New Guard (CHERUB) - Robert Muchamore Page 0,29

saw that the driver was focused entirely on Googling with his phone. He glanced at Daniel, who made a slight nod towards Trey.

‘Gotcha,’ Leon murmured.

Leon launched himself at the driver, using a pivoting high kick that caught him in the temple and knocked him cold. As the big man crashed, Daniel grabbed a length of wood resting against a wall and made a lance, driving it hard into Trey’s stomach.

As Trey gasped, Daniel felled him with a kick behind the knee and ripped the stapler out of his hands. CHERUB agents are trained to use minimum force, but Daniel didn’t have much time for people who fire staples into twelve-year-olds. Even if the twelve-year-old in question was a horrible lying shit …

‘See how you like it,’ Daniel roared, as he put the stapler against Trey’s butt and fired three staples through his jeans.

‘Dude!’ Leon said, jangling the keys to the VW as he gave Daniel a shove. ‘We’re in enough trouble already.’

Daniel knew his brother was right, so instead of shooting another staple, he swung a punch with the tool, catching Trey in the head and knocking him cold. Then he crouched down and took the pocket revolver, instinctively checking inside the barrel before dropping it into his front tracksuit pocket.

‘One measly bullet,’ Daniel noted, showing his brother.

Oli had been bawling his head off the whole time and as the twins closed in, they realised that while one staple hadn’t done much damage, the second was lodged deep in the bony part of his index finger.

‘Gruesome,’ Leon said.

On some level, both twins felt sorry for Oli. For all his faults, Oli was a mixed-up kid who’d had tough breaks. But they had to stay in character for the sake of the mission, and Oli had lied and cheated them.

‘Where’s the money you made today?’ Leon demanded.

Oli had tears streaming down his face. ‘In my shorts,’ he sobbed.

It took Leon a couple of seconds to work this out, but when he lifted Oli’s jacket, he realised that Oli wore shorts with pockets under his jeans.

‘Money’s ours,’ Leon said, as he ripped open a Velcro pocket and pulled out several hundred pounds in twenties.

‘All of it,’ Daniel added.

‘Please,’ Oli sniffled.

‘There’s six hundred quid here,’ Leon said brightly. ‘Any complaints?’

Oli flickered with anger, then sighed. ‘It’s yours. I’m sorry. OK?’

Across the room, Trey’s driver was coming around and making a move towards the door.

‘One more move,’ Leon warned, brandishing the stapler and making his point with a couple of shots at the ceiling.

Oli groaned as Daniel helped him off the table.

‘Suppose we’d better take you to hospital,’ Daniel said, as he tore white tissue out of a dispenser. ‘Wrap this around your hand.’

‘I’ll drive,’ Leon added, rattling the keys to the Volkswagen.

17. PAWN

Freja was a Dane by birth: witchlike grey hair and somewhere in her early sixties. She moved like she was younger as she opened the door of her small shop. It was in a side road, close to Birmingham New Street station, and a customer in a suit wanted to get in as she stepped out, carrying a freestanding sign that read, We Buy Gold for £££.

The customer wanted a watch battery. Freja opened dozens of tiny plastic drawers behind the shop counter until she found the right size. She charged four pounds and offered to fit for free, but the man was in a hurry and said he’d do it himself. As she put the day’s first takings in the till, Freja heard the bell over the shop door jangle, and saw two large men reflected in a glass cabinet full of second-hand camera equipment.

‘Good morning, gentlemen.’

Trey had spent much of the previous evening in casualty. There was bandage under his tracksuit bottoms where three staples had been removed. His big hands drummed on the counter.

‘Kid came in yesterday,’ he began. ‘Stocky lad. Four MacBook Airs that belong to me. Don’t want no fuss, I’ll pay back whatever you paid the kid.’

In the background, Trey’s driver pulled a roll of fifty-pound notes.

‘Six hundred, wasn’t it?’

Freja stiffened up, giving the impression that she’d dealt with plenty of situations like this before. At the same moment, the driver bolted the shop door and flipped a sign to closed.

‘No laptops or other high-value items are kept on these premises,’ Freja said. ‘I wasn’t working yesterday. But if my colleague purchased a computer, it will have been passed on to our reseller. They either strip the equipment for parts or wipe all the data