Meryl nodded.
‘Kyle found the insides of the tape player in the bin the day he met you. He found the hidden cash and we worked out that it was from your mother’s safe. You even left some lying around in obvious places to deceive Ron if he came after it. Everyone here was impressed when they realised what you’d done. It’s one of the reasons you were invited to join CHERUB.’
‘I can’t believe you found all that out about me,’ James said.
Meryl burst out laughing.
‘James, we struggle to find stuff out about the international drug smuggling cartels and terrorist groups. Twelve-year-old boys are less tricky.’
James smiled uneasily. ‘Sorry I lied. I should have realised.’
‘You see that track outside my window?’ Meryl asked.
‘Yeah,’ James said.
‘Next time you lie to me, you’ll be running laps around it until you’re dizzy. Play it straight with me, OK?’
James nodded.
‘So what happens to my money? Will you hand it in to the police?’
‘Lord no,’ Meryl said. ‘The last thing we want is the police asking questions about you. Mac and I discussed it before you arrived. I think you’ll find we’ve come up with a reasonable solution.’
Meryl got two little red books out of her desk.
‘Savings accounts,’ she explained. ‘Half for you. Half for your sister when she turns eighteen. You can withdraw thirty pounds a month if you want to, plus a hundred on your birthday and at Christmas. Does that sound fair?’
James nodded.
‘What’s your sister’s name?’
‘Lauren Zoe Onions.’
‘And your name?’
‘James Robert Choke.’
‘No, your new name,’ Meryl said.
‘What new name?’ James asked.
‘Didn’t Mac ask you to think about a new name?’
‘No.’
‘You can keep your first name if you want, but you have to take a new surname.’
‘Anything I like?’
‘Within reason, James. Nothing too unusual and it has to match your ethnicity.’
‘What’s ethnicity?’ James asked.
‘Your racial origin. It means you can’t call yourself James Patel or James Bin Laden.’
‘Can I think about it for a while?’
‘Sorry, James. There are forms to fill out. I need a name.’
James thought having a new name was cool, but his mind was blank.
‘Well, who’s your favourite pop star? Or your favourite footballer?’ Meryl asked.
‘Avril Lavigne is OK.’
‘James Lavigne then.’
‘No, I’ve got it,’ James said. ‘Tony Adams, the old Arsenal player. I want to be James Adams.’
‘OK. James Adams it is. Do you want to keep Robert as a middle name?’
‘Yeah. But can I be James Robert Tony Adams?’
‘Tony is an abbreviation of Anthony. How about James Robert Anthony Adams?’
‘Sure,’ James said.
James Robert Anthony Adams thought his new name sounded classy.
‘I’ll get Kyle to show you your room. Basic training starts in three weeks if you pass your medical and learn to swim.’
‘Learn to swim?’ James said.
‘You can’t start basic training until you can swim fifty metres. I’ve put you down for two lessons a day.’
*
Kyle took James upstairs to the living quarters.
‘Bruce Norris said he wants to see you.’
Kyle knocked on a door.
‘It’s open,’ Bruce shouted from inside.
James followed Kyle into Bruce’s room. One wall had shelves stacked with trophies. The other was a mass of gory martial arts posters.
‘Mental posters,’ James said.
‘Thanks,’ Bruce said, getting off his bed and putting out his hand for James to shake.
‘I wanted to make sure you’re not holding a grudge against me after the test.’
‘No worries,’ James said.
‘You want a drink or something?’ Bruce asked, pointing towards his fridge.
‘He’s not seen his own room yet,’ Kyle said.
‘Is he on this floor?’ Bruce asked.
‘Yes,’ Kyle said. ‘Across from me.’
‘Cool,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’
James and Kyle went outside.
‘He’s a bit scary,’ James said. ‘It’s weird being in a room with someone who could kill you with their bare hands.’
