The Sleepwalker

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Stern and Frank, the merchant bank.’

  James nodded. ‘I thought about applying for that one. It looked cool and you got to stay in London for two weeks.’

  ‘It was the most popular option,’ Kerry said.

  James nodded. ‘I heard it’s not all it’s cracked up to be though. Last year they were in the middle of some big corporate merger and they had Katie Price ferrying documents around between buildings until about one in the morning.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Kerry said. ‘And they told her to make sure she was in at seven-thirty the next morning. But I’d still rather have experience working for a merchant bank on my CV than two weeks of serving fried chicken and coming home smelling like Jumbo Rooster fries.’

  ‘Guess you can’t win ’em all,’ James said, as the bus pulled up and a woman with a double buggy and three chocolate-smeared kids struggled on board and started looking for her purse.

  ‘They always do that,’ Kerry moaned. ‘Why can’t these morons get their fare money out while they’re waiting?’

  *

  The leisure park was on the outskirts of a market town fifteen kilometres from campus. There was a bowling alley, a twelve-screen cinema and a skating rink that had burned down in the nineties and never got rebuilt. The sprawling lot had spaces for six hundred cars and Deluxe Chicken was one of half a dozen stand-alone restaurants in a roadside strip that included all of the big names in fast food as well as a car wash, a fruit-machine arcade and a pub that served pints in plastic cups so that nobody got glassed in the punch-ups that erupted on Friday and Saturday nights.

  One of the doors at the front of Deluxe Chicken was boarded up. James gave it an almighty tug, but it didn’t shift. Kerry banged on the front window to catch the attention of a young woman mopping the floor inside. James guessed she was about twenty. Beneath her daggy Deluxe Chicken shirt she had a black miniskirt and shapely legs leading down to ankle socks and battered pink Reeboks.

  ‘We don’t serve breakfast at this branch,’ the woman shouted, as she tapped on the face of her watch.

  Kerry shook her head and yelled: ‘Work experience.’

  ‘What?’ the woman said, cupping a hand around her ear as she moved closer to the glass.

  ‘Work experience,’ Kerry repeated.

  The girl smiled and pointed towards the counter inside. ‘Go around the back, and ask for Gabriel.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Kerry said, giving a thumbs-up.

  The alleyway between Deluxe and the pizza place next door was covered in shattered beer bottles and they had to straddle a giant puddle of dried-out sick.

  ‘Nice neighbourhood,’ James smiled, but he recoiled when he saw that Kerry was giving him the evil eye. ‘What?’

  ‘You know,’ Kerry said sourly.

  ‘Obviously,’ James said. ‘That’s why I asked.’

  ‘Oh you’re so innocent. I saw you eyeballing that girl’s legs.’

  James tutted. ‘Give over, Kerry.’

  ‘Not on my watch,’ Kerry said, as she wagged her finger. ‘If you so much as wink at her, Dana’s gonna know all about it.’

  ‘You’re paranoid,’ James said. ‘I’m not a sex fiend, you know.’

  They reached the open back door of the restaurant. The tiled floor was covered in shoe prints and an unhealthy grinding noise was coming out the back of a walk-in freezer.

  ‘Hello,’ Kerry said loudly, putting on her polite voice. ‘Anyone in here?’

  A wiry mixed-race man looked at them as they came into the dilapidated kitchen. They both saw Gabriel, Manager written on his name tag.

  ‘Afternoon,’ Gabriel said sarcastically as he glanced at his watch. ‘Nice of you to stop by, but weren’t you due here at ten? That’s more than half an hour ago.’

  James got the urge to pop him one, but Kerry was determined to play the good girl.

  ‘There’s only one bus an hour and it was running late,’ she explained.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you could get the earlier bus tomorrow,’ Gabriel said snidely. ‘Your training takes place on top of all my other responsibilities.’

  James shook his head. ‘I tell you what, why don’t you take it out of our wages … Oh wait, it’s work experience, so we’re not getting any.’

  Kerry jabbed him in the ribs and whispered, ‘Don’t start.’

