The Recruit

  (From the introductory page of the CHERUB Basic Training Manual)

  Callum dropped out on day twenty-six. He fractured a wrist on the assault course. The course wasn’t that hard, but it was easy to have an accident when you’d already done three hours’ physical training and hadn’t slept the night before because Large blasted everyone in their beds with a fire hose.

  Connor got partnered up with Gabrielle, but he’d never spent more than a few hours without his identical twin before. He was thinking about giving up and restarting with his brother in a few months’ time.

  The physical training was the hardest thing James had ever done. The first time he threw up from exhaustion he froze in shock. Kerry told him to keep running but James didn’t listen. Speaks shoved James in the back, then crushed James’ hand under his boot.

  ‘If you stop training, you’d better be dead or unconscious,’ Speaks shouted.

  That was the closest James had come to quitting.

  James was getting used to life in hell. He counted twelve scabs and twenty-six bruises on his body. That didn’t include places he couldn’t see. He showered twice a day, but he never had time to scrub the filth from difficult spots like nails or ears. His hair felt like straw, and grit sprayed out if he ran his hand through it, even if he’d just washed. If he got a chance for a haircut he was having the lot chopped off.

  The worst part about training wasn’t exhaustion, it was always being cold. James slept under a wafer-thin blanket in an unheated room. In the morning the floor was like ice on your soles. The instructors forced everyone under a freezing shower. Breakfast was always cereal and cold juice. Clothes never dried, they were damp and stiff as soon as you put them on. Not that it mattered for long. After five minutes on the assault course you were drenched in icy water and mud that crept down your trousers and kept you soggy for the rest of the day.

  The trainees only felt tiny hints of warmth and each was bliss. Hot drinks at lunchtime, the warm evening shower and meal. If you were lucky you got an injury serious enough for a visit to the medical centre but not so bad you were thrown off the course. Then you got to wait for the nurse in a room kept at 22°C with a coffee machine and chocolate digestives, which you could dunk in your coffee and eat soggy and warm. Shakeel and Connor got these golden injuries; James could only dream.

  The five hours of lessons sandwiched between physical training were the easiest part of the day. Weaponry was coolest. Shooting was only part of it. James now knew how to strip and clean a gun, how to defuse a bullet so it doesn’t go off, how to put a gun back together wrong so it jams. Even how to take a bullet apart so that it explodes inside the chamber and blows away the finger on the trigger. They were starting knives in the next lesson.

  Espionage was all about gadgets. Electronic listening devices, computer hacking, lock picking, cameras, photocopiers. Nothing as fancy as you see in the movies. Mrs Flagg, the ex-KGB espionage teacher, always stood in the unheated classroom wearing fur-lined boots, a fur coat, hat and scarf while the trainees shivered in damp T-shirts. Occasionally she would bang her gloved hands together and moan about the cold not doing her varicose veins any good.

  The best espionage lessons were about explosives. They were taught by Mr Large. He dropped his usual psycho persona and took childlike pleasure in showing off the finer details of dynamite sticks and plastic explosive putty. He blew stuff up at every opportunity, even sticking a directional charge on James’ head. The charge leapt up and blew a golf ball sized hole in the ceiling.

  ‘Of course, little James would have been killed if I had placed the charge upside down. Or if the charge had misfired.’

  James hoped he was joking, but judging by the size of the hole in the ceiling, he wasn’t.

  Survival Skills was taught by the three instructors and took place outdoors. It was interesting, building shelters, learning what parts of animals and plants were safe to eat. The best lessons were on fire-building and cooking because you got a chance to get warm and eat extra food, even if it was squirrel or pigeon.

  There were two lessons James hated. The first was Language. Kids like Kerry who had been at CHERUB for a few years already had good language skills. Kerry was fluent in Spanish and decent at French and Arabic. For basic training everyone started a new language from scratch and had to master a thousand word vocabulary by the end of the course. CHERUB picked a language from a country that matched your ethnicity. Mo and Shakeel got Arabic, Kerry got Japanese, Gabrielle got Swahili, James and Connor got Russian. The languages were extra hard because none of them use a Latin alphabet, so you had to learn to read and pronounce weird-looking letters before you could try saying the words.

