The Dealer

  “It’s a defined psychological phenomenon,” Amy said.

  James looked mystified. “You what?”

  “All humans have a basic need to share their lives with someone,” Amy explained. “Children with their parents, adults with their wives, husbands, or whoever. Because the kids at CHERUB have no parents, they make very strong bonds with each other. There’s a big reunion on campus every couple of years. You’d be amazed how many cherubs end up marrying each other.”

  “Sometimes it really gets on my nerves how smart-assed everyone at CHERUB is,” James grinned. “I mean, how come you know stuff like that?”

  “I’m doing psychology at university,” Amy said. “They gave us a list of books to read before the course starts. Besides, James, you’re not exactly dumb yourself. CHERUB wouldn’t even sniff at a kid who wasn’t way above average.”

  “When I’m at a normal school, I’m always one of the cleverest,” James said. “But I’m just kind of ordinary here.”

  “So anyway,” Amy said. “When you arrived at CHERUB a few months after your mum died, it was natural that you formed a strong attachment to any girl who played a big part in your life.”

  “Like you, because you were teaching me how to swim.”

  Amy nodded. “And Kerry, because she was your partner in basic training. Have you asked her out yet?”

  “God! Don’t you start,” James moaned. “It’s bad enough Kyle was always going on about it.”

  “But you and Kerry are always so sweet together. I love the way you two pick at one another like some old married couple.”

  James didn’t want to hear it. He slipped off the side of the pool and began swimming towards the deep end.

  • • •

  The dossier that arrived from MI5 on the Lambayeke cartel ran to over three hundred pages, though a lot of it was photos and maps. James and Amy spent Tuesday morning in one of the mission preparation rooms, skimming through the chapters and marking the most relevant stuff with highlighter pens. James could take the books on computer-hacking back to Luton for study, but the Lambayeke dossier wasn’t allowed off campus.

  After they’d worked through the dossier, Amy got five laptop PCs out of a storage room and lined them up on a desk. She set an ancient wind-up timing clock to count down from fifteen minutes.

  “Each of these PCs has a list of stolen credit card numbers hidden on the hard drive,” Amy explained. “You’ve got to hack each one inside the time limit, without leaving any footprints behind.”

  “Which one first?” James asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Amy said, leaning over and starting the timer. “Go.”

  James had a mini heart attack before grabbing a laptop, flipping up the screen and tapping a couple of keys.

  “What do I do?” he said to himself, drumming his hands on the desk in front of him.

  “Turning it on would be a good start,” Amy smirked. “Don’t forget to read the BIOS screen before Windows starts.”

  James read the figures aloud. “Two-fifty-six meg of memory. Windows ME. The hard drive isn’t partitioned. If it’s ME it uses a FAT32 file system, so if I press F8 and enter DOS, I’ll be able to open any file, even if it’s password protected.”

  James hunted around the desk for a floppy disk. He waved it at Amy.

  “This is the disk with the utility on that lists every file on the PC, isn’t it?”

  Amy nodded. “I’m not supposed to be helping you.”

  James looked around the side of the PC for somewhere to slot the floppy disk.

  “Oh . . . This bloody thing doesn’t have a floppy drive. Is there an external drive for this somewhere?”

  Amy shook her head.

  “Well, what do I do?”

  Amy shrugged and looked at the timer. “You’ve got twelve minutes left to figure it out.”

  James fiddled hopelessly with the laptop for another three minutes. He could have happily chucked the clicking timer out the window.

  “Nine minutes left.”

  “Tell us, Amy,” James begged. “I’m totally stuck. How can I get this floppy running?”

  “The computer has a network interface on the back,” Amy said. “You could wire it up to one of the other laptops that has a floppy drive. Then you could go into the network properties on the second laptop and change it to a networkable floppy drive. Then the floppy drive on the second PC will work as if it’s attached to the first one.”

  “I’m never gonna get all that done in nine minutes,” James gasped.

