CHERUB: Man vs Beast (20 page)

‘You two,’ Lauren said, folding her arms angrily but smiling at the same time. ‘I’m trying to have a quiet Saturday morning doss here. Now I’m soaked.’

‘Ahh,’ James said, putting on a baby voice. ‘I know my little sister-poos can’t stay angry at big brother James. Come on, giss a kiss.’

‘Don’t you
dare
, James,’ Lauren snapped, putting her arms out to stop him. ‘You stink, of BO.’

James thought his sister might really blow up if he went through with the kiss, so he backed off and started gathering up the items spread across the floor.

‘How was the run?’ Lauren asked.

‘Good,’ Kyle nodded. ‘We did about seven Ks, right around the Malarek compound, out through the fields then we sprinted the last bit, back through the new part of the village.’

‘Stuart’s trousers are still up in that tree,’ James added.

‘You should have come with us,’ Kyle said. ‘It’s amazing how fast your fitness drops off when you’re on a mission and you’re not training regularly.’

‘Yeah,’ James nodded. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to get put on an emergency fitness plan when you get back to campus. You know what psychos the instructors are.’

‘I know,’ Lauren nodded. ‘But unlike you two skiving gits,
I’ve
been at school all week. I reckon I deserve one morning of TV and Coco Pops.’

‘Next time?’ Kyle asked.

‘Sure,’ Lauren nodded. ‘Oh, Kyle,’ she added, ‘I could hear your phone ringing when I was on the loo. You’d better check your messages.’

‘Right, cheers,’ Kyle said. ‘You might as well take the first shower, James. I’ll see who called.’

As James grabbed a towel out of the cupboard at the top of the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom, Kyle cut into his bedroom, stepped over James’ mess and grabbed his mobile off the window ledge.

He’d missed two calls from Tom. He hoped they might be an invite to go see a film or something later on, but as his phone returned the call something dawned on him: Tom and Viv lived the bachelor lifestyle, partying into the small hours and never surfacing before noon on weekends.

‘Kyle, baby,’ Tom said exuberantly.

‘You must have had a call from our terrorist friends,’ Kyle said.

‘How’d you know?’

‘Your first missed call was at nine forty-three. You’re not usually conscious at that hour, let alone making phone calls.’

Tom sounded worried. ‘She gave me instructions, but there’s an almighty spanner in the works. Viv took Sophie out to some new vegan restaurant in town. He’s been up and down all night with gutache and he keeps getting the shivers.’

‘Did you say that to the person who called?’

‘Yeah and she chewed my ear off:
We expect results not excuses. If you can’t work your way around a simple operational difficulty then our organisation has no use for you
. Then she slammed the phone down.’

Kyle was relieved that Viv was in no state to come along, but he couldn’t say that to Tom. ‘Well me and James just went out for a run, so we’re both in good shape. What else did she say?’

‘Not much, you know how cautious they are. The call lasted under a minute. She told us to head up to Rigsworth services on the M5. We’ve got to get there by six this evening and head into the buffet area.’

‘Someone’s gonna meet us?’ Kyle asked.

‘She didn’t go into details, just told us not to be late. Rigsworth is only an hour’s drive, but I reckon we’ll give it an extra half hour in case there’s traffic. So, I’ll swing by in Viv’s Merc and pick you and James up around four-thirty.’

*

Tom had only passed his driving test a few months earlier and looked edgy behind the wheel of the Mercedes, which was double the size of his MG. He kept in the slow lane and looked worried every time he had to pull out to overtake a tractor or caravan.

It was the first weekend of the school holidays, so half the country was on the move and the service station was hell on earth. Tom circled the car park for ten minutes looking for a space. Inside, they had to queue up to use the urinals, the restaurant area was jammed and every kid in the joint seemed to be bawling about something their brother had done or something they hadn’t been allowed to buy in the gift shop.

In the end, Kyle bought three bottles of mineral water from a vending machine and the boys propped themselves on a tiled ledge by the windows at the back of the food court. James’ phone rang at six on the dot.

‘How’s it going, youngster?’ a female voice asked. She didn’t give a name, but it sounded like Jo.

‘Not bad,’ James said. ‘So what are we doing? Is someone meeting us here or what?’