  For two hours each day James and Connor sat next to each other while the Russian teacher barked orders and insults. He smacked pens out of their hands, whacked them with his wooden ruler and showered them in spit as he spoke. By the end of a lesson Mr Grwgoski left the two boys with sore hands and blurred minds. James wasn’t sure he was learning anything except that learning Russian made his head hurt. On his exit, Grwgoski often shouted to one of the instructors that James and Connor were bad pupils and deserved to be punished. This usually cost the pair an hour of precious sleep while they were made to stand in the cold wearing shorts. If Large was bored he might give them a good blast with the fire hose too.

  The other lesson James hated was Karate.

  *

  ‘Day twenty-nine,’ Large said.

  Large had a green baseball cap on his head. His two sidekicks weren’t beside him, for the first time ever. It was 0550. The six remaining trainees stood rigid at the foot of their beds.

  ‘Can anybody tell me what is special about day twenty-nine?’

  They all knew the answer. They wondered if it was the answer Large wanted. Your answer to Large’s questions could have nasty consequences. Best to cross your fingers and hope somebody else took the bullet.

  ‘Number seven, can you tell me why today is special?’

  James cursed his luck.

  ‘It’s Christmas Day,’ he said.

  ‘That’s right, my little pumpkins. Christmas Day. Two thousand and three years since the birth of our Lord, Jesus Christ. What should we do to celebrate, James?’

  This was the trickiest kind of question because it didn’t have an obvious answer.

  ‘Get the day off,’ James said optimistically.

  ‘Well that would be nice,’ Large said. ‘Miss Smoke and Mr Speaks have the day off. All your teachers have the day off. It’s just you six little muffins and my good self. I think we’ll have a little celebration of Christmas. Then we’ll devote the rest of the day to karate and physical training without any of those pesky lessons that usually get in the way.’

  Large pushed a button on his baseball cap. Red lights illuminated in the shape of a Christmas tree and it played a tinny rendition of Jingle Bells.

  ‘That was so beautiful it brought a tear to my eye,’ Large said, throwing away the cap. ‘Now that celebrations are behind us, shall we get on with the training?’

  *

  The trainees didn’t get to use the springy floors of the dojo. They learned Karate in the fields surrounding the training building, freezing mud smothering bare feet. All the lessons were the same. You learned a move or two, then drilled until it was perfect. Then you drilled on other moves you’d learned before. Each lesson ended with full contact sparring.

  James liked the idea he was learning Karate. He’d always wanted to do it but had been too lazy to stick at it. He was doing five lessons a week now which meant he was learning fast, but he couldn’t stand being partners with Kerry. She was already a black belt. While James was falling over and getting out of breath, Kerry did every move effortlessly. She helped James and saved him from getting punished by the instructors at least once every lesson, but James hated the smug look on her face when she pointed out his mistakes and she always killed him in the sparring at the end.

  You were supposed to anticipate
attacks and dodge or block most of them. But Kerry was fast and knew moves James hadn’t even tried. He always ended up on the ground in pain, while Kerry hardly took a hit. James was too proud to admit he was getting hurt. Kerry was smaller, younger and a girl. How could he whimper that she was beating him up?

  *

  Without the usual lessons, Christmas morning turned into six hours of merciless physical training. The trainees could barely walk. Large didn’t let them have breakfast. James’ vision was blurry from the water running into his eyes, but his hands were so numb from the cold he couldn’t do anything to wipe it away. On top of all his usual aches and pains, Kerry gave him a painful kick in the side during sparring.

  At 1300 Large walked the six trainees out of the training compound. They buzzed with excitement. They hadn’t been out since day one. Maybe they were getting a Christmas treat. But they’d all played enough of Large’s mind games not to get their hopes up.

  Large told the trainees to stop walking when they were close enough to see through the windows of the dining hall in the main building. The room had a four-metre tree in the centre, decorated with thousands of twinkling lights. The tables had been put together to make four long bars, covered with gold tablecloths. Each place was set with fancy cutlery and crackers. All James could think about was how warm it must be.

