eating would help or hinder the situation. ‘What have you got?’
‘It’s a full English, with bacon or sausage, eggs any style and granary toast with a selection of fresh fruit preserves and whipped butter.’
James was well off-form at this time of the morning. It took him longer than it should have to realise he was having his leg pulled.
‘I am a bit hungry, I suppose.’
‘Well it comes wrapped in cellophane and I’m told it’s highly nutritious. Do you want it or not?’
James shrugged. ‘I guess.’
The cop came back and slotted a grey plastic tray through the flap, followed by a plastic mug filled with milky tea.
‘Do you know what’s going on?’ James asked. ‘I’ve been stuck down here all night.’
‘You’re under-age, so we can’t question you, release you, or do anything else until your parent or guardian turns up,’ the custody officer explained.
James had named Zara as his social worker and given the police a local phone number that would automatically re-route to the twenty-four-hour situation room on campus. Having ascertained that James wasn’t in any danger, it looked like nobody on campus was in any great rush to get out of bed in the early hours of Sunday morning and drive to his rescue.
James ate the cereal and nibbled at a rubbery waffle-type thingy with cubes of pink and orange fruit in the middle. He couldn’t help wondering what Lauren would say when she found out he’d got into another fight. He’d planned to stay out of trouble, but that’s not always easy when you’re on a mission.
There was the tantalising sound of a key in the cell door as he drained his mug.
‘Looks like you’re headin’ home,’ the custody sergeant said, as the door swung open.
He flung a box containing James’ belongings on to the bed.
‘Aren’t they gonna question me or nothing?’ James asked, as he slid his feet in his trainers and began shoving his keys, mobile and stuff back into his pockets.
‘I believe they questioned quite a few of your pals,’ the sergeant explained. ‘But that lot like settling their own scores. The two lads in the hospital refused to give the police any statement, which leaves you in the clear.’
‘Thank god for that,’ James said.
‘Don’t get too full of yourself,’ the cop warned, as he led James out of the cell towards the reception area. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if they catch up with you.’
John Jones had landed the task of driving down from CHERUB campus at five on a Sunday morning. John was a dome-headed ex-police, ex-MI5 agent, who’d joined CHERUB as a mission controller less than a year earlier. He’d worked with James on his two biggest missions.
John showed the custody sergeant a fake ID that said, London Borough of Tower Hamlets, Social Services.
‘How come you’re here?’ James asked, as they walked out of the police station into a drizzly Sunday morning.
‘Zara’s got two kids,’ John explained. ‘She sees little enough of them, without her having to make fake IDs and drive to London in the middle of the night. Besides, she’s a senior mission controller and this job is strictly small-time.’
‘Are you taking over as mission controller now?’ James asked, as they started walking towards the car.
John nodded, ‘For my sins.’
‘Sorry I got you out of bed in the middle of the night.’
‘I expect I’ll live,’ John replied. ‘I’ve been working undercover since before you were born, James. It’s not the first night’s sleep I’ve missed and I’d have a few quid on it not being the last.’
John had driven down in one of the CHERUB pool cars, a black Vauxhall Omega. James spotted Millie Kentner hunched over in the back as he got in the front passenger seat.
‘Morning,’ James said.
Millie looked at John. ‘Can we shift out of here pronto, before someone from inside the station recognises me?’
The police station was only a few minutes’ drive from Palm Hill estate. John pulled up in a side street, and the three of them had a conversation while the rain pelted the roof of the car.
‘What happened, James?’ Millie asked tersely.
James looked back over his shoulder, surprised at her tone. ‘Two nutters tried to start on us. I did what I could to keep them happy, but they wanted trouble and they got it.’
Millie tutted. ‘I have enough problems with the lunatics around here, without you trying to set off World War Three between Palm Hill and the Grosvenor Estate.’
‘I didn’t start anything,’ James said irritably. ‘You were a