The block of apartments, where they would live for the next month, was small and unremarkable with whitewashed walls and a bland carpet.
A twenty-year-old girl named Cathy was staying next-door to them. She said she'd come for a short holiday – a break from the guys in her college, who tended to run through the hallways naked. After some covert research, she'd figured that this was the least likely place they would want to go during their holidays.
Alex and Tom told her one of Tom's relatives was in the British military and had invited them to come. The three were soon chatting as if they'd known each other their whole lives. Soon Cathy invited them inside to continue their conversation without blocking the hallway.
It was when Cathy was reaching into a cupboard to get some mugs to make coffee in when they noticed it.
A group of teenage boys – Alex nudged Tom when he saw that it was the Cherubs – were ogling Cathy from a window opposite.
Noticing the males in her kitchen trying to hide their smirks towards the window, she turned around and gave the Cherubs a two-fingered salute, muttering under her breath, "Stupid perverts."
Instead of being deterred, the group of boys grinned even more, one going so far as to yell, "Aww, come on baby, give us a flash!"
Glaring, Tom got up from his seat in a flash of indignant rage and shut the blind.
"She's taken!" he shouted, baring his teeth – a typical act of a challenged male. Noticing the awkward silence that followed, he turned back to face Alex and Cathy, noticing her red cheeks and Alex's amused smile.
"Ahh. . . I didn't mean to say that. . . umm. . . Are you taken?" he managed to stutter.
Equally as embarrassed, she replied, "Well, not really. . . But I wouldn't mind if, you know, you wanted to maybe. . . start something?"
As if looking for advice or permission, Tom looked to Alex, who gave him a Look and a Nod, trying not to raise his eyebrows too high in disbelief.
Tom turned back to Cathy. "Um," he started, "Wouldyouliketogooutwithme? I mean. . . Do you want to, um, you know, hang out? A bit? While we're here?"
Lips curving upwards in amusement, Cathy agreed.
...
Later on, Tom and Alex returned to their apartment. As Tom lay back on the brown sofa in a foggy bliss facing the TV, the spy went to his room, brought out a bulging duffle bag and unzipped it. Ignoring Tom who was now staring in amazement at the gadgets and gizmos aplenty, he started to assemble a veritable network of cameras and bugs geared towards surveying the Cherubs.
This effort soon paid off, because just as Alex had finished plugging the last wire into the last speaker, a phone's ringtone played out through it. Eager for some action, Alex sat back.
A lady-Cherub answered the phone. "Hello?"
"This is Kazakov."
Tom perked up at hearing the name. After a few years of listening to military news, it was hard not to recognise the name. Kazakov was infamous within the military world. He'd served in Russia for more years than most and had been an Advisor for some of the most renowned tactical operations in the Balkans and Baghdad. Tom admired him almost as much as he did Alex.
From the phone conversation, they learned that the Cherubs were holding a strategy meeting in a quarter of an hour at Kazakov's lodgings.
Two more important bits of information quickly followed, as Tom and Alex followed one of the Cherubs on the screens linked to the cameras. Firstly, they learnt that Sergeant Cork, who had commanded the SAS during Alex's short stint with them, was working with Kazakov to run the insurgency. Alex grinned when he saw how friendly the Sergeant was with the two Cherubs. Clearly, Alex had changed him for the better.
The second thing they learnt was that the British were planning to use the roof of the Cherubs' apartment as a lookout. Alex had explored the buildings earlier, and decided to set up a camera there at the first chance, to eavesdrop on plans and figure out the Americans' patrol routes. He could use that information to plan attacks and send Tom on errands without being caught.
When Cork left, Alex sent Tom on his first task: to follow the Cherubs to their meeting with Kazakov. The excited teen complied immediately, after acting out the complex ritual that he called his 'happy-dance'.
Making sure no-one was watching, he walked casually out of the door, looking for all the world like a random stranger who just happened to be travelling in the same direction as the Cherubs.
When they stopped at one of the two dozen cafés at the end of the street – unprofessionally, Tom thought; you weren't supposed to pause on the way to a meeting – Tom stopped too and pretended to study the menu of a café across the road – which, incidentally, had a reflective window next to it.
While he did this, he was able to hear that the American soldiers were offering Reaganistan dollars to people with accurate information about the insurgents and weapons.
He also noted that the veggie samosas looked quite tasty, and seemed pretty cheap in Reaganistan dollars. Hey, any information is good information, right?
The Cherubs finally reached their destination at a large, beautiful, New Orleans style mansion, with a wrought-iron fence, hedges and a manicured green lawn. Tom wondered how it was kept so clean out in the desert. Maybe they had a bubble around the house that was really a portal to another world, or maybe they were all wizards in secret, solving the world's problems with a flick of their magic. . .
Dismissing these thoughts, he tossed a tiny contraption that, if found, would look like a dead insect, at the Cherub who was lagging behind. It hit the boy, sticking to his upper arm. Tom cackled evilly. How he loved throwing dead insects at people.
With the 'dead insect', Tom would be able to listen in on any conversations the boy participated in. He found an empty bench under the shade of a tree and took out his iPod and earphones. To an outside observer, he would look like a normal college student listening to music; really, he would be recording the plans of the insurgents.
