13: Thugs
In the car on the way home, George got a text from Riley telling him that his mum was absolutely livid and had grounded him for six weeks. George didn't mind too much because he'd still see Riley at school, so he took the opportunity to rub it in, gloating about the fact that he wasn't even in trouble.
"Do you think I'm ruining his life?" George asked after he'd sent the reply. "I mean, he's hardly likely to get a good job if he keeps messing up his education."
Katie shrugged. "His dad's probably got enough money stashed away in a trust fund that he'll never need to work, so I wouldn't worry."
George was satisfied by this, so he just stared out of the window while Alice explained what she'd said to Zach.
"The travel agency is a code for a monetary exchange in Melbourne. It does sell flights, but its main purpose is to wire money internationally, mainly to countries in southeast Asia. Its main clients are immigrant dockers who use it to send money back to their families, especially elderly relatives. However, the Syndicate and my bank use it as a way of laundering money and committing fraud across national boundaries with very little chance of tracing it."
Katie nodded. "So you need someone working there who's not going to report anything, right?"
"Exactly. The basic scheme is for dirty drug money to be given to the dockers in cash. They keep a small percent, then they send the rest home. The travel agency enacts a large fee and siphons off the rest of the money. It then treats it as legitimate business profits and funnels them through another group of laundering techniques. Should the government go looking, they'd have to prosecute hundreds of dockers, which isn't possibly politically, or they'd have to find systematic wrongdoing in the business itself. Thus, so long as everyone inside the business is sound, nothing ever leaks."
"Easy," Katie laughed. "I suppose some of it finds its way to Zach's bank account?"
"And mine. We use the agency as a front for a number of other schemes, since any bank moving that quantity of cash would be investigated, but a travel agency is less suspicious and the Australian government is very wary of upsetting the docking unions if they go prying. It's very convenient for quite a lot of illegal transactions. All you have to do is learn the details of what's going on, then do your job normally all the time you're there."
"But why me? I mean, I assume you've told ASIS all about what goes on, so why have someone on the inside?"
Alice smiled. "That's the best part. Lots of different gangs use the agency, which is a big reason they don't harass the Syndicate. By working there, you'll hear all the gossip and rumours from the dockers coming in with their wages, but also from the other gangs who'll be moving their cash too. I would think that so long as you get Zach to trust you, you'll become ASIS's most valuable asset overnight."
"I'll ring ASIS and let them know what's going on. When do I start?"
"Zach will let me know and I'll pass it all onto ASIS. To tell you the truth, that was the first I'd heard about their staffing problems. It's an absolute gift to get someone on the inside."
With Riley not allowed to invite George over for the next month and a half, the focus of the mission shifted onto Katie and the pressure was off the younger agent. Dawn and Linda made a visit that weekend from ASIS's offices for a special briefing with Katie about her new role, but it didn't really concern George so he preferred to swim lengths and cool off while Alice sat on a sunlounger and read a magazine.
"They're gone," Katie said, stepping out of the french windows and absorbing the heat of the sun for a second. "Brian, I think some of your friends are at the door. They saw that we had visitors, so if they ask, say it was someone from social services."
"Roger," George said, pulling himself out of the pool and grabbing a towel as he went around the side of the house to see who it was.
"G'day, looks like you're having a nice time," Kev said when he spotted George approaching.
"Finally got to meet your sister," Laurie grinned. "Quality sheila there."
"Should've seen his smooth moves," Kev added. "He went bright red and didn't say a word to her."
"That's a lie," Laurie replied hotly, but George laughed anyway.
"What are you two after?" he asked, towelling his hair. "Better not just have been a look at my sister."
"Nah, actually a bunch of bogans from the next neighbourhood have come over, loaded up on drink and whatever. It'll probably kick off, so we were wondering if you wanted to come along," Laurie replied.
George grinned. "Sounds epic. We'd better go now in case we miss anything."
"Ditch the towel," Kev advised. "Doesn't really look good on you."
George's local geography was nowhere near as good as that of the local kids, so he had to ask Kev to explain why everyone was on edge.
"These guys have come down from Keilor Downs, which is two buses away. If they've come all the way down here, they mean business," he said as the trio jogged past suburban houses, heading for a local park which was mostly a hangout for older teenagers.
"You mean a drug deal or something?" George asked, glad of his CHERUB fitness training which meant he was barely breaking a sweat.
Laurie shrugged. "Could be, but most likely they're just bored. It's easy to mug a couple of kids and make an easy fifty dollars."
They turned a corner into the park and vaulted a set of low railings, heading for a group of teenagers who looked like they were waiting for something to happen. Kev and Laurie spotted someone they knew and took George with them, warily eyeing some spotty teens who were chain-smoking and intimidating anyone who got too close.
"One of the local gangs is on its way," Laurie relayed after speaking to a couple of narked-looking girls, but as soon as he'd finished speaking a group of thugs appeared at one of the entrances. George didn't recognise any of them, but their dark complexions marked them out as one of the ethnic gangs who operated in Melbourne. He guessed they were from South-East Asia, maybe Indonesia or something.
"Hope there's a fight," Laurie added, jostling to try and get a good view.
