Divine Madness (7 page)

‘I’ve got a Post-it on my desk,’ Meryl said. ‘I read a glowing report about you from Miss Takada yesterday afternoon, so I wrote myself a little reminder. The Post-it says:
 
Make point to see James. Congrats on combat course!
’

James felt like there was a thousand-ton weight pressing down on his head as Meryl sat on the corner of his bed.

‘But, judging by your demeanour and the smell of booze in this room, I’d say you took the celebrations a little too seriously, wouldn’t you?’

James could hear Meryl’s words, but his face was buried in a pillow and he kept remembering horrible stuff from the night before: falling over in the cinema, the popcorn fight, hitting on Gabrielle and failing miserably. And – worst of all – the 2 a.m. scene in Lauren’s room. She was going to be furious.

‘James, sit up,’ Meryl said stiffly. ‘I’m not prepared to conduct a conversation with the back of your head. You’ve missed first lesson already.’

James turned over, not completely surprised that he’d managed to sleep through his alarm. As he moved, he felt his hand slide through something gooey.

I couldn’t have
.

‘Miss, I think I’m sick,’ James gasped, as he sprung up in a state of shock.

‘I’m not surprised, the amount of booze you must have downed last night.’

‘No,’ James said anxiously. ‘Really sick. I think I’ve done something nasty in my bed.’

Meryl scrambled off the bed as James threw back his duvet and braved a look. He caught a waft of vinegar as he realised he was lying in a puddle of salsa.

‘Oh my god,’ James said, scrambling out from under the covers with streaks of chilli and onion goo soaked into his boxers and gliding down his legs.

Meryl couldn’t help smiling. ‘I think someone’s played a trick on you James.’

James knew it must have been a revenge attack from Lauren and Bethany, but he didn’t want to grass them up. Meryl grabbed a large towel out of the bathroom and threw it at him.

‘You’d better wipe that lot off before it goes all over the carpet, and get all the bedding down to the laundry as soon as you’ve showered.’

‘Yeah,’ James said as he rubbed his legs with the towel.

‘Now, about last night. We’re quite lenient about what you kids get up to in your own time. We know the off-licences in town do a roaring trade selling you lot booze and that some of you smoke. But we’re prepared to turn a blind eye provided you’re sensible about it.’

‘Yes, Miss,’ James said meekly.

‘In my book, coming back to campus at one in the morning, urinating in the fountain, getting into pillow fights with Dana and Gabrielle, running up and down the fire stairs shouting
 
Up the Gunners
 
and then waking up your sister and half the other kids on the eighth floor does not fit any standard definition of sensible. Would you agree?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

Meryl jiggled the note again. ‘Because of what Miss Takada said about your performance on the advanced combat course and because you had genuine reason to celebrate, I’m going to let you off with a warning. But I’m going to have zero tolerance for you consuming alcohol on or anywhere near campus for the next six months. Is that understood?’

James was pleasantly surprised. He was expecting Meryl to fine him pocket money and put him on a week of punishment laps.

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘How’s your head?’ Meryl asked sympathetically, as James slumped on the edge of his bed trying to ignore the smell of salsa. The hangover made his stomach churn whenever he thought about it.

‘Pretty rough.’

‘I’ll write you a note excusing you from this morning’s

lessons.’

‘Are you OK?’ James asked suspiciously.

‘I’m fine, why?’

‘You’re being nice to me.’

Meryl laughed. ‘Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. If it bothers you, I can take you out to the athletics track and make you run fifty laps with a hangover.’

‘No, no, it’s good,’ James grinned.

‘Once you’ve showered, you can make your bed up with fresh sheets and rest until lunchtime. I’m told you’ve got an appointment with John Jones and we don’t want you turning up for that feeling like death, do we?’

James looked surprised. ‘What’s that in aid of ?’

‘I haven’t heard all the details about the mission,’ Meryl said. ‘But it’s a big one. Help Earth related, somewhere down under.’

James felt sluggish and ended up getting to the mission preparation building a few minutes late. John Jones liked to keep everything just so. All the papers in his spacious office were stacked neatly and everything down to the coffee mugs were tagged with electronically printed labels.

The man himself wasn’t in. James was surprised to see Lauren and Dana Smith in the room too. Dana was a bit of a tomboy, who preferred the distressed look: sauntering around in an oversized CHERUB T-shirt, trousers pushed down low and muddy boots with the laces undone. She didn’t look much different out of hours, when her uniform got swapped for baggy jeans and a pair of skateboarder shoes that were so tatty you could see her socks bursting out of tears along the sides.

‘All right,’ James said, as he took a chair next to the other two in front of John’s desk.

Dana nodded. ‘Slightly hung over, but not as bad as you I bet. You were
 
hammered
.’

‘Tell me about it,’ James said. ‘I’ve taken paracetamols, but I still feel like there’s a bloke playing drum and bass inside my head.’

‘Did you sleep OK?’ Lauren asked, grinning cheekily. ‘How did you feel when you woke up?’

‘Slept fine,’ James said. ‘Thought I’d cacked myself when I woke up, thank you
 
very
 
much. I turned my mattress over when I put the fresh sheets on, but my bed still reeks of that stuff.’

‘What did you do to him?’ Dana asked.

Lauren smiled. ‘Me and a couple of the girls sneaked in his room and tipped a catering-sized tin of salsa on him while he was sleeping. We thought he’d wake up and chase after us, but he was so zonked he didn’t even notice.’

Dana shook her head, ‘That’s so mean.’