‘Most kids here could kill you in two seconds flat, me included. Bruce is hilarious. He acts all macho, but he’s a total baby sometimes. After he finished basic training and got his grey shirt he heard all the little red shirt kids were going on an Easter egg hunt. They wouldn’t let him go so he burst into tears. He laid in his room and cried for like, three hours. And you’ll never guess what else.’
‘What?’
‘He sleeps with teddy.’
‘No way.’
‘I swear to god, James. Bruce forgot to push his door shut one night and everyone saw it. Little blue bear in the bed with him.’
Kyle stopped at a room with a key in the door.
‘There you go.’ Kyle said. ‘Home.’
James’ stuff was in bags on the floor. Everything in the room looked new. A decent sized TV and VCR. A computer, kettle, microwave and mini fridge. The double bed had a thick duvet and a pile of pressed CHERUB uniform on top of it.
‘I’ll leave you to turn it into a tip,’ Kyle said. ‘I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.’
James swished open his curtains and saw kids playing football on Astroturf. All ages, boys and girls. Nobody was taking it seriously. Little kids got carried on bigger kids’ shoulders.
James fancied joining in, but he was more interested in his new room. There was a telephone beside the bed. He picked up, wondering who he could call, but he got a recorded message: Dial out privileges are currently suspended.
The computer looked new and had a flat LCD monitor and Internet access. James realised the best thing of all: for the first time in his life he had his own bathroom. There was a thick towelling dressing gown hanging on the door, piles of different size towels and flannels. The bath was big enough for James to lie flat in. For some reason, he decided to stand in it fully clothed and try out the shower, soaking himself.
He stepped out of the tub and looked at all the unopened bottles and packets: soap, shampoo, electric toothbrush, deodorant, even a box of chocolate bath bombs.
James laid on his bed and sank into his duvet. He rocked the mattress gently, smiling uncontrollably to himself. It was hard to imagine the room being any cooler.
*
Dinner should have been good. The food was top: choice of steak, fish, Chinese or Indian and wicked desserts. James sat with Bruce and Kyle and a whole group of other kids. They all seemed nice and James thought the girls looked cute in their CHERUB uniforms. The downer was, as soon as they saw James’ pale blue trainee shirt everyone started telling horror stories about basic training: being cold and muddy, not getting enough to eat, smashed bones, stitched up cuts, being forced to exercise until you either puked or fainted. It sounded bad.
*
James stood in the food store. There were snacks and soft drinks piled on the shelves.
‘Take whatever you want for your fridge.’ Kyle said. ‘It’s all free.’
James looked miserably at the goodies and didn’t say anything.
‘They shitted you up, didn’t they?’ Kyle said.
James nodded. ‘Is it as bad as they all said?’
‘I can’t sugar-coat it,’ Kyle said. ‘Basic training is the worst hundred days of your life. That’s the point. Once you’ve been through it you’re not scared of much else … At least it doesn’t start for three weeks.’
James walked to his room. A timetable had been slid under the door while he was at dinn
er. Tomorrow he had a medical, a dentist appointment and two swimming lessons.
13. NEEDLE
His alarm went off at 6 a.m. James noticed that a set of swimming shorts and a map had been put on his desk while he was asleep. Nobody else was about this early. James walked to the canteen where a couple of teachers were eating breakfast. He found a newspaper and looked through the sport pages while eating cereal. The map was easy to follow, but James hesitated when he read the sign on the pool door: Learning Pool. Children Under Ten Only.
James stuck his head round the door. The pool was empty, except for a girl of about fifteen who was swimming laps. When she saw James she swam to the side and propped her elbows on the edge.
‘Are you James?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m Amy Collins. I’ll be teaching you how to swim. Go in the back and get changed.’
James undressed. He noticed Amy’s black CHERUB T-shirt on the bench and her bra and knickers on a hook. James had worried his instructor would be some tough guy shouting and bawling at him. Seeing Amy’s undies made James realise that making a fool of himself in front of a girl was even worse. He stepped out of the changing room and stood by the steps at the shallow end of the pool.
