carpet covering the spare wheel. A tyre-changing kit including a jack, a pressure gauge and a pair of large spanners shared the space with the new wheel.
‘Not ideal, but better than nothing,’ Mac said, as he took out a long metal bar with padded feet. It was designed to fit under the car to stop the paintwork getting scratched when you jacked it up, but it would also make a very effective cosh.
‘Grab this,’ Mac said, handing Jake a spanner. ‘Just in case.’
Jake slipped the brand-new spanner into the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms and pulled his sweatshirt over the bit sticking out as they strolled towards the house.
‘Stop and do the lace on your trainer when we get there,’ Mac said.
It took twenty seconds to reach the open gravel frontage of number sixteen. While Jake undid his lace and reknotted it, Mac studied the house.
‘It’s got a For Sale sign,’ Mac said, as he took the tyre pressure gauge out of his coat pocket. ‘That’s a perfect excuse for wandering up and taking a look through the windows. You take this and let as much air as you can out of the Volvo’s front tyre.’
As Jake crouched down and scuttled across the gravel towards the Volvo, Mac took on the role of an elderly house hunter, strolling up to the front of the house and brazenly staring into the front windows.
Muna’s little Volvo was only a few months old, but the plastic cap over the tyre valve was crusted with dirt and Jake had a real job getting it loose. By the time it dropped into the gravel, Mac had spotted the back of Hassam’s head in the bare living-room. After that he strolled around the side of the house with the long metal bar swinging innocently at his side.
Jake glanced back to make sure that nobody was watching from the street before pushing the pressure gauge into the valve on the tyre and squeezing the release button to let out a sharp hiss of air. Letting down a tyre was a basic piece of espionage that every CHERUB agent was trained to carry out. The problem is that letting enough air out of a tyre to make a car undriveable takes four or five nerve-racking minutes.
After less than two, the front door rattled. Jake bobbed his head up and peered through the car. He ducked down as an Arab woman stepped on to the gravel driveway and pressed the remote plipper to unlock the car doors. Jake’s heart thumped as he pocketed the tyre gauge and tried to stay calm. He wasn’t sure if Muna had a gun, but he’d heard how ruthlessly Hassam and Asif had dealt with Sylvia back at the house.
Mac also heard the front door open and he stood at the corner of the house with the metal bar poised. It had been more than a decade since Mac last found himself active on a mission and the tension gave him a peculiar feeling; as if he was an old man watching a younger version of himself from a distance.
He kept the metal bar poised as Muna walked around to the back of the car and raised the tailgate. Hopefully Muna and Hassam were the only adults inside the house. Mac’s strategy was to let Jake deal with Muna if she discovered him, while he’d run out and ambush Hassam if she raised the alarm.
Jake crept through the gravel and moved around to the front of the car between the headlights as Muna opened the tailgate and leaned inside. There was a rip of Velcro and she emerged a second later holding a green first-aid box. Jake and Mac both wondered why it was needed, but it was also a relief because you wouldn’t carry it into the house if you were about to leave.
Mac ducked further into the alleyway at the side of the house as Muna turned and headed back inside. The instant the front door clicked shut, Jake crawled back around to the front of the Volvo and slotted the pressure gauge back into the valve.
*
Muna had a piece of gravel from the driveway trapped inside her high-heeled sandal. Fahim watched from the kitchen as his aunt stood in the hallway brushing the sole of her foot. He was getting more and more worried. The longer he waited, the less likely it seemed that anyone from CHERUB had tracked him to the safe-house. He had to make his move before his