Lone Wolf (6 page)

10. CONTROL

After years of leaks and repairs, CHERUB campus’ high-tech mission control building was finally free of
out of order
signs and drip buckets. Ryan Sharma was crunching along the gravel path leading to its main entrance when he heard someone jogging across the surrounding lawn towards him. Upon seeing that it was Ning, he threw down the backpack looped over his shoulder and dropped into a fighting stance.

‘Nervous, are we?’ Ning teased, raising her hands into a surrender gesture as she slowed up and stepped on to the gravel. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not gonna get you back right now.’

‘How about a free punch?’ Ryan offered. ‘Anywhere but my balls or nose.’

Ning grinned. ‘It’s way more fun keeping you in suspense.’

‘Playing dead wasn’t even my idea,’ Ryan said. ‘Theo thought of it.’

Ning laughed. ‘Oh you’re
nice
, blaming your nine-year-old brother. And I wouldn’t get Theo back, he’s too cute!’

‘Cute but deadly,’ Ryan said. ‘He starts basic training soon and I reckon he’ll ace it.’

‘Got my e-mail from the training department,’ Ning said. ‘I passed the exercise with no faults, so no extra training for me.’

Ryan looked a little nervous. ‘When did that come through?’

‘I just came out of French and it was on my e-mail.’

Ryan immediately pulled out his iPhone and opened the e-mail app. There was a new message from Mr Speaks in the training department and he read aloud nervously:

‘
Performed reasonably . . . Fitness acceptable . . . Worked well with others . . . No requirement for remedial training
. Ahh, thank
god
for that!’

‘Nice one,’ Ning said. ‘So you’re heading for mission control?’

Ryan nodded. ‘Usually that’s exciting, but it’s only James Adams.’

‘I’m seeing James too,’ Ning said, looking confused. ‘I thought he seemed OK when we did advanced driving.’

‘Yeah,’ Ryan agreed. ‘James is a decent guy, but he’s only just been promoted to mission controller. If we were being lined up for some big glamorous mission, it’d be John Jones or Ewart Asker sending for us rather than the new guy.’

‘So I’m not likely to get my black shirt out of this one?’ Ning said, still sounding cheerful. ‘I fancy a mission. I’ve been on campus for over four months.’

They’d reached the mission control building’s main door. Ning was ahead and stared into an iris scanner. After a couple of whirring sounds, the main door popped open and a little screen flashed up,
Proceed to room 7A.

Ryan didn’t bother with the scanner, and just sneaked through behind Ning.

‘Come in,’ James said, after Ning knocked.

James was twenty-two, well-muscled, fair-haired, and currently experimenting with a slightly dodgy beard. The office was a decent size, with a big leather couch and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over woodland. However, Ning looked around at empty shelves and bookcases.

‘Only got this office last week,’ James explained. ‘I expect I’ll have it stuffed with mounds of files and crap in no time.’

‘So you’re a full mission controller now?’ Ryan asked.

James nodded. ‘And I was a CHERUB agent myself, so I know
exactly
what you’re thinking: I’m the newest mission controller, so all I’m gonna have to offer are boring routine missions.’

Ning and Ryan both shook their heads.

‘Thought never crossed my mind,’ Ryan said, though he struggled to keep a straight face.

‘The mission I’ve cobbled together is fairly low-key, but if it pays off it could turn into something quite juicy,’ James began. ‘What do you two know about cocaine?’

‘Goes well sprinkled on toast,’ Ryan answered, before Ning gave a more serious answer.

‘Drug. White powder. People snort it and it gives them a rush.’

James nodded. ‘But if you go into a bar or a club and buy fifty quid’s worth of cocaine, the chances are you’re not actually buying much cocaine at all. Most of what you get is junk that’s been mixed with the cocaine to make selling it more profitable.

