New Guard (CHERUB) - Robert Muchamore Page 0,40

do you think of my yard, Ryan?’

‘Machines and trucks, like every five-year-old boy’s dream,’ Ryan answered, earning a big laugh as they set off briskly down a gravel path.

A truck honked and Uncle gave the driver a thumbs-up as they walked a couple of hundred metres.

‘I like this business,’ Uncle told Ryan, holding his arms out wide. ‘You start with junk, you end with money. No branding, no advertising, no smartass San Francisco start-up building an app and taking half your passengers.’

Ryan nodded. ‘You said you might be able to fix me up with some work?’

Uncle looked over his shoulder at the man in the overalls. ‘What do you reckon, George? Good strong arms on him.’

‘Next spot that opens up is his,’ George said. ‘Gimme your mobile, it’ll probably be a few weeks.’

‘And maybe I can find some tasks more suited to your skills in the meantime,’ Uncle said, throwing a couple of punches to make his point. ‘Eh, son?’

Ryan smiled as Uncle explained to George.

‘Mya takes down guys weighing three hundred pounds. But this lad had her pinned under a table.’

George smiled. ‘Maybe he can visit that woman on the estate who calls Environmental Health every time we run the shredder after seven …’

Ryan smiled as they rounded a corner into a section of the yard with a high wire perimeter around it. Inside was a large aluminium hangar, three storeys high, with sliding orange doors which were raised at the bottom.

After ducking under, Ryan found himself in a room full of machinery. Most dated from the seventies or eighties with beige control cabinets fitted with LED displays and tiny amber-screen monitors. There were several huge cylinders and mechanical arms. At the far end was a workshop where three men seemed to be disassembling some kind of ancient pump.

‘Are these fairground rides?’ Ryan asked.

George and Uncle roared with laughter.

‘Engineering parts,’ Uncle explained. ‘We break them down for spares and scrap what’s left. If you get it right, it’s extremely profitable.’

As George and Uncle began a conversation with one of the guys working on a pump, Ryan studied the equipment and recognised a couple of major oil company logos. Lots of the gear had gauges with measurements in barrels or gallons and he realised that the giant posts which he’d initially imagined were spokes from a fairground ride were drilling rods. In the far corner there were four giant drill heads.

As he stepped in further, Ryan realised that close to half of the hangar was lined with control consoles and tatty spare-part boxes bearing the tartan logo of a company called Offshore Marine Exploration. It seemed significant, because he knew that Uncle was up to something in the Middle East, and that the region’s economy was dominated by oil. He’d have liked more time to explore, but Uncle was on the march after his conversation.

‘So I’ll need your number,’ George reminded Ryan, as they ducked back under the door. ‘You can find your way back to your car?’

Ryan tapped his number into George’s iPhone and Uncle shook his hand.

‘Be in touch,’ George said, making a phone with his fingers before striding off after his boss to inspect some other area of the yard.

Ryan sauntered back to his car and got sworn at by a crazy guy who almost mowed him down in a dump truck. When he neared the cabin, he saw Mya sat on the steps out front wearing a big smile. Then he noticed a broken wing mirror on the ground beside his Peugeot.

‘What the hell?’ Ryan shouted, as he picked up the mirror and stormed over to Mya. ‘Did you do this?’

Mya half smiled. ‘There’s some pretty big rats around the yard. Maybe one of them bit it off.’

‘Bitch,’ Ryan hissed.

Mya shot up. ‘You want a piece of me?’ she shouted. ‘You made me look weak in front of my boss.’

This time she had her arms up. Ryan had no idea if he could beat Mya again, but he didn’t have anything to gain by fighting and the car belonged to CHERUB, so he didn’t much care about the mirror either.

‘I’m too much of a gentleman,’ Ryan said, bowing sarcastically as he got into the car.

Mya flipped him off with both hands as he drove away.

23. SKY

‘Yo!’ James said, as he let Ryan into the flat.

James had gone full slob, dressed in shorts and his lucky Arsenal shirt, watching Soccer Saturday with a bottle of beer and a half-eaten Domino’s.

‘Pepperoni,’ James said. ‘Gone a bit cold, but