One of our pupils uncovered a fraud involving fake medicine. She saved hundreds of lives and billions of yen for a Japanese drug company. The Japanese thanked us by paying for the new dojo.’

‘What’s a dojo?’ James asked.

‘A training hall for martial arts. It’s a Japanese word.’

James and Mac stepped inside. Thirty kids wearing white pyjamas tied with black or brown belts were sparring, twisting one another into painful positions, or getting flipped over and springing effortlessly back up. A stern Japanese lady paced among them, stopping occasionally to scream criticism in a mix of Japanese and English that James couldn’t understand.