Lone Wolf

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘This is what you get if you screw me over,’ Fay shouted, as she lined up a punch.

  As Chloe braced for a punch on the nose, Ning snatched Fay’s arm.

  ‘You’ll get done for assault,’ Ning shouted. ‘The cow’s not worth it.’

  Fay growled, but seemed to take Ning’s point.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Fay shouted, firing a ball of spit in Chloe’s face as she backed up.

  ‘Let’s get back to our cell,’ Ning said.

  As the pair stepped back into the corridor, four huge, black-clad figures charged in up at the end by the laundry room. Izzy tried saying something to one of the men, but only got splattered against the wall before getting an almighty shove.

  ‘Lockdown, back in your cells!’ the men shouted.

  Several girls screamed as the helmeted men shoved them back towards their cells. A girl who fell found a size-twelve boot planted in her stomach before she was picked up and shoved backwards while a man screamed, ‘What did I tell you?’ right in her face.

  Fay and Ning scrambled back to their cell ahead of the onslaught. Ning was worried about what was happening to the other girls, but Fay just lay back on her bed, studying her blood-smeared fist.

  ‘This is what life’s all about,’ she roared. And then she started laughing.

  13. ASSEMBLY

  Ryan could smell James cooking bacon in the kitchen, but the aroma made him queasy and he wished he didn’t have to get up for his third day at St Thomas’ school.

  ‘I’m making your breakfast,’ James said, when he burst in a couple of minutes later. ‘You might at least have the decency to get up and eat it.’

  Ryan emerged from under his duvet. He wasn’t exactly tearful, but James could tell he was upset.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  James seemed like a decent bloke, but Ryan wasn’t sure he was the kind of person you could really talk to, so he just said, ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘It’s clearly something,’ James said, as he sat on the end of Ryan’s bed. ‘If you don’t want to talk to me, I can set up a call with one of the counsellors on campus.’

  ‘No,’ Ryan gasped, worried that a call back to campus would get put on to his mission record. ‘It’s just . . .’

  James smiled as Ryan tailed off. ‘Bloody hell, Ryan, I don’t bite.’

  ‘It’s just . . . I’m so shit at making friends with people.’

  James frowned. ‘You’re a black shirt, so you must have done something right.’

  ‘I got my black shirt from one big mission,’ Ryan said. ‘And at the start of that I had to make friends with this guy Ethan. I got it so wrong that I almost got the poor kid killed. Now I’m on this mission and I’m still useless.’

  James thought for a couple of seconds. ‘We’re trying to find a major source of high purity cocaine. Nobody is expecting instant results.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ Ryan moaned. ‘Agents like Ning waltz in and make friends with people really easily, but I always fail.’

  ‘I was always pretty good at that stuff,’ James admitted. ‘It’s mostly about being relaxed, not trying too hard and having a bit of luck.’

  Ryan put his hands over his head. ‘But I’m so crap. I tried talking to this kid called Abdi who’s in my form and he blanks me. I’ve tried speaking to a few other kids on our target list and none of them want anything to do with me.’

  ‘If you’re anxious you probably come across as trying too hard,’ James said. ‘But I might be able to set something up that’ll help.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Is there a place where the kids you’re targeting spend time?’

  ‘The Hangout,’ Ryan said.

  James shook his head. ‘I mean near the school, during lunch break, or at the end of the day.’

  Ryan nodded. ‘There’s a little swing park. Quite a few of the target kids hang there at lunchtime.’

  ‘OK,’ James said, as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘I’ll have a think. You keep your phone switched on this morning because I’ll probably need to talk to you.’

  *

  Fay got another three days in segregation for beating up Chloe, but emerged looking cheerful because her sentence wouldn’t outlast the week.

  ‘Ningy!’ Fay said exuberantly, when she got back to her cell. ‘Ningy, Ning, Ningo, bingo!’

  Ning raised one eyebrow and smiled wryly. ‘You can cut that out.’

  The two girls hugged like old friends and made high-pitched squeee noises.

  ‘We’ve got our release papers for Saturday,’ Ning said. ‘I put yours up by the window.’

