The Recruit

  MI5 made Cathy an offer: £2,000 to let a couple of undercover agents stay with her at Fort Harmony in the weeks before Petrocon. Cathy didn’t like the idea much; she’d lived alone for thirty years. MI5 offered more money until Cathy gave in.

  *

  James, Amy and Ewart walked into the Bristol Travelhouse. It was a basic hotel attached to a motorway service station. Cathy Dunn was waiting in her room in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

  ‘My name is Ewart, these two are Ross and Courtney.’

  Cathy sat up on her bed. She looked half drunk and tons older than in all the pictures James had seen of her.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘We spoke on the phone,’ Ewart said. ‘You’re going to be looking after Ross and Courtney until the conference.’

  ‘You’ve had me stuck in this hole for three days,’ Cathy said. ‘Now you turn up with two kids. If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing.’

  ‘You made a deal with us,’ Ewart said. ‘This is the deal.’

  ‘I agreed to let two undercover agents stay with me. Not look after two kids.’

  ‘Ross and Courtney are agents. Make their breakfast and send them to school for a few weeks, it’s not brain surgery.’

  ‘The government uses children to do its dirty work?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Ewart said.

  Cathy laughed. ‘That’s absolutely appalling. I won’t do it.’

  ‘You already took our money,’ Ewart said. ‘Can you afford to pay us back?’

  ‘I went to Greece, and I spent some money tidying up my hut.’

  ‘Looks like you’re stuck with us then.’

  ‘What if I refuse to take them?’ Cathy asked ‘What if I went to the press and told everyone you’re using kids to spy on people?’

  ‘If you go to the press, they’ll just think you’re some flaky old hippy,’ Ewart said. ‘Nobody will believe a word out of your hole. Even if you get someone to believe you, you signed the Official Secrets Act before you took the money. You’d be looking at ten years in prison for releasing classified information.’

  Cathy looked upset. ‘I’ve always helped the police, now you treat me like dirt.’

  Ewart grabbed Cathy’s jumper. He lifted her up and knocked her against the wall.

  ‘You don’t break deals with us,’ Ewart shouted. ‘There’s six months’ work gone into this operation. You’re getting eight grand to look after these kids for a few weeks. If that’s being treated like dirt, you can treat me like dirt whenever you like.’

  James was shocked seeing Ewart flip out. Until now the mission had felt like part of a competition to do better than Kyle, Bruce and Kerry. Now it felt real. People could get blown apart by bombs or end up in prison for the rest of their lives. James suddenly didn’t feel up to the job. He was a twelve-year-old kid who should be going to school and messing around with his mates.

  Amy noticed the scared look on James’ face. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Stand outside if you want to,’ Amy whispered.

  ‘I’m fine,’ James lied.

  Amy gave Ewart a shove.

  ‘Calm down. Leave her alone,’ Amy said.

  Ewart backed off, giving Amy a filthy look. Cathy sat on the bed. Amy passed Cathy a cigarette. Amy had to light it because Cathy’s hands were shaking.

  ‘Sorry about Ewart,’ Amy said. ‘Bit of a short fuse. You OK?’

  Cathy nodded.

  ‘Listen Cathy,’ Amy said gently. ‘We get up, go to school, hang out at Fort Harmony. Then we go away again. It’s the easiest money you’ll ever make.’

  Cathy shook her head, ‘It’s all a bit of a shock, that’s all.’

  Amy smiled, ‘It always is. Nobody gets told we’re kids until the last minute.’

  ‘How can I explain that I’ve got you two living with me?’ Cathy asked, taking a deep puff on her cigarette.

  ‘Niece and nephew,’ Amy said. ‘Remember your sister?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her in twenty years,’ Cathy said. ‘She wrote a few times.’

  ‘Remember what your sister called her kids?’ Ewart asked, voice back to normal.

  Cathy worked it out.

  ‘Ross and Courtney,’ she said.

  We tracked down your sister,’ Ewart said. ‘She lives in Scotland. Still married. The real Ross and Courtney are fine. But here’s your story:

  ‘A week ago, you got a letter. Your sister is going through a nasty divorce. You rushed to London to meet her. She couldn’t cope with her kids, especially Ross who’s been expelled from school. You got on well with the kids, so you offered to look after them at Fort Harmony until your sister gets her life back on track.’

