CHERUB: Mad Dogs

by Robert Muchamore

  All he could do was crumple and hope for the best.

  2. WHITE

  In the summer of 2004 a CHERUB mission was instrumental in bringing down the cocaine baron Keith Moore and his gang, known as KMG. For many years KMG imposed a kind of order on criminal activities over an area that stretched from the northern suburbs of London to Oxfordshire.

  Although KMG only sold cocaine, the cash generated by this business enabled associates to diversify into other criminal activities, ranging from illegal raves to armed robbery. When more than a dozen of KMG’s most senior figures were imprisoned, it created a power vacuum that gave rise to a bloody gang war.

  There are at least five significant gangs operating in the territory once dominated by KMG. No single gang controls a significant area, but the most fearsome reputation belongs to the Luton-based Slasher Boys (so named because of their reputation for attacking enemies with machetes). The gang is believed to have approximately eighty members.

  Slasher Boys are almost exclusively of Jamaican origin and the leaders are believed to be closely connected with Jamaican gangs who use their island as a stop-off point for illegal drugs travelling from South America …

  … The mission to infiltrate and undermine the Slasher Boys will require two CHERUB agents of Afro-Caribbean appearance and has been categorised as HIGH risk …

  (Excerpts from a mission briefing for Gabrielle O’Brien and Michael Hendry, January 2007.)

  The Bedfordshire Halfway House was a residential home close to the centre of Luton, but everyone called it the Zoo. Built in the 1980s, it had been graffitied and trashed by several generations of freshly released young offenders and youths too troubled for foster homes.

  To say that the Zoo had a bit of a reputation was like saying that getting run over by an eighteen-wheeled truck would give you a bit of a headache. It had seen every scandal going, from teen pregnancy to kids stabbing each other in the showers and two drunk girls almost killing a cyclist by lobbing a roof slate on to his head.

  The Zoo knocked fifty thousand off the value of every house in the neighbourhood and the only reason it hadn’t been shut down was the tide of objections that arose every time the council found a piece of land on which to build its replacement.

  But despite two months living in the Zoo with a mattress that stank of god knows what and kids running riot 24/7, Gabrielle was happy. She’d turned fifteen at Christmas and fallen in love before New Year.

  Michael Hendry was a navy-shirt CHERUBand Gabrielle’s first proper boyfriend. They’d been going out for six months. At first it was kind of mechanical: going bowling, going to the cinema, going shopping and snogging in Michael’s room afterwards. That’s what Kerry and Gabrielle’s other mates did with their boyfriends and she’d only joined them out of curiosity and the desire to fit in.

  But it got more intense and they’d become one of the closest couples on CHERUB campus. Their friends felt excluded but the young lovers didn’t care, and the isolation of being on mission together stoked things even further.

  It was a Thursday, just gone ten. Most of the kids in the Zoo were supposed to be at school, but teachers are happy for kids like this to stay away and at least half of the dozen bedrooms on the third floor had someone who was suspended, excluded, or just couldn’t be arsed to get out of bed.

  Gabrielle’s roommate Tisha was one of the few Zoo residents who did pack books into a bag and head for school. This suited Gabrielle, because it meant Michael could come up from the boys’ floor and spend a couple of hours snuggled beneath her mauve duvet.

  ‘Don’t answer,’ Michael begged, when Gabrielle’s phone started ringing.

  But she reached out blindly and grabbed her mobile from the vinyl floor. She expected it to be her mission controller, Chloe Blake, but was surprised by the name flashing on the display.

  ‘It’s Major Dee.’

  Michael’s dark torso was glazed with sweat as he sat up sharply. ‘I’ve never known him bat an eyelid this side of lunchtime.’

  ‘Major,’ Gabrielle said, trowelling on her Jamaican twang. She’d become self-conscious and toned down her accent after joining CHERUB, but roots in the Caribbean were a big help on this mission and she’d found her old voice with surprising ease.

  ‘Morning, sweet pea,’ Major Dee said. ‘Tell me what clothes you’re wearing. What colour are your panties?’

  Major Dee was the leader of the Slasher Boys: a big man with a line of gold teeth and a vicious reputation. In Dee’s eyes, women stayed home to make food and babies. Gabrielle had to work ten times harder than Michael to prove herself and even now, Dee treated her with a lack of respect that would have earned any boy on CHERUB campus a mouthful of blood.