  Fay smiled as she reached for an envelope. Her expression changed dramatically when she’d read a couple of sentences.

  ‘They’re sending me to foster-parents in Elstree,’ she yelled. ‘Where’s bloody Elstree?’

  ‘Way north I think,’ Ning said. ‘Like, past Barnet, or something.’

  ‘What gives them the right to send me to Elstree? Surely they’re supposed to release me back where I came from.’

  Fay steamed down the hallway and entered Wendy’s office without knocking.

  ‘Elstree?’ she screamed. ‘I’m not from anywhere near Elstree. I thought you got released back into the care of whatever local authority you were arrested in.’

  Wendy sat at her desk and looked resigned to another shouting match. ‘You were arrested in Camden,’ Wendy began calmly. ‘But Camden has a network of foster-parents in other boroughs. And given that your aunt was murdered by a gang based in Camden, it was decided that you’d be better off living a few miles out of harm’s way.’

  Fay tutted. ‘If Hagar had wanted me dead he’d have done it already. But I’m just a kid. He doesn’t regard me as a threat.’

  ‘Elstree is a perfectly nice place,’ Wendy said. ‘It’s not like you’ve got friends or relatives in Camden.’

  ‘I wasn’t even consulted – as per usual,’ Fay huffed.

  ‘You might have had time to make changes if you hadn’t got yourself locked up in seg,’ Wendy said stiffly.

  ‘Always my fault,’ Fay said, before storming back to the cell.

  ‘You can always come and visit me,’ Ning said soothingly.

  ‘Where are you?’ Fay asked.

  ‘The north of Islington,’ Ning said. ‘Some place called Nebraska House.’

  *

  Ryan still felt down after another morning of school, moving between lessons without really connecting with anyone. At lunchtime he queued up for sausage and chips at a takeaway near the school, then walked briskly towards the swing park.

  The kids with links to Hagar’s operation were a close-knit bunch of Year Nines and Tens. They lurked at the back of the park on a skateboard ramp, while Year Seven kids mucked about on the swings and the roundabouts.

  Ryan got a text from James, All set?

  He dabbed ketchup over the screen of his iPhone as he responded.

  Ready when U R.

  A couple of minutes later, six boys came into the park wearing the black blazers of the nearby Dartmouth Park school. None of the sextet had ever been near Dartmouth Park. They were all CHERUB agents, including Ryan’s mates Max and Alfie and a kid called Jimmy who looked like he could break rocks with his head.

  ‘St Thomas’,’ Jimmy shouted, as he approached the kids by the skateboard ramp. ‘Why you got this park? It’s nearer to our school than yours.’

  A target of Ryan’s named Ali took the bait. ‘You got the massive reservoir park, right next to your school.’

  Jimmy laughed. ‘That’s ours, but now we’re taxing this park.’

  Ryan picked up the last of his chips as eight of his target kids moved towards the six CHERUB agents.

  ‘Why don’t you sta
rt something?’ a target called Andre shouted as he stepped out to the edge of the skating ramp. ‘You bitches be lucky to leave this park on two legs.’

  As Andre stepped forward, CHERUB agent Alfie DuBoisson met him with a fist in the face.

  ‘Our park!’ Alfie shouted.

  The St Thomas’ kids piled forward into the CHERUB agents. Blows flew in all directions, but the results were predictable as combat-trained CHERUB agents knocked three kids on their arses. One St Thomas’ kid charged in with a lump of wood, but was swiftly disarmed by Max and had the wood shoved up the inside of his blazer.

  As the melee erupted between fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds, most of the little kids scrambled out of the park gate. Ryan balled up his chip paper and charged towards the action.

  ‘Think you’re hard?’ Ryan taunted, as he strode in with chest puffed and fists bunched.

  The first rival Ryan faced was his friend Alfie. They’d fought in the dojo a few times and Ryan always got his arse kicked. But this time Ryan launched a pivoting roundhouse kick and Alfie acted out a backwards stumble, clutching his ribcage.