  “You might if you hurried. But why not try something much simpler?”

  “Like what?” James asked.

  “What’s the first thing I taught you about computer hacking? The first golden rule?”

  “ ‘The weakest link is the human link,’ ” James said.

  Amy nodded. “You’re trying to find a back door into the operating system before you’ve tried the front door. Never assume the information you’re looking for is encrypted or hidden. For all you know, you can open the document you want just by clicking on it.”

  “You’re telling me I’ve just wasted six minutes?”

  “Nearer to seven now,” Amy said, smirking.

  James switched off the computer and started from scratch. The computer only had a few programs installed and the documents were all in one folder. James opened up the list and spotted one called “Card Numbers.” He double-clicked the mouse to open the file. A single line of text popped up on the screen: YOU DIDN’T THINK IT WAS GOING TO BE THAT EASY, DID YOU?

  James was in too much of a state to see the funny side. He looked at the long list of documents on the screen in front of him. There wasn’t time to open every one, but James realized he was looking for a list of numbers, which meant the file would be fairly small. He changed the view, so the computer showed him the size and format of each file. He skipped down the list, opening any text file that looked likely to be the list of numbers.

  “Three minutes left,” Amy said. “Better get your skates on, cowboy.”

  James started opening up files as fast as he could. A few demanded a password before they’d open. James dragged these into a separate folder. When he ran out of documents that didn’t need a password, he decided to try and guess the password of the encrypted ones.

  A password can be any combination of letter and numbers, but James knew the golden rule of computer hacking: OVER 75% OF PASSWORDS ARE EASILY GUESSED. He started working down the list of most commonly used passwords that Amy had made him memorize the day before. Things like “password” “open,” and “security.”

  After these failed, James tried to find personal details about the man who owned the laptop. He remembered that one of the documents he’d opened had been a letter to a school. He clicked on the file and skimmed through it. It was signed off by a man called Julian Stipe and mentioned the names of his three children. James tried the name “Julian” in the password box, then “Stipe.” Then “Julian Stipe” with and without a space in between.

  “Ninety seconds,” Amy said.

  He started trying the names of Mr. Stipe’s kids and hit the jackpot when he typed “Jennifer.” The document opened, only it wasn’t the credit card numbers. The other protected documents opened with the same password and James got a massive rush when a sheet of sixteen-digit credit card numbers popped up on a screen.

  “Bingo,” James shouted.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Amy said.

  “I’ve got them,” James said. “What are you on about?”

  “Time’s up,” Amy said. “Better luck next time.”

  “But I got them,” James said tetchily.

  “I know,” Amy said. “But you weren’t supposed to leave any traces behind. It was a good idea to move the password-protected documents, but you should have put them all back where they belonged and deleted the new folder you created. . . . Ready for the next one?”

  “My head’s spinning,” James said. “Can’t I have five m
inutes’ break?”

  Amy gave him an evil grin. “You don’t deserve a break after that sorry performance.”

  She tapped the reset button on top of the clock, then flipped up the lever to set it ticking.

  Chapter 25

  DIGGING

  James made such a hash of the laptop-hacking test, Amy kept him upstairs in the mission preparation room until gone nine o’clock for extra tuition. He got ratty with her as his brain stubbornly refused to accept any more information.

  When they got downstairs to the dining hall, the kitchen had finished serving. There was a fridge stocked up with sandwiches and microwave meals, but James had been looking forward to a proper dinner before his return to Luton and Zara’s dodgy cooking.

  James slammed the door of his bedroom. He was in a stinking mood. He packed his hacking textbooks and some odd bits in a backpack, then stripped to his boxers and went to take a pee before getting in bed. There was a muggy smell as he got near his bathroom, like the smell trainers get after a couple of hours on a muddy football field. It spooked him a bit. His imagination toyed with dead rats and leaking sewage as he leaned in warily and flipped on the light.

  “What the hell . . .”

