you westerners.
James smiled as he moved across to his camp bed and yawned. ‘They’re a lot easier on your feet than hard-soled Russian boots, that’s all I know.’
Kazakov tutted, before leaning forward and wagging his finger. ‘During World War Two the German soldiers had the best technology; but when the snows came the German equipment froze and supply lines broke down. The Russian soldiers didn’t even have warm coats, but they were peasant stock, used to going hungry and surviving on scraps. While the Germans starved, Russian troops pulled up trees and bushes and stewed the roots until they were soft enough to eat. And if those Russians hadn’t boiled up those roots, Germany would have won the war and Britain would be a German colony.’
James shook his head. ‘I reckon the Americans might have had something to say about that.’
Kazakov laughed. ‘The Americans don’t like to fight dirty. Look at Vietnam, look at Iraq. I wear these boots because they’re the same kind I used in Afghanistan and they worked just fine. I know my knife because it killed in Afghanistan. I’ve worked with your SAS and I’ve seen SA80 rifles and Glock machine pistols jam. I carry a Kalashnikov because you can walk out of a swamp or a sand storm and know that a bullet comes out when you pull the trigger.’
Kazakov only ever became animated when talking about war or weapons. James couldn’t help smiling. ‘You actually like all this, don’t you?’
‘Like what?’
‘Living in the jungle, washing out your clothes by hand, patching up your kit.’
‘I have no family,’ Kazakov shrugged. ‘The only thing I know is being a soldier – and a good soldier sticks with equipment he can trust.’
James lay back on his bed. He thought of himself as a tough guy, and compared to most fifteen-year-olds he was, but he was nothing compared to the Russian.
‘It’s time,’ Kazakov said, cracking a rare smile as he splashed the dregs from his canteen over James’ bare stomach. ‘Go get the snakes; I’ll prepare the rifles and simunition.’
James unzipped the tent quickly and ducked into the night, before the insects got a chance to pour in. The two-room command tent set up next door was presently empty. Dana had travelled with a local guide, taking the Land Cruiser deeper into the jungle to set up equipment for the trainees’ rafting expedition for the next morning; Mr Pike had taken Jo McGowan to a hospital on the mainland.
When James was a trainee he’d assumed that CHERUB instructors had free rein to commit acts of cruelty. In fact, the 100-day training course was meticulously planned. Every exercise took a mass of organisation and involved a complicated safety audit as well as careful consideration of what ten-to twelve-year-old trainees were capable of.
One of the guiding principles of training was that the pupils should always be uncomfortable. They were taught to expect the unexpected and to live with a little less food and sleep than they were used to. Tonight was going to be no exception.
James yawned as he walked around the back of the command tent to a pile of crates and boxes that had been unloaded from the boat. There was a glimmer of moonlight, but he needed his pocket lamp to read the laminated tags dangling from each crate.
He moved the torch beam back and forth until he found the boxes marked DAY 96 EXERCISE 7B (LIVE CARGO). The box was made from blue plastic, and as he lifted it the contents writhed around and bodies slapped against the plastic sides.
After resting his torch on the ground, James peeled off a strip of parcel tape. As he raised up the lid to peek inside, a blaze of light from a hot lamp blinded him. The lamp was set on a timer and designed to switch on and make the cold-blooded snakes inside hyperactive. The pinkish grey creatures snapped their jaws and began poking their heads into the gap beneath the lid, forcing James to slam it down in a panic.
The reptiles were Malaysian pit vipers. Although they were only babies, they would normally carry enough venom to kill a small human. However, these vipers had undergone a minor operation to remove their venom producing glands and as a result the only injury they could inflict was a nasty bite from their powerful jaws. But of course, the sleeping trainees had no idea that they were harmless.
By the time James had lugged the box around towards the trainees’