  ‘If you quit right now,’ Large said, ‘you could run up to your room, have a shower and be down in time for Christmas dinner.’

  James knew Connor was thinking about quitting and was sure this would push him over the edge. Large made them run on the spot and do squats and star jumps. Inside kids were taking up places at the dinner table. Some waved to the trainees outside. James looked for Kyle, Bruce and Amy, but couldn’t see any of them.

  ‘You might as well all give up now,’ Large shouted. ‘None of you will make it. Go inside. Have a nice dinner. Chat to all your friends. You know you want to … No? Are you sure, cupcakes? How about thinking the idea over while you do twenty push-ups?’

  When they stood up after the push-ups Callum and Bruce were by the windows inside. Callum had a cast over his hand. He opened a window.

  ‘Don’t give up, Connor,’ Callum shouted. ‘The next time I see you, you’d better be wearing a grey T-shirt.’

  Connor nodded to his brother, ‘I’ll do what I can. Happy Christmas.’ Bruce shoved Callum away from the window.

  ‘Don’t worry about Mr Large,’ Bruce shouted. ‘He’s just a sad old creep who likes pushing little kids around.’

  James smiled a bit, but not enough that Large might see it. Large ran up to the window.

  ‘Shut that window, now,’ Large shouted.

  ‘OK, saddo,’ Bruce said.

  Bruce shut the window. When Large turned around his face was burning. ‘Right, all of you, run back to the assault course.’

  *

  Kerry and James led on the assault course. They still managed it a bit faster than the others. Large had gone. Kerry and James reckoned he was sitting in his heated office stuffing Christmas lunch while watching their suffering on a TV screen.

  Near the end of the assault course was a two-hundred-metre stretch where you ran over jagged rocks. As long as you didn’t trip it was nothing, but when you were exhausted you made mistakes. Kerry lost her footing. James saw her hand on the rock in front of him and thought about all the times she’d hurt him in Karate class. He felt a surge of anger and crunched his boot over her hand. Kerry screamed out.

  ‘What did you do that for, arse-wipe?’

  ‘It was an accident,’ James said.

  ‘I saw you look at my hand. You practically had to turn round to step on it.’

  ‘You’re nuts, Kerry.’

  Kerry shoved James backwards.

  ‘We’re supposed to be a team, James. Why did you hurt me?’

  ‘You always hurt me in Karate class,’ James screamed back.

  ‘You only get hurt because you suck.’

  ‘You could go easy on me, Kerry. You don’t have to batter me every single time.’

  ‘I do go easy on you.’

  James lifted up his T-shirt to show Kerry a massive bruise across his ribs.

  ‘You call that going easy?’

  Kerry launched a kick at James. She always hit him in the ribs, but this was a few centimetres lower, slamming his kidneys. James doubled up in the most unbelievable pain.

  ‘That’s how I can kick you if I want to,’ Kerry shouted. ‘If I go too easy the instructors will know I’m not trying and punish both of us.’

  James could see Kerry was right. He’d been a total idiot, but he was past logic. James lunged at Kerry. She stumbled back on the rocks. James started throwing crazy punches. Kerry got him back with a powerful fist on the nose. James felt himself being pulled up.

  ‘Break it up,’ Gabrielle shouted.

  Connor and Gabrielle struggled to pull James off Kerry.

  ‘Care to tell me what’s going on here?’ Large said, running towards the scene.

  Nobody knew what to say.

  ‘Connor, Gabrielle, scram. Kerry, show me your hand.’

  Large looked at the cut.

  ‘Go to the medical centre.’

  Large crouched in front of James and looked at his nose.

  ‘You’d better go with her. When you get back you’re both in a lot of trouble.’

  *

  James sat in the warm room waiting for the nurse. Hot coffee wrapped in his hand, downing one mushy chocolate digestive after another. Kerry sat opposite doing the same. They wouldn’t even look at each other.