  It was Lauren, propped on the toilet lid in her filthy training clothes. Her hair was cropped, she had a nasty scab down her face, and all the cuts and bruises you’d expect after a month of basic training.

  “What’s going on?” James asked.

  “I messed up,” Lauren said miserably. “And I’m in so much trouble.”

  She did a massive sniff, followed by a howling noise. Then she broke into five minutes of the most desperate bawling James had ever heard. He tried to give her a hug, but she wouldn’t let him anywhere near her.

  “Lauren,” James pleaded, “I want to help you, but I can’t until you tell me what’s happened.”

  “I . . . I . . . hit,” she sniffled, unable to control herself.

  She stood up and draped her filthy arms around James’s back. Her clothes stank of mud and sweat.

  He stepped backwards out of the bathroom, with Lauren flopped over him. It felt like dancing with a drunk. When he got near his bed, James peeled off Lauren’s arms and she slumped on to the corner of his mattress.

  “I hit him,” Lauren sniffed.

  “Who?” James asked.

  “Mr. Large.”

  James sat down beside her. “I doubt he even felt it, Lauren. He’s ten times your size.”

  “He felt it all right,” Lauren said, salvaging a touch of composure.

  James reached over to his beside table and got her a tissue.

  “Bethany injured her back yesterday morning,” Lauren explained. “We were on the assault course. I was helping her as much as I could, but she was still slow. We finished the course miles behind the other kids. Mr. Large started shouting his head off! ‘You two are worthless. You’re not even fit to be cherubs. You’re not even fit to eat your own puke.’ He got two spades and told us to start digging our own graves.”

  It was a standard torture from Mr. Large’s repertoire. James and Kerry had got it a couple of times when they were in basic training. Large made you dig a massive hole, then fill it in. If he decided you weren’t fast enough, he’d make you do it again.

  “It’s so tough,” Lauren said. “I managed, but my back and shoulders were killing me. Bethany had a bad back to start with, so you can imagine how she was after two hours’ digging. Large made me stand to attention at the edge of my grave until Bethany had finished. She kept slowing down, until she could barely drag her shovel. She begged Mr. Large for a drink, so he got that massive fire hose and drenched her with it. But the time he’d finished, the water was up to her knees. She was crying and sobbing, covered from head to toe in really thick mud. Then he started kicking the mud she’d already dug up back into the hole.

  “It was hitting her in the face and he screamed at the top of his voice: ‘You’re too weak, little girl. You’ll never make it. Why don’t you quit?’ It made me so angry. I was so sick of his stupid voice. I just got this urge to make him shut up. Then I realized I still had my spade on the ground, right in front of me.”

  “You didn’t,” James gasped.

  “When Mr. Large turned around, I took this massive swing with it and whacked him behind the knees to knock him over. The first time only made him go wobbly. He started running towards me and I was so scared. I thought he was gonna kill me, so I whacked him again. As he went down, he caught his head on a rock and got knocked out.”

  James couldn’t help smiling. “You knocked out Mr. Large! That’s pure class.”

  “It’s not funny, James,” Lauren moped. “I’m probably gonna get expelled. I thought I’d killed him for a minute. There was all blood coming out of his head. I was so afraid, I ran out of the training compound and didn’t stop. I wanted to speak to you before anyone else, so I went to my room and phoned you. Zara said you were on campus, but I’m not allowed upstairs to mission preparation, so I waited for you in here.”

  James pondered for a few moments.

  “First things first,” he said. “You better wash up, then we’ll have to find Mac and sort this whole mess out.”

  “Do you think they’ll boot me out?” Lauren asked.

  “I hope not,” James shrugged. “But laying out a teacher . . . Let’s just say it’s not gonna go down too well.”

  • • •

  James found some of his smaller clothes for Lauren to wear after she got out of the shower. When they got down to the ground floor, Mac’s office was locked. They asked the receptionist on the front desk.

  “Mac usually heads home at about eight,” he explained. “But one of the training instructors got injured and I think he’s still over at the medical unit. I can ring his mobile if it’s urgent.”

