TWO WEEKS LATER
James got up at 5.30 a.m., despite his whole body begging him to stay under the duvet. He put on his running kit and headed to the athletics track as the sun rose over campus. It took him an hour to run twenty-five laps: a distance of ten kilometres. He showered, then traded some homework with Shakeel over breakfast. Lessons went from 8.30 until 2.00, with half an hour for lunch. After lessons, there was Karate practice topped off with forty-five minutes’ circuit training. Boiling hot, James downed half a litre of orange juice and collected one of the ride-on mowers from the gardeners’ storeroom. It wasn’t hard driving the mower, but the sun was on him the whole time and the grass pollen made his eyes itch.
It was 6.15 p.m. by the time James got his first chance to relax. Dinner was a social event, with everyone mucking about and catching up on gossip. Most cherubs had done their homework before dinner and had the evening to themselves, but the mowing meant James hadn’t even got started. Homework was supposed to be two hours a day. Some teachers were decent. Others piled on so much work it took heaps longer.
When James got back to his room it was gone 7.00. He sat at his desk, spread out his textbooks and opened his homework diary. In the two weeks he’d been back on campus, James had acquired a backlog of homework that sucked up every second of his free time.
It was a warm evening, so James left his window open. A breeze clattered into the plastic slats of his blind. James’ eyes were gluey and the words in his textbook drifted out of shape. His head slumped on the desk and he dozed off before he’d written a word.
*
Kyle lived across the hall. He was nearly fifteen, but he wasn’t much bigger than James.
‘Wakey wakey,’ Kyle said, flicking James’ ear.
James’ head shot up from his desk. He opened his eyes, inhaled deeply and looked at his watch. It was gone ten o’clock.
‘OHHHHHH crap,’ James said, startled. ‘If I don’t get this history report done by tomorrow, I’m dead meat. It’s a two-thousand-word essay and I haven’t even read the chapters in the textbook.’
‘Get a deferral,’ Kyle said.
‘I’ve had a deferral, Kyle. And I’ve had a deferral of the deferral. I’ve got extra laps to run before school and mowing after. There aren’t enough hours in the day. I spent all day Sunday doing homework and I still keep getting further behind.’
‘You should speak to your handler.’
‘I tried,’ James said. ‘You know what Meryl said?’
‘What?’
‘She said, if I was so snowed under with work, how come I had time to spend sitting in her office whinging.’
Kyle laughed.
‘I swear, they’re trying to kill me,’ James moaned.
‘No,’ Kyle said. ‘They’re trying to instil a sense of discipline in you. After a month of being worked like a dog, maybe you’ll think twice about ignoring the rules next time. It’s your own stupid fault. All you had to do on holiday was keep in half reasonable shape and study the briefing for the hostage training. Everybody warned you. Me, Kerry, Meryl, Amy. But you always reckon you know better.’
James angrily swept his arm across his desk, shooting his books and pens on to the floor.
‘Good idea,’ Kyle grinned. ‘That’ll solve your problems.’
‘Spare me another lecture,’ James shouted. ‘I’m so knackered I can hardly keep my eyes open and I’m sick of everyone saying I told you so.’
‘What’s that report you’re doing?’ Kyle asked.
‘Two thousand words on the foundation of the British Intelligence Service and its role in the First World War.’
‘Interesting stuff,’ Kyle said.
‘I’d rather eat a bowl of snot,’ James said.
‘I might just be able to help you out, kiddo. I did that course two years ago. I’ve got my old notes and an essay in my room.’
‘Cheers, Kyle,’ James grinned. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’
‘Ten quid,’ Kyle said.
‘What?’ James gasped. ‘Some friend you are, trying to make money out of me when I’m at my lowest ebb.’
‘This essay is a beauty, James. Grade A material. The girl I nicked it off is now studying history at Harvard University in the States.’
‘Fiver,’ James said. He reckoned the essay was easily worth a fiver. He’d have to swap bits around and rewrite in his own handwriting, but that would take about an hour, whereas doing the essay from scratch was a whole night’s work.
