‘I’ve got bad news and worse news,’ James began. ‘The bad news is that due to a balls-up, five hundred and fifty boxes of historic mission control documents were not shifted by the army logistics team, due to a delay in the asbestos removal work. The worse news is that the lift has been deactivated, so we’ve got to take all of them up four flights of stairs. Once they’re up at ground level, the boxes have to be taken across campus on a truck and unloaded in the archival space beneath the mission control building. So let’s hope we’re all feeling energetic!’
‘How long’s it gonna take?’ a girl of about fifteen asked.
James shrugged. ‘Three hours, maybe. John Jones is rounding up a second batch of volunteers to help unload at the other end. And if you’re not here on deferred punishment, we’ll add fifty pounds to your spending accounts as a thank you.’
The volunteers seemed happier after hearing this and there was even a muted cheer.
‘The interior is a demolition zone, so you must wear hard hats and hi-visibility vests. Do not stray away from the designated route.’
A temporary barrier circled the main building, its sole access point guarded by a sergeant from the Royal Engineers Corps. Like everyone else on the demolition team, she’d been living on campus for the past six weeks, but was allowed no outside communication and had not been told where campus actually was. Her uniform would usually be topped with a green beret, but special orange ones had been issued, reminding young agents that she was not to be spoken to under any circumstances.
The sergeant counted everyone through the gate, issuing everyone with a numbered dog tag and strict orders that the necklace must be returned so that they could be counted out of the secure area. She then opened a portable cabin, and distributed yellow vests, dust masks and hard hats, while telling James where to find trolleys and other moving equipment. At the same time, a beeping truck was being reversed up to the gate and four more volunteers jumped out of the back, spurred by the prospect of making fifty quid.
Once they were all equipped, a second orange-hatted army engineer led the way inside, between yellow and black danger high explosive signs. The main doors had been removed to give work crews easy access. The usually polished floor was horribly scarred and James looked forlornly down the hallway leading to the old chairman’s office, missing the wooden bench where he’d so often sat, drumming his foot as he awaited punishment.
But the most dramatic change was in the concrete columns that braced the main hallway that ran all the way to the dining-room at the back of the building. These had been drilled with dozens of three-centimetre-wide holes, into which had been dropped sticks of high explosive. Between sticks ran looms of brightly coloured wiring.
‘Could this go off by accident?’ a girl asked warily, as the army engineer led the way towards the stairs into the basement. James gave a nod, indicating that the soldier was allowed to answer.
‘The explosive and detonators are very stable and I’m not aware of any demolition where there has been a premature explosion. What can happen is that the demolition happens incorrectly and only some of the charges go off. So please don’t touch any wiring, and if any of you should accidentally drop something or trip and touch one of the looms, please let us know so that we can test the circuit.’
James and the engineer led the group down a back staircase to the first basement. Most furniture had been removed, but the decision had been taken to entomb some equipment in the explosion, including an ancient mainframe computer and thousands of document boxes that were no longer needed, but not so sensitive that they had to be incinerated.
After a stretch of floor, James found himself clattering down metal stairs, wrapped around a large cargo lift which he had never previously seen. At the bottom, the stairs continued down to a third basement, much to the astonishment of kids who’d lived in this building for some years but had no idea about these subterranean levels.
The engineer unlocked the door into a final stretch of corridor. There were no explosives, but like most buildings built before the 1980s, the mineral asbestos was used as fireproofing. Now known to cause cancer, every sheet of asbestos had to be removed so that its toxic dust didn’t form part of the cloud when the building detonated. This hallway had been the last to be cleared, and the plaster and ceiling had been stripped back to bare concrete, with some dangerous-looking 1970s electrical wiring on show.
James felt intimidated when he stepped into a room which he realised sat directly beneath the campus dining-hall. There were two dozen rows of metal shelving, each stretching more than thirty metres. Everything had been cleared out, apart from the five hundred and fifty dusty box files, each one recently stickered with Mission Control – do not destroy.