  Ewart handed Cathy a set of car keys.

  ‘Land Cruiser,’ Ewart said. ‘Big four wheel drive. It’s a couple of years old. Worth about ten grand. Tell everyone it’s your sister’s car. If you look after the kids and the mission works out, we won’t be asking for it back.’

  *

  The four of them made their way down to the hotel lobby.

  ‘You better go in the toilet with me,’ Ewart said. ‘It’s a long drive down to Wales.’

  ‘I just went,’ James said.

  Ewart gave James a look. James realised Ewart wanted to speak to him. The toilet was deserted.

  ‘You OK, James?’ Ewart said, unzipping his jeans. ‘You looked a bit off-colour when I grabbed Cathy.’

  ‘Why’d you go psycho with her?’

  Ewart smiled. ‘Ever heard of good cop bad cop?’

  ‘They do it on TV,’ James said. ‘Is that what you and Amy just did?’

  ‘If Cathy’s not sure whose side she’s on, you and Amy wouldn’t be safe. Once I realised Cathy was getting stroppy, I had to be the bad cop and scare her. Amy’s job was to be the good cop. Amy defended Cathy when I threatened her, then calmed her down.’

  James smiled. ‘So Cathy’s afraid of what might happen if she doesn’t do what we want her to do, but at the same time she thinks Amy is her friend.’

  ‘Exactly, James.’

  ‘You could have told me when you arranged to do it.’

  ‘We didn’t arrange it. Amy knew what to do when I started getting rough with Cathy. Amy’s brilliant at picking up stuff like that.’

  ‘What if Cathy caused any more problems? Would you really hurt her?’

  ‘Only if the mission depended on it and I had no other choice. Sometimes we have to do bad things to make missions work. Remember when you sneaked to London before training?’

  ‘Sure,’ James said. ‘Smashing up that big house.’

  ‘The security guards on the gate got gassed by MI5. What do you think happened to them after they woke up?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘They got sacked for sleeping at work. They won’t get another security job with that on their records.’

  ‘So what happened to them?’

  ‘We ruined their lives,’ Ewart said. ‘Hopefully they got jobs doing something different.’

  ‘We didn’t help them or nothing?’

  ‘No. We couldn’t without risking the secrecy of the mission.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ James said. ‘How can we do that to people?’

  ‘We were trying to get info about a man selling weapons to terrorists. The weapons could kill hundreds of people, so we decided it was OK if two people lost their jobs.’

  ‘And it’s the same with scaring Cathy,’ James said. ‘People could get killed.’

  ‘Like they say, James: you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.’

  *

  Cathy enjoyed driving James and Amy in the Land Cruiser; blasting down the M4, testing all the buttons and gadgets. Amy was up front. James laid flat across the back seat. Cathy and Amy chatted like old pals.

  When they stopped for petrol Cathy bought a Jefferson Airplane CD with some housekeeping money Ewart had given her. She put it on full blast. Amy and Cathy puffed one cig
arette after another. James stuck his coat over his head to escape the noise and smoke.

  James sat up when they got off the motorway. He was impressed with the green fields and hills with sheep dotted over them. They stopped in Craddogh for cigarettes and groceries and reached Fort Harmony soon after 3 p.m. Half a dozen grimy kids ran towards the four wheel drive as it climbed uphill to Cathy’s hut. James knew the name and age of every kid.

  Cathy’s ex-husband, Michael Dunn, and his brother, Joshua, walked towards the car. Michael thumped the bonnet.

  ‘Nice wheels, Cathy,’ Michael said. ‘You win the lottery or something?’

  James got out. His trainer was swallowed by mud. The camp looked a mess, flaking paint and windows stuck up with tape. James decided he was going to hate living here. Amy squelched to the back of the car and grabbed two pairs of wellies.

  ‘My niece and nephew,’ Cathy said.

  James sat in the car and pulled on his wellies. Joshua Dunn held out a gloved hand. James shook it.

