Robert Muchamore was born in 1972 and spent thirteen years working as a private investigator. CHERUB: The Sleepwalker is his ninth novel in the series.
The CHERUB series has won numerous awards, including the Red House Children’s Book Award. For more information on Robert and his work, visit www.muchamore.com
Praise for the CHERUB series:
‘If you can’t bear to read another story about elves, princesses or spoiled rich kids who never go to the toilet, try this. You won’t regret it.’ The Ultimate Teen Book Guide
‘My sixteen-year-old son read The Recruit in one sitting, then went out the next day and got the sequel.’ Sophie Smiley, teacher and children’s author
‘So good I forced my friends to read it, and they’re glad I did!’ Helen, age 14
‘CHERUB is the first book I ever read cover to cover. It was amazing.' Scott, age 13
‘The best book ever.’ Madeline, age 12
‘CHERUB is a must for Alex Rider lovers.’ Travis, age 14
BY ROBERT MUCHAMORE
The Henderson’s Boys series:
1. The Escape
2. Eagle Day
3. Secret Army
4. Grey Wolves
5. The Prisoner
6. One Shot Kill
Coming soon
The CHERUB series:
1. The Recruit
2. Class A
3. Maximum Security
4. The Killing
5. Divine Madness
6. Man vs Beast
7. The Fall
8. Mad Dogs
9. The Sleepwalker
10. The General
11. Brigands M.C.
12. Shadow Wave
CHERUB series 2:
1. People’s Republic
2. Guardian Angel
Coming soon
www.hodderchildrens.co.uk
Copyright © 2007 Robert Muchamore
First published in Great Britain in 2007
by Hodder Children’s Books
This eBook edition published in 2012
The right of Robert Muchamore to be identified as the Author
of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means with prior permission in writing from the publishers or in the case of reprographic production in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency and may not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 444 91052 0
Hodder Children’s Books
A Division of Hachette Children’s Books
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
An Hachette UK company
www.hachette.co.uk
WHAT IS CHERUB?
CHERUB is a branch of British Intelligence. Its agents are aged between ten and seventeen years. Cherubs are mainly orphans who have been taken out of care homes and trained to work undercover. They live on CHERUB campus, a secret facility hidden in the English countryside.
WHAT USE ARE KIDS?
Quite a lot. Nobody realises kids do undercover missions, which means they can get away with all kinds of stuff that adults can’t.
WHO ARE THEY?
About three hundred children live on CHERUB campus. JAMES ADAMS is our fifteen-year-old hero. He’s a well-respected CHERUB agent with several successful missions under his belt. Australian-born DANA SMITH is James’ girlfriend. His other close friends include SHAKEEL DAJANI and identical twins CALLUM and CONNOR O’REILLY.
James’ sister, LAUREN ADAMS, is twelve and already regarded as an outstanding CHERUB agent. Her best friends are BETHANY PARKER and GREG ‘RAT’ RATHBONE.
CHERUB STAFF
With its large grounds, specialist training facilities and combined role as a boarding school and intelligence operation, CHERUB actually has more staff than pupils. They range from cooks and gardeners to teachers, training instructors, nurses, psychiatrists and mission specialists. CHERUB is run by its chairwoman, ZARA ASKER.
CHERUB T-SHIRTS
Cherubs are ranked according to the colour of the T-shirts they wear on campus. ORANGE is for visitors. RED is for kids who live on CHERUB campus but are too young to qualify as agents (the minimum age is ten). BLUE is for kids undergoing CHERUB’s tough one-hundred-day basic training regime. A GREY T-shirt means you’re qualified for missions. NAVY is a reward for outstanding performance on a single mission. Lauren and James wear the BLACK T-shirt, the ultimate recognition for outstanding achievement over a number of missions. When you retire, you get the WHITE T-shirt, which is also worn by some staff.
1. BACK
Bethany Parker had been away on a mission for eight months, which was long enough for plenty to change on CHERUB campus. There was a line of freshly planted saplings along the path that led to the main entrance, new floor tiles in the main building and an enormous satellite dish in the gravel outside the mission preparation building.
But it was the other cherubs that really made Bethany feel like she’d missed out: girls had different hairstyles and cute boys had succumbed to acne; there were qualified agents she’d never even seen and new red shirts who seemed impossibly tiny.
As she stepped out of the lift on the ground floor, Bethany spotted the handler Meryl Spencer. The athletically built Kenyan broke into a warm smile.
‘Nice tan, Bethany. We’ve been hearing good things about you.’
Bethany was slightly embarrassed by the compliment. ‘Thanks Miss … I’m looking for Lauren, have you seen her around?’
‘She’s probably over by the vehicle shop. There’s supposed to be some kind of race, or something. I expect your brother Jake will be up there too.’
Bethany felt guilty as she realised she’d prioritised finding her best friend over her kid brother. After jogging down a short corridor, she stepped through the back doors of campus’ main building and ran down the path between the all-weather tennis courts. Her combat trousers and boots felt clumsy after eight months in parts of Brazil and the United States where she’d rarely worn anything heavier than shorts and sandals.