  Jimmy had a Somali named Youssef in a headlock, until Ryan approached and karate-chopped him in the neck, forcing him to let go before giving him a two-fingered eye jab that didn’t quite make contact.

  As Jimmy stumbled back with his hands over his eyes, another CHERUB agent charged at Ryan and ended up sprawled on his face from a trip.

  ‘Any more of you wanna piece of me?’ Ryan yelled.

  The St Thomas’ kids who’d been knocked down in the initial onslaught were still mostly crawling around on the ground, while four of the CHERUB agents were getting to their feet. At the centre of it all, stood Ryan.

  ‘I got four of you,’ Ryan yelled confidently. ‘Where’s your bravado now?’

  Alfie was the first CHERUB agent back on his feet, but as Ryan stepped closer he turned and started running. Within a few seconds the other CHERUB agents had all turned and run away.

  ‘Dartmouth Park,’ Ryan taunted, as they ran off. ‘Dartmouth Shite, more like.’

  By this time, most of the St Thomas’ kids were back on their feet. Abdi, who’d repeatedly blanked Ryan in science class, came up behind and gave him a friendly thump on the back.

  ‘You see that eye gouge on the big kid?’ Abdi shouted. ‘He’s gonna be feeling that one!’

  ‘Where’d you learn your skills?’ Andre asked.

  Ryan smirked. ‘I’ve been moved around a lot of schools and there’s always someone waiting to take a pop at you.’

  ‘Righteous,’ another kid said, before offering to bump fists. ‘Reckon we’d have handled it though. It’s just they took us by surprise.’

  ‘Surprise,’ Abdi agreed.

  ‘So where you from?’ Andre asked.

  Ryan made a circle with his pointing finger. ‘All around. My parents died, so I live with my brother, James. He’s got a job working as a mechanic, so hopefully we’re gonna be here for a while.’

  ‘Didn’t I see you going in a house on the Pemberton estate?’ Abdi asked.

  Ryan nodded. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You should come over to The Hangout,’ Abdi said. ‘You must practically be able to see it from your house.’

  ‘I’ve seen it,’ Ryan said. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was cool, plus it’s not like I know anyone round here.’

  ‘Come tonight,’ Abdi said. ‘There’s pool, table tennis, girls.’

  ‘Not that they’ll go near you, Abdi,’ someone said.

  Ryan tried to sound nonchalant, even though he was all excited on the inside. ‘Guess I might check it out,’ he said casually.

  14. HANGOUT

  Ryan got home from school just before five.

  ‘And?’ James asked.

  Ryan smiled as he threw his school bag down in the hallway. ‘Yeah, your plan worked,’ he said. ‘I had double maths after lunch and I sat with Abdi, Youssef and a guy called Warren. We were pissing around so much that we got a detention.’

  ‘So, am I a genius, or am I a genius?’ James asked.

  ‘Clearly nothing beats a giant fake street brawl to win new friends,’ Ryan said. ‘Now I’m supposed to be meeting the guys at The Hangout in about an hour, so I’m gonna shower and change. Is there something I can blitz in the microwave?’

  ‘That’s the only kind of food I buy,’ James said.

  After his shower, Ryan felt anxious as he picked out clothes for the evening. He didn’t want to look scruffy, but he might also get laughed at if he ponced himself up too much. In the end he went for a blue and white striped T-shirt, cargo shorts and a pair of Vans slip-ons.

  From outside, The Hangout was a grafittied metal shed that could have been a youth club anywhere. The main doors were propped open because of the heat and Ryan stepped into a spacious hall with pool and table tennis tables, a line of vending machines and a lot of severely vandalised foam chairs.

  There were about twenty-five kids in the space, and as Ryan walked in it seemed that every eye turned on him. He made about four steps over the sticky tiled floor before Youssef called.

  ‘Ryan, get over here.’

  Youssef was in the middle of a group of about ten lads, most of whom Ryan recognised from his target list. Nobody could be arsed to play ping-pong in the heat, but all the pool tables were busy, while another group of lads played poker. Despite the promise of girls, there were none to be seen, and most mysteriously of all, three sinister-looking heavies sat outside an office.

