New Guard (CHERUB) - Robert Muchamore Page 0,35

and jarred all the bits of Ryan’s body that hurt after six hours’ graft. Inside was like the scrapyard scene from Breaking Bad and every other thriller Ryan had ever seen, with stacked-up cars and red London buses awaiting their last ride.

‘Got the biggest car shredder in Europe down there,’ Beast said proudly, as he pointed out left into darkness. ‘Have to shut it down at night ’cos the estate lot what lives behind moan about the noise. Back in the old days we used to smack down anyone who complained to the council, but Uncle makes us behave ourselves these days.’

Beast roared with laughter as he stopped abruptly, then reversed up to a mound of random scrap. The pair climbed in the back cage and spent ten minutes throwing out the metal shelves.

‘Is there a toilet?’ Ryan asked.

Beast laughed. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony, son.’

As Ryan peed on scrap, Beast headed towards a pair of cabins and unlocked a door. The first cabin was some sort of site office, filled with staff lockers and safety gear. The second was more modern, with blinds at the window and an air conditioner on the roof.

‘Is that Uncle’s office?’ Ryan asked, as Beast came out and started locking the other hut.

‘Never stays in one place for long,’ Beast explained, as he handed Ryan a half-litre bottle of cola. It was cold to touch.

‘Worked hard,’ Beast said, as Ryan downed half the bottle in four gulps.

‘Got any jobs here?’ Ryan asked. ‘Anything that pays? I’m young, but I’ll pull my weight.’

‘No chance,’ Beast said, as he locked up his truck before setting off towards a battered BMW. ‘Besides, a lad your age should be studying.’

Ryan moved to get in the passenger side, but Beast shook his head.

‘I ain’t your taxi service,’ Beast grunted. ‘You’ll pick up a night bus from the stop at the end of Savoy Crescent. And don’t hang around, ’cos there’s a few guard dogs on the loose in here.’

Beast floored the gas, spinning up his back wheels and flailing Ryan with grit. Ryan had been hot all night, but now the breeze caught sweat-soaked jeans and hoodie. He considered investigating the huts, maybe even picking a lock and having a rummage. But CHERUB teaches you never to act without preparation.

Ryan batted a clump of mud off his cheek, and double-tapped his earlobe to activate the microphone on his com unit as he set off at a jog.

‘You there, James?’ Ryan asked. ‘Did you catch all that?’

James laughed. ‘Sounded like progress to me, pal. You OK?’

‘I’m trashed,’ Ryan said. ‘Can you pick me up?’

‘Last time you rode on the back of my motorbike you said it was the most terrifying experience of your whole life,’ James noted. ‘And that you’d never ride with me again.’

Ryan reached the electronic gate and realised that Beast had shut it behind him. Glancing around, he found a tear in the fence close by.

‘Well you’re still alive,’ Ryan noted. ‘So I guess your riding isn’t that deadly.’

20. BAGS

It was past 3 a.m. by the time James dropped Ryan back at Nurtrust and filed a detailed report so that staff on campus could start doing background research. He still looked tired the following noon, as he walked into a Costa Coffee in central Birmingham and spotted an Asian woman. She had tight-cropped hair and wore dayglo Nikes and leggings, like she’d be heading towards the gym.

‘Tanisha?’ James asked, as he approached holding freshly squeezed orange and a triple espresso. ‘Can I get you something?’

‘I’m good,’ Tanisha said.

‘Thanks for meeting at short notice,’ James said, as he settled on a leatherette bench and laid a document pouch on the table. ‘Are you good friends with Inspector Patel?’

Tanisha smiled. ‘Aisha started off as a community support officer, back when I was a junior scribbler for the East Birmingham Echo. We got to know each other quite well.’

‘Inspector Patel said you’re the person to talk to if you want to know about Uncle. She said you wrote articles about him, most of which weren’t published.’

Tanisha raised a hand and sounded blunt. ‘Who are you?’

James pulled a credit-card-sized ID out of his wallet. It showed him as a detective inspector with the Metropolitan Police.

‘And who are you really with?’ Tanisha said, smirking.

‘That’s a genuine ID,’ James said defensively. ‘Look at the hologram.’

‘I know they fast-track graduates in the Met, but how old are you? Twenty-five, tops.’

James snatched back his Met Police ID and swapped it for his real one.

‘Her Majesty’s Intelligence