CHERUB: Man vs Beast (12 page)

James stepped back and held out his arms. ‘Come on then, big man. Take a shot; show me what you’ve got.’

‘
Don’t
start, James,’ Lauren said uneasily.

The lad took a swing. James ducked out of the way, before bobbing up and planting a right jab square in his opponent’s mouth. It was a nasty punch, but not the jawbreaker James could have thrown if he’d really wanted to.

‘Leave it out!’ Kyle yelled.

‘Anyone else wanna try?’ James shouted, as the kid he’d punched stumbled back against the bus shelter and spat blood on the pavement.

The punch had cranked the tension up to number eleven and the local kids were shouting and yelling advice ranging from
calm down to kick their heads in
.

Lauren got the feeling that a mass brawl was about to break out, so it was a huge relief to see the school bus coming round the corner. There was a fair bit of shoving and cursing as everyone piled on board, but Kyle made sure he and James sat away from the youths they’d been facing off and most of the sting had gone out of the situation by the time the bus got underway.

‘You dick,’ Kyle whispered, scowling at James. ‘You’re too aggressive.’

James shrugged unrepentantly. ‘I wanted them to know that we’re best not messed with. They’re miles bigger than Lauren and I don’t want them getting any ideas about starting on her when we’re not around.’

Meanwhile, Lauren had noticed Stuart sitting across the aisle one row in front of her and slid across to the empty seat behind him.

‘I didn’t know what happened to your mum until Kyle told me,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t go round barefoot all day, but I’ll fetch the boots back to your house this evening, OK?’

Stuart looked around with a sour face. ‘Keep ’em,’ he said. ‘I don’t want ’em now they’ve been on your stinking feet.’

Lauren didn’t make any good friends in her first three days at school, but the kids in her class were OK and nobody dared give her any hassle. The only stressful scenes had been daily slanging matches between James and Andy Pierce at the bus stop. It had only been verbals, but Lauren had a nasty feeling that it would kick off into something bigger.

The mission was progressing, althoughnothing sensational had happened since the weekend. While the kids were at school, Ryan tapped out e-mails and made endless phone calls to his contacts. Zara spent a lot of time dealing with all the domestic stuff that goes with keeping a family going and the rest catching up with the paperwork that formed a major part of a senior mission controller’s job.

She also made sure that the kids went down the hill and showed their faces at the protest site every day. Lauren would visit straight after school and put on her good girl act, dishing out drinks and hot cross buns to the pensioners who stood loyally by their placards for up to ten hours a day. They were generally decent sorts, who always made a big fuss of Lauren and raved about her tea-making skills.

Most of the oldies had dead spouses and grown-up kids and Lauren got the impression that the daily vigil behind the police barriers filled a big hole in some empty lives. And hanging out with them wasn’t a total waste of time. Even though they were about as softcore as Zebra Alliance members got, they’d overheard a million conversations and their gossip let you know whether an approaching activist was considered a sweetheart, a psycho, or someone rumoured to be an undercover cop.

None of it was hard evidence, but Lauren noted the names of anyone the pensioners didn’t like and scored a surprisingly high hit rate when she checked them against the criminal intelligence database back at the cottage. They also turned out to be right about the undercover policewoman.

Kyle and James usually visited after homework and dinner, when the sky was beginning to turn dark. The oldies had packed up their folding chairs and newspapers by then and given way to a livelier crowd of students, young couples and the odd kid. They were a friendly bunch, but every so often an eager young buck – usually drunk, trying to impress a girl, or both – would unleash paint, eggs, or bags of flour at the staff driving in or out of the Malarek compound.

It was fifty-fifty whether the thrower escaped or got nabbed by one of the police officers who concealed themselves behind the hedgerows whenever the crowd looked boisterous. The arrests were good-natured and the suspects always got cheered as they were handcuffed and loaded into a van for the twelve-kilometre ride to the police station.

*

It was Wednesday, coming up to 4:50 p.m. Lauren was cutting across the field behind the cottage holding a tray of empty picnic cups and the remains of a packet of biscuits when she spotted Stuart Pierce standing thirty metres away, up to his knees in thistles and grass.

‘Hey,’ he said, using the least threatening voice he could manage and wearing a
please don’t kick my arse again
look on his face. ‘I know you told me not to come over here, but is it OK if we talk?’