Made from heavy card, each box was more than a metre deep, and James quickly realised that it would take two people to lift each one upstairs.
‘OK,’ James said, as his sister and several kids groaned at the magnitude of the task ahead. ‘It looks like we’ve got our work cut out.’
Four hours later, James had backache and pit stains the size of dinner plates. The fourth and final truckload of boxes had been shifted and the last batch of exhausted kids were clattering upstairs with the metal trolleys.
‘They worked hard,’ Lauren said, giving James a smile. ‘You’re actually really good with the kids.’
‘You think?’ James said brightly. ‘I always feel like a phoney.’
Lauren inspected dirty hands and a cracked thumbnail as she set off upstairs a few steps behind her brother. ‘I’ll never be a lady with these hands,’ she said.
‘Weird to think it’ll all be under rubble in a few hours,’ James said, when he reached the ground floor.
He should have headed on down the corridor, but there was no sign of the engineers and just a strand of do not enter tape keeping him from going on upwards.
‘One last look?’ Lauren asked, making James crack a huge smile because he was a quarter second behind in saying the same three words.
James straddled and Lauren ducked under. After furtive glances behind, the siblings moved quickly but quietly, tired from humping boxes but able to handle pain after years of CHERUB training.
‘Saturday night hall parties!’ James remembered, as he rounded the sixth-floor landing.
Lauren smiled and added, ‘Pop tarts and instant mac and cheese in the mini-kitchen.’
With no glazing, human smells and central heating had been replaced by crisp outdoor air that made James feel like he was in a dream.
‘Creepy as,’ Lauren said, as the cold air caught skin damp from hard work.
As Lauren headed into the kitchen and opened cupboards, wondering what had happened to all the battered cutlery and amused to recognise a stain on the wall where her bestie Bethany had tripped up holding a glass of cranapple, James headed for his old room.
The bed and sofa were gone, but the fitted storage and bathroom fixtures were intact. It had been some other kid’s room until a few months earlier. Some of her posters still adorned the walls. Inevitably, rain had encroached after the cladding got removed and the carpet near the missing external wall had a greenish tint from mould and dried-out bird droppings.
James stood as close as he dared to the missing external wall and looked out over campus. Preparations were taking place for the demolition party. Beyond that lay the main building’s recently opened replacement.
Instead of rooms off of anonymous high-rise hallways, CHERUB agents now lived in one of five streets. Individual homes, monitored by carers, with public kitchen and living spaces downstairs and four to six private suites on each top floor. Cycle paths ran between, along with play areas and a circular area of grassland, with a relocated CHERUB fountain and benches which had been packed out every night through the summer.
At the farthest end, a long, arrow-shaped three-storey building contained the new dining-room, staff accommodation and leisure facilities including a cinema and theatre, a main assembly hall and an in
door play area for little red-shirt kids. The final building was a six-storey glass box known as Town Hall, which was where all the most senior staff, including Chairman Ewart Asker, worked.
Campus Village was larger and better in every sense than the dilapidated main building and junior blocks it had replaced. But James was still saddened by the loss of a place where he’d lived for the happiest seven years of his life and felt a tear well up. When he noticed a change in the light behind him he expected to see Lauren in the doorway, but it was the orange-capped army demolition expert.
‘Sir,’ she said, peevishly. ‘This area is out of bounds. I must ask you to leave.’
Lauren loomed behind the sergeant, poking her tongue cheekily at James.
‘Right,’ James said, feeling guilty that he’d made the sergeant chase him up six floors. Then sad as he stepped out of his old room for the very last time.
6. HOSE
‘There’s nothing here for you maggots,’ instructor Capstick roared. ‘You gonna hold out for sixty days? You think this is bad? How’s it gonna be when your joints stiffen up? When you’re hungry? When you’ve been cold and wet for two whole weeks and there’s still forty-five days to go? It is my personal mission to destroy you. So?’