  “I think you’d better,” James said.

  The receptionist had a short conversation before putting down the receiver.

  “Mac’s coming over ASAP,” the receptionist said. “I don’t know what you two have done, but judging by the tone of his voice, I wouldn’t want to switch shoes with you at the moment.”

  A few minutes later, Mac rolled up the gravel driveway outside in one of the golf buggies the staff used to move around campus.

  “This way,” he said stiffly, striding through reception.

  He pulled a great bunch of keys out of his jacket and unlocked his door.

  “Sit at the desk.”

  James nervously sank into one of the leather chairs at the big oak desk. Lauren looked ready to start crying again.

  “So, young lady,” Mac snapped. “Would you be so kind as to tell me why my senior training instructor is lying in the medical unit with a serious concussion and eight stitches in the side of his head?”

  “I’m really, really sorry,” Lauren groveled. “He made me so mad. Poor Bethany could hardly stand up and Mr. Large wouldn’t leave her alone.”

  “If Bethany was injured, she should have quit,” Mac said. “It wasn’t your business to interfere.”

  “So what are you gonna do to her?” James asked.

  “I don’t like expelling people,” Mac said. “But if I don’t expel a cherub for a serious assault on a member of staff, then what exactly do you get expelled for?”

  “I know what Lauren did was wrong,” James said. “But it’s not like she walked into a classroom and belted a teacher for no reason. She was knackered and she was watching one of her friends get tortured by a raving lunatic. Everyone wants to take a swing at Mr. Large at some point during basic training. It’s just unlucky Lauren happened to have a spade nearby when the thought crossed her mind.”

  “Hmm,” Mac said, covering a tiny smile with his fingers. “I suppose there’s an element of truth in that. If I did expel Lauren, though, we’d send her to a good school and set her up with a foster family near campus so that you could visit her at weekends.”

  “I don’t care if she only lives across the street,??
? James said. “If she goes, I’m going with her. We were separated after our mum died and I don’t ever want that again.”

  “Recruiting cherubs is tricky,” Mac said, “and I don’t want to lose either of you two. But if I allow Lauren to stay, she’ll have to accept a stiff punishment; otherwise, we’ll have every kid on campus taking pot shots at the training staff.”

  “Please let me stay,” Lauren begged. “I’ll do whatever you want and I’ll be so good, I swear.”

  “James,” Mac said. “Do you have any thoughts on how we should make Lauren suffer?”

  James looked uneasily at his sister.

  “It’s obviously got to be the worst punishment going,” he said. “And it’ll have to last the whole two and a bit months until she can restart basic training.”

  “Agreed,” Mac nodded.

  “What about cleaning toilets and changing rooms?” James said. “Everyone always says that’s really horrible.”

  “Not hard enough,” Mac said, sweeping the idea away with his hand. “Kids get toilets and changing rooms for swearing or skipping lessons. It’s unpleasant, but all it boils down to is pushing a mop and squirting disinfectant.”

  “Worse than toilets, then,” James said, trying to work out how Mac had twisted the situation around so that he was trying to think up some awful punishment for the person he was supposed to be helping out.

  “Well,” Mac grinned. “It just so happens, I did have an idea. There’s a drainage problem in the wooded area on the far side of campus. The fields keep flooding because the ditches have gradually become blocked with silt. I reckon someone Lauren’s size would take a couple of months to clean them all out. She’ll have to work hard, every day before and after school, plus all days on Saturdays and Sundays. How do you like the sound of that, Lauren?”

  “I’ve got to be punished,” Lauren said, nodding meekly. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

  “Ditches it is,” Mac said, clapping his hands together. “And I’ll be putting you on final warning, Lauren. That means if you do one more thing wrong, you’ll get kicked out. And I mean every tiny thing. Run in the corridor, you’re out. Miss a homework assignment, you’re out. For the next three months, you’re walking on eggshells. Your behavior must be immaculate. Is that understood?”