‘Come up this end,’ Amy shouted.
James walked along the twenty-five metre pool, nervously reading the depth markings. The deep end levelled off at three and a half metres.
‘Stand with your toes curled over the edge,’ Amy said.
James shuffled up to the edge. The bottom looked a long way off and the chlorine smelled like the time he nearly drowned.
‘Take a deep breath. Jump in and hold the air until you come back up to the surface.’
‘Won’t I sink?’ James asked.
‘People float in water, James. Especially if their lungs are full of air.’
James crouched down to jump. He could almost feel the water blocking his mouth.
‘I can’t,’ James said.
‘I’m right here to catch you. Don’t be scared.’
James didn’t want to look soft in front of a girl. He raised his courage and leapt in. The quiet when his head went under was eerie. James’ feet touched the bottom of the pool and he pushed himself upwards. As his face broke the surface he let out a gasp and thrashed his arms. He couldn’t see Amy. He felt the same terror as when his classmates had nearly drowned him.
Amy grabbed James and with a few powerful kicks she pushed him to the edge of the pool. James clambered out and doubled over, coughing.
‘Well done, James. You’ve learned the most important lesson: you float back to the surface when you jump in the water.’
‘You said you’d catch me,’ James said.
He tried to sound angry, but he let out a big sob in the middle of the sentence.
‘Why are you upset? You did really well.’
‘I’m never gonna learn to swim,’ James said. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I’m scared of water. My nine-year-old sister can swim, but I’m too scared.’
‘Calm down, James. It’s my fault. I wouldn’t have asked you to do that if I’d known you were so frightened.’
Amy took James back to the shallow end. They sat with their feet dangling in the water while Amy tried to calm James down.
‘You must think I’m a wimp,’ James said.
‘Everyone is scared of something,’ Amy said. ‘I’ve taught loads of kids to swim. You may take longer to learn than someone more confident, but we’ll get through it.’
‘I should have stayed where I was,’ James said. ‘I’m not good enough for a place like this.’
Amy put her arm around James. James was uncomfortable at first. He felt too old for a cuddle, but Amy was nice.
*
‘Get down off the treadmill,’ the doctor said. His German accent made him sound like an extra from a World War Two film.
James wore shorts and trainers. Sweat dripped out of his hair and streaked down his face. A nurse started peeling off the sticky patches on his chest. They were all wired up to a machine. The doctor touched the machine and a half-metre long strip of paper shot out. He stared at the paper and shook his head.
‘Do you watch a lot of TV, James?’
‘I suppose,’ James said.
‘You just ran one kilometre and you’re exhausted. Do you play any sport?’
‘Not much,’ James said.
The doctor pinched a roll of fat on James’ stomach.
‘Look at that flab. You’re like a middle-aged man.’
The doctor untucked his shirt and slapped a six-pack stomach.
‘Like steel,’ he said. ‘And I’m sixty years old.’
James had never thought of himself as fat before. But now that he looked, he was a bit soggy around the middle.
‘When does your basic training start?’ the doctor asked.
‘Three weeks. If I learn to swim.’
‘You can’t swim either? Pathetic! No need to swim in front of the television, I suppose, James? I’ll send you down to the athletics department. Get you to do some running. No puddings, no chocolates. The good news is, apart from too much puppy fat, you seem fine. Now, injections.’
The nurse pulled a plastic tray with hundreds of syringes lined up on it out of a fridge.
‘What are all these?’ James asked, alarmed.
‘CHERUB can send you anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice. You have to be vaccinated. Influenza, Cholera, Typhoid, Hepatitis A, Hepatitis C, Rubella, Yellow Fever, Lassa Fever, Tetanus, Japanese Encephalitis, Tuberculosis, Meningitis.’
‘I’m having all those now?’ James asked.
