CHERUB: Man vs Beast (27 page)

Kyle and Tom sat together on a woodwormy bench at the rear of the dining-hall. Jo steamed through the door behind them with a mobile at her ear.

‘We’re off air,’ she announced, flipping her phone shut angrily. ‘I’m not sure how they’ve done it, but none of the remote sites are receiving our satellite signal.’

The room filled with moans, as Jay turned away from his control console. ‘Do you want us to keep filming?’

‘Might as well,’ Jo shrugged. ‘We can use the footage later, but it’s not gonna have anything like the same impact that it does going out live.’

Over on the set, Viv noticed a glimmer of hope in Nick Cobb’s eyes.

‘Go ahead and smile, bunny rabbit,’ Viv sneered, kicking the bars. ‘You’re still gonna die in that cage.’

Cobb raised his head off the ground to be sick again. There was nothing left in his stomach and all he could do was retch before slumping back to the floor of the cage.

Tom stood up and headed briskly out of the room. Kyle followed him down a wood panelled hallway and out on to the front lawn. The morning cloud had burned off and it had turned into a hot July day, with the hum of the generator fighting the sound of birds and crickets in the surrounding countryside.

‘What’s up?’ Kyle asked.

Tom looked upset. ‘Do you think my brother’s enjoying himself just a little bit too much up on that stage?’

Kyle nodded solemnly. ‘I think he’s loving every minute.’

‘Do you think this is right?’ Tom asked.

‘I …’ Kyle said, unable to think of anything worth saying. He couldn’t imagine how Tom could think this was anything but wrong.

‘This whole eye for an eye deal. You kill bunnies so we kill you,’ Tom said, wrapping his hands around his head and looking stressed. ‘And seeing a man tied up in a cage, puking himself to death. I thought we’d be blowing up a building or something. I wish we’d never got involved in this shit.’

Kyle felt a huge surge of affection: he’d always thought that Tom was basically a good person and the confirmation made a tear well up in his eye.

‘This is a big bloody mess we’ve got ourselves in,’ Kyle said, grinning wryly. ‘I guess we could grab a van and try making a run for it, or something.’

‘Viv wouldn’t leave; he’s in his element in there.’

‘Screw Viv,’ Kyle said. ‘I’m talking about us.’

‘We can’t,’ Tom said, shaking his head as his eyes welled up. ‘If we walk out on Jo now, she’d definitely find a way to stitch us up – grass on us for the arson attack or something. The only way we’ll come out clean is by seeing this through.’

Jo stepped out on to the front lawn. ‘Hey, you two lazy asses,’ she yelled aggressively. ‘We need a hand.’

‘Doing what?’ Tom asked.

‘I don’t know why communications have gone down, but I know I don’t like it.’

Kyle was confused. ‘I thought you said they might shut the websites down.’

‘The websites are working fine,’ Jo explained. ‘It’s the satellite link. It might be a technical glitch, but it could mean that someone is on to us. Either way, I want everyone on alert.

‘You two go over and get the three vans ready for a quick departure. I want them driven around to the front of the house and facing the gate, with keys in the ignitions. And I want the two motorbikes unloaded from the back of the van and ready to roll as well.’

Tom walked towards the courtyard behind the barn where the vans were parked, as Kyle headed into the house to get the other two sets of keys. Kyle wondered if the satellite had been shut down as a result of James getting the information about their location out to Zara, but he doubted it. Blocking a satellite signal is easy once you know where it’s coming from, but it also puts your opponent on high alert.

‘Has anybody got van keys?’ Kyle asked loudly, as he walked into the dining-room.

He was surprised to see seven masked terrorists gathered around the cage, debating furiously. Nick Cobb had coughed up more blood and lots of it. He lay in the middle of the cage convulsing violently. Kyle could hardly bear to look.

‘Get Cobb out of there!’ Jay yelled.

‘Screw him,’ Viv said. ‘So what if he’s not lasting as long as we expected? We knew there was a chance he might die. If he pegs it, we’ll still be making our point and we can pack up early and be home in time for
Neighbours
.’

Nobody was interested in Kyle’s request for keys, so he decided to use the set he already had in his pocket and headed out towards the courtyard.

‘What happened?’ Tom asked.

‘It’s going pear-shaped in there,’ Kyle explained. ‘Looks like Cobb’s gone into shock.’

