Chapter 4

Back at base, the Cherubs were called to report on their experience to Zara. Jack Starbright, they told her, had excelled in many of the drills and they held him in high regard. By the time Meryl and Ewart had submitted their reports, she had been sufficiently impressed and decided that when his punishment was over, she would bring him to CHERUB base to test him for acceptance.

xox

While Zara was making plans for Alex, the teen spy himself was receiving a call from Blunt.

"We want you to infiltrate CHERUB. Tomorrow you will be returned back to the Royal and General, and we shall set you up with a cover story that fits with what you told them in Wales. We expect a full report on how they are organised, their missions, people who know about them and their members."

Alex hung up the phone and smirked. This would be fun.

xox

A few days later, Alex was bored.

He had been sitting around on the street where he 'lived' and the Cherubs still hadn't picked him up – though he was sure he had been pretty obvious; letting them see his face; writing "Jack Starbright woz 'ere" in places often frequented by people. How could a 'renowned spy agency' be so oblivious?

xox

Back at CHERUB campus, those who weren't on a mission were scurrying around like headless chickens, trying to discover Jack's location. They had checked everywhere, including Brooklands High, but he was nowhere to be found.

Zara was getting anxious and frustrated. She'd sent word to contacts to look out for the boy, but it seemed he couldn't be found. How could a civilian hide so well?

xox

By Saturday, Alex was ready to do just about anything, so long as it would get his mission moving. He moved to the window of the level two music store he was in, and spotted his chance. Moving surreptitiously to a grand piano with wheels up for sale, he leant his weight upon it, rolling it to the window.

When it was in place, he pushed it through, managing to just miss the agent walking below on the street. He jumped out after the piano, landed on it and flashed a grin at the stunned man.

"What's up doc?" Alex sniggered, and bounded off down the street.

When he recovered from his shock, the man whipped out his spy-phone and called CHERUB's secure number.

"I've found him."

xox

The next day, Alex was returning to his little hideaway after some shopping – i.e. stealing – and spotted three men standing around his 'home', trying to be inconspicuous. Making sure they couldn't see him, he made his way to the other side of his home and snuck in. He stuffed all the items he would need for his mission into a ratty looking backpack, along with the food he had just 'bought'. Snatching a glance at the men who still hadn't noticed his presence, he kicked a book that was lying on the floor towards them. Seeing that their attention was now fixed on the book, he darted out after it, yelling "Damn!"

He felt himself be grabbed by one of the agents and struggled, just so they wouldn't get suspicious. After all, what delinquent wouldn't try to get away when caught?

While he tried to struggle but not escape, the men fumbled for something in the guy's pocket. Alex watched curiously wondering what it was, when he felt something stab into his back.

His last thought before succumbing into unconsciousness was 'Blunt better be grateful'.

xox

Alex woke to an unfamiliar room. There was a single bed, one wardrobe and one desk, all looking quite new. There even was a TV, kettle, telephone and miniature fridge. How thoughtful.

He pulled the blanket aside, noting at the same time the state of his clothes – or rather, lack of them. Weird. What kind of a spy agency would undress a boy? To make sure no one was seeing his bits and to avoid that disturbing train of thought, he looked around for hidden cameras. It seemed there were none. Stupid Cherubs. Either that or they were smarter than he was and had an ulterior motive he couldn't determine.

Alex sat up and looked around. He guessed that the room was on the fifth or sixth floor. The window overlooked an athletics track. There were children running around and doing stretches, while some other kids got tennis coaching on clay courts off to the side. How tennis could possibly help them spy, he had no idea.

Our young spy allowed himself a small victory dance. Against all odds – including the oblivious Cherubs making it hard for him to be found – he had made it. Now all he had to do was impress them. Like that would be hard.

As he looked around the wardrobe, he saw clean clothes on the floor: white socks and boxers, a pressed orange T-shirt, green military-style trousers with zipped pockets and a pair of boots with a rubbery smell and shiny black soles.