  ‘This is a place of food preparation,’ Gabriel announced pompously. ‘The golden rule is hygiene, hygiene, hygiene. If chicken isn’t cooked and prepared according to the Deluxe Chicken guidelines, the result could be a nasty dose of salmonella for our customers, plus bad publicity and a hefty fine for the company. I want you to grab a shirt and hat, then scrub up your hands. There’s a workbook I want you to go through and once you’ve completed the questionnaire you’ll get the first star on your name badge. That star is transferable to any Deluxe Chicken branch, anywhere in the world.’

  ‘Super cool,’ James said.

  Ten minutes later they sat at a table in the restaurant, James with a coffee and Kerry with hot chocolate. They each had a pencil and a workbook with smiling cartoon chickens on the cover and the slogan Welcome to the global Deluxe Chicken Family.

  ‘OK, Kerry, see if you can handle this one,’ James said, before reading aloud in an upbeat American accent. ‘You have now read and studied the section on hygiene and safety. Now please answer the following six questions. Number one, after using the restroom all members of staff must: A Turn out the bathroom lights, B Return to work as quickly as possible, or C Carefully wash and dry their hands using soap and hot water. Which one do you think?’

  Kerry tutted. ‘James, we’ve just got here. Stop pissing about.’

  ‘It’s so lame,’ he said, before reading out another question. ‘If you find a spillage of liquid in the customer area of the restaurant should you: A Place a safety warning cone over the site of the spillage and ensure that a crewmember clears the spillage quickly, B Ignore it because it isn’t your responsibility or C Pull down your pants, grab your ankles and do an enormous shit in the puddle.’

  Kerry kept a stony silence.

  ‘I made that last one up, by the way.’

  ‘You never grow up, do you?’ Kerry said irritably. ‘If you get fired from this, Meryl Spencer will have you running punishment laps, or scrubbing toilets on campus. And then we’ll all have to listen to poor James whingeing about how unfair life is.’

  James shook his head as he waggled his cartoon chicken in the air. ‘Only you could take this seriously. This booklet must have been used by thirty other people; you can see the marks where the answers have been rubbed out.’

  Kerry managed a smile. ‘The disturbing thing is, it seems quite a few members of the global Deluxe Chicken family have been getting the answers wrong.’

  As James started to crack up, the girl in the miniskirt approached the table. Her badge said Gemma, Crewmember and James tried hard not to look at her body. She was sexy in a short-skirt-and-cheap-jewellery kind of way.

  ‘Sorry,’ Kerry said anxiously, wrapping a hand over her smile. ‘Didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘From mopping?’ Gemma said, as she raised an eyebrow and shook her head. ‘Don’t sweat it on my account. There’s only two things you need to know if you wanna work here. The first is that Gabriel is a miserable hard-arsed stickler for the rules. That’s because he’s twenty-eight years old and he’s never got within sniffing distance of a woman. The second is that all the urban myths you’ve heard about people dropping wings on the floor, spitting on your fries and melting chewing gum in the deep fat fryers are true – especially if I’m doing the cooking.’

  James laughed and put his arm up to shake Gemma’s hand. ‘Sounds like you and me share the same work ethic,’ he grinned, as Kerry shook her head and sighed noisily.

  19. TERROR

  After fifteen minutes speaking with Mac, Lauren still wasn’t sure about the proposed mission. Whilst something clearly wasn’t right in the Bin Hassam household, the combinat
ion of phone bills, dubious no-fly lists and a three-sentence telephone conversation didn’t make a convincing picture of a terrorist conspiracy. Zara and the ethics committee had signed off on the mission, but Lauren wondered if it was more out of respect for the retired chairman than any genuine belief in Mac’s hunch.

  ‘The crash has dropped out of the news,’ Lauren said, as she stared at Mac between two mounds of indexed files. ‘Is there any information that hasn’t been released to the public? I mean, they never seemed sure whether it was mechanical failure or a terrorist attack.’

