CHERUB: Class A - Robert Muchamore Page 0,1

out easily enough. Bruce moaned as a fresh dribble of blood trickled down his hand. James mopped it up, rubbed on antiseptic cream and wound a bandage tightly between Bruce’s fingers.
‘All done,’ James said. ‘Are you right to carry on?’
‘We can’t turn back after going this far.’
‘You rest for a minute,’ James said. ‘I’ll sneak up to the fence and check out the security.’
‘Watch out for video cameras,’ Bruce said. ‘They’ll be expecting us.’
When James switched off the torch, there was only moonlight left. He shuffled to the fence on his belly. The villa looked impressive: two storeys, four-car garage and a kidney-shaped pool out front. The lawn sprinklers chugged gently, the spouts of water illuminated by the porch lights. There was no sign of any cameras or hi-tech security stuff; just the yellow siren box from a cheapo burglar alarm, which would be switched off while anyone was in the house. James turned back towards Bruce.
‘Get up here. It doesn’t look too serious.’
James got out his wire cutters and snipped links in the fence, until there was a slot big enough to squeeze through. He followed Bruce over the lawn, crawling swiftly towards the house. James felt something squish against his leg.
‘Oh … man,’ James said, sounding totally revolted. ‘Jesus.’
Bruce hushed him up. ‘Quiet, for god’s sake. What’s the matter?’
‘I just dragged my knee through a colossal pile of dog crap.’
Bruce couldn’t help smiling. James looked set to puke.
‘This is bad,’ Bruce said.
‘Tell me about it. I’ve had it on my shoe before, but this is on my bare skin.’
‘You know what a massive pile of dog mess means?’
‘Yeah,’ James said. ‘It means I’m extremely pissed off.’
‘It also means there’s a massive dog around here.’
The thought focused James’ mind and got him crawling again. They stopped when they got to the wall of the villa, adjacent to a row of French windows. Bruce sat against the wall and checked out the room inside. The light was on. There were leather sofas and a snooker table inside. They tried sliding the French doors, but every one was locked. The keyholes were on the inside, so there was nothing to use their lock guns on.
WOOF.
The boys snapped their necks around. The mother of all rottweilers stood five metres away. The huge beast had muscles swelling through its shiny black coat and strings of drool hanging off its jaw.
‘Nice doggy,’ Bruce said, trying to keep calm.
The growling dog moved closer, its black eyes staring them down.
‘Who’s a nice doggy-woggy?’ Bruce asked.
‘Bruce, I don’t think it’s gonna roll over and let you tickle its tummy.’
‘Well, what’s your plan?’
‘Don’t show it any fear,’ James quaked. ‘We’ll stare it down. It’s probably as scared of us as we are of it.’
‘Yeah,’ Bruce said. ‘You can tell. The poor thing’s cacking itself.’
James began creeping backwards. The dog let out more volcanic barks. A metal hose reel clattered as James backed into it. He considered the reel for a second, before leaning over and unrolling a few metres of the plastic hose. The dog was only a couple of steps away.
‘Bruce, you run off and try to open a door,’ James gasped. ‘I’ll try fending it off with this pipe.’
James half hoped the dog would go after Bruce, but it kept its eyes fixed, pacing closer to James until he could feel its damp breath on his legs.
‘Nice doggy,’ James said.
The rottweiler reared up on its back legs, trying to knock James over. James spun away and the paws squealed down the glass door. James lashed out with the hosepipe. It cracked against the dog’s ribcage. The beast made a high-pitched yelp and backed up slightly. James cracked the pipe against the patio tiles, hoping the noise would scare the dog away, but if anything the whipping seemed to have made it crazier.
James felt like his guts were going to drop out, imagining how easily the huge animal could rip into his flesh. James had nearly drowned once. He’d thought nothing could ever be scarier, but this had the edge.
A bolt clicked behind James’ head and the French door glided open.
‘Would Sir care to step inside?’ Bruce asked.
James threw down the hose and leapt through the opening. Bruce rammed the door shut before the rottweiler made a move.
‘What took you so long?’ James said anxiously, trying to stop his hands from shaking. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘No sign,’ Bruce said. ‘Which is definitely weird. They’d have to be deaf not to hear that psycho mutt barking at us.’
James grabbed