  ‘My panties are my business,’ Gabrielle said, making out like she thought his cheek was funny. ‘If you’re ringing me this early it better be some way to make bread.’

  ‘I’ll give you half a loaf,’ the major said, which was his way of saying fifty pounds. ‘Michael there?’

  ‘In the flesh,’ Gabrielle nodded.

  ‘I’ve got a man who wants to buy a K bag. I want you two to dig one up in the park and bring it over.’

  ‘You at home?’

  ‘Yeah, but your man will be in the Green Pepper.’

  Gabrielle was surprised by this instruction. The Green Pepper café was a hangout for dealers that frequently came under police surveillance. Small quantities of cocaine and marijuana got passed under tables, but high-ups like Major Dee only went there to talk trash and eat the best Jamaican food in Luton.

  ‘You want me to take a kilo bag into the Green Pepper? Are you on a trip?’

  Gabrielle heard Dee tut, then his temper snapped. ‘Listen, dumb girl. You always trying to act like you’re something and saying you want to make money. I don’t want a hundred questions. You do this for me or I hang up and don’t you bother showing your face no more.’

  ‘OK, I’ll pick it up,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I’m just saying that it’s rank.’

  ‘I know it’s dodgy. That’s why I want a girl for this. The cops don’t have two brain cells to rub; they’ll think you’re somebody’s bitch.’

  ‘What’s the brother look like?’

  ‘What brother?’

  Gabrielle groaned; Dee was high for sure. ‘The guy I’m meeting. Unless you want me to hand a big bag of cocaine to the first random soul that comes my way.’

  Major Dee didn’t sound sure. ‘Just get the bag to the Green Pepper. Someone will be expecting you.’

  The call went dead and Gabrielle looked around at Michael.

  ‘Pickup?’ Michael asked.

  Gabrielle nodded. ‘But it’s weird. He wants me to go into the Green Pepper with a whole K of coke.’

  ‘Did you tell him that’s insane?’

  ‘He reckons the police won’t suss me because I’m a girl … I mean, I know the police aren’t genius IQ, but I think they can get their heads around the idea of a female drug dealer.’

  ‘He’s probably mashed,’ Michael reasoned. ‘Knowing Dee he’s smoked about twenty joints and hasn’t even been to bed yet.’

  ‘If I get arrested it’ll wreck the mission.’

  Michael thought as Gabrielle pulled a T-shirt over her head. ‘Here’s what we do, Gab: we grab the coke from the park, but once you’ve got it you give Major Dee a call and say that there’s a cop car circling around the Green Pepper and that you’ll have to meet the dealer somewhere else. He won’t want to risk losing a whole kilo of cocaine, no matter how stoned he is.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Gabrielle nodded, as she kissed Michael’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck. ‘But I don’t like this one little bit.’

  3. BEACH

  James opened his eyes and saw the crab rear up and open its armoured pincers. But the bravado didn’t last and it scuttled off towards a shallow pool. The ground was James’ friend and he felt like hugging it, but he had to free the chute from his back before the wind caught hold.

  He roll
ed on to his chest and was relieved to discover that nothing hurt as he looked along the plain of sand and caught a sight worthy of a soft-drink commercial: palm trees, blue sky and orange parachutes billowing in the warm breeze.

  Dana had made a perfect landing three seconds after James and was jogging towards him. Parachute gear isn’t exactly feminine, but she still looked good with long hair floating behind her.

  ‘How’s it going down there?’ she smirked, as James pulled his chute off his shoulders and began to unbuckle his helmet.

  He wasn’t sure how to act. Dana was great and he didn’t feel too bad now that he’d made the jump. But it’s hard to ignore when your girlfriend shoves you out of an aeroplane.

  ‘You …’

  ‘Are you hurt or not?’ Dana said bluntly, placing her hands on her hips.

  ‘You should have seen the crab …’ James smiled as he pointed towards the glistening pool.

  ‘I saw you lying there; I thought you might be hurt.’ As Dana spoke she edged in to peck James on the cheek, unsure how he’d react.