‘Cocaine starts off as coca leaves, almost always grown in South America. The leaves are processed in a rural lab and you end up with pure white powder. This gets vacuum packed into bricks and smuggled to Britain in near hundred per cent pure form. Then it gets thinned out by mixing with another white powder – typically lactose, baking powder, lidocaine, even chalk dust. This is called cutting.

‘Everyone cuts the cocaine. By the time a top-level dealer gets it from an international smuggler, the cocaine is cut to about forty to fifty per cent purity. A mid-level dealer will then cut it to around thirty per cent purity and the street-level dealer adds more crap so that your regular buyer-on-the-street ends up with a gram that contains less than twenty per cent cocaine.

‘Some of the cocaine sold at street level is of such poor quality that police have busted dealers and had to release them because the quantity of cocaine in their product is so low that it’s not even illegal.’

‘Is the stuff they cut the cocaine with harmful?’ Ning asked.

James nodded. ‘It’s not great to be snorting chalk dust and baby laxatives up your nose, and it’s even worse for people who inject. Some say the impurities cause more health problems than the drugs themselves.

‘Now, the reason you two are standing here is that a few years ago, a rather clever police officer in Germany started thinking about the purity of cocaine. He started a database logging the purity of the drugs seized in every cocaine bust in Germany. Then he started investigating the areas where the cocaine was purest. Any idea why?’

Ryan nodded. ‘The cocaine gets cut at every stage. So if you find high purity cocaine, the chances are you’re getting close to the top-level dealers who smuggle it into the country.’

James smiled. ‘Spot on.’

‘But why don’t they just dilute the cocaine more if they’re selling it on the street?’ Ning asked. ‘Like from a hundred per cent purity to twenty per cent purity in one go?’

‘They can cover their tracks that way and I’m sure many do,’ James said. ‘But the point is, there are areas where high purity cocaine is sold on the street, and experience in Germany and other countries shows us that investigating areas where purity is high often leads to a large-scale drug importer.’

Ryan and Ning both liked the sound of bringing down a large-scale drug smuggler.

‘So where are these high purity drugs being sold?’ Ryan asked.

‘You’ll be based in Kentish Town in north London,’ James explained. ‘The street cocaine there is consistently around twenty-five per cent pure.’

Ning looked confused. ‘Twenty-five per cent is good?’

James nodded. ‘For street cocaine, twenty-five per cent is about as good as it gets. It’s also consistently cut with two parts lactose and one part lidocaine. The lidocaine is an anaesthetic, which creates numbness, making you think the cocaine is stronger than it really is. The fact that the same chemicals have been detected in dozens of drug seizures indicates that all the cocaine comes from a single, large-scale cutting operation.

‘The trade in cocaine and heroin in that part of London is dominated by a man named Erasto Ali Anwar, more commonly known as Hagar. Kentish Town is his base, but he has a network that sells cocaine and heroin through the London boroughs of Islington, Camden, Hackney and Haringey, and also in nightclubs in central London.

‘According to the Kentish Town drug squad, Hagar uses teenaged boys for quite a lot of small-scale dealing and grunt work. Many of these lads are members of a youth club run by a charity known as The Hangout.

‘Ryan, if you accept the mission, your job will be standard CHERUB stuff. You’ll attend a local school and spend time at The Hangout youth club. Hopefully, within a few weeks, you’ll be able to work yourself into a position where Hagar’s crew take an interest in you. Once you’re inside the organisation, your job will be to find out everything you can.’

Ryan spoke. ‘You said Hagar dealt in cocaine
and
heroin. Am I interested in both?’

‘The same rules on purity apply to heroin, and police are using the same techniques to track it down. Analysis shows that the heroin sold by Hagar’s gang is of poor to average quality, so it’s unlikely they’re close to the original smuggling source.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ryan said.

‘So are you up for the job?’ James asked.

Ryan nodded. ‘Sure, it sounds like a decent mission.’

‘So what about me?’ Ning asked. ‘If Hagar’s gang only recruits boys, where do I fit in?’