  20. COLD

  ‘Welcome back, my two little bunny rabbits,’ Large said. ‘Nice warm afternoon, was it? Lovely choccy biscuits? Nursey made you all better? Well I have another special treat for you two love birds. Take off your boots and everything but your underwear, then go outside and, in the unlikely event you make it through the night, I’ll let you come back in the morning. Remember, it’s nice and warm in the main building if you want to quit.’

  James and Kerry stripped off and stepped into the dark.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ Large shouted after them.

  The door shut, closing off the last tiny arc of light. The wind was bitter. Frost burned their feet. Kerry was only a few metres from James, but he could barely see her. James heard her sob.

  ‘I’m sorry, Kerry,’ James said. ‘This is all my fault.’

  Kerry didn’t answer.

  ‘Please talk to me, Kerry. I know I was stupid. Seeing everyone sitting in the warm and it being Christmas made me crazy. You know?’

  Kerry started crying quite noisily. James touched her shoulder. She backed off.

  ‘Don’t touch me, James.’

  This was the first thing Kerry had said to James since the fight.

  ‘We can get through this together,’ James said. ‘I’m so sorry. You want me to beg? I’ll go down on the ground and kiss your feet if you just start talking to me.’

  ‘James,’ Kerry sobbed, ‘we’re done for. You can say you’re sorry a thousand times, but you’ve still got us both thrown out.’

  ‘We can get through this, Kerry. Find somewhere warm and go to sleep.’

  Kerry laughed a little.

  ‘Find somewhere warm! James, there is nowhere warm. There’s a big muddy field and an assault course. Nothing else. It’s already close to freezing. An hour out here and we’ll start getting frostbite in our toes and fingers. It’s fourteen hours until morning. If we fall asleep we’ll die of cold.’

  ‘You don’t deserve this, Kerry. I’ll bang on the door and ask to speak to Large. I’ll say it’s all my fault and that I’ll quit if he lets you back inside.’

  ‘He won’t bargain with you, James. He’ll laugh in your face.’

  ‘We could start a fire,’ James said.

  ‘It’s raining. It’s pitch dark. We’d need something dry to start the fire and somewhere out of the wind to start it. Any suggestions?’

  ‘The bri
dge over the lake on the assault course,’ James said. ‘There’s a gap under there before the water starts. We could put branches and stuff along the sides to keep out the wind.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Kerry said. ‘We’ve got to try. There might be stuff in the rubbish.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There are two rubbish bins at the back of the building,’ Kerry said. ‘We could go through them. There might be stuff inside we could use.’

  Kerry led James to the back of the training building. They each pulled the lid off a bin. Both were full of rubbish tied up in bags.

  ‘Reeks,’ James said.

  ‘I don’t care what it smells like,’ Kerry said. ‘Here’s what I’m thinking. We take the bins with all the stuff in to the bridge. Then we go through all the bags. Hopefully there’s something to start a fire with. The bags will help us keep warm if we wear them.’

  It was hard finding the bridge in the moonlight. It was too dark to make out any more than the outline of the ground. There was a risk of hitting something sharp with every step. James and Kerry took a bin each. They weighed a ton. James tried rolling his instead of carrying it, but the bin kept jamming in the mud. Kerry was having an even tougher time because her hand was bandaged. They walked the path at the side of the assault course. James’ feet were numb already. He thought about the gruesome photos of black frostbitten toes in the training manual and shuddered.

  The wooden bridge spanned twenty metres over the river in the middle of the assault course, and was about two metres wide. When they reached it, Kerry started untying and rummaging around inside the stinking rubbish bags. James clambered into the low space under the bridge.

  ‘It’s pretty dry under here,’ James said. ‘It’s concrete, no mud.’

  ‘OK,’ Kerry said. ‘I’m trying to get stuff to start a fire.’

  James ran back and forth, stripping off branches and wedging them against the side of the bridge. Kerry dunked her hand in a bag and hit a mix of food slops and muddy rags used for boot cleaning. She sniffed her hand and couldn’t believe she was touching all this nasty stuff. She threw anything that was dry and would burn into an empty bin.