Kev was more sensible. "It'll probably just be posturing and insults. The cops around here will be all over anything that turns violent."
His guess was on the money, because after some initial slanging matches and macho posing, neither gang seemed interested in escalating things. George wasn't sure it was worth anything from a mission perspective and half-wanted to go home, but everyone hung around on the off chance that someone would get angry and throw a punch.
"Looks like these St Albans dicks haven't got the balls to challenge us," one of the Keilor Downs thugs said, cracking his knuckles and laughing.
"A hundred bucks says you'd be running home crying if we did," a well-built man replied. George thought he looked like he was in his early twenties, which seemed too old to be getting involved with a group of bored teenagers spoiling for a fight.
"You're on," the thug replied, getting up and flexing a tattooed bicep. "One hundred to whoever wins in a one-on-one fight."
The thug was absolutely huge and George guessed he'd put in some serious hours at the gym. Nobody on the St Albans side seemed interested in taking him up on the bet, and after some murmuring, it seemed like they were going to back down.
"Thought so," he said triumphantly. "Why don't you all go home to mummy?"
His swaggering was annoying George. CHERUB training emphasised that agents should always keep a level head and not rise to taunts, but his brief time in the neighbourhood had given George a bit of an affinity to it.
"Come on then," he said, stepping forward out of the crowd and facing the thug. "Two hundred says I can take you down."
The thug laughed and looked down at George. "How old are you, pommy kid? Nine?"
George didn't reply and just turned back towards Kev and Laurie, who were looking thunderstruck. "Well, if you haven't got the cash, no point me turning you poncy aussies over."
The national slur wound the thug up just enough and he stepped towards George. "Two hundred it is."
"No weapons," George said quickly, dropping into a fighting stance.
"No weapons," the thug repeated, reaching into his pocket and tossing a box-cutter to one of his mates. "I'll even let you have the first punch."
Every eye was on George as he followed his training and got a good look at his opponent. Being able to deal with bigger and stronger fighters was a key part of combat training, so George knew he had to aim for the weak spots. A clean knockout wouldn't make good entertainment, so when he stepped forwards he feinted a punch to the head before spinning into a kick. The thug moved just enough for George's shoe to thud into solid muscle, but he was slow. By the time he'd brought his arm back for a haymaker punch, George had ducked and charged at his legs, kicking him hard on the ankle and following it up by sweeping away his feet. Only by luck did George managed to avoid the guy falling on top of him, but as soon as he'd hit the ground George kicked him up the arse and went in for some punches.
However, he quickly realised he'd miscalculated. The monetary aspect of the bet had made him think that the gang would play fairly, or at least back off when they started losing and get away before they had to pay up, but seeing one of their own getting a beating at the hands of a eleven-year-old hit them in the pride and they ran forwards, piling in all at once. Nobody could handle a simultaneous attack by a group who were all physically superior, except someone like Bruce Lee, so George had to prioritise rapidly. He brutally punched his original opponent in the temple, knocking him out, and then he set off in a fast retreat. Running away didn't look cool but it would save him a serious beating. A couple of guys got near enough to swing punches, but George dodged them and tried desperately to find a way out. He couldn't outrun them and eventually he'd get tired, but he was saved by the St Albans gang piling in. A mass brawl wasn't safe so George hung back on the edge, especially since it looked as if a couple of knives were being waved, but another guy charged at him. He sidestepped the punch and grabbed his arm, twisting it around.
"Want me to break it?" he shouted into his assailant's ear, trying to make himself heard about the din that had broken out.
There was no reply, so George tightened his grip enough to pop the arm out of its socket before kicking the guy hard in the back, sending him sprawling. A flash of blue lights somewhere nearby sent a jolt of fear through him and he dodged a wild kick, trying to work out which way he could run and avoid the police. Someone ran into him and knocked him flying, landing painfully on an elbow, and by the time he'd found his feet another guy was on him, closing in with a tackle. George couldn't get away and tried to roll the guy over using his momentum, but he misjudged slightly and ended up slamming his arm into the thug's gut. It took a few seconds of struggling to get free, but by that time more muscular arms were wrapping around his chest. Only a split-second's reaction meant that George noticed the police uniform in time to avoid giving the officer a nasty kick in the balls.
"If you come quietly there'll be no need for me to hurt you," the officer said, wrenching George's arms into cuffs.
George knew when he was busted and didn't struggle, but decided that if he was going to get pulled in by the police he might as well get in a few more hard kicks to the guy who'd grabbed him before the officer dragged him away.
As he was marched towards a patrol car he looked around for any sign of Kev and Laurie, but there were nowhere to be seen and George guessed they'd had the sense to run as soon as the police had arrived.
"Into the back," the cop said, giving George a shove.
"Alright, leave off," George replied, shoving him back as he climbed awkwardly into the car. He expected a slap for his trouble, but the officer just grinned at him.
"Tiny thing like you beating up someone twice your size? There's got to be a story behind that one, mate."
The prospect of a few hours behind bars and an awkward conversation with Alice or his ASIS mission controllers meant that George's mood was rapidly starting to go south as the adrenaline wore off, so he just gave the police officer two fingers and lay across the back seats, staring up at the car's interior and wondering what he'd got himself in for.