CHERUB: Class A - Robert Muchamore Page 0,31

over the entrance: LAST FEW HOMES REMAINING – PRICES FROM £245,000. The houses were neat, with newly planted trees and recent-plate Fords and Toyotas parked on the driveways. There was no traffic and little kids played outside on skateboards and micro-scooters.
As James freewheeled down a gentle slope, he noticed the streets were named after musical instruments. Trumpet Close, Cornet Avenue, Bassoon Road.
He turned into Trombone Villas, the most exclusive street in the development. The grey tarmac became red and the cars on the driveways changed to Range Rovers and Mercedes. He was looking for Stonehaus, and like millions of delivery people before him, James had learned to hate house names. With numbers, you knew that 56 was after 48 and 21 was on the other side of the road. Stonehaus could be anywhere. He found it after a search, the signpost hidden behind a BMW X5 and a Grand Voyager. He wheeled up the driveway and pressed the bell, which sounded off a tinny version of When The Saints Go Marching In.
A boy ran down the hallway and opened the door. He was eight or nine, wearing the long grey socks and fancy uniform of a fee-paying school. At this time of day, the kid was in a state, with his bare chest showing under his unbuttoned grey shirt.
‘Daddy,’ the kid shouted.
A man holding a whisky tumbler hurried down the stairs, while the kid ran back to the TV.
‘HEYYYYY there,’ the man said, trying to sound cooler than the fat balding man he really was. ‘Four grams, wasn’t it?’
James nodded. ‘Two hundred and forty quid.’ He went into his backpack and got the four bags of cocaine. The man peeled five fifties off a roll of notes.
‘I don’t have change,’ James said.
Del had taught James to pretend never to have change. If the customer kicked up a fuss, you miraculously remembered that you had money from a previous delivery in your backpack; but you were hoping the average middle-class coke snorter didn’t want to keep a drug dealer hanging about on his doorstep and simply said:
‘No worries, son, keep the change for yourself.’
James smiled and tucked the money in his pocket. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he said. ‘Enjoy yourself.’
The man closed the door. James couldn’t help smiling. He’d just earned thirty-six pounds commission, plus a ten-pound tip, for a half-hour bike ride.
*
It was gone nine when James got home. Everyone was waiting for him in the living room. Two weeks into the mission, Ewart and Zara wanted a conference to see what everyone was doing and to work out the best way forward.
‘Sorry I kept you waiting,’ James said. ‘But I’ve got to deliver when I get a call.’
Zara had rearranged the sofas in the living room and brought in kitchen chairs, so everyone could sit facing each other. James squeezed on to a sofa between Kyle and Nicole.
‘OK,’ Ewart said. ‘I want each of you to say what you think you’ve achieved so far. Keep it short, you’ve all got to get up for school tomorrow.’
‘Nicole,’ Zara said, ‘why don’t you start?’
Nicole cleared her throat. ‘You pretty much know. I’ve been getting on OK with April. She knows what her dad does for a living, but keeps out of it. I’ve been to Keith Moore’s house a few times doing homework and stuff and I’ve met him; just exchanging hellos and that.’
‘That’s a good start,’ Ewart nodded. ‘Do you think you can carry on getting regular access to the house?’
‘Sure,’ Nicole said. ‘April likes having the girls round and showing off her giant bedroom. She likes to think of herself as the leader of our group. I’m going to a sleepover there this Saturday.’
‘Have you had much of a chance to nose around the house?’ Zara asked.
‘I thought I’d play it safe to start with,’ Nicole said. ‘You’ve got all the notes and stuff I copied from the cork board in the kitchen.’
‘Do you think you could place mini-cameras and listening devices around the house?’
‘Easily,’ Nicole nodded. ‘The house is big, so if anyone asks what I’m doing, I can pretend I got lost and wandered into the wrong room.’
‘Excellent,’ Ewart said. ‘Could you get a nose inside Keith’s office?’
‘I doubt it, he’s usually in there. The one time he was out, I tried and the door was locked. I suppose I could take my lock gun.’
‘No way,’ Ewart said. ‘If someone sees you with a lock gun, it will put you in serious danger and blow this whole operation.’
‘The next