CHERUB: Class A

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Maybe I’ll try it,’ James said. ‘Does boxing hurt?’

  ‘Only when you get punched,’ Junior said, grinning. ‘So that’s something you should definitely try to avoid.’

  ‘So how come your dad’s loaded?’ James asked. ‘What does he do?’

  James knew what Keith Moore did, of course, but he wondered what Junior would say.

  ‘Oh, he’s a businessman. Import and export. He’s a millionaire actually.’

  James acted impressed. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘No kidding. That’s why I get so pissed off he won’t give me decent pocket money. There are six Playstation games I want really bad. I’ll get a couple of them for my birthday, but that’s not till November.’

  ‘Steal ’em,’ James said.

  Junior laughed. ‘Yeah, but knowing my luck I’d get busted.’

  ‘I know a few things about shoplifting,’ James said. ‘My mum was into it, before she died.’

  ‘Did she get nicked much?’

  ‘Never,’ James said. ‘Shoplifting is a snip, as long as you use forward planning and kitchen foil.’1

  ‘How many times have you done it?’ Junior asked.

  ‘Hundreds,’ James lied.

  In fact, the only time James had tried shoplifting was when he was in care shortly after his mum died. He’d ended up in a police cell.

  ‘So what’s the tin foil for?’ Junior asked.

  ‘I’ll show you, if you want to go for it.’

  ‘I’m in if you reckon it’s safe.’

  James gurgled up the last of his Coke. ‘There’s no guarantee, but I’ve never been caught before.’

  He reckoned shoplifting was a good way to cement his friendship with Junior. If they got away with it, he’d be a hero and he could invite himself round to Keith Moore’s house to play the games. It would be trickier if they got caught, but the experience of getting in trouble together would probably bring them closer.

  James wouldn’t get in real trouble with the police, because they would arrest and charge James Beckett, a boy who didn’t really exist. As soon as the mission ended, CHERUB would pull James Beckett’s criminal file and have it destroyed, so no fingerprint or DNA evidence would ever be linked back to James’ real identity.

  James bought a roll of tin foil in one of those everything for a pound shops. They locked themselves in a disabled toilet. James gave Junior the stuff out of his backpack and lined it with a double layer of the shiny aluminium.

  ‘What does it do?’ Junior asked.

  ‘You know those alarms that go off when you take something out of a shop?’

  Junior nodded.

  ‘They’re metal detectors,’ James explained. ‘They put those sticky metal tag thingies on everything, and the alarm goes off when it detects them.’

  ‘So, won’t the metal foil make it go off?’

  ‘It only goes off when it detects the right-sized piece of metal. Otherwise, it would ring for every umbrella and belt buckle. So, as long as you wrap the security tags inside something made of metal, the alarm thinks it’s something different and doesn’t go off.’

  ‘Genius,’ Junior said, breaking into a grin.

  ‘All we need is a shop where they keep the Playstation discs in the boxes, not behind the counter.’

  ‘Gameworld does,’ Junior said.

  ‘We’ll have to go in separately. I’ll go up and stick the games in my pack. Your job is to distract the security guard, or any staff that come near me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Anything to take their attention off me. Just walk up and ask where something is.’

  ‘You’re sure this isn’t going to go wrong?’ Junior asked excitedly. ‘If we get caught, my dad will crucify me.’

  ‘Trust me,’ James said. ‘Besides, you’re only a lookout. I’m the one taking the big risk.’

  James felt confident as Junior led him through the shopping centre towards Gameworld.

  The security guard stood in the entrance. James went straight up the back to the Playstation games. His foil-lined backpack was already unzipped. He found four of the games Junior wanted, then realised he might as well grab a few for himself while he was taking the risk. It was dead easy: the security guard was picking his nose and the guy at the checkout was texting on his mobile.

  James zipped the pack up and slung it over his back. Junior stood in the doorway, with the security guard pointing out the DVDs to him. James headed towards the exit as nonchalantly as he could, but his heart was thumping. As he passed through the detector, an alarm went berserk and a mechanical voice boomed out:

  ‘We’re sorry, an inventory tag has been left on your item. Please return to the store. We’re sorry, an inventory …’

  The guard took hold of James and tried to drag him into the shop. Junior could have kept his head down and nobody would have been able to prove he was involved, so James was impressed when he charged towards the security guard and punched him in the side of the head. James kneed the guard in the stomach and started running, with Junior a few paces behind.