  ‘Come soup,’ Joshua stuttered.

  Amy and Cathy were heading towards a big hut. James and Joshua followed. About fifteen people were inside. Chickens and a huge pot of vegetable soup cooked over an open fire.

  ‘Vegetarian?’ Joshua asked.

  James shook his head.

  Joshua fetched James a bowl of soup and some chicken. There were cushions and beanbags along the walls, but the kids all sat cross-legged near the fire. James sat with them. He ate a couple of spoonfuls of soup. It tasted pretty good. Then he looked at his hands. They were filthy, but the other kids, who were all ten times dirtier, scoffed the chicken with bare fingers.

  A hand rested on James’ shoulder. It was Gladys Dunn.

  ‘A bit of dirt won’t harm you, boy,’ she laughed.

  Gladys looked her seventy-six years, but the outdoor lifestyle kept her lean and she moved well for her age.

  A five-year-old girl sitting beside James ran her tongue up her filthy palm and held it out for James to see. James grabbed a bit of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth. The girl smiled.

  *

  A group led by Michael Dunn built an extension on Cathy’s hut for James and Amy to sleep in. It was impressive watching the community work as a team.

  First they laid out paving slabs to raise the floor off the ground. The floor was chipboard wrapped in plastic. The framework was timber. Michael Dunn had obviously built loads of huts. He sawed each piece without measuring and never made a mistake. Others took the wood as soon as it was cut and knew where each piece fitted.

  Thick corner posts were bashed into the ground. Trusses were nailed between them. Hardboard was nailed to either side of the frame, with shredded paper packed in the cavity as insulation. A hole was made in one side and a recycled window was fixed in. When it got dark Cathy turned on the Land Cruiser headlamps. Once the roof was on two boys were lifted up. They crawled around nailing down a layer of waterproof felt. Inside James helped seal the gap between the floor and the walls with grey putty.

  After it was finished Amy got a rug from the Land Cruiser and set out sleeping bags and pillows. Cathy found a small paraffin heater. Michael Dunn said he would paint the outside in the morning. Finally, James and Amy were left alone.

  30. CAMP

  The new shelter was quite cosy once you got used to the wind blasting the outside. James’ sleeping bag rested on a foam camping mattress. He couldn’t get comfortable. Amy snored. James shouted at her twice. The third time, Amy said she’d punch him if he woke her up again. James stuck a pillow over his head.

  *

  James woke at 3 a.m., busting for a pee. He was used to walking two steps to his bathroom at CHERUB. It was tougher here. He couldn’t find his torch, so he had to put on jeans in the dark, then make his way blindly through the main part of the hut, stepping around Cathy who was sprawled over a futon. James felt for the door, where all the wellies were lined up. He wasn’t sure which pair was his, so he stuck on the first pair he found and stepped into the blackness.

  There were portable toilets on site, but James couldn’t find them in the dark so he wandered into the nearest group of trees. He wiped mud off his hands on to his trousers, undid his jeans, and started to piss. Something shrieked and brushed against his leg. James jolted. He was peeing on one of the chickens that roamed around camp.

  He turned away, but that was into the wind, so his urine got blown all over his jeans. James stumbled back, tripped over the hysterical chicken and hit the mud. There was no way to get clean. He wondered why this type of thing never happened to spies in films.

  *

  Amy was up, and she’d slept fine. She stuck her foot over James’ face to wake him up.

  ‘Shower day, Ross,’ Amy said.

  James burst into life.

  ‘Get that stink off my face,’ James said, pushing Amy’s foot away. ‘Who’s Ross?’

  ‘You are, stupid,’ Amy whispered.

  ‘Sorry,’ James gasped, realising where he was. ‘I must remember that.’

  ‘There’s a rota for hot water,’ Amy said. ‘You get one shower a week. Friday is boys.’

  ‘One shower a week?’ James said. ‘With all this mud.’

  ‘How do you think I feel? I’ve got to wait four days and I don’t exactly smell great now.’