He put on the clothes and inspected the logo embroidered on the T-shirt. It was a winged baby – a cherub – sitting on a globe. Underneath was an acronym: CHERUB. Yep, he had definitely made it.

Whistling 'Colonel Bogey', he made his way into the corridor. It seemed the Cherubs didn't care for locks.

xox

Out in the corridor the children had the same boots and trousers as Alex; however, their T-shirts were either black or grey, all with the CHERUB logo on them.

"Excuse me?" Alex asked, speaking to a boy who was coming into his direction. "I'm sort-of lost." How one could be 'sort-of' lost, he had no idea. But it did make him sound more unsure.

"Can't talk to orange," the boy replied without stopping.

Alex looked around. It was a row of doors in either direction. A couple of teenage girls were down one end.

"Hey!" Alex called. "Could you tell me where to go?"

"Can't talk to orange," both girls said simultaneously.

Alex scowled. He knew this 'can't talk to orange' tactic was probably for intimidation, but it was irritating. He stalked towards a short, scrawny boy he had just spotted behind a tall pot plant. Time he take this matter into his own hands. Literally.

He pounced on the boy, stripping him of his shirt, and placing the orange one on the indignant boy. Mission complete.

"Hey! What the f*** was that for?" The boy cried, horribly outraged.

"Sorry," Alex smirked, holding up his hand in the universal 'talk to the hand' gesture. "Can't talk to orange."

He spun around haughtily, and began to explore the CHERUB complex.

xox

"Damnit!" Zara cried, slapping the desk as she scanned the video cameras for 'Jack Starbright'. The group of agents she had called flinched.

"Why wasn't anyone keeping an eye on him? And how did he beat Bruce? Someone go find him. NOW!"

Several teens glanced at each other, paled, and left hurriedly.

xox

As Alex sauntered around his new temporary home, he noted the frustrated whispers of several groups of older teens. He couldn't discern who they were so angry about, but he did pick up a few words: "Where . . . how . . . do that? Slimy git . . . annoying . . ."

Our compassionate spy shook his head sadly and despaired for the poor person they were obviously angry with. They were in for a beating when they were found.

xox

It was nearing noon (Alex could tell by the way his stomach sounded) and Alex was already bored. Why was no one coming for him? Why did he have to do all the work for them?

He made his way back to whence he came and sat down outside the room.

A few minutes later, the older teens he had seen earlier came round the corner, spotted him and lunged at him. They grabbed him tight, holding his arms behind his back. He made the customary struggle, but was internally shouting with joy. Until one of them grabbed his butt.

"Hey!" he cried, "Isn't this a little sudden?"

The others made no move to acknowledge him, instead manhandling him towards a lift. They pressed the number one button and waited, still holding his butt.

When the bell rang and the lift doors opened, they dragged him past a fountain of the same winged baby on the CHERUB logo and towards a desk. Behind the desk was an elderly woman.

Alex scowled at the butt-rapists next to him, before a soft cough grabbed his attention.

"Good morning Jack," the woman said. "Doctor McAfferty would like to see you in his office."

xox

She led Alex down a short corridor and knocked on a door.

"Enter," a person with a soft Scottish accent said from inside.

Alex stepped inside. He found himself in an office with huge windows and a lit fireplace. The walls were lined with leather-bound books. Doctor McAfferty stood up from behind his desk and shook Alex's hand, crushing it with the strong grip.

"Welcome to CHERUB campus, Mr Starbright," he greeted. "I'm Doctor Terrence McAfferty, the Chairman. Everybody calls me Mac. Have a seat."

Alex slowly walked over to a fire in the corner and settled down in an armchair. He felt like Harry Potter visiting Dumbledore and half-expected to be offered a sweet.

"We need to talk," the Chairman said dramatically. Alex choked. What was it with the Cherubs and fast relationships?

"I know this sounds a bit stupid, but I don't remember coming here," Alex said after a moment of silence. "Is this some kind of place where street kids go to keep them from the public eye?"