  The security guard in the store opposite had seen the whole show and came after them. When James glanced back over his shoulder, the guard was shouting into his walkie-talkie, requesting back-up.

  ‘You tit,’ Junior shouted, as shoppers dived out of their way. ‘What a great plan.’

  James couldn’t work out what he’d done wrong. Two security guards came out of a department store up ahead, blocking their path and forcing them to cut into a women’s clothing store. A woman with a buggy went flying into a display of leggings as James crashed into her. The store was crammed with rails of clothing that brushed against James as he ran. Junior stumbled. One of the security guards got a hand on him, but he spun away and recovered his balance.

  James burst out of the fire exit at the back of the shop, setting off another alarm. He’d hoped the door would lead out on to the street, but he’d emerged into the central concourse of the shopping centre. There was a big fountain and a stand where they did temporary exhibitions. The yellow banner hanging over the exhibition stand sent James into shock:

  BEDFORDSHIRE POLICE THEFT PREVENTION SQUAD.

  FIND OUT HOW TO PROTECT YOUR

  HOME AND CAR FROM CRIME.

  There was a long fold-out table, with three policemen behind it handing out crime prevention leaflets.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Junior gasped, stopping in his tracks.

  With the police up ahead and security guards behind, their chances looked about nil. James considered surrendering, but Junior noticed a door with a toilet sign a few metres away and barged it open. He led James down a narrow corridor, with six pairs of men’s shoes clattering after them. They passed the entrance to the ladies’ toilet and crashed through a fire door, into the dim confines of a multistorey car park.

  They sped towards the lift, but there was no time to wait for it. Instead, they scrambled on to the staircase and ran down, leaping three steps at a time, fuelled by adrenalin. James twisted his ankle, but he didn’t have time to think about the pain, or the fact that if he tumbled he’d smash his head open on bare concrete.

  The policemen were more cautious on the stairs and the boys had gained ground by the time they booted open a set of doors that led into a sunlit alleyway. There were massive steel bins and boxes of rubbish piled around them. They clambered over everything, reaching the front of the shopping centre as the police emerged through the doors at the bottom of the stairs. The security guards had given up.

  There was a pedestrian crossing, with two lanes of waiting traffic. James saw the green man flashing and they made a dash for it. They ran into the outdoor car park, crouching low and jogging between the bumpers of two lines of parked cars.

  The police got stranded on the other side of the road, waiting for the lights to change. One cop tried to stop the traffic with a hand signal and nearly got splattered by a motorbike. By the time the cops had halted the traffic and made it across, James and Junior were cr
ouching behind a car a hundred metres away.

  The three cops stood on the pavement by the car park, staring hopelessly at row after row of parked cars. The boys kept low until they came to the far side of the car park. They pushed themselves through shrubs, emerging on to the narrow pavement beside a fast-moving dual carriageway. Junior started to run.

  ‘WHOAH,’ James said. ‘Keep cool.’

  Junior turned around. ‘What?’

  ‘Walk,’ James said. ‘It looks less dodgy if we’re spotted.’

  They walked nervously for twenty minutes, looking back over their shoulders and having miniature heart attacks every time they spotted a white car. When they noticed a bus coming, they sprinted to the stop and hopped on. They went upstairs and sat at the back, well away from the other passengers. James finally felt safe.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said breathlessly. ‘You’re not pissed off with me, are you?’

  Junior burst out laughing. ‘That was mental. The look on those cops’ faces when we lost ’em. Oh man …’

  ‘I’m an idiot,’ James said. ‘You know what I did? When I put the games in, I must have pushed the foil down the bag so it wasn’t covering them over.’

  ‘Who cares now?’ Junior grinned. ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme.’

  James unzipped his pack and pulled out nine Playstation games. Junior read out the price stickers.

  ‘Forty, forty, twenty-five, thirty-five. How much is that?’

  ‘A hundred and forty.’

  ‘Thirty-eight, twenty-four and three at thirty-five.’