‘You’re bleeding me dry,’ Kyle said, twisting his mouth as if he couldn’t make up his mind. ‘But I’m a little low on funds. You can have it for a fiver, if you give us the money right now.’
James went in his desk and got a fiver out of his cash box. Kyle stuffed it in his pocket.
‘This better be a good essay,’ James said.
‘Anyway,’ Kyle said, ‘I didn’t come here to help with your homework. I’m the senior agent on a big mission that’s coming up. We need three other kids. Me and Ewart Asker discussed it and you’re on the team if you want the gig.’
James wasn’t that enthusiastic.
‘I don’t want to work with Ewart as my mission controller again. He’s a psychopath.’
‘Ewart raves about you,’ Kyle said. ‘He thinks you did a great job on that anti-terrorist mission. Plus, this is a big team. Ewart’s wife will be there as well. She keeps him under her thumb.’
‘Who else is going?’ James asked.
‘Me, of course,’ Kyle said. ‘And Kerry. She’s walking with a stick, but they reckon she’ll be healed up before blast-off. There’s a vacancy for another girl. It was going to be Gabrielle, but she’s being held back for something in South Africa.’
‘Nicole Eddison,’ James said.
‘Who?’ Kyle asked.
‘You know her,’ James said. ‘She was on my basic training and quit after one day. She got her grey shirt at the second attempt. I think she’s done a couple of missions, but nothing major.’
‘I think I know who you mean,’ Kyle said. ‘Is it that girl with the huge chest you’re always going on about?’
‘She is so stacked,’ James grinned.
‘James,’ Kyle said, indignantly, ‘you can’t pick a girl for a mission because she has big breasts.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for starters, it’s unbelievably sexist.’
‘Come on, Kyle. Nicole’s a really good laugh. She’s in my Russian class and she’s always getting chucked out for messing around. And as long as Kerry doesn’t find out and kick my butt, who cares if it’s sexist or not?’
‘I’ll ask Ewart to put her name on the list of candidates,’ Kyle said, reluctantly. ‘But he’ll only pick her based on merit. The first mission briefing is tomorrow. There’s tons of background studying to do.’
‘Oh, great,’ James said. ‘When am I gonna get time to do that?’
‘Didn’t I mention?’ Kyle said innocently. ‘It’s been arranged with Meryl. You still have to do morning laps, but we’ve cut out some of your lessons and Mac has agreed to knock the mowing on the head.’
‘Cool,’ James grinned. ‘Another two weeks of that workload was gonna send me under. What lessons have I been dropped from?’
‘Art, Russian, religion and history,’ Kyle said.
‘Superb,’ James said, deliriously drumming his hands on his desktop. Then the penny dropped. ‘Did you say history?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Kyle nodded.
‘I just paid you five quid for a history essay.’
‘A good price for a good essay.’
James leapt furiously out of his chair. ‘I don’t care if it’s written on gold parchment by that bloke who does the history shows on Channel Four,’ he spluttered. ‘I don’t need the essay if I don’t have to go back to history class.’
‘It goes to prove the old saying,’ Kyle giggled.
‘What saying?’
‘Cheats never prosper.’
‘I tell you who
’ll never prosper,’ James stormed, grabbing one of the pens off his carpet. ‘You. And you know why? Because you’re gonna have an extremely hard time prospering after I’ve rammed this biro up your nose. Give us my fiver back.’
‘What fiver?’ Kyle asked. ‘I don’t recall any fiver. Did you get a receipt?’
James gave Kyle a shove.
‘You’re a bandit, Kyle. Normal people don’t go around conning their mates.’
Kyle backed up, with a giant grin and his hands out in front of himself.
‘I tell you what,’ he said, ‘I’m seriously short of cash. So, even though it goes against my sacred ethical code, I’ll do you a deal.’
‘What deal?’
‘If you let me keep the fiver, I’ll get Nicole on to the mission.’