Mac smiled warmly. "No. This is not a place where street children go if the Government doesn't want them. In actuality, they come here because the Government does want them."

"But why? If you haven't realised, I'm just a criminal street kid, Dr. McAfferty."

"Believe me, you are useful. You're smart. Innovative. Fit. Strong. Jack, don't waste your talents by stealing food for the rest of your life. Use it to help others."

Alex's mouth was open. If he had expected to hear something then this was the last. They were appealing to his – a criminal's emotions? How could they think it could work? Nevertheless, it would have to, because that was his mission.

"Help people?" he scoffed with a sceptical expression.

"You heard right," Mac said. "You could save many if you join us, and you are lucky enough to be one of the few people we have chosen."

"So . . . what's going to happen? What is this place?" Alex pretended he was slowly becoming convinced.

"This place - CHERUB - is here to train children to be spies. You are just the kind of child we are looking for, Jack."

"You're trying to use the fact that adults never suspect children of espionage?"

"See, Alex? This is what I'm talking about. You're probably smarter than some other kids on campus are. But moving on," Mac continued, "We'll give you a blue-shirt – which means you're a trainee – and put you in basic training with the rest of the trainees. If you pass, we'll give you a grey shirt, which shows that you're qualified for missions."

"However, you do not have to become a CHERUB agent if you don't want to, Alex. We won't make you do it. You can pull out any time you're on missions – you won't even go on a mission if you don't want to – and we can always find you a foster home if you don't want to be an agent any more. Any questions?"

Alex pretended to ponder for a moment, and then slowly answered, "Alright. I'm in."

"Wonderful," Mac smiled. "I will arrange everything. Do you want some tea?"

xox

To enter CHERUB, Alex had been told he had to pass five induction tests. The first one, he discovered, was to fight against an experienced fighter. He was led onto a blue floor where he was introduced to his opponent, Bruce, and the rules. To his surprise, he recognised the boy as the one he'd stolen the shirt from. The boy was glaring at him fiercely. Alex laid his hand upon his brow and pretended to faint from fright.

Bruce looked put out.

"I see you found a new shirt," Alex remarked, to break the silence.

"No thanks to you." The boy retorted curtly.

Alex laughed softly, just to enhance his 'evil guy' persona.

"Some are born with shirts, some get shirts… and some have shirts thrust upon them," he intoned ominously.

"Shut up," the kid replied, "just get on with the fight."

Alex's supervising adult counted the two teens in. Alex watched as Bruce's feet did the grapevine; left, right, front behind – a continuous dance. Keeping eye contact, Alex saw a flicker of fear in Bruce's eyes as each boy measured the skill of his opponent. Alex knew Bruce would be unable to glimpse an emotion from Alex, as he had been trained to withdraw into himself and hide all emotion when fighting. Scorpia had benefitted him in more ways than just shooting.

Be scared little boy, Alex thought, be very scared.

The circling continued. Already, Bruce's new shirt was beginning to show dark sweat marks – a sign of the boy's intense concentration. Alex himself was feeling as fine as he had when he'd started. Around them, the nearby watchers were waiting with bated breath. Now and then, a few cheers had broken out for Bruce, but they had gradually dwindled in number until there was only the sound of Bruce's angry breathing.

The eyes of Alex's opponent were crazed, and the boy was drooling as they circled like cobras. Alex noticed his hands shaking, and allowed a smirk to flash across his face. The boy was filled with pent-up rage, which was good. If he was pressured enough, he might lose all rational thought and attack mindlessly, like a rabid dog.

Eventually, sick of just walking in circles, Alex stopped and stood up straight. Raising a single eyebrow, he sent a look at the other boy that clearly said 'what are you waiting for?' Bruce stopped too, and after a pause in which both combatants just stared at each other, he lunged at Alex, jaws snapping loudly. Alex used the boy's momentum to spin him around, tackling him to the ground. He threw himself over the boy and held him in a full nelson.

The startled referee, after a long pause of surprise, counted to three, signifying Alex's win.