Stuart was in Lauren’s year at school and they’d even been on the same basketball team in a PE lesson, but this was the first time they’d spoken since Monday.

‘Guess it won’t kill me,’ Lauren shrugged, feeling an odd mix of emotions for a kid whose mum had been blinded by the AFM, but who’d also spat in her face.

Stuart smiled uneasily as he wandered over. ‘I know we got off to a bad start.’

‘I take it you’re referring to the brick that you threw through my bedroom window?’

‘I’m sorry, Lauren
…
Is it OK to call you Lauren?’

Lauren had come to realise that Stuart was a quiet kid. He only had one mate around school, a skinny Asian dude who didn’t live in Corbyn Copse. ‘Well, what else are you gonna call me?’ she smirked.

Stuart realised he’d said something dumb and started going red. ‘I’m not a yob or nothing, you know? I never did anything like that before. Did they fix the window? I’ve got money saved up. I can probably pay for it.’

‘They’ve put a board in, but it’s leaded glass so they’ve got to make all the little squares into a new piece.’

‘Oh,’ Stuart said weakly.

‘It’s OK,’ Lauren said. ‘I didn’t tell my mum your name and she’s claiming the money on insurance.’

‘Cool,’ he said, looking down at the black plastic shoes on Lauren’s feet. ‘You know on the bus, when you said I could have my boots back?’

Lauren nodded. ‘They’re in my room. I thought about leaving them on your doorstep, but I didn’t want to bump into your brother and his mates.’

Stuart tutted. ‘My brother’s such a dick, going round acting like he’s sticking up for me. He used to batter me all the time when my mum was out working.’

Lauren set off towards the house. ‘It’s sad what happened to your mum. But Ryan and my mum are nothing to do with the AFM. They’re totally anti-violence.’

‘You really kicked my arse. Where’d you learn to fight so good?’

Lauren used the standard CHERUB excuse. ‘My dad was a Karate instructor.’

‘
Sweet
. So you must be at least a black belt, or something.’

Lauren nodded. ‘Second dan black belt. My brothers – James and Kyle – are both third dan.’

‘I wish I was tough,’ Stuart said. ‘Not that I’m a weed or anything, but I’ve never had proper lessons. One time Andy had me pinned. I grabbed this
massive
book and knocked him spark out. He puked about eight times.’

‘Must have been funny,’ Lauren giggled, as they passed through a wooden gate into the back garden of the cottage.

Lauren’s room was just down the hall from the back door and even though she’d lived here for less than a week, she’d managed to turn it into a bomb-site, with tangled clothes, schoolbooks and fizzy drink cans everywhere.

Stuart looked guiltily at the boarded-up window as Lauren grabbed the boots from under a jacket and some dirty jeans.

‘My feet aren’t that bad and I only wore them one day.’

‘Cheers,’ Stuart grinned. ‘I told my aunt that I’d lost them when I changed for games. She was doing her nut ’cos she paid eighty quid and I’ve only had them for a month.’

‘Your aunt?’ Lauren said curiously.

Stuart nodded. ‘She moved in with us after the attack, to help look after us and that. She feels bad, ’cos she got my mum the job at Malarek in the first place.’

‘Does your aunt still work there?’

‘Nah, she got scared and quit not long after the AFM started attacking people. My mum hated working there as well.’

‘So why didn’t she get another job?’

‘My dad went off with another woman and left a big mortgage behind. Malarek has to pay danger money. It’s three times what you can make working on a farm or in one of the superstores and they’re always short staffed so you can do all the overtime you like.

‘My mum didn’t like what they do to the animals. I even heard her crying a few times. All she did was feed the animals and hose out cages and stuff. They offered to give her training so that she could do injections and eye drops and that. It would have been more money, but she used to get upset just watching other people doing it.’

‘That’s sad,’ Lauren said, glancing at her watch. ‘Listen, it’s not that I want to kick you out, but my family’s going to some Zebra Alliance meeting at the university tonight and I’ve got to change out of uniform and stuff.’

‘Right,’ Stuart said. ‘Thanks for the boots.’

Lauren smiled. ‘I haven’t got any mates around here, so if you want to come over for dinner one night or just hang out, that’s cool.’