‘You’ll be meeting an old friend, of sorts. Head into the car park, row G, three bays from the end. The keys are taped under the wheel arch on the driver’s side. You’ll find your instructions and all the equipment you need inside the vehicle.’

The phone went dead. James slid it inside his black tracksuit bottoms as he stood up and led the others outside. They headed into the early evening glare, dodging the traffic circling for a parking spot.

‘Tharrr she be, mateys,’ James said, inexplicably putting on a pirate voice when he spotted the red VW van.

It was the same van he’d ridden in with Kyle three days earlier, though the lower half of the bodywork had been sprayed canary yellow and logos had been stuck along both sides and on the rear doors:
Rapid Trak – Speciality Courier
. James reached under the wheel arch and threw the key at Kyle.

Tom looked a little put out. ‘I thought I was driving.’

‘No offence, gorgeous,’ Kyle grinned, ‘but you drive like my grandma.’

The trio piled into the front of the van – Kyle in the driver’s seat, Tom in the middle and James on the passenger side. James flipped open the glovebox and a mass of papers slid out into his lap.

‘Bloody hell,’ James moaned, as he reached down and picked them all off the vinyl floor.

The first thing he came to was a leaflet advertising Rapid Trak:
Whether it’s a human kidney, oversized artwork or a six-tier wedding cake, Rapid Trak has been delivering the undeliverable for more than 30 years
. To emphasise the point, the accompanying picture was of a white-coated doctor vaccinating a baby, while a pretty nurse stood in the background holding a red and yellow Rapid Trak package.

The next document James came to was a map of Wales. It was folded, but he could see parts of a detailed route that had been marked across it with a highlighter pen. Next he came to a large envelope with
Read Me!!!
written on it.

He peeled back the gummed flap, slid out four identical sets of stapled paperwork and handed one to Kyle and Tom before he started reading:

Hello Boys!

Today marks the launch of a new animal rights group. Yours is one of three synchronised actions that will be carried out under the banner of the Animal Freedom Army. This document gives you all the details you need to carry out your operation successfully. You will find the equipment you require in the rear of the van.

Over the last three years, pressure has been put on all of the major international courier firms and all have agreed to stop delivering to Malarek Research premises within the UK. However, Rapid Trak has refused even to meet with members of the Zebra Alliance and continues to make deliveries, which include the transportation of live mice and birds to be used in experiments.

In March 2006, Rapid Trak even took delivery of a special unmarked van so that it could continue its lucrative trade with Malarek. It is the last reliable courier service available to Malarek Research and one of the core companies that enables it to continue to do business. This operation will make it clear to the Rapid Trak management that profiting from animal experiments is unacceptable.

Please read the rest of this document carefully, paying particular attention to the sections on leaving behind DNA, fingerprints and other biometric evidence at the scene, and on the safe destruction of your vehicle.

Good Luck,

The AFA Team

The VW van juddered over a bump as it cruised a badly lit section of dual carriageway. James and Tom sat in the back, sweating into Balaclavas and disposable gloves. Just to make them even less comfortable, pungent kerosene vapour seeped out of the highly explosive napalm drum welded into the rear of the vehicle.

‘Ever seen
Apocalypse Now
?’ Tom asked.

‘Don’t think so,’ James said.

‘They blast all these Vietnamese with massive napalm bombs, and afterwards this nutty colonel takes this giant sniff and goes,
I love the smell of napalm in the morning
.’

James smiled, though Tom couldn’t see it through the Balaclava. ‘Is it a good movie?’

Tom nodded. ‘I’ve got the DVD. If we don’t blow ourselves up tonight, you can borrow it.’

‘Cheers,’ James nodded. ‘I’ll have loads of time to kill now it’s summer holidays.’

James felt like he was getting on well with Tom, so it seemed a good moment to ask a more probing question.

‘So where do you reckon the AFA got hold of napalm?’

‘DIY I expect,’ Tom said. ‘Viv got this recipe for napalm off the Internet one time and we looked into making a batch ourselves. It’s only petrol or kerosene, with a gelling agent dissolved into the mix.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ James lied.

‘If you want to burn something down, napalm is the dogs,’ Tom explained. ‘Petrol combusts so fast that it burns itself out before anything else catches light. Napalm sticks to everything and it burns hot and slow.’

James had learned about napalm and a variety of other common terrorist weapons in training, but he made an effort to sound suitably impressed at the older boy’s knowledge.