  ‘You play pool?’ Youssef asked, as he banged Ryan’s fist. ‘Guys, this is Ryan. He stepped in and saved our asses from those Dartmouth Park slags earlier on.’

  Abdi objected to this description. ‘He helped out, he didn’t save us.’

  Youssef shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  A bulky Somali lad named Sadad spoke. ‘Those arse swipes are lucky I wasn’t there. I would have mashed them up.’

  ‘I’d love to go up to Dartmouth Park and find those kids and take ’em down,’ Abdi said. ‘They only beat us because they took us by surprise.’

  This wasn’t what Ryan recalled, but he joined the nods around the group. As far as he was concerned, they could remember the fight any way they liked, as long as they were still his mates.

  ‘So how do I get a game of pool?’ Ryan asked.

  Sadad answered. ‘I’m up next, you can play the winner.’

  As Sadad spoke a bearded guy in a waistcoat came out of the office and offered Ryan his hand.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, as Ryan shook. ‘I’m Barry, from The Hangout. Welcome to the youth club.’

  ‘Hey,’ Ryan said, as a couple of lads imitated Barry’s slightly pompous voice.

  ‘You’re a hundred per cent welcome here,’ Barry said. ‘But you do have to register and there’s a two pound joining fee. If you could just come to my office.’

  Ryan looked uncertainly at his new mates.

  ‘Don’t go,’ Sadad said. ‘Once you’re back there he’ll try to snog you.’

  This caused an outbreak of wild laughter, but Barry seemed used to getting mocked. He led Ryan past the three scary-looking heavies and into a well-appointed office. It was equipped with a photocopier, two computers and two whirring air-conditioning units.

  ‘Nice and cool here,’ Ryan said.

  Barry sat at his desk and found Ryan a small blue form. ‘Just fill in your name, address and telephone number. It’s two pounds to join, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t have it with you right now.’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Ryan said, as he rummaged inside his shorts.

  ‘If you can just look up.’

  Barry swivelled a webcam around and snapped Ryan’s photo for his membership card.

  ‘The laminating machine for your card takes a few minutes
to warm up,’ Barry explained, as he reached behind and handed Ryan a brochure.

  The leaflet was printed in colour and entitled The Hangout – There For You.

  ‘Make sure you give this a good read,’ Barry said. ‘The Hangout is a charity, funded entirely by donations. We work in six London boroughs providing youth clubs such as this one, day trips, sporting activities and support services.

  ‘Now that you’re a member, you can get involved in any of our activities, or make use of our confidential counselling and advice services. Keep hold of the leaflet and give it a read when you get home.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ryan said.

  Ryan spent a couple of minutes flicking through the pages while the laminating machine heated up to make his membership card. Once it was ready, Barry handed the still-warm card over and showed Ryan back out into the hall.

  Sadad yelled, ‘Hope you kept your mitts off him, Barry.’

  Barry ignored it, but one of the three heavies stood up.

  ‘Sadad, here!’ he ordered. Then he pointed at Ryan. ‘You, listen.’

  Sadad looked nervous when he got close, and everyone in the room was looking.

  ‘Show respect to Barry,’ the thug told Sadad. ‘Get a mop and bucket and clean the whole floor.’ Then he looked at Ryan. ‘Did you treat Mr Barry with respect?’

  ‘I did,’ Ryan said, nodding anxiously.

  ‘OK, go back with your friends.’

  Sadad walked briskly towards a cleaner’s closet, not daring to show any dissent. Ryan rejoined his new friends. After giving it a few seconds and making sure that the toughs weren’t looking at him, Ryan turned to Abdi and spoke in a whisper.

  ‘Who are the three nutters?’

  ‘They work for Hagar.’

  Ryan acted innocent. ‘Who the hell is Hagar?’

  This comment caused widespread laughter.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘How can you not know who Hagar is?’ Youssef snorted.

  ‘I moved here less than a week ago,’ Ryan said. ‘I don’t know who anyone is.’