‘Great,’ Tom said, shaking his head miserably.

‘I’ll get the other keys in a minute when they’ve calmed down,’ Kyle said. ‘I might as well drive our van up to the exit gate in the meantime.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘I dunno,’ Kyle shrugged as he climbed into the van. ‘Have you checked to see if they’ve got the keys in the ignition already?’

‘Good point,’ Tom nodded.

Kyle considered his options as he reversed the van out of the courtyard and trundled up the rutted path towards the gate.

He didn’t fancy taking on nine people and until now he’d been relying on James getting the information about the farm out to Zara and sitting tight until the cops arrived. But with Nick Cobb’s health declining faster than anyone expected, this option looked increasingly like a death sentence for the TV chef.

Kyle’s first thought was to squeeze the gas pedal, plough through the gate and keep going, but Chase was on guard duty with her British army assault rifle and if anything, the combination of his escape with the satellite signal going down might make Jo even more paranoid and push her into a violent standoff with the cops.

As Kyle stopped the van and pulled on the handbrake, he realised that Nick Cobb’s only decent chance of leaving Hummingbird Farm alive would be if he rescued him.

*

Back at the cottage in Corbyn Copse, Zara had barely been off the phone in the half hour since James rang through with the information on AFA headquarters. She’d taken down all the details of the farm layout from James, as well as who the activists were and what weapons they had, before relaying it all to the headquarters of the national anti-terrorist unit in Milton Keynes.

One problem with CHERUB operations is that you have to cover your tracks if agents behave in a way that makes it clear that they aren’t ordinary kids and James’ situation at the safe house was one of them: Adelaide and Mark were surely going to wonder how a fourteen-year-old boy had overpowered them, before disappearing without trace.

But that was only one of Zara’s problems. She was on the phone to CHERUB’s liaison at the anti-terrorist unit and she was absolutely furious over the mix-up with the satellite uplink.

‘I have a sixteen-year-old agent on that farm,’ she yelled. ‘I don’t care what your director says about the importance of cutting off the oxygen of publicity to terrorists. I’m concerned about the safety of my agent and when I pass confidential information up to you, I expect you to make intelligent use of it, not to put them at risk.’

‘It’s out of my hands,’ said the voice on the other end of the line.

‘I know it’s not your fault, Joseph, but the local police say it’s going to be at least another hour until they can get their armed response teams out to Rothbury and ready to move in on Hummingbird Farm. The absolute last thing you should have done is cut the satellite relay and put the AFA on a higher state of alert.’

Lauren was dealing with the calls Zara couldn’t take and came running out of the kitchen with her mobile at her ear.

‘Give us a second,’ Zara said into her phone. ‘I’ve got to speak to Lauren.’

‘I’ve got campus on the phone,’ Lauren explained. ‘They’ve contacted MI5. They have a team on an operation in Gateshead who can drive over and sort out the situation with Mark and Adelaide.’

Zara nodded hurriedly as she covered the microphone of the phone in her hand. ‘Good work, Lauren. Can you ring the details through to James yourself? The number’s written on the notice board in the kitchen.’

‘Right,’ Lauren nodded, before dashing back to the kitchen and turning down the volume on the portable TV. Meatball was jumping up and down, wanting to play.

‘Sorry mate, I’m a bit busy,’ Lauren said, giving the dog a quick stroke while dialling Mark’s mobile.

‘Zara?’ James asked anxiously.

‘It’s me,’ Lauren said.

‘Hey, sis. I’ve been stuck here for an hour awaiting instructions. Can you tell Zara to sort something out pronto?’

‘She’s busy dealing with Kyle,’ Lauren explained, ‘but I’ve just got off the phone with the control room on campus. I’ve got your instructions. Ready?’

‘Yeah,’ James said. ‘And say it quick, I keep getting the low battery warning on this phone.’

‘MI5 are sending out a unit to your flat to tidy things up, but they don’t have high enough security clearance for CHERUB operations, so you’ve got to be out of there before they arrive. Have you got a car or something?’

‘Choice of two,’ James nodded.

‘Right, pick up your stuff, get in a car and make your own way back to campus.’

‘So how will they cover for me?’ James asked.

‘The MI5 dudes will inject Mark and Adelaide with enough tranquilliser to knock them out for twelve hours or so. They’ll wake up in a police station in a state of total confusion, and be told that they were arrested following an anonymous tip-off from a suspicious neighbour. They can claim that you tied them up if they want, but nobody’s gonna believe them.’