  ‘Quite a buzz,’ James shrugged, not sounding as cool as he’d hoped. ‘I arsed up the landing, but I guess I wouldn’t mind doing it again some time …’

  ‘Riiiiight,’ Dana smiled, as she stepped backwards. ‘If you’re OK I’ll go pack up my chute.’

  James grinned as he knelt on one knee in the sand and began gathering the waves of rustling fabric. He imagined himself fifty years in the future, an old dude surrounded by kids and grandkids, telling them about the day his wife shoved him out of an aeroplane …

  Jumpers rolled their chutes at landing sites at hundred-metre intervals along the beach. When James’ chute was half packed, the two-way radio in his trouser pocket made a double bleep.

  ‘Yeah,’ James said.

  Mr Pike sounded like he was running. ‘James, Dana, I’m down, but I’ve had a peek through my binoculars. I can see a chute a couple of hundred metres ahead of you and there’s nothing going on beneath it. Leave your equipment and get over there.’

  When James first looked around, all the chutes had been in a similar state. Now, one billowed conspicuously, tethered to the ground by the weight of the trainee wearing it. As James set off, he was aware of Dana racing up behind him. She was a triathlete and by the time he was half-way towards the stricken jumper Dana had passed him in a blaze of flying sand.

  The wind was light and Dana found a ten-year-old girl tangled in cords and nylon.

  ‘Jo, sweetheart, what happened?’

  James arrived as Dana peeled away the layers of fabric. At first Dana assumed that Jo McGowan was unconscious, but she was just in mild shock. James recoiled when he saw that Jo’s boot was twisted at a weird angle. She’d clearly broken a bone.

  ‘What happened?’ Mr Pike puffed, as he stopped running beside James.

  James kicked at a chunk of reinforced concrete lying on the sand. ‘Looks like she hit this as she came down and turned over on her ankle.’

  Mr Pike shook his head as he looked around at acres of level sand. ‘We surveyed this beach,’ he said bitterly. ‘It’s gotta be a million to one that you hit something.’

  It looked as if Jo was fine apart from her ankle, but Dana didn’t want to move the trainee until she was completely sure. She unfolded a toothed blade from her multi-tool and hacked the parachute harness away from the youngster’s shoulders.

  ‘Does it hurt anywhere else?’ Dana asked.

  Jo shook her head as she struggled to sit up. ‘Maybe it’s sprained,’ she sniffed. ‘Maybe I can walk it off.’

  But Jo knew better when she saw the way her boot was pointing in the wrong direction. Jo was a sweet-faced girl with long black hair, but James had the misfortune to see the moment when her heart broke. After ninety-six days of training, she was devastated.

  Jo was athletic, bright, a natural leader and as close as you ever get to a cert to pass basic training. But she’d been done in by debris washed up on the last tide and you’re not allowed to resume basic training. When the ten-year-old recovered she’d have to restart from day one.

  Dana gave Jo a tight hug and spoke comfortingly, reminding her that she was young and that nobody would blame her for failing, but Jo’s future had just imploded and there was no consoling her.

  Meanwhile, Mr Pike was burrowing into Jo’s backpack, throwing equipment into the sand until he came across a red wallet containing a first-aid kit.

  ‘We need to get that boot off before the ankle swells,’ Mr Pike explained, as he slid out a syringe containing local anaesthetic. ‘But that’s gonna hurt, so I’ll numb it off first.’

  Although Jo’s injury was serious, it was treatable. Mr Pike sounded much calmer now that he was getting a grip on things. He worked expertly, slicing a hole in the leg of Jo’s padded jump suit before swabbing the patch of skin underneath with alcohol and telling her to look away before pushing the needle into her leg.

  ‘It’ll take a minute to go numb, but you’ll be a lot more comfortable after that.’

  Meanwhile, Mr Kazakov and the other trainees had folded their chutes up and were rushing over to see what was going on. The youngsters babbled about how bad it looked until Mr Pike lost patience with their noise.

  ‘You all have orders and a rendezvous point for twenty-one hundred hours,’ he shouted. ‘Training doesn’t stop just because one of you is injured. If you don’t make it by twenty-two hundred you’ll not be getting dinner, so I strongly suggest that you prepare your equipment and set off towards your first marker points.

  ‘Mr Kazakov, organise the collection of the parachutes and jump clothing and stow it on the boat for the ride back to the mainland.’