To say the Cherubs were surprised would be an understatement. They'd seen him take Bruce down before, but Bruce had been startled then.

After another long pause of silence, startled applause broke out. Alex smiled. It was nice to be applauded once in a while.

xox

Afterwards, Alex was led to a room. The walls were white and the polished floor ebony. There was only a single desk and chair sitting in the middle. A single light bulb dangled from a fraying electrical cord over it. These Cherubs have seen too many movies, Alex thought.

He walked over to the chair and sat down.

On the desk was a pencil, eraser and several booklets. He flipped them over. They were a set of exam papers, not unlike the kind found in school. There was a test booklet each on Maths, Science, History, English and Foreign Languages.

He picked up the pencil and looked at the first booklet. It was plain black and white, with few pictures. He opened the darn thing. The first question was ridiculously easy, even if he wasn't pretending to be a year younger than his actual age. He shook his head and began to write.

The rest of the tests passed in much the same way as the first. Some of the questions he'd been asked were 'spell dificalty' and 'Simplify 6y + 9y'.

When he had finished, he carefully checked the room for cameras. Satisfied there were no unseen watchers, he surreptitiously took out a phone given to him by Smithers, and took a photo of each page of each booklet. Blunt would be pleased to receive them.

Leaning back, he waited for the Cherubs. When Alex saw the results, he thanked MI6 mentally, for providing him extra tuition, even if it was their fault for making him miss school. It always made him feel good when he received full marks.

xox

Alex's third test – and probably the simplest and quickest – was to kill a chicken with a biro. Alex had been told it would be quick, and then been handed the pen. Alex debated for a short moment whether to kill the animal pointlessly, and decided a delinquent would find it easy to kill, so it would fit his persona. However, stabbing a blood vessel was messy, and painful. Having already killed people before, Alex finished the task remorselessly, snapping its neck instead. He knew he didn't imagine the shocked look Mr Mac had sent him as he did the deed.

xox

Next was the assault course Alex had seen when he'd first arrived. Mr Mac, still silent after the demonstration of Alex's willingness to kill, led him to it. It was about a quarter of the size of the assault course in Brecon Beacons and Alex could see it was based loosely off the easier parts of the SAS course.

They stopped at the start of the course. "Finish it as quickly as you can," Mr Mac told him, finally breaking his silence. "Don't worry if you can't make it – just do the best you can."

When Alex began, Mr Mac started the stopwatch.

The course was child's play compared to the many times Alex had been forced to run away from big violent men with guns. First, he had to climb up a long rope ladder. Brooklands made its students climb single dangling ropes every fortnight, so Alex found the ladder incredibly easy, even if he hadn't been trained by the SAS. Next, Alex slid across a pole, up another ladder and over narrow planks with one-and-a-half metre jumps in-between. There were a few more obstacles, and then a twenty metre jump onto a crash mat. Mr Mac didn't have the energy to be surprised.

It's no wonder the Cherubs struggled so much at Brecon Beacons, he thought as he strolled back towards Mr Mac.

xox

Lastly, Alex was made to retrieve a brick from the bottom of a pool.

He walked into the pool area. It was an Olympic-sized pool, with diving blocks and flags. The water looked inviting, but he knew from experience that it would be icy. He wondered what he was going to be made to do next – swim laps? He'd already shown he was fit.

Then he paused. There was something in the pool. Something small, brownish . . . and rectangular.

He decided not to comment.

"For this test, you have to retrieve a brick," Mr Mac explained.

Oh. It was a brick. He sagged in relief.

"Don't worry if you can't do it!" Mr Mac quickly reassured him, obviously thinking Alex's slump was due to defeat.

Alex swan dived neatly into the pool, neglecting to undress. He felt water rushing past him and propelled himself forward with a stroke. Opening his eyes, he spotted the brick and grabbed it. He turned around and burst through the water, flinging his hair out of his eyes.

The whole thing had lasted five seconds.

No one was surprised when he passed – almost everyone could swim.

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