Secret Army - Robert Muchamore Page 0,87

shuffled chairs and made a space for him.

‘So, what was jump training like?’ Troy asked eagerly.

‘It wasn’t bad,’ Paul said, as he tapped the boiled egg on the tabletop and began peeling off the shell.

‘Is it true that Luc crashed a bus into King’s Cross station?’

‘He was on the bus when it crashed,’ Paul said. ‘He wasn’t driving.’

‘You all looked so bashed up when you came in last night,’ Yves said.

Paul laughed as he thought about this. ‘It was a right scene when we were all getting into bed,’ he explained. ‘I’ve got bad legs and a broken nose, Joel has his ankle in plaster, Marc’s got a dodgy ankle and thorns stuck in his leg, Luc hurt his back when the bus crashed and my sister got hit by a shotgun pellet. PT’s the only one who didn’t get nobbled.’

The boys all went quiet as Henderson appeared in the doorway. He usually wore his navy uniform, but today he’d put on loose-fitting slacks and a white vest with thick bandages bulging underneath.

‘More walking wounded,’ Troy whispered, raising a few laughs from his training partners.

‘I hear you did well, Paul,’ Henderson said warmly as he approached the table. ‘Can I see you in the office after breakfast?’

‘Of course,’ Paul said.

Henderson then turned his attention to the Group-B boys. ‘Hadn’t you lot better go upstairs and put your PT kit on? Mr Takada won’t be happy if you keep him waiting.’

Paul hated being the centre of attention and was relieved as Group B stood up and began scraping their plates and stacking them on a metal trolley.

When Henderson and the others were gone, Troy came back to the table and whispered in Paul’s ear. ‘I’ve got Mavis.’

Paul’s face lit up, though he didn’t quite believe what he’d heard. ‘The spider?’ he asked.

‘She’s in an old shoe box under my bed,’ Troy explained. ‘I keep her close to the radiator so she stays warm. I sneaked in and got Mrs Henderson’s notebook from the conservatory and I’ve been sticking to her feeding schedule.’

‘Does she seem OK?’

Troy looked wary. ‘She gets really agitated every time I feed her. You’ve had more experience with her than me. Would you mind taking a look?’

‘Of course,’ Paul agreed. ‘It’s probably warm enough, but she needs light and space to move about as well. We’ll have to think of a better place to put her.’

‘My whole group is up there getting changed now, but once we’re down here doing combat training, you can take her out from under my bed.’

‘We’ll have to be careful though,’ Paul said. ‘If Henderson finds out he’ll—’

‘Why you still here?’ Takada interrupted, as he stood in the doorway giving Troy a menacing stare. ‘Go change. Five minutes or you get laps and push-ups.’

‘I’d better go,’ Troy said anxiously.

Paul smiled reassuringly as Troy stepped away. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll look after her together.’

*

McAfferty gave Paul a smile from behind her desk as he stepped into the former headmaster’s office she shared with Henderson. There was barely room for the two desks and coal burned in a fireplace that was too big for the room.

‘Take a seat, lad,’ Henderson said, as he aimed his hand at a wooden school chair facing towards his desk. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m still sore, but a lot better than yesterday,’ Paul said. ‘How about you, sir?’

Henderson looked down at his bandaged chest. ‘The surgeon had to open me up three times before the internal bleeding finally stopped. The last time I suggested he put in a zipper.’

Paul smiled. ‘But you’re OK now?’

‘I’ve got two dozen stitches in my belly, so I’m confined to office duties for a few weeks, at least.’

‘I’m sure I’ll find plenty of paperwork to keep him busy,’ McAfferty added cheekily.

‘Anyway,’ Henderson said. ‘We’ll let the others catch up on their sleep for a couple of hours, but I thought you’d like to know that we’ve had a coded telegram this morning from Eric Mews, the Minister of Economic Warfare.’

‘I thought Mews was the deputy minister,’ Paul said.

‘He was.’ McAfferty nodded. ‘But the Prime Minister hasn’t been happy with the slow progress at the Special Operations Executive. Mews has been promoted, with a remit to shake up the entire organisation.’

‘Anyway, this is what Mews wrote,’ Henderson said, before pausing to clear his throat. ‘To all at CHERUB .. .’

‘What’s CHERUB?’ Paul interrupted.

Henderson smiled. ‘Charles Henderson’s Espionage Research Unit B. The Post Office charges by the word for telegrams, so they shorten things whenever they