‘No, that would overload your immune system and make you sick. Only seven injections today. Then five in two days’ time and another four in a week.’
‘I’ve got to have sixteen injections?’
‘Twenty-three actually. You’ll need some booster jabs in six months.’
Before James could comprehend the full horror of this, the nurse wiped his arm with a sterile swab. The doctor tore the packaging off a syringe and jabbed it into James’ arm. It didn’t hurt.
‘Influenza,’ the doctor said. ‘Thought I’d start you off with an easy one. This next one goes into the muscle and you may feel a teensy little pinch.’
The doctor pulled the cap off a five-centimetre needle.
‘OOOOOOOOO WWWWWWWWW.’
*
James was sitting in the changing room in his swimming shorts waiting for his afternoon lesson. Amy rushed in. She threw a bag of school books on the floor and started unlacing her boots.
‘Sorry I’m late, James. Got talking and lost track of time. How’s your day been?’
‘Awful,’ James said.
‘What’s wrong with your voice?’
‘Four fillings at the dentist. I still can’t feel my tongue.’
‘Does it hurt?’ Amy asked, stepping out of her trousers.
‘Not as bad as my arse where the doctor stuck two needles in it. Plus he says I’m fat and unfit. I’ve got to run fifteen laps five times a week and I’m not allowed to eat desserts.’
Amy smiled. ‘Not a good day, then.’
14. SWEAT
Fifteen laps of a 400-metre track is six kilometres. James had no time limit; he could walk it in about an hour but that was boring. He wanted to go fast. The first day he raced off and died after three laps. He staggered the rest of the way with his legs aching and it took nearly an hour and a quarter. Next morning James’ ankles were puffed up and even walking was agony.
Meryl Spencer showed James warm-up and cool-down stretches and told him only to run every third lap, then gradually to move up; running a lap and a half out of every three, then two out of three, and so on until he could run the six kilometres without a rest.
The third day it rained so hard James could hardly see through the wet hair stuck to his face. Meryl and the other athletics coach hid in the dry. James figured nobody was watching and after thirteen laps went
into the changing room where the other drowned-rat kids were diving under the shower.
‘Was that fifteen laps?’ Meryl asked.
James knew he was busted just from her voice.
‘Come on, it’s belting down, Miss.’
‘You cheat, James, you start again. Fifteen laps. Get going.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me, James. One smart word and I’ll make it thirty laps.’
By the end, James’ lungs felt like they were going to explode. Kyle and Bruce thought it was superb when James told them what had happened. Amy said it was good to learn early that discipline at CHERUB was stricter than James was used to.
*
A fortnight later James was getting fitter. He could run two laps out of every three fast and jog the other one. It was Friday, lap fifteen. The pulse in his neck felt like it was about to burst. His body was begging him to quit, but James wanted to do his laps in under half an hour for the first time and he wasn’t giving in so close to the end.
James overtook a set of identical twins on the final bend and sprinted to the line. He glanced at his stopwatch: 29:47. Twenty seconds inside his previous best. As James looked at the watch he put a foot down awkwardly and overbalanced. The track slashed the skin off his knee, ripped his T-shirt and grazed his shoulder. The pain from the cuts wasn’t as bad as the pain in his lungs, but James didn’t care because he’d broken half an hour.
James clamped his hand over his knee. The twins stopped to help.
‘You OK?’ one of them asked.
‘Fine,’ James lied.
James hadn’t seen them before. He noticed they were wearing pale blue shirts.
‘You two starting basic training week after next?’
‘Yeah. We arrived last night. I’m Callum, this is Connor. You want us to help you back to the changing room?’
‘I’ll manage,’ James said.
*
‘It’s my birthday today,’ Amy said.
They were in the pool together. James’ cuts were stinging from the chlorine.
‘How old?’ James asked.
‘Sixteen.’
‘I would have got you a card or something,’ James said. ‘You never said.’
CHERUB: The Recruit Page 8