‘Yeah, well
 
he
 
came into my room at two in the morning, made an idiot of himself and woke all my mates up. I’ve never been so embarrassed.’

James knew he was in the wrong and didn’t want things to escalate.

‘I’m big enough to raise my hands and admit it,’ he said. ‘I was wrong, you got me back and I deserved it. Let’s not go into this mission with some feud going on between us.’

‘What are we feuding over?’ John asked, as he entered his office behind them.

‘Nothing,’ James and Lauren said quickly, as they turned around to see that John was with a tough-looking woman with red hair and a freckled complexion.

‘Good,’ John said. ‘I’d like you all to meet Abigail Sanders.’

The kids stood up and shook Abigail’s hand. She said
 
hi
 
to each of them in an Australian accent.

‘So these are my three kids,’ Abigail said. ‘They certainly look the part.’

‘Well, almost certainly your kids,’ John said, as he sat at his desk. Abigail sat next to James on the opposite side, as John continued speaking. ‘All CHERUB agents have the right to refuse a mission and these three haven’t even been briefed yet. In practice though, they’re usually pretty keen. I’ve worked here for eighteen months now and I’ve never known an agent turn a job down.’

John explained for the benefit of the three youngsters. ‘Abigail is an ASIS officer, that’s the Australian Secret Intelligence Service. We’re hoping that you three will be prepared to work with her on an undercover mission based in Australia.’

James and Lauren grinned at the prospect of going to Australia. Dana carried on staring at her boots; but she was the kind of person who probably would have carried on staring at her boots if an atomic bomb went off.

‘Are the briefings written yet?’ Lauren asked.

John nodded as he stood up and dialled the combination into a large wall safe. He opened the heavy door, removed an envelope and distributed three copies of the mission briefing.

***CLASSIFIED MISSION BRIEFING***
FOR JAMES ADAMS, LAUREN ADAMS & DANA SMITH
THIS DOCUMENT IS PROTECTED WITH A RADIO
FREQUENCY IDENTIFICATION TAG. 
ANY
 ATTEMPT
TO REMOVE IT FROM THE MISSION PREPARATION BUILDING WILL SET OFF AN ALARM.
 
DO 
NOT
 PHOTOCOPY OR MAKE NOTES

M
ISSION
 B
ACKGROUND
 
–
 T
HE
 H
ONG
 K
ONG
 M
ISSION

In late 2005 the Echelon intelligence network intercepted an e-mail message relating to a possible Help Earth attack in Hong Kong. The CIA contacted the British security service, who still have strong intelligence connections inside their former colony.

After identifying a young activist named Clyde Xu, MI5 decided to infiltrate Xu’s family using three CHERUB agents. Their aim was to uncover a more senior member of Help Earth.

After six weeks, this mission proved successful. The CHERUB team foiled Clyde Xu’s attempt to blow up a business jet with fifteen oil executives on board and simultaneously tracked a senior member of Help Earth to his hotel room. After incapacitating the man – who goes by the name of Barry Cox – the CHERUB agent was able to steal his personal possessions, including a passport, diary and handheld computer.

It took several days to decrypt all of the data on Cox’s handheld computer and analyse the accompanying paperwork. Unfortunately, the computer contained little except saved games for an electronic chess program. Paper documents gave details of Cox’s recent movements and recorded expenses, but nothing could be discerned from them, except that he had made several flights between Brisbane and Hong Kong over the previous six months. The Australian police could not match Cox’s DNA or fingerprints with any known criminals in their database.

The MI5 analysts were in the final stages of the investigation and had almost given up hope when one of them unravelled an old credit card transaction slip in the back of Cox’s wallet. The credit card number on the slip did not match any of Cox’s cards.

The mysterious credit card was traced to a company called Lomborg Financial, based in Brisbane. The transaction was for a lunch at a Brisbane restaurant six days earlier. The Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS) began a discreet investigation.

The restaurant still had CCTV footage of the afternoon in question. It showed Barry Cox meeting with Arnos Lomborg, chairman of Lomborg Financial. At the end of the meal, Lomborg paid with his credit card. Cox left a cash tip and accidentally pocketed the transaction slip.

With nothing else to go on, ASIS began looking into Lomborg Financial. The family-run company employs thirty people and has fewer than a dozen large clients. Lomborg’s biggest client is a wealthy and secretive religious cult known as the Survivors.

When ASIS began investigating this business relationship they noticed that Lomborg Financial was buying shares and futures through other stockbrokers in order to hide what they were doing. They also noticed that the Survivors’ investment portfolio had risen more than 1000% in just four years. These extraordinary profits suggested that the Survivors had some kind of illegal inside knowledge.

It soon became clear that the Survivors’ investment strategy coincided with attacks by Help Earth. For instance, on 27 October 2004 the Survivors purchased futures contracts on four million barrels of Venezuelan crude oil. Three days later, Help Earth destroyed an oil pipeline between Venezuela and Brazil. The price of Venezuelan oil rose by six per cent and the Survivors’ profits exceeded $10 million on an investment of less than $1 million. Evidence has also been uncovered that the Survivors have siphoned $300 million of their profits into overseas bank accounts. The most likely explanation for this is that the Survivors are financing Help Earth.

As in all intelligence work, it is essential to gather as much information as possible before making the target aware that it is under investigation. There is already enough evidence to prosecute Lomborg Financial and the Survivors with fraud and money-laundering offences. However, ASIS and MI5 feel that any fast move would involve turning down an opportunity to probe deeper and reach into the heart of Help Earth, perhaps even destroying the organisation entirely.