22: ID
When Lucy explained the situation, Dave just listened, sitting forward in his chair and barely moving except to occasionally shift the position of his legs.
"The good news is, I think we can find a mutually beneficial solution to this situation," Dave finally said when Lucy was finished. "What you're proposing is clearly in Michael's best interest but I think it's also in ours."
Lucy looked relieved. "Well, that's good," she said.
"However," Dave went on, "The bad news is, you're going to have a really difficult time pulling this off. A couple of ex-agents have had their fingers burnt recently by the anti-drug laws in southeast Asia and there's a fair bit of opinion going around that FANG are just being used as a get-out-of-jail-free card. You're not going to get much support from the Intelligence Minister and by extension the higher-ups at CHERUB."
"I reckon Zara would do the right thing," James countered. "I know her hands are tied a bit by being Chairwoman, but she's pretty good at standing her ground when she needs to."
"I don't doubt it, she's a lovely lady," Dave said, nodding in agreement. "But if she's not being backed by others, it'll damage her position. It's all political at that level and there's plenty of people who'd definitely be happy to leave one guy in prison to keep everything else moving smoothly."
"Ultimately," George cut in, "Once Michael's back on campus, whatever happens after that is out of our hands. It's more about giving him the best possible chance."
"And you need me to run interference at FANG," Dave concluded. "Undermining William is not easy."
"Here's what I'm proposing," James said, looking at Dave. "All we need from you is to suppress any information FANG might get about Michael until we've got him back to campus. In return, I'll use my influence with Zara behind closed doors to help you. William Shepherd's retiring in the next couple of years; I'll put your name at the top of the list for his replacement. Or if you want a change of scenery, I can get you a reference that will get you a foot in the door wherever you want. Investment banking, MI5, or just a cushy desk job in some government department with a big pension and no responsibility or oversight."
Dave nodded. "I expected something like this," he said. "Here's my terms: Brigadier Kurman barely ever goes to the CHERUB ethics committee meetings. I want him pensioned off and me put in his place. That's enough to guarantee I'll get Shepherd's job when the time comes."
"Done," James said, reaching out and shaking Dave's hand. "Shouldn't be a problem."
Dave grinned. "Well, I'm glad you're optimistic," he said. "Leave Michael's situation with me. But if CHERUB turns him in anyway, that's nothing to do with me, and the deal still stands."
With the final obstacle out of the way, Lucy got in touch with Michael to finalise a date.
"A friendly captain is giving him a ride on a container ship to Rotterdam," Lucy told George as they jogged around the athletics track. George was running the final set of laps to finish his punishment so he was in a good mood. "He'll be there on Saturday. There's a ferry leaving Rotterdam for Hull, in Yorkshire, on Saturday night which arrives on Sunday morning. He can clear customs when it's most quiet, then we'll grab him and get him down to campus as quickly as possible."
"Perfect," George told her, the final two hundred metres in sight. "So we need to be ready for Sunday?"
"We'll leave here at midnight to give ourselves enough time to get up there and meet the ferry. It's not perfect but we'll just have to take a chance that by the time anyone misses us, we'll be long gone," Lucy said.
"Fingers crossed," George told her.
"I've got all the other arrangements in place, and James has put the fake mission through so we should be covered at least in theory."
George was nervous all day on Sunday, even though he was supposed to be relaxing. The only thing any of his friends knew was that he was going on his security mission, but in reality he was going to be breaking a ton of CHERUB rules and, even though it was reassuring that Lucy and James were in on it too, he couldn't shake the feeling that they'd overlooked something. He managed to sleep for a few hours but his churning stomach kept him up, and he ended up spending the evening lying in bed and texting Bianca, who was at an eighth-floor karaoke party.
"You ready?" Lucy asked as she met George going down in the lift. It had just gone midnight and everyone seemed to have gone to bed.
"As I'll ever be," George said. "Bad attack of the pre-mission nerves."
"I've had it a bit too," Lucy told him. "I always feel better when things get going."
They walked across the deserted ground floor of the main building to the car pool, where James was waiting with two giant rucksacks. He used his authorisation to release the sporty Golf again as well as a BMW which looked innocuous but could go like the clappers if you put your foot down.
"Which one do you want?" Lucy asked, going behind the desk to get the keys.
"The Golf has a lower profile," George said, taking the VW keyring.
"Aw," James said, sounding disappointed. "I wanted a go in the BMW."
"Alright, I'll see you there," Lucy said, giving him and James a quick hug. "Good luck."
"You okay to drive the first half?" James asked, yawning as they watched Lucy go, one of the bags hanging across her back. "I'll take the second shift and then we can both get some kip."
"Sounds good, boss," George said, shivering as they dashed across the car park to the little VW.
They stopped at some motorway services for a three a.m. burger to help with the late-night hunger pangs. Shortly after six, they were pulling into a windswept car park overlooking a river, pretending not to recognise the BMW belonging to Lucy even though James parked right next to it. The giant ferry was coming up the river, lit up, and even though it was still dark there was a flurry of activity around the terminal as the staff prepared for the ship's arrival. Getting out of the nice warm car into the frigid air outside was a shock, so George zipped his coat up as tightly as possible, shoved his hands deep into his pockets and, with a hat pulled down low over his eyes, he walked towards the terminal, following signs for the passenger section. There were a handful of people already there, including Lucy, who showed no signs of recognising them. She had a big scarf on which covered most of her mouth and nose, so all he could see were her two brown eyes looking up at the ferry as it berthed, moving agonisingly slowly.
Eventually the ferry arrived properly and a small stream of people started disembarking. They mostly seemed to be people who'd been on holiday, dragging suitcases on wheels behind them, with a few others who looked like migrant workers with dark rings around their eyes. George watched nervously as the first groups reached border control, a woman in a blue uniform methodically checking all the passports and travel documents. She questioned one or two of the workers, asking where they were staying in a sharp voice.
"Sounds like a hardarse," James commented under his breath to George, and George smiled.
Lucy looked up suddenly and when George looked around he spotted Michael, mid-way through a big group of families with children, his head down as he walked. He was wearing a military-style jacket and dark brown trousers without socks, which looked far too summery for the cold weather outside. His only concession to the weather was a dark beanie which he had pulled down over his ears, and he'd grown a beard which covered his chin and his cheeks.
"Passport," the woman intoned as Michael stepped up to take his turn. One of the little kids travelling with the family behind him had woken up and started whining, catching people's attention as Michael shook his head.
"No passport," he said, in a heavy French accent.
"Have you got an ID card?" the border control woman asked, slowing down her speech for him.
Michael nodded and handed over a card. The