‘That’s worth five quid,’ James smiled. ‘What’s this mission about anyway?’
‘Drugs,’ Kyle said.
6. BRIEF
**CLASSIFIED**
MISSION BRIEFING:
FOR JAMES ADAMS, KYLE BLUEMAN,
KERRY CHANG AND NICOLE EDDISON
DO NOT REMOVE FROM ROOM 812
DO NOT COPY OR MAKE NOTES
CHILDREN IN THE DRUG BUSINESS
Children are used by drug dealers throughout the world, to sell, smuggle and deliver illegal drugs. There are a number of reasons why children are used:
(1) Kids selling or using drugs are usually viewed as victims rather than criminals. In most countries, children are punished lightly for drug offences, whereas an adult caught with a large quantity of a drug like heroin or cocaine faces five to ten years in prison.
(2) Children have access to schools and young people. Drug dealers encourage children to give free samples of drugs to their friends. Someone who starts dealing drugs at twelve or thirteen can have hundreds of customers by the time they reach adulthood.
(3) Children have few sources of income and plenty of spare time. Many will do a drug dealer a favour, such as making a delivery for just a few pounds, or even for nothing because they think it makes them look cool.
WHAT IS COCAINE?
Cocaine is an illegal drug extracted from the leaves of the coca plant (not to be confused with the cocoa plant, which is used to make chocolate). Coca grows at high altitude in the mountainous regions of South America. The leaves are refined into a crystalline white powder. Before reaching users, the powder is diluted with cheaper substances, such as lactose or borax, or it is mixed with other drugs such as methamphetamine (commonly called speed).
The powder is snorted up the nose. It can also be injected, or mixed with other chemicals to form a smokable version of the drug called crack. Users of cocaine feel a sense of confidence and well being that lasts fifteen to thirty minutes. Cocaine also causes numbness and was once used as an anaesthetic by surgeons and dentists. More effective anaesthetics are now available.
While cocaine doesn’t create a physical craving of the kind you get with heroin or cigarettes, many users enjoy the drug’s effects so much that they use it to excess and do enormous damage to their bodies. Whereas a heroin or cigarette addict needs a regular fix, cocaine users often go days without using before going on a binge. Serious side effects of cocaine include heart attacks, liver failure, brain seizures, strokes and damage to the lining of the nose and mouth.
COCAINE IN BRITAIN
Cocaine was once the champagne of the drug world: a luxury only the rich could afford. A moderate user might get through a gram of powdered cocaine in an evening. In 1984, a gram of cocaine cost £200–£250. Twenty years later, the street price of cocaine has dropped to less than £50 a gram. In some areas of Britain, a gram of low quality cocaine can cost as little as £25.
The United States pays South American governments to hunt and destroy coca plants in the highlands where they grow. Despite this, the street price of cocaine has continued to drop, suggesting that supplies are still plentiful.
Most cocaine brought into Britain arrives via the Caribbean. There are thousands of smugglers in British prisons. Tough sentences have done little to stop the trade. Cocaine dealers continue to find people willing to act as drug couriers, often in return for less than a thousand pounds and an airline ticket.
It is impossible to catch every smuggler entering Britain. The police must aim higher and capture the people in control of the drug gangs. Close to one third of the cocaine entering Britain passes through an organisation commonly referred to as KMG. The initials stand for Keith Moore’s Gang.
KEITH MOORE AND KMG: BIOGRAPHY
1964
Keith Moore was born on the newly built Thornton. estate on the outskirts of Luton in Bedfordshire.
1977
After being caught selling cannabis in his school library, Keith was arrested by police and excluded from school. He became a chronic truant, suspected of many car thefts and burglaries.
1978
Keith began training as a boxer at the JT Martin Youth Centre. JT Martin was a retired boxer and armed robber who controlled the underworld in Bedfordshire from the early 1960s until 1985. JT used his boxing club as a recruiting ground for young criminals.