". . . split insurgent operations into three cells," Kazakov's voice stated.
"The Sarge and I are the only contact points between them. Cell One is already working to create a secure environment for Mac. Cell Two consists of the majority of the SAS team, who will be working with our eight hundred civilian sympathisers."
He went on to explain that the insurgents would also be bribing people, and elaborated on the aims of the other two cells. Cell Two, most of the SAS, would be working with civilians and harassing the American soldiers, while Cell Three, the Cherubs, would be attacking the American base. Tom made a note that the insurgents were already spying on the Americans and would be striking the base at night.
When he thought the Cherubs had finished, Tom gleefully left the area and returned to Alex, a suspicious and frightening grin lighting up his face.
...
The supermarket at Fort Reagan was much like any other in America – a single storey building with aisles and shelves. The floor was dove-grey linoleum and as two young men entered, one scuffed his shoes on the newly-made floor slightly. The store attendants glared.
"Why do they hate me, Alex?" The first asked, cheeks red in embarrassment.
Alex, looking faintly amused (though he would never betray his friend by laughing at his plight), said he didn't know. "It might be because your shoes leave black stains on their beautiful, clean floors," he guessed.
Tom shook his head. "Nah, I doubt it. My shoes are white."
Alex conveniently forgot to mention that the soles of Tom's shoes were most definitely not white. They continued their quest to find the object they had come for.
Eventually, after tirelessly searching many aisles, they found it. They grabbed a few boxes of it and headed towards the checkouts, as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. With the speed of a lightning bolt, they paid for the product and left.
Tom sighed in relief when they stopped for a rest outside the shop.
"Those store attendants were going to eat me," he whispered conspiringly.
...
The two men enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere of Fort Reagan, participating in parties with Cathy and chatting with the American soldiers. Tom found it amusing to admire their weapons, and Alex stayed in the background, acting like an apathetic teenager. He wondered how the soldiers would react when they discovered the Cherubs. He almost wanted tell them so he could see their reactions. Almost.
Tom and Alex continued watching the Cherubs. That night, they followed the insurgents to an attack. Making sure they weren't spotted by either soldiers or their quarry, they made their way to an empty building designed to look like an abandoned shop.
Alex had brought some prank items chosen specially by Tom, and while listening to the Cherubs' plans, had devised the perfect retaliation for the laxatives the Cherubs were going to put into the soldiers' water. Explain this in the actual scene – don't ruin the suspense for the reader.
...
The two friends walked along, carrying a stuffed backpack. Following the route that the boy-Cherub and the Sergeant had taken just before, Alex and Tom entered the concrete facilities building. It was dark inside, with the acrid smell of burning materials hanging in the air. The eerie buzzing of the generator surrounded them and drowned out any sound they might have made. Tom rubbed his hands together gleefully.
Quickly, he unzipped the backpack they had brought and pulled out the boxes of sodium bicarbonate from the supermarket. With the Swiss Army knife that he always carried, he sliced the boxes open, tipping the contents into the large water tank that supplied the Americans with water.
The liquid in the tank didn't turn pink, as the Phenolphthalein capsules hadn't dissolved yet, but they soon would and the Americans would quickly notice the change in colour. Tom cheered quietly and shared a look of triumph with Alex, who smiled evilly. They replaced the now-empty boxes back into Tom's backpack and scuttled out the door. Alex hoped the Americans had another source of water. If not, they were screwed.
Oh well, it wasn't his problem.
...
As James made his way through the dark alleyways of Fort Reagan's 'shanty town', he was stopped by two dark figures cutting across his path. He tried to move around them, but the shorter one reached out and grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.
"Woah, dude, calm down! I'm not doing anything to you," he exclaimed, hoping to get them to leave him alone. He still had to call Kazakov on the radio, to tell him the water-attack was done, and to ask for his next orders.
The figure didn't let go. The other took a step closer, looming over him. James stumbled backwards, nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket. He thought quickly, trying to remember the lessons he'd been taught during training. How did one escape an arm grip, again?
"Don't worry, we aren't here to hurt you." The taller figure's voice, laced with amusement, chilled him to the core. Combined with the wide grin on the other guy's face, which was illuminated by the light of the moon, the two made a frightening pair.
"We just want to give you a message." The shorter one was speaking now, his voice higher. James was reminded of the many horror movies he'd watched, which included Children of the Corn and The Pit. After watching those movies, he'd never seen little kids the same way again.
"What do you want to tell me?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't quaver too much.
"Tell Kazakov the Sarge should've known a Cub would come to even the odds."
With this cryptic message, the strange duo left James, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they had come. He could almost hear their laughter as he struggled to hold the walkie-talkie in his shaking hands.
Synchro lover: No, it was the civilians coming to Reaganistan to act as 'citizens' for the soldiers to protect.
Chris and Se7enFreaker: I was going to write Alex as a teen, but then I realised he probably would not have been allowed to go off on his own with Tom. I also doubted that Reaganistan would allow under-eighteens to enter without adult supervisors.
To everyone else: Thanks for all the reviews! And don't worry, peeps, Cathy is only a fling. Nothing life-changing.