‘So how come you and Viv never made any?’

Tom grinned. ‘First off it’s seriously explosive. It would only take a spark to set that whole drum off. Second, the idea of my brother running around with napalm doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘Viv’s a nut,’ James giggled. ‘No offence …’

‘None taken. He
is
a nut, but he’s also the
best
brother. Our family is a freak show, but me and Viv have stuck up for each other, right from when we were toddlers.’

James and Tom turned to look as Kyle slid back the little flap between the cab and the rear compartment.

‘Time to cut the banter,’ Kyle said. ‘I can see the Rapid Trak depot over the hill.’

‘Right,’ James nodded.

‘Good luck, dude,’ Tom added. ‘Keep calm.’

Kyle felt like he’d been driving the van for ever. The journey from the outskirts of Bristol to the Rapid Trak depot in Wrexham, North Wales, shouldn’t have taken any more than three and a half hours, but the holiday traffic had been horrendous and it was now past one in the morning. His knees and ankles ached from working the pedals and only fear of what they were about to do kept him awake.

Still, he knew things could have been a lot worse: the operation they’d been assigned by the AFA involved large-scale property destruction, but no deliberate harm to humans, and Viv going sick was a blessing.

After turning into a deserted industrial estate, the van passed two illuminated Rapid Trak signs in front of a modern, brick-built sorting office. This building was open 24/7, although it ran on a skeleton staff at weekends and there were fewer than a dozen cars parked up in a lot with space for a hundred.

Kyle continued along the eerily quiet road until he came to a smaller sign on the opposite side which pointed out Rapid Trak’s vehicle depot. A middle-aged woman dressed in security-guard black stepped out of a kiosk as Kyle rolled up to the metal barrier. He wound down his window as she gave him a smile.

‘What happened to you?’ the woman asked. ‘I thought the last driver was due in at nine.’

‘I was due in at
eight
,’ Kyle lied, acting stressed out. ‘It’s the great summer getaway. Big pile up on the A49 – I’ve never seen traffic like it.’

‘You must be new,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Eileen Rice; I don’t think I’ve seen you before.’

‘Just left school,’ Kyle said. ‘I’m Eric Cartman, good to meet you.’

‘Nice meeting you, Eric,’ she said, as she stepped back into the kiosk and flipped the switch to open the gate.

As the gate rose up, Kyle drove on to a lot containing over a hundred commercial vehicles. They ranged from juggernauts down to compact vans, every one decked out in Rapid Trak livery. He pulled into a space between two VW Transporters identical to his own, before jumping out of the cab and opening the sliding side door to let out James and Tom. They both grinned at him.

‘What’s so funny?’ Kyle asked.

‘Eric Cartman,’ Tom grinned. ‘Very smooth.’

Kyle didn’t understand, so James explained. ‘Eric Cartman: the fat kid in
South Park
.’

‘Oh
shit
,’ Kyle gasped. ‘I’m such a plum. I thought there was something odd about that name when I said it.’

‘Wouldn’t worry,’ Tom said. ‘I’d say that old girl’s more into soap operas than
South Park
.’

‘She sounded like a nice old stick,’ James added, as he reached inside and grabbed a Stanley knife and two giant reels of carpet tape off the floor of the van.

‘Don’t start feeling too sorry for her,’ Kyle said. ‘She’s got an alarm button and she’ll hit it if you give her a chance.’

Before jogging off towards the kiosk with James, Kyle zipped on a black hoodie and swapped his Rapid Trak cap for a Balaclava, then leaned into the van to grab a length of rubber hose.

‘Call me sexist if you like,’ Tom whispered, as he sneaked up on the kiosk with James. ‘But this doesn’t sit too well. It’s like being asked to duff up someone’s granny.’

As they approached the kiosk, the boys could see the woman sitting inside. She had a radio on and her attention focused on a puzzle magazine.

‘Hands in the air,’ Tom yelled, putting on a decent tough-guy act as he grabbed the door of the kiosk and bundled the woman off her stall.

She screamed as she hit the floor.

‘Shut your hole, woman.’

James knelt down beside her. As Tom kept her pinned under his foot, James stuffed a rag into her mouth, before winding tape around her head so that she couldn’t spit it out. He then grabbed her handbag from under the security console and found a set of keys.