  ‘Three hundred and seven quid,’ James said.

  ‘You add fast,’ Junior said. ‘Over three hundred quid’s worth of games. That’s so cool, we’ve got to do it again some time.’

  ‘I dunno,’ James said. ‘I’m not sure if my underwear can take the strain.’

  *

  ‘You’re late, James,’ Zara said. ‘Dinner’s nearly ready.’

  Kerry and Kyle were sitting at the kitchen table while Zara did frozen lasagne in the oven.

  ‘Sorry,’ James said.

  ‘You could have rung us,’ Zara said. ‘We were all worried.’

  Kerry looked up. ‘Where were you? I didn’t see you at lunchtime.’

  ‘I was around,’ James said, defensively.

  ‘So how was school?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ James shrugged. ‘Same old, same old. Boring as hell.’

  Zara wouldn’t have minded that he’d bunked off with Junior, but James didn’t want her finding out about the shoplifting and the chase. If cherubs steal something, or make money while they’re on a mission, they’re supposed either to return the goods or donate them to charity. James had no plans to give away five top Playstation games after going through so much exertion stealing them.

  ‘How did you get along with Junior?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Really good,’ James said. ‘He’s my sort of person. I reckon we would have ended up mates even if I hadn’t tried. Where’s Nicole?’

  ‘Doing homework with April Moore and a bunch of other girls,’ Kyle said.

  ‘Wow,’ James smiled. ‘She’s a fast worker. How did you two get on with your targets?’

  ‘Erin Moore and her weird friends chucked paper at me and started calling me peg-leg because of my limp,’ Kerry said miserably.

  ‘Ringo’s a swot,’ Kyle said. ‘Nice kid, taking his GCSEs very seriously. The thing is, I reckon he’s too straight to be involved in his dad’s drug business.’

  ‘James,’ Kerry said, ‘why’s there tin foil sticking out of your backpack?’

  ‘What?’ James gasped.

  Kerry leaned towards the pack. James whipped it away before she got a chance to see inside.

  ‘You’ve been up to something,’ Kerry grinned. ‘What’s in there?’

  ‘Nothing,’ James said, jumping up from the table. ‘I better go and um … I’ll give Lauren a call before dinner’s ready.’

  Kyle and Kerry exchanged looks as James thumped upstairs to his room.

  ‘Tin foil?’ Kerry whispered, not wanting Zara to hear.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ Kyle shrugged. ‘But he’s been up to something, that’s for sure.’

  * * *

  1 The author of this book would like to point out that the shoplifting technique described here only works with certain outdated security systems. I’ve got no intention of telling you which ones they are because I don’t want angry Dads turning up on my doorstep and kicking my head in because their little darling just got busted trying to nick something from a shop.

  10. PUNCH

  It was Friday, after school. James, Kyle, Kerry and Nicole sat on the living-room couches in their school uniforms, drinking cans of Coke. The TV was on but nobody was watching.

  James looked at Kyle. ‘I’m going boxing tonight, with Junior. You wanna come?’

  ‘You in a boxing ring,’ Kerry giggled. ‘That’s something I’d pay money to see.’

  James clucked. ‘It’s training, stupid. They don’t make you fight on the first night.’

  ‘I’ll pass on getting punched in the head,’ Kyle said. ‘I got invited to a party.’

  ‘Oh,’ James said. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’

  ‘It’s Ringo Moore and his mates,’ Kyle said. ‘Year Ten and Eleven kids. They won’t want the likes of you biting their ankles.’

  ‘I’m meeting April at the youth club,’ Nicole said. ‘The boxing gym is upstairs.’

  ‘So, Kerry,’ James said, breaking into a grin. ‘I’m going out with Junior Moore tonight. Kyle’s partying with Ringo Moore and Nicole’s at the youth club with April Moore. What are you and Erin Moore doing?’

  ‘Ha ha, very funny,’ Kerry said miserably. ‘Erin is the biggest geek. There’s this student Spanish teacher.’

  ‘Miss Perez,’ James said. ‘I’ve got her as well.’

  ‘That’s her,’ Kerry said. ‘Erin and her little friends wound her up so much, they made her run out of the classroom in tears. I felt really sorry for her.’