‘Not quitting, instructor,’ Leon gasped, as he stood on one leg, with sweat streaking down a muddy face.
‘No way,’ Daniel added.
It was dark. The twins had been taken into the campus dojo and made to do ninety minutes’ sparring against tough eighteen-year-olds. Then they got canned meat, biscuits and orange juice for dinner, followed by another march with the heavy packs, this time taking them through waist-deep drainage channels at the back of campus.
‘Accommodation,’ Capstick shouted, as he grabbed a battered army tent off the muddy ground and hurled it at just the right angle to knock both boys off balance. ‘Build it, sleep in it. Instructor Smoke will be up super early for your first morning drill session.’
Daniel picked up the tent and squelched a few paces.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Capstick roared.
Daniel pointed towards some trees where the ground was drier. ‘I’ll pitch it over there.’
‘Here’s good,’ the instructor teased, sloshing his boot through mud to make his point. ‘Crack on!’
The tent was a pop-up type. The twins had used them in basic training and had no bother unfurling and driving anchor pins into the mud. Capstick had vanished by the time they got to the tricky business of getting inside without filling the tent with liquid mud. There were also sleeping bags, which smelled like previous occupants had spent a lot of time in them.
The tent floor was keeping out the water, but it was squelchy and freezing as the twins huddled up, catching sounds wafting across campus.
‘Sounds like the demolition party’s in full swing,’ Leon said, keeping it to a whisper in case there was a training instructor lurking outside with some extra torment. ‘I’d kill for a cold Sprite and a plate of party food right now.’
‘This is tougher than basic training,’ Daniel whispered.
‘I reckon it’ll get easier,’ Leon said.
‘We’ll get used to it?’
Leon shook his head. ‘Capstick and Smoke are being extra tough to try and scare us. But think about it, we’re trained agents. We’ve both got our navy shirts. They want us to get punished, but do you really think they want to lose us?’
‘I still don’t regret what we did,’ Daniel said, squelching as he tried to get comfortable.
‘Not for one millisecond,’ Leon agreed.
‘And you’re probably right. They can’t keep working us this—’ Daniel stopped talking as his brother yelped. ‘You OK?’
‘There’s a rock under the ground sheet and it just dug the spot where I took a hit in the dojo.’
‘I don’t care how uncomfortable this is,’ Daniel said. ‘I am gonna sleep so hard!’
Before Leon could respond, they heard boots splashing in the mud.
‘He’s back!’ Leon said, sitting bolt upright.
Daniel rolled over and reached out to open the tent flap and take a look, but someone unzipped from outside first. There was a flash of torchlight through the flap, followed by the nozzle of a high pressure fire hose.
‘We forgot shower time!’ Capstick shouted, as torchlight caught the instructor’s piercing blue eyes.
The hose ripped so hard that Daniel and Leon buried their heads as the freezing water hit the back of the tent with enough force to rip out its anchors and buckle one of the support rods.
As the tent shot backwards with the twins still inside, Capstick kept blasting until the roof had collapsed and the water trapped inside was more than thirty centimetres deep. Leon tried scrambling towards the exit but the hose blast flipped him on to his back.
When the tent was several metres from its starting position, Capstick pulled out the hose and instead started blasting the powerful jet at the muddy ground. With so much water in the tent, the twins scrambled out in a brown slick, riding a surge from the back of the tent. The hose blasting at the ground left them stumbling blindly towards a wall of mud spray that was rapidly burying their tent, sleeping bags and any prospect of a dry night’s sleep.
‘Sleep tight!’ Capstick beamed, as he finally cut the hose and began strutting backwards to disconnect it from a ground hydrant thirty metres away. ‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’
A party was going on by the athletics track across campus. Current staff and agents had been joined by six hundred guests from the organisation’s past. James was a tad drunk as he strolled out of a toilet block, shaking his hands because the paper towels had run out. While a crowd chattered and drank in the centre of the track, he was surprised to see seventeen-year-old Ryan Sharma, sat on the banked area nearby, holding a half-drunk Peroni and staring anxiously at the moon.