‘Yeah,’ Stuart said. ‘My mum’s been totally down since the attack and it’s not nice being stuck at home when she’s in a mood. Sometimes I end up wandering around the village thinking dark thoughts, like
Maybe I’ll throw a brick through that window
.’

Lauren burst out laughing. ‘Next time just ring the doorbell, eh? See you at the bus stop in the morning.’

Ryan’s deep, Northern Irish accent seemed to pass effortlessly through ceilings and walls. His endless phone calls had driven the entire household nuts and it was even worse when you were trapped inside the people carrier with him. Zara drove, while Ryan sat in the middle row of seats, blaring into a Nokia:

‘Susan
…
Susan it’s me, Ryan. Hi
…
Yes, I’m on the way to the meeting now. I know you said you were considering your options, but I was just ringing again to see if I could count on your vote this evening
…
? Well, I understand what you’re saying. I know Madeline is a great little fundraiser, but frankly, the whole Zebra Alliance campaign is a shambles.

‘There’s no bloody focus. I keep seeing bits of campaigns. Great ideas, fantastic people, but precious little sign of the strategy we really need to bring down a giant. We’ve got to put a squeeze on all the little companies that supply Malarek, whether it’s half a million quid’s worth of laboratory equipment, or the dude that comes in and refills the coffee machine.’

After listening to the voice on the other end for a few seconds, Ryan spoke with the wounded tone of scolded kid. ‘Well
…
OK Susan, I guess I’ve said all that I can. You and I go back a long way and I feel very let down hearing you say that.’

Ryan pressed the end call button and stared vacantly out of the window. ‘That’s another one’ll be voting Madeline Laing for chairman.’

‘Perhaps you should settle for a spot on the Alliance committee until you find your feet,’ Zara suggested gently. ‘You’ve been in prison for three years. Madeline has brought in a lot of her own people. You can’t expect them to hand everything back to you on a platter.’

Ryan tutted. ‘There wouldn’t even be a Zebra Alliance without me.’ He looked away from Zara and started dialling a number into his phone. ‘Hello, Sebastian. How’s tricks
…
? Excellent. Listen, I don’t mean to keep pestering you, but it sure would be good to know if I can count on your vote at the meeting this evening?’

*

It was thirty minutes’ drive from Corbyn Copse to the shabby, brutalist campus of Avon University. It was beginning to turn dark when they arrived and James ogled student girls through the glare, while Zara wound the people carrier through a tortuous one-way system. They passed accommodation blocks and the glass and concrete bunkers where students attended lectures.

‘I nearly did my degree here,’ Zara said, as she pulled up at a zebra crossing to let two hockey teams cross in front of them. ‘At least, I would have done if I hadn’t got my scholarship to Yale.’

‘Look at
that
,’ James gasped, rubbing his hands as his eyes followed a cute, mini-skirted Goth with a pierced lip. ‘I can’t wait to get to uni.’

Lauren tutted. ‘Don’t drool over the upholstery, will you.’

James didn’t answer back, because Kyle’s mobile gave out a triumphant blast, indicating that he’d received a text.

‘Is it Tom?’ James asked.

‘Yeah,
finally
,’ Kyle said, before bursting out laughing. ‘He said he’ll meet us by the bar at the Zebra fundraiser. Apparently Viv’s up before the committee for setting off the firecrackers.’

‘What’s funny about that?’ James asked. ‘They
should
kick Viv out. That basket case nearly got me blown up.’

‘I know,’ Kyle said, still giggling. ‘That’s not what I’m laughing at.’

James reached over to grab Kyle’s phone, but Kyle snatched it out of his reach.

‘Private,’ Kyle said firmly. ‘Hands off.’

James looked upset. ‘You’d better not be taking the piss out of me.’

‘Oh listen to that ego,’ Kyle tutted, as he typed out his reply to Tom. ‘The entire world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.’

It took another couple of minutes to reach the car park at the rear of the refectory building. This large structure was the social hub of the university, with five restaurants, several bars, a nightclub and more than a dozen meeting rooms spread over five floors.

Ryan led the way through the main entrance into a bland concrete atrium enlivened by clusters of students standing in circles, or lounging on the aged leather sofas that rested against the floor-to-ceiling windows. One wall carried a noticeboard. It was twenty metres long and every centimetre was plastered several layers deep with notices. They advertised everything from second-hand bicycles to meetings of the Young Conservative Association.