  ‘It’s still a tough call,’ Mac said. ‘I was patched in to a video conference between the crash investigators and the cops on both sides of the Atlantic last Friday. They’re having difficulty reaching any conclusions. They’ve recovered over eighty per cent of the aircraft and all but a handful of bodies, but the section they really need to examine is the piece of fuselage under the wing that blew out first. It would have landed in the sea more than a hundred kilometres from the main crash site and probably sank straight to the bottom of the ocean.’

  ‘But after the crash the TV said there’d definitely been an explosion,’ Lauren said.

  ‘The pilots reported an initial explosion near the centre of the fuselage that caused damage to the hydraulic systems and a crack in the left wing, but the million-dollar question is, what caused it? A bomb, a pressurised cylinder packed in someone’s luggage, a short in the electrical system setting fire to something? It could be any one of a hundred things.’

  ‘And didn’t they announce that some terrorist group was claiming responsibility?’

  ‘Several groups,’ Mac nodded. ‘Terrorists thrive on publicity and you can rely on several claiming responsibility whenever something like this occurs. But none of them have offered convincing evidence to back up their claims.’

  ‘So basically it’s like the guy said on the first morning after the crash, they’re ruling nothing in and nothing out.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Mac said. ‘But if terrorists were involved they could strike again. The law enforcement and the intelligence community has to treat the incident as a terror attack until the crash investigators say that it isn’t.’

  Lauren was startled by a boy’s voice coming from behind. ‘Morning Dr Mac. Is she with us or not?’

  She turned quickly and saw Bethany’s eleven-year-old brother Jake grabbing the plastic seat next to her.

  Mac smiled. ‘I haven’t had time to fully brief Lauren on the details of the mission yet.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Jake said. ‘I can go away and come back if you want.’

  Mac shook his head. ‘You might as well stay. You can probably learn from Lauren’s experience.’

  Lauren knew she’d eventually find herself on a mission where she was in charge of a younger agent, but she’d always imagined herself in a kindly big-sister role with a younger girl rather than on a mission with her best friend’s kid brother.

  Jake could be a pain in the arse and Lauren wasn’t too impressed that he’d apparently been briefed before her – usually the more senior members of the team got briefed first. On the other hand, it was obvious that Fahim would get on better with a boy of his own age than a girl two years older. Jake was also desperate for his first proper mission, so hopefully he’d be on his best behaviour.

  ‘I believe you two know each other quite well,’ Mac said.

  Lauren and Jake both nodded.

  ‘My original plan was to use Jake and Bethany,’ Mac explained. ‘But Bethany needs time to recover from her Brazilian mission and Zara and I thought that you two were the next best thing.

  ‘Fahim started attending a new school last week. It’s one of the worst schools in the borough of Camden and they’re short of pupils, so we’ll have no problem getting you in. With luck Fahim won’t have made any close friends yet either.

  ‘The mission will start off as a routine intelligence-gathering job, and if it goes well we’ll see where it takes us from there. Fahim’s father works from home, which means that if you can get inside the house, you should be able not only to search and put surveillance into Hassam Bin Hassam’s home, but also get inside his office and possibly access all his computer files. I’ll also want you to pump Fahim for information on what he knows about his parents and their possible connections with terrorist groups.’

  ‘Assuming he’s not an attention-seeking loony who called the hotline for kicks,’ Jake said glibly.

  Lauren found Jake’s interruption annoying, but chose not to say anything. ‘Could I suggest sending in a second boy?’ she said. ‘There’s always a chance that Fahim and Jake won’t hit it off.’

  Mac shook his head. ‘If the terrorist threat is real, another attack could happen at any time, so we’re going for an open approach.’

  ‘That means we tell Fahim who we really are,’ Jake said.

  Lauren glowered at Jake and stretched out her T-shirt. ‘I know what an open approach is, Parker. See the black T-shirt? That means I know what I’m doing.’

  Jake tutted as Mac slapped his hand on the desk to get their attention. He spoke firmly. ‘Jake, this is your first shot at a prestigious mission. Lauren, you’re just back after a long suspension for misbehaviour on campus. I would have thought you’d both have the common sense to get along with each other and make the best of this mission. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Lauren and Jake both said.