  As Dana continued to comfort Jo and Mr Pike began picking the lace out of her boot, all of the trainees except Kevin Sumner began peeling off their padded jump suits, revealing tanned skin and lightweight jungle clothing.

  ‘Sumner, why are you standing there?’ Mr Kazakov shouted, as he faced Kevin off. ‘You’re getting on my tits today. I can see you ending up with my boot up your backside.’

  James wasn’t comfortable with the way Kazakov picked on Kevin and leapt to his defence. ‘Jo’s his training partner,’ James explained. ‘Their briefings are in two languages and he can’t do the mission alone because he can’t understand Jo’s instructions.’

  Kazakov was inexperienced and looked confused, but Mr Pike quickly interrupted. ‘Are you up for a jungle hike, James?’

  No cherub in history had ever wanted to do a jungle hike, but the course had been designed for ten-to twelve-year-olds with heavy packs. James was fifteen and it would be well within his capabilities.

  ‘I guess,’ he said. ‘But I’m not arsing around with some stupid briefing written in gobbledegook. I’m gonna fetch my GPS receiver off the boat and I want the coordinates.’

  Mr Kazakov bristled. ‘Kevin needs a challenge; it’s not fair on the other trainees.’

  James pointed at Jo. ‘Since when was basic training ever fair? Or I tell you what, Kazakov, I’ll stay here and pack up the parachute equipment and you can do the twenty-kilometre hike your way.’

  The newly appointed instructor didn’t like that suggestion one bit.

  ‘Not keen?’ James carped.

  While James and Kazakov postured, Kevin stripped out his former training partner’s pack. As well as grabbing all of Jo’s rations, he took out some essential shared equipment and replaced his spork.

  He eyed Jo guiltily as he worked. ‘I feel like a vulture picking over your bones.’

  Despite her pain, Jo managed an encouraging smile. ‘You’ve got to carry on, Kev. I really hope you last out. You deserve your grey shirt.’

  Kevin tried not to cry as he grabbed Jo’s filthy hand and squeezed it tight. ‘You don’t deserve this; you’ve helped me out a million times. I wouldn’t be here if—’

  Mr Kazakov gave Kevin a shove in the back. ‘Get a move on,’ he growled. ‘I want that jump suit before you cry all over it.’
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  ‘You’d better get ready, Kev,’ Jo said. ‘You’ll be all right with James on the hike.’

  James gave Kevin a sympathetic look. ‘I’ve got to fill my canteen and put some equipment together for the hike,’ he said. ‘Finish saying your goodbyes and I’ll meet you over by that sand dune in five minutes.’

  As James turned away, he saw that the other three pairs of trainees were putting on sunscreen and stripping unnecessary weight from their packs in preparation for a four-hour hike in blistering heat.

  His mind wandered as he jogged towards a wooden cargo boat. It had been moored at high tide and was now marooned, several hundred metres from the sea.

  James hated school work and had agreed to help out the training department instead of doing extra GCSEs. The arrangement suited him, even if it didn’t always make him fabulously popular with the youngsters he had to train. But he’d been working with the instructors for four months now and he’d slowly come to realise that he didn’t have the ruthless streak that all good instructors needed.

  As James stepped into the hull of the small motor launch and tried to find his day pack amidst cartons of equipment and tins of food, his eyes welled up as he pictured Jo and Kevin with their hands locked together and tears streaking down their cheeks.

  4. PARK

  Owen Campbell-Moore was a dreadlocked Jamaican who worked as a groundsman at the playing fields a couple of kilometres from the Zoo. Gabrielle and Michael found him on a deckchair inside his lock-up, with his socked feet resting on a ride-on mower. There was damp in the air, mixed up with the smell of cut grass and fumes from a Calor gas heater.

  ‘How are me young lovers today?’ Owen asked cheerfully, as he touched fists with Michael. When he stood up, his giant woolly hat brushed the corrugated roof.

  ‘We’re good,’ Michael nodded, as Gabrielle smiled in agreement.

  ‘And life in the Zoo?’ Owen asked. He’d lived there himself a dozen years earlier and always made a point to ask.

  ‘In-bloody-sane, as always,’ Gabrielle smirked. ‘Girl cut herself in the bathroom two nights ago and they still haven’t cleaned up.’