The sun was dropping below the horizon as she crossed the deserted playing fields. Orange light pierced the trees and made her squint, but being back on campus felt good. The cool evening air was a change from humidity and she deliberately ran through the muddiest part of a goalmouth because she felt more at home with a bit of CHERUB campus stuck to her brand-new boots: after a struggle she’d discovered that her old pair didn’t fit.
‘Lauren,’ Bethany shouted, as she came over the brow of a slight hill. Down below, a crowd of thirty kids were gathered in a car park. They mostly faced towards a squat workshop with aluminium sides. The three sets of hangar-style doors along the front were open. Inside were brightly lit workstations covered with tools and four cars in various states of disassembly.
All vehicles in the CHERUB fleet got upgraded in this workshop: stiffer suspension, satellite tracking, performance-tuned engine, plus tinted glass and subtly altered controls to make life easier for under-aged drivers. To ensure the highest standards of reliability, routine servicing and repair work was also done on campus, along with occasional special jobs such as fitting a car with a hidden compar
tment, or installing listening devices.
Quite a few people turned to see who was shouting. Lauren Adams gasped as she recognised her best friend. She backed out of the crowd and charged up the hill to give Bethany a hug.
‘My god,’ Lauren screamed happily, as the two girls pulled each other tight. ‘I didn’t even know you were back. Why didn’t you text me?’
Bethany smiled and made a little squealing sound. ‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘When did you get back from Brazil?’
Bethany looked at her watch. ‘Our jet landed at the RAF base down the road five hours ago, but I had to go straight into an emergency debriefing with Maureen Evans and then I had to see the chairwoman.’
Lauren looked at her friend’s navy CHERUB T-shirt. ‘Promotion too. Well done!’
‘Zara told me I deserved black,’ Bethany said. ‘But you only get that for outstanding performance on more than one mission, no matter how long you’re away.’
Lauren nodded sympathetically, though she was secretly pleased that she still outranked her friend. ‘So how was the mission?’
‘Hard work, but we took care of business in the end. How about you, are you still suspended?’
Lauren shrugged. ‘I spent a few days doing security tests on RAF bases, and I helped a pair of new agents settle into a mission over in Northern Ireland, but I’m still banned from going on any big missions of my own for another month.’
‘I brought you back a present, but I thought I’d save it for your birthday next week,’ Bethany said, before stopping to give a curious look at a small girl dashing up the hill towards them.
‘This is Coral,’ Lauren explained, as the six-year-old sidled up to her. ‘When I got punished I had to go and help out in the junior block. You know, putting the little red shirts to bed and reading them stories and stuff? But I enjoyed it, so I still go over there to help out and I get enough learning credits out of it that I don’t have to do stupid dance or drama lessons any more.’
‘Cool,’ Bethany smiled. ‘Though I’ve never understood what you’ve got against drama classes.’
Lauren tutted as Coral slid her hand in Lauren’s trouser pocket and shyly nuzzled her leg.
‘Drama’s so moronic,’ Lauren moaned. ‘Remember that time Mrs Dickerson had us waving our arms around pretending to be trees for a whole hour?’
Bethany laughed as she imitated the teacher’s voice. ‘Breathe deeeeeeep and feel your body move with the wind rushing through your branches.’
‘I wouldn’t mind so much, but you can’t breathe deep,’ Lauren said. ‘That drama studio has no windows and it always stinks of feet.’
The two girls laughed harder than the joke deserved, because it felt good being back together.
‘Coral, this is my friend, Bethany,’ Lauren said, as she pulled the little girl out from behind her legs. ‘Stop acting daft and say hello.’
Bethany squatted down and gave the tiny girl a smile.
‘Coral’s only been on campus a few days,’ Lauren explained. ‘Her big brother’s already rumbling with the other red shirts, but Coral’s a bit overwhelmed so I’m keeping an eye until she settles in.’
‘Hello Bethany,’ Coral said, as she reached out to shake hands.
Bethany noticed chips of Lauren’s black varnish on Coral’s fingernails as she took her little hand. ‘Aren’t you formal!’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you, Coral.’
Coral seemed less shy after the introductions. Lauren and Bethany each took one of her hands and stretched the youngster between them as they walked downhill towards the gathering in front of the vehicle workshop.
‘So what’s going on in the garage?’ Bethany asked.
‘It’s mainly about boys flexing their egos and getting grease on their overalls,’ Lauren said. ‘You can cut the testosterone down there with a knife.’
‘I see,’ Bethany said, though she clearly didn’t.
‘They retired a couple of the old golf buggies the staff use for getting around campus,’ Lauren continued. ‘But instead of scrapping them, Terry Campbell has been helping some of the boys convert them into racing carts by fitting motorbike engines. You know what James is like about anything even slightly to do with motorbikes? I’ve hardly seen him since we got back from summer hostel.’