‘Good stuff,’ James grinned. ‘What about me?’

‘They’ll say that you scarpered out of a window when the cops kicked the door in.’

‘I’l grab some car keys and shoot off then,’ James said. ‘See you back at campus, I expect.’

The phone made another low-battery bleep as James flipped it shut. He wandered into the living-room, where Mark and Adelaide were now blindfolded, gagged and expertly trussed.

‘Hope you’re nice and comfy there,’ James grinned, as he reached into Adelaide’s trouser pocket and grabbed the keys to the rather spiffy looking Mini Cooper parked outside. It was a long drive back to campus, so he decided to take all the paper money from Adelaide’s purse in case he needed to stop for something.

After diving into the toilet for a quick slash, James stuffed the two guns and a bottle of mineral water into a carrier bag. It took a leap of the imagination for James to pass as someone old enough to hold a driving licence, so he looked down at the pavement as he hurried out to the car and stepped into the driving seat.

Once inside, he flipped on the air-conditioning to conquer the stifling heat before fumbling around, looking for a road atlas or map under the seat or in the glove compartment. All he came across was a pair of sunglasses, which he put on in the hope that they made him look older, or at least made it harder to see that he was only fourteen.

With no atlas, James figured that he’d head south for a hundred miles or so and then buy a map and work out the finer points of his route somewhere along the motorway.

Kyle stepped out of the van and wandered across to Chase.

‘What’s up?’ the stocky woman asked.

‘Jo sent me over,’ Kyle lied. ‘She told me to take over so you could go back to the house for a cup of tea and a bite.’

‘Thanks,’ Chase grinned. ‘I’m busting for a pee, actually. It’s undignified having to squat in the bushes.’

Kyle cleared his throat as she started walking away. ‘Sorry Chase, but I don’t reckon I’ll make much of a guard if I’m left to fend off the enemy with my bare hands.’

Chase burst out laughing. ‘God I’m daft.’ she giggled, as she unhitched the strap from her shoulder and passed the rifle to Kyle. ‘Do you know how it works?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ Kyle said, expertly clicking off the safety and raising the heavy rifle so that the muzzle pointed at Chase’s head. ‘Start walking back towards the house, quickly and quietly. Be a good girl or I’ll have to shoot you.’

Chase’s eyelids fluttered like she’d heard a tasteless joke, until Kyle’s grim expression made it clear that he wasn’t joking.

It was two hundred metres to the house and Kyle gave his hostage a couple of shoves in the back to make her pick up the pace: he had no cover and it would only take someone looking out of a window to turn the whole show into a shoot-out.

Keeping his finger on the trigger, Kyle cut behind the house, hoping to find Tom in the courtyard; but it looked like he’d gone searching for keys. He did find a four-wheeled trolley with pneumatic tyres that had been used to shift some of the heavier studio equipment the day before.

Kyle looked at Chase. ‘Take it.’

‘You’re off your skull,’ she sneered.

‘You might well be right,’ Kyle said, too nervous even to force a grin, as part of him wished he’d taken the simple option of driving out of the gate and leaving the tricky stuff to the cops.

Rifle poised, Kyle led into the house through the chunky back door, with Chase and the squeaking trolley wheels behind him. He leaned into the kitchen and was relieved to find it empty, then cut across the hallway and peeked inside the giant dining-hall before looking back at Chase.

‘Leave the trolley. You go in first.’

Kyle counted eight AFA members in the room: Chase, Viv, Jay, Jo, plus the two teenage lads who’d been working as stage hands and the women who worked the cameras. Tom was the only absentee.

Apart from Chase, they were all standing close to the cage. Kyle clicked the gun into single-shot mode and fired a round at the wall to grab everyone’s attention.

‘Hands up everyone,’ he shouted.

Kyle reckoned that Jo, who had a gun, and Viv, who didn’t, were the most likely to give him trouble. He closed Jo down with the gun aimed at her head and tried to sound as friendly as his nerves would let him.

‘I think we’ve made our point, Jo,’ Kyle said. ‘Let Cobb out of the cage and I’ll take him to hospital. You’ll be long gone by the time the cops get here.’

‘You haven’t got the guts to shoot us,’ Jo hissed. ‘And don’t you care about the animals?’