1980
Keith was spotted in police surveillance photographs of JT Martin. In the pictures, Keith is a slightly built sixteen-year-old who looks out of place amongst JT’s crew of boxers and nightclub bouncers.
1981
Keith became JT Martin’s chauffeur when a previous driver was banned for speeding. Moving around with JT gave the seventeen-year-old an insight into all aspects of the drug business.
1983
After eleven amateur fights, with a record of one win, two draws and eight defeats, Keith retired from boxing. Shortly afterwards, he married Julie Robertson, a girl he had known since infant school.
1985
Police captured JT Martin and a number of associates selling drugs. JT was sentenced to twelve years in prison. Keith Moore had been JT’s driver for four years, but the rest of JT’s crew regarded him as a wimpish hanger-on.
1986
With JT in prison, a power struggle erupted amongst his former employees. Keith kept away from the violent struggles and developed an interest in JT’s cocaine business. Cocaine was a tiny proportion of the criminal empire, which made most of its money selling heroin and cannabis. JT also owned nightclubs, pubs and casinos, as well as dozens of small businesses such as laundrettes and hairdressing salons.
1987
The price of cocaine kept falling and supply was growing. Keith Moore was one of the first people in Britain to realise that the cocaine business was about to explode.
While his colleagues battled over heroin and nightclub profits, Keith travelled to South America and met with members of a powerful Peruvian drug cartel known as Lambayeke. He agreed to buy regular bulk shipments of cocaine at a discounted price. To sell this increased supply of cocaine, Keith launched a telephone delivery service, based on similar services that were thriving in the United States. It took advantage of two new technologies: mobile telephones and message pagers. Instead of having to go searching for a drug dealer, rich clients dialled a number and Keith had someone deliver drugs to their doorstep, usually within an hour.
1988
The cocaine business was earning Keith over £10,000 per week. This cash enabled him – at just 23 years of age – to take effective control of JT Martin’s criminal empire. Keith avoided violence whenever possible. He manipulated jealous rivals, setting them against one another. When manipulation failed, he bought rivals off by handing them parts of the business that did not interest him.
Keith’s next ambition was to build his profitable cocaine business into the biggest in the country. The only part of JT’s empire Keith held on to was the youth centre/boxing club in the neighbourhood where he grew up.
1989
Keith’s first son, Ringo, was born (now aged 15).
1990
Keith’s business grew tenfold in three years. Cocaine delivery expanded into Hert
fordshire and London. He also began selling wholesale quantities of cocaine to other dealers all over Britain and mainland Europe.
1992
Julie Moore gave birth to twins, April and Keith Jr (now aged 12).
1993
Keith’s youngest child, Erin, was born (now aged 11).
1998
Drug dealing is often a short career. Anyone who is successful attracts attention from police and customs. They usually end up behind bars.
After investigations failed to gather enough evidence, police tried to get undercover officers into Keith’s inner circle. Dozens of people working for KMG have been prosecuted. Even when they have agreed to cooperate, police have never been able to produce clear evidence linking Keith Moore with his drug business. At the core of KMG, an expensive legal team and fiercely loyal deputies have so far succeeded in keeping Keith Moore out of prison.
2000
As the cocaine business continued to thrive, Keith Moore’s personal fortune was estimated at £25 million. After being arrested for non-payment of tax, he pleaded guilty to a minor charge and paid a £50,000 fine.
2001
Julie Moore left Keith after eighteen years of marriage. Keith kept custody of the children and the family home. Julie moved into a house across the street and remains on good terms with her ex-husband.
2003
Police launched Operation Snort, the largest taskforce of drugs officers ever assembled in Britain. The official aim was to stop the cocaine business. Unofficially, everyone knew Operation Snort was gunning for Keith Moore and KMG.
The operation descended into chaos when it uncovered corruption within police forces all over the country. Forty officers were found to have taken bribes from KMG. Eight of these were working on Operation Snort and included the Chief Superintendent who was in command of the whole operation.