‘And my brother’s involved too?’
Lauren nodded. ‘Jake’s part of James’ crew.’
With Coral still holding their hands, Lauren and Bethany eased between the crowd and stepped through the open front of the garage. There were two golf carts, each surrounded by boys in blue overalls.
The carts were dented and rusty after more than a decade of plying the paths around campus, but instead of being allowed to die with dignity, they’d had their batteries and electric motors stripped out and replaced by the engine and transmission from a motorbike and a selection of dubious accessories stuck on the outside. James’ team had added four sets of wing mirrors, gold paint and go-faster stripes.
‘What a heap of crap,’ Bethany said, making sure everyone heard as she stepped up to James Adams’ stocky legs, which poked from beneath the jacked-up buggy.
‘Hey, sis,’ Bethany’s eleven-year-old brother Jake said, as he turned away from a tool chest. ‘Did you bring me a prezzie?’
‘I’ve got three loads of dirty laundry you can have if you like,’ Bethany said, before giving him a brief hug. Like most siblings Jake and Bethany loved each other deep down, but in their case you needed a submarine with a powerful searchlight to get there.
James slid out from under the buggy and spoke to his three team-mates as he sat up. ‘I put a clamp and half a roll of sticky tape over the seals, so we shouldn’t have any more problems with oil pressure.’
‘I’m back, James,’ Bethany said, grinning and holding her arms out exuberantly. ‘Are you pleased to see me?’
James shook his head with contempt as he lifted up the buggy and kicked away the jacks, before lowering it to the ground. He was shocked at how different Bethany looked. She’d grown eight centimetres, she had much nicer boobs and the tan made her look more than thirteen. If she’d been a couple of years older she was the kind of girl he’d probably try getting off with.
‘You’ve certainly changed,’ James said, as he looked around and saw that the other two members of his crew – thirteen-year-olds Rat and Andy – practically had their tongues hanging out.
‘Bethany, listen to this baby when we fire her up,’ Rat said eagerly, as he lunged towards the cockpit and reached in to press the starter button.
‘I’m nearest,’ Andy said, as the two boys leaned into the golf buggy from opposite sides and almost cracked skulls.
Andy reached the button first and there was a clattering sound, followed by a huge plume of foul-smelling exhaust and finally a roaring noise that made the metal walls of the workshop shudder.
‘Mr Campbell showed us how to tune the exhaust to make it as noisy as possible,’ Andy shouted, as he studied Bethany’s reaction.
‘Pretty cool, eh sis?’ Jake yelled.
The noise made Coral squeeze her hands over her ears as Lauren and Bethany looked at one another and shook their heads. Lauren leaned across, shouting into her best friend’s ear, ‘I think we’re supposed to be impressed by this.’
Bethany shook her head and laughed. ‘They’re so manly! How can we possibly resist them?’
2. BARGAIN
Karen had to collect six coupons in the newspaper. Once she had the full set, she went online and battled with an overloaded airline website for the bargain of the century, snaffling four flights for a long weekend of Christmas shopping in New York with her son, daughter and mother-in-law.
The offer was only valid on certain flights on certain days of the week. She ended up only being able to book flights in September and even then she had to pay a supplement to get the earlier flight back so that the kids would only miss one day of school (the headmaster gave her a withering look, as if the loss of a single
Monday would destroy her children’s career prospects).
But Karen liked the idea of taking her kids to New York and she bit like a Rottweiler whenever a bargain came her way. Despite check-in queues, the godawful in-flight food and monster snarl-ups passing through immigration when they arrived at JFK, it had been a good weekend.
They’d been up the Empire State Building; they’d stayed in a swanky hotel and melted a pair of credit cards at an outlet mall ten miles out of the city. Karen’s mother-in-law spoiled the kids rotten and the two youngsters had loved every junk-fuelled sleep-deprived minute.
Angus was eleven and Megan nine. They had the right-hand pair of seats out of the four in the jet’s centre aisle, with their mum next door and Grandma fast asleep at the opposite end. They were two hours out of New York and the crew had dimmed the cabin lights and turned up the heat to try getting the passengers to rest, but Angus was under the spell of a new Gameboy game and Megan had found a film to watch on the little seatback screen in front of her. Their mum would have preferred them to catch up on sleep, but air travel always gave her a thumping headache and she wasn’t going to fuss as long as they kept quiet.
Megan’s film was a romantic comedy about a biker who falls in love with a doctor he meets after crashing his motorbike. The biker shaves his beard, buys a suit and gets a straight job which leads to all kinds of situations which were hilarious if you asked Megan, or boring romantic crap if you asked Angus. He’d watched the first five minutes before flipping open his Gameboy.
But as the film neared its climax – where the biker throws a punch at a wedding and runs away in shame before discovering that the doctor loves him for who he really is, not who he’s pretending to be, Megan’s headset kept going on the blink and she was only getting sound out of one ear. She reached under the armrest and swiped Angus’ headphones from his lap.