James had worked with Ryan on two missions, and knew him too well to walk by. But Ryan’s first reaction was to hide his beer.
‘We’re allowed two marked beers,’ Ryan said, making James smirk.
‘I’m mission control, not a carer,’ James said. ‘Get as drunk as you like, as long as you don’t throw up on me.’
Ryan smiled and took a slug. James was the kind of cool adult he hoped he’d be a few years down the line. ‘I’ve actually got a spare,’ Ryan said.
James took the Peroni and squatted in the slightly damp grass beside Ryan. They both wore their party jackets. Ryan with a tie, James without.
‘Let me guess,’ James said. ‘Girl broke your heart?’
Ryan sighed. ‘Worried about my brothers, actually. They’re on sixty days’ heavy drill and it’s all this big mystery. I have no clue what they did.’
James slugged beer and nodded. ‘It’s all been kept very quiet. Are you certain it’s sixty days?’
‘Zara told me herself.’
‘I never heard of more than twenty-eight before now,’ James said. ‘I didn’t think you got on too well with the twins?’
Ryan shrugged. ‘Not really, but they’re my brothers and I still love them. And my little brother Theo’s upset because he’s away on a mission and there’s a rumour going around that the twins molested a girl or something.’
‘Not a chance,’ James said, very firmly. ‘I have no idea what Leon and Daniel did. But I know one hundred per cent that if an agent did something like that there would be no punishment. You’d be kicked straight out.’
‘That’s what I told Theo,’ Ryan said. ‘But he’s eleven and all his mates are gossiping. And I’ve never known a situation where there’s been a big hush-up. Or such a big punishment.’
‘Pain in my arse too,’ James said. ‘I had your brothers lined up for a mission in the Midlands. I’m actually going to speak to Zara Asker tomorrow to see if I can still sort it. Deferred punishment or something. And I can’t break confidentiality, but I’ll certainly let Zara know that you and Theo are worried.’
‘I think fam
ily deserves to know,’ Ryan said.
James had noticed that people were starting to move away from the athletics track, towards a cordon with a small stage erected three hundred metres in front of the main building. ‘Better shift if we want a decent view,’ he said.
‘Appreciate your help,’ Ryan said.
Almost immediately, Ryan sighted his mates Alfie and Ning and jogged off. James got within fifty metres of the white cordon before catching up a big group of his ex-CHERUB pals, including Kerry, Lauren, Kyle, Bruce, Gabrielle, Dana, Rat, Bethany, Callum and Connor.
‘If I may have your attention,’ CHERUB’s recently installed chairman Ewart Asker said, from up on stage. He was over forty but looked younger, in a tailored suit and with several stud earrings. ‘We’ve blown a lot of stuff up on CHERUB campus over the years, but tonight we’re really pushing the boat out!’
There was a big cheer, and lots of little kids smirked because the chairman seemed drunk.
‘First off, a warning. In a few moments an electromagnetic pulse generator will be activated. This will not only knock out any hidden cameras and unauthorised drones from surrounding airspace, it will fry any small electrical item that has been left on within half a kilometre of the explosion. So please, make sure those digital cameras, Android phones and Apple watches are switched off!
‘Second, I would like to thank the army engineers who’ve put so much hard work into the demolition preparations. Sadly, since CHERUB doesn’t exist, only a skeleton crew of two remain on site to watch the results of their handiwork.
‘There has been much debate on who gets to press the button to destroy the main building,’ Ewart continued, as he pointed a finger at a control console. ‘In the end, our engineers have constructed a console with three buttons that must all be pressed to activate the demolition charges. The first button will be pushed by a man who needs no introduction to most of you.’
A round of applause broke out as a stooped old geezer began walking up the steps on to the small stage, aided by Zara Asker.