  ‘If this mission is going to succeed I need to know right now that you’re both mature enough to put aside any petty squabbles that you might have. Is that crystal clear?’

  After another round of yes sirs, Lauren posed a question. ‘Isn’t an open approach risky though? Especially when there’s no definite link to terrorism.’

  ‘The risk is very slight,’ Mac answered. ‘It’s similar to the risk we take every time we bring a candidate to campus to undergo recruitment tests, and it’s easily outweighed by the benefits. We know Fahim has already toyed with the idea of going to the police and an open approach is faster.

  ‘Instead of taking a week or more to form a friendship and infiltrate Fahim’s home, we can approach and lay our cards on the table within forty-eight hours of the mission starting. If he refuses to cooperate, we can apply pressure by telling Fahim that the police will be forced to arrest his father and ask why he called the hotline.’

  ‘It’s better to be friendly though, isn’t it?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Always,’ Mac nodded. ‘A contact who wants to cooperate is more reliable than someone acting under duress. I only want you to turn the thumbscrews if you can’t win Fahim’s trust.’

  ‘Gotcha, boss,’ Jake said.

  Lauren was less than thrilled by the limited evidence behind Mac’s mission, but Jake’s obvious excitement made her realise how jaded she’d become with experience.

  Mac continued. ‘Another factor in our favour is that Fahim is an isolated figure. Yasmin Hassam has disappeared. Fahim’s only other close family member is his father and his history of emotional problems means that he’ll hardly make a credible witness if he claims that he was approached by child spies.’

  ‘So when do me and Jake move into position?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘ASAP. We’ve sorted accommodation close to where Fahim lives. That way you’ll be able to travel back and forward to school on the same bus as him.’

  ‘And who’s our mission controller?’ Lauren asked. ‘You?’

  Mac nodded. ‘I haven’t worked as a mission controller for nigh on twenty years, but everyone else is snowed under and I’ll be able to continue working through the daily intelligence briefings relating to the crash while you’re out at school.’

  Jake broke into a smile. ‘You’re too old to be one of our parents though. We’ll have to say you’re our granddad.’

  Mac had just lost a grandson and Lauren thought Jake was being insensitive, but Mac seemed to see the funny side and he gave Jake a gentle crack on the knuckles with his ruler.

  20. CL
EAN

  On a weekday the lunchtime rush didn’t amount to more than ten people in the Deluxe Chicken restaurant and the queue at the counter rarely extended beyond three.

  ‘Hello,’ Kerry said brightly, as she stood in front of a till in her nylon shirt and paper hat. ‘Welcome to Deluxe Chicken, may I take your order?’

  The customer resembled a hot-air balloon swaddled in a leather jacket and her body spray overpowered the smell of cooking fat.

  ‘I want two Deluxe Mega Meals, one with Fanta, one with baked beans,’ she said. ‘And I’ve got the half-price coupon from this morning’s paper.’

  Kerry looked at the hand-torn square of newspaper, then turned around and peered through the aluminium shelves stacked with fries and chicken pieces.

  ‘Excuse me … Gemma, Gabriel?’ Kerry shouted, but they’d all disappeared.

  She looked frantically at the grid of buttons on the till. Then she noticed one for discount and pressed it, but the screen said enter code and she didn’t know what that meant and she didn’t want to mess it up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kerry said to the customer. ‘I don’t know which button to press to get the discount on the till.’

  She walked around behind the counter, where she found Gemma, James and another assistant called Randall crouching behind the area where the burgers and chicken were prepared with grins on their faces.

  ‘Stop taking the piss and come help me,’ Kerry said fiercely.

  James laughed as Gemma stood up and walked around to the counter. She gave the waiting woman a sarcastic smile.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ Kerry apologised.

  Gemma snatched the coupon and started reading it slowly.

  The customer looked angry. ‘I’ve got to get back to work in fifteen minutes; can’t you get a move on?’

  ‘OK,’ Gemma said, as she leaned over Kerry’s till. ‘See at the bottom of the coupon where it says PROM6. That means you press the promotions button, then the number six. Discount is for special orders and only the manager can authorise that.’