CHERUB: Class A - Robert Muchamore Page 0,79

the palm tree and bounced over its thick trunk.
At the top of the slope, the ground levelled off on to a tiled patio. James swerved around Keith’s brick barbecue and picked up speed as he rolled downhill. It was much easier navigating through the low bushes and flowerbeds on the windswept ocean side of the house. At the bottom, James swerved to avoid Keith’s fishpond, then floored the accelerator. He needed to pick up speed to break through the fence at the back of the house.
A thin concrete post shattered as the front of the car ripped a hole through a tangle of plastic mesh and barbed wire. The car nose-dived off a metre-high wall. The back wheels spun in free air until the front wheels burrowed into the soft sand and pulled the front of the car forward. Once all four wheels were firmly planted on level ground, James hit the accelerator and began tearing along the sand, dragging a ten-metre section of chain link fence behind him. He nudged the steering wheel from left to right until the wire disentangled itself from the rear bumper.
Once the wire was gone, everything seemed eerily calm; just the gentle whoosh of the air-conditioning and a few hundred metres of level sand lit up by the headlamps. James looked back in the mirror. Nobody seemed to be coming after him. He reached into his shorts and grabbed his mobile.
‘Beverly, are you still there?’
‘What the hell was that noise?’ John Jones asked, sounding like he was in a bit of a state. ‘Did I hear gunshots? Are you OK?’
‘I’m OK, but I might have just killed some maniac and now they’ve got hold of Junior. I’m driving along the beach in Keith’s Range Rover. When I see a gap between the houses, I’m gonna pull up on to the road.’
‘OK,’ John said. ‘You’re sure nobody’s following?’
‘Not so far as I can tell.’
‘Do you know how to drive to the IHOP from where you are at the moment?’
‘Sure,’ James said. ‘It’s only a couple of kilometres.’
‘I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes. Beverly will be with me. She knows you’re my informant, but she doesn’t know anything about CHERUB, so watch what you say.’
‘No worries,’ James said.
‘Get off the beach as quickly as you can and drive sensibly. You don’t want to get picked up by the cops.’
*
The pancake place was closed, so they ended up in a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s across the street. John sat across the table from James, while Beverly got apple pies and coffees at the counter. James looked between his legs at his blood-stained trainers.
‘A hundred and nineteen ninety-nine,’ James said bitterly. ‘The first lot got stolen, now this lot are ruined.’
John Jones laughed. ‘Maybe it’s god’s way of telling you that a hundred and twenty pounds is an obscene amount of money to pay for a pair of plimsolls.’
Beverly put the tray of coffees on the table and squeezed up next to James on the plastic bench. She was small, about twenty-five, with long chestnut hair and freckles. She didn’t look hard enough to be a drug enforcement agent.
‘I spoke to the local units,’ Beverly said. ‘The bad guys got rattled when you escaped. They tried to take Keith Moore away in their car. The police spotted them and there was a shoot-out. Keith Moore took a bullet through his shoulder. It’s early days, but they think he’ll be OK.’
‘What about Junior?’ James asked.
‘The guys knocked him around quite badly. He’s been taken to hospital, but it’s too early to say what kind of state he’s in.’
‘I hope he’s OK,’ James said anxiously. He took a sip from his steaming polystyrene cup. ‘So who were those guys? What did they want with Keith?’
‘They’re probably linked to the Lambayeke cartel,’ John said. ‘I’d bet my last dollar bill that they were after the numbers of Keith’s secret bank accounts.’
‘I thought Keith dealt with Lambayeke,’ James said. ‘Weren’t they friendly?’
‘Keith dealt with the Lambayeke cartel for twenty years,’ John said. ‘But they’re not the kind of people you invite round to your house for a dinner party. As long as Keith was buying drugs from Lambayeke and making them money, they left him alone. Then KMG collapsed around Keith’s ears. He’s not going to buy any more drugs, he doesn’t know who he can trust and he’s sitting on a big pile of money.’
‘So they decided to rob him?’ James said.
‘That’s right,’ John nodded. ‘Keith Moore has millions stashed away in