CHERUB: Class A - Robert Muchamore Page 0,9

to come and apologise.’
‘James,’ Kerry said, ‘will you do us a favour?’
‘Course,’ James said. ‘Name it.’
‘Go and see Bruce. Tell him I’m not making a big deal out of this.’
‘You call this no big deal?’ James laughed. ‘You’re joking.’
‘I’m not,’ Kerry said. ‘I don’t want this turning into some massive feud. Remember I told you I broke Bruce’s leg when we were red shirts?’
‘Sure,’ James said.
‘It was in Karate practice. Bruce fell awkwardly. I came down on him full force and crunched his leg. I never should have done something like that in a practice. Bruce was cool about it. He shrugged it off like it was nothing. Everyone does stupid stuff sometimes. Remember that one, James?’
Kerry held out the palm of her right hand. It had a long scar where James had stomped it during training. ‘You can’t hold grudges against people for every mistake they make,’ she said.
‘Point taken,’ James said. ‘I’ll speak to him.’
*
James hated the row of plastic seats outside the Chairman’s office. If you had to see him for something good, Dr McAfferty – usually known as Mac – let you straight in. When you were in trouble, he kept you hanging outside in suspense. James sat between Gabrielle and Bruce. He was combed and deodorised, in his neatest set of CHERUB uniform: polished boots, army-green trousers and a navy T-shirt with the CHERUB logo embroidered on the front. The other two wore the same, except they were only entitled to wear grey T-shirts. Bruce had four red lines down his face where Kerry had clawed him.
Kerry might have forgiven Bruce, but Gabrielle wasn’t talking to him. James felt like he was on a tightrope. Every time he said something to one of them, the other one huffed as if he was siding against them. James realised it was easiest if he kept quiet.
They waited a good half hour before Mac finally leaned out of his doorway. He was in his sixties, with a neat grey beard and a Scottish accent.
‘Come on then,’ Mac said wearily. ‘Let’s sort you three out.’
James led the way towards Mac’s mahogany desk.
‘No, no, come and look at this,’ Mac said, heading towards an architectural model standing on a table by the window.
The kids stepped up to the model of a crescent-shaped building. It was a metre long, made entirely out of white plastic, with polystyrene trees and tiny white figures walking along paths outside.
‘What is it?’ James asked.
‘It’s our new mission preparation building,’ Mac said enthusiastically. ‘We’re turning those shabby offices on the eighth floor into extra living space and building this beauty to replace them. Over five thousand square metres of office space. Every big mission will have its own office, with new computers and equipment. We’ll have encrypted satellite links to our mission controllers all over the world, as well as to British Intelligence headquarters and the CIA and DOHS in America. This model just arrived from the architect’s office. Isn’t it fantastic?’
The kids nodded. Even if they’d hated it, they wouldn’t have wanted to get on Mac’s bad side by saying so. Mac treated CHERUB campus like his own personal Lego set. He was always having something built or knocked down.
‘It’s an eco-building,’ Mac enthused, lifting the plastic roof off so the kids could see the offices filled with miniature furniture inside. ‘Special glass retains the heat, so it stays warm in the winter. Solar panels on the roof power fans and heat the water.’
‘When’s it being built?’ Bruce asked.
‘It’s already being made in prefabricated sections in a factory in Austria,’ Mac said. ‘That way we can minimise the number of construction workers we have to let loose on campus. Once the concrete base is poured, the whole lot is bolted together in a few weeks. Fitting out the interior should be completed early in the New Year. You wouldn’t believe the amount of arm twisting I’ve had to do to secure the funding.’
‘It’s really cool,’ James said, hoping his enthusiasm would translate into a lighter punishment.
‘Anyway, I suppose I have to sort you three hooligans out,’ Mac said. He clearly would have preferred to go on about his new building for the rest of the afternoon. ‘Plant your bums at my desk.’
The three kids sat in the leather chairs opposite Mac. Mac leaned over his desk, interlocked his fingers and stared at them.
‘I’ve already spoken to Kerry,’ he said. ‘So what have you lot got to say for yourselves?’
‘It’s well unfair that me and Gabrielle