  Cathy showed him where the wash hut was. It was narrow, with a reservoir of rainwater on the roof. Every morning a gas boiler heated enough water to run the showers for ten minutes. If you missed out, you stank for another week. James dashed to the shower hut and stripped. There were eight boys under the water, sharing bars of soggy white soap and messing about. Mums stood outside, telling the little ones to get a move on. The water was barely warm. James rubbed soap in his hair as the hot ran out. The others knew better and scrambled off. James had to rinse with a bucket of freezing rainwater. He sprinted back to Cathy’s hut wearing wellies and a big towel.

  Cathy was cooking bacon and eggs on a portable gas stove. It smelled good and there was plenty of it.

  ‘Do you kids drink coffee?’ Cathy asked. ‘It’s all I’ve got.’

  James didn’t care what it was as long as it was warm. He drank two cups and stuffed down four rashers of bacon and two runny fried eggs, mopping the yolk off his plate with white bread.

  ‘I’ve got to go enrol Ross in school,’ Cathy said. ‘Then I’ll go to Tesco. Anything you two want?’

  ‘Mars bars,’ James said. ‘What about enrolling Courtney?’

  ‘After you went to bed I met this guy Scargill,’ Amy said. ‘He said he’d try and fix me a job at Green Brooke.’

  James was impressed Amy had made such a fast attachment to Scargill. He was also miffed that she’d got out of school.

  ‘I guess you’ll start school on Monday, Ross,’ Cathy said. ‘Friday night here is usually a laugh. Everyone turns up after dark. We build a bonfire and play music and stuff.’

  *

  Amy stayed in the hut making phone calls to Ewart Asker, telling him the change in her plans and getting him to sort out the paperwork she needed to get a job. James spent the morning exploring.

  There were about fifty buildings at Fort Harmony. They varied – from the main hut, with space for thirty and its own supply of electricity, down to rat holes fit only for storing junk. Between huts were chicken coops, vegetable patches, strings of washing and a range of battered cars. There were rusty vans everywhere, though most had no wheels and rested on bricks.

  Everyone James met had grubby clothes and long tangled hair. The older men had beards, most of the younger ones had daft goatees and piercings everywhere. They all acted friendly and everyone asked James the same questions about how he ended up here and how long he was staying. By the time he’d met five people James was sick of repeating himself.

  Before long James realised he had a tail: three-year-old Gregory Evans. He was the son of Brian ‘Bungle’ Evans and his partner Eleanor. MI5 thought they might have links to Help Earth.

&
nbsp; Gregory followed James at a distance. When James looked around Gregory would crouch down and cover his face with his hands. It turned into a game. James stopped walking and looked around every few steps. Gregory was giggling. After a bit Gregory got up his courage and start walking beside James. James remembered he had a couple of Maltesers in his pocket and gave them to the toddler. After stuffing them, Gregory ran off. He stopped, turned, and shouted at James.

  ‘Come to my house.’

  James felt odd being bossed around by a three-year-old. They ran about a hundred metres, Gregory leading James by the hand.

  Gregory sat down on the doorstep of a smartly painted hut and pulled off his wellies.

  ‘Come in,’ Gregory said.

  James put his head in the door. The hut had room for six to sleep. The floor was painted bright orange, with shocking green walls and a purple ceiling. Plastic dolls hung everywhere. James noticed they were mutants, with blood painted on their faces and freaky punk hairstyles.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Bungle asked, with an American twang.

  James was embarrassed, standing in a strange doorway on the orders of a three-year-old.

  ‘Sorry, Gregory brought me here,’ James explained.

  ‘What you sorry for, boy?’ Bungle said. ‘We’re a community. Come in, get your boots off. Gregory’s always dragging kids in here. You want hot milk?’

  James pulled his wellies off and stepped inside. It was wonderfully warm, but smelled like farts and sweat. Eleanor lay on a mattress. She had nothing on but knickers and a Nirvana T-shirt stretched over a pregnant belly.

  Gregory gave his mum a cuddle. Bungle made introductions, asked James the same questions as everyone else, then handed him a mug of hot milk.

  ‘Unzip your tracksuit top, Ross,’ Bungle said.

  James was mystified but did what he was asked.

  ‘Reebok,’ Bungle said triumphantly.