‘I’ve got something different lined up for you,’ James said, as he cracked a slight smile. ‘It’s a long shot, but if it works out it has the potential to smash Hagar’s operation wide open.’

11. BEDS

Officer Wendy opened the isolation cell and found Fay sitting on the end of her bed, glowering.

‘Are you ready to behave?’ Wendy asked.

‘Will you miss me when I’m gone?’ Fay asked back.

Wendy snorted as Fay tucked her school books under her arm and headed for the door. Fay made a short walk to her room, dialled a three-digit combination into her locker and grabbed a towel and clean clothes before heading off for her first shower in five days.

She came back in a bathrobe, and this time there was a Chinese girl sitting on the right-hand bed, doing homework.

‘You’re in the wrong cell,’ Fay said firmly. ‘Where’s Amber?’

Ning shrugged. ‘Amber got moved to a lower security unit, pending release.’

‘You what?’ Fay shouted. ‘Amber’s my roomie.’

‘I’m your roomie now,’ Ning said, as Fay peeled off her bathrobe and grabbed a bra and T-shirt out of a drawer.

Ning went back to concentrating on her textbook, but as Fay pulled on a clean pair of jeans, she noticed that there were no pillows on her bed, while Ning had a mound of four propped behind her back.

‘Who said you could touch my pillows?’ Fay demanded. ‘Give.’

Ning smiled. ‘I’m using them.’

Fay wasn’t used to girls giving her backchat. ‘Pardon me?’

‘Oh, are you deaf?’ Ning said cheerfully, before shouting: ‘I SAID I CAN’T GIVE THE PILLOWS BACK BECAUSE I’M USING THEM.’

Fay now stood over Ning’s bed with her fists bunched. ‘Give me my pillows,’ Fay said. ‘Or I’ll smash your dopey head through the wall.’

Ning tutted. ‘You really
are
an ill-mannered little girl,’ she said.

Fay couldn’t take any more. She leaned in to throw a punch, expecting Ning to be squealing and handing back pillows a few moments later. But Fay was surprised to find that Ning intercepted her fist, then kicked up with both feet, booting Fay in the stomach.

As Fay doubled over, Ning stood and tried to wrench Fay’s arm behind her back. But Fay managed to straighten up quickly and threw a wild punch which caught Ning in the kidneys.

‘So you know how to fight?’ Ning said, as she stepped forward aiming a barrage of punches.

Fay was forced to retreat until she’d backed up to the metal lockers. Ning landed several heavy punches before Fay stumbled out of the corner fighting for breath. As Ning turned to face Fay’s new position, Fay launched a vicious kick that knocked Ning back into the lockers.

Ning knew that Fay had kickboxing skills, but hadn’t anticipated that she was this good. Ning fought pain from the kick as she charged forward. Fay was tall and had greater reach, while Ning was broad and came forward like a battering ram.

After a speedy exchange of kicks and slaps, Ning grabbed Fay’s hair and threw her across a bed. Then Ning sat across Fay’s back and dug her elbow painfully between her shoulder blades. A guard named Gladys had heard the commotion and came charging in.

‘What the
hell
is going on?’ she shouted.

Ning immediately jumped off Fay’s back. ‘Nothing, miss.’

Fay groaned as she rolled over, but managed a smile for the guard. ‘Just a little roughhousing,’ she confirmed.

The guard pointed accusingly. ‘I’m gonna be keeping my eye on you two,’ she warned.

Ning moved towards her bed as the guard backed out. Fay scowled and rubbed a hand that had been grazed somewhere along the way. After a minute, Ning picked up two pillows and threw them across at Fay’s bed.

‘There,’ Ning said. ‘Where’d you learn kickboxing?’

Fay stood up and plumped the pillows before answering grudgingly. ‘My auntie taught me. You?’

It’s best to keep the number of lies you have to remember to a minimum, so Ning had worked out a back-story that was close to the truth.