  ‘Yeah,’ James giggled. ‘Perez is always crying. My class had her bawling three times in one lesson. It was soooo funny.’

  Kerry looked mad. ‘James, that’s horrible. How must that poor woman feel?’

  James shrugged. ‘Who cares? She’s only a teacher.’

  ‘You know what, James?’ Kerry snapped. ‘Teachers have feelings the same as anyone else.’

  ‘Whatever,’ James said. ‘I know you’re only angry because you can’t get on with Erin and you’ll probably get your botty kicked off this mission.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, James,’ Kerry shouted, putting her palm in front of her face. ‘I spend all day stuck in a class with a bunch of stupid, noisy morons. I don’t want to come home and deal with another one.’

  ‘Touchy touchy,’ James giggled.

  Kyle gave James a nudge. ‘Leave it out, eh?’

  James realised he’d overdone it. He was getting a filthy look off Nicole as well.

  ‘Sorry, Kerry,’ James said. ‘But you were taking the mickey out of me going boxing just a second ago.’

  Kerry didn’t answer. She just scowled into the bottom of her empty Coke can.

  ‘You don’t have to sit here all night watching telly, Kerry,’ Nicole said. ‘You can come to the youth centre with me if you want.’

  ‘I don’t want your pity, Nicole,’ Kerry said tersely. ‘Our mission briefing says if you can’t get on with your target, you should try and get involved in KMG through another kid. So, for your information, I won’t be sitting in front of the TV. I’ll be at the youth centre with someone tonight, the same as Nicole and Mohammed Ali over there.’

  Kerry got off the sofa and stomped up to her room. Kyle reached over and punched James’ shoulder.

  ‘What the hell was that for?’ James asked, furiously.

  ‘Being an insensitive pig,’ Kyle said. ‘You know what a big deal Kerry makes about being the best at everything.’

  ‘J
esus,’ James said, rubbing his arm. ‘I was only having a laugh. It’s not my fault she’s so touchy.’

  ‘Go up and apologise,’ Kyle said.

  ‘I better not,’ James said. ‘She probably wants to be on her own.’

  James noticed the look he was getting off Nicole.

  ‘OK then,’ James huffed, standing up. ‘I’ll go and say sorry.’

  James went upstairs. Kerry and Nicole’s room was at the end of the corridor. As James got closer, he started to bottle it. Kerry had a violent temper and he didn’t want to get on the wrong end of it. For the first time ever, James was happy to hear Joshua crying. He leaned into Ewart and Zara’s room, making sure they weren’t in there, then walked over to the cot and picked the baby up. Joshua rested his head on James’ shoulder and changed his bawling to a gentler sucking kind of noise.

  ‘Come on,’ James said, rocking Joshua gently. ‘Let’s find Mummy.’

  He went down to the kitchen. Ewart was at the table.

  ‘Cheers for picking him up, James,’ Ewart said. ‘Zara’s just gone down the shop for some bread.’

  ‘Get his bottle warmed up,’ James said. ‘I’ll take him into the living-room. He likes watching the telly.’

  Ewart smiled at James. ‘Joshua still won’t let Kyle or the girls go near him. You know why I think he likes you?’

  James shrugged. ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ve got blond hair, the same as me and Zara.’

  ‘Maybe,’ James said.

  He carried Joshua through and sat next to Nicole on the sofa.

  ‘Look who’s here,’ Nicole said, grinning and wiggling Joshua’s big toe.

  Since he’d been on the mission, James had learned something about girls: if you want them to like you, don’t worry about buying gifts, or saying the right thing, or where to take them. What you need to do is grab the nearest brat and stick it on your lap. Nicole, who’d been furious at James a few minutes earlier, shuffled up close to him on the couch.

  ‘You know, James,’ Nicole beamed, ‘some day you’re gonna make a really good dad.’

  *

  The stairs leading up to the boxing club had signed photos and newspaper cuttings of boxers James had never heard of on the walls. The door at the top of the stairs creaked and James got a nose full of thirty-degree heat and old sweat. About twenty guys were working out. Dark patches on their clothes, lifting weights, punching bags. James felt awkward, imagining they were all sizing him up, estimating how many milliseconds it would take to punch him out.