‘Grew up in China,’ Ning said. ‘I got picked for a sports academy, did a lot of boxing and martial arts.’

‘You’re the first girl in here I’ve not flattened. I’m Fay, by the way.’

‘I’m Ning.’

Ning reached between the beds and Fay gave a wary smile as they bumped fists.

‘So how’d you end up in Idris?’ Fay asked.

‘I was in a care home,’ Ning explained. ‘Broke curfew, came in drunk. Attacked the night supervisor. Smashed up his office and broke both his arms.’

Fay laughed. ‘Subtle! So how long have you got?’

‘Thirty days,’ Ning said. ‘But I served most of that in a low security unit, until I got in a fight. I’m just here for seven days. You?’

‘Eighteen months for slashing a cop, but only a week left now.’

‘A cop,’ Ning said. ‘Impressive.’

‘Breaking both arms is good though,’ Fay said. ‘I feel sorry for whoever has to wipe his arse until they’re out of plaster.’

Ning dropped a line she’d carefully prepared to have an effect on Fay. ‘At least you’re going out to family and stuff.’

Fay sounded irritated. ‘What do
you
know?’

‘Sorry,’ Ning said. ‘I just assumed. I’ve got nobody on the outside. Dad’s in prison in China and my mum died. So it’ll be another crummy Islington care home.’

‘Islington?’ Fay said. ‘Whereabouts?’

‘Tufnell Park.’

‘I’ve lived near there most of my life,’ Fay said. ‘I’m just like you: no family. Mum died a long ways, then my aunt got killed.’

‘Pisser,’ Ning said.

Fay smiled like she’d thought of something funny. ‘You know, Ning, it’s a pity you didn’t get here a few months earlier, because if we’d worked together we could have
owned
this place!’

*

Ryan’s hands gripped James Adams’ waist as the mission controller opened the throttle of his 865cc Triumph Bonneville and rode under a bridge at close to seventy miles per hour. James zoomed past a red double-decker and blasted over a pedestrian crossing, before taking a right into a side street and slicing between a people carrier and the kerb.

After cutting the throttle, James took a lazy right-hand turn and pulled through gates in front of a brick-built, three-storey council block. Once the bike was stopped on a little paved patio, Ryan hopped off and gasped with relief as he pulled off his helmet.

‘Enjoy the ride?’ James asked chirpily, as he looked at his watch. ‘Ninety-five minutes from campus. You’d never get
close
to that in a car.’

Ryan trembled with a mixture of fear and rage. ‘You’re insane!’ he yelled.

James grinned. ‘Four years in the saddle and no accidents, mate.
Slow down, James, I feel sick, James, mind the lollipop lady, James
. You’re worse than my girlfriend, Kerry. She won’t ride with me any more.’

‘
I’m
not riding with you any more,’ Ryan said.

James shrugged. ‘Fine, but the journey back to campus is a bus, three trains and a taxi. Now let’s see what the relocation team has done for us.’

Ryan’s hands still trembled as he put the key in the front door. It was a two-bed, ground-floor flat on the edge of the Pemberton estate. The rooms were small, but the whole place had been refurbished to a decent standard.

Ryan found a small bedroom and saw that the relocation team had already put his clothes in the wardrobe, while his mission equipment stood in a flight case at the end of the bed.

‘They got our shopping from Waitrose,’ James said, as he shoved a ready meal in the microwave and pressed
start
. ‘Dead posh. You hungry?’

‘I think it’ll take my guts about a week to settle after the bike ride,’ Ryan said.

James shook his head with contempt as Ryan stepped up to the kitchen sink and opened the slats of a Venetian blind. There was a tiny paved back garden, followed by a view downhill of several more low-rise blocks set around a courtyard.

At the centre of the courtyard was a concrete play area and a large, corrugated metal building with a giant blue and red logo along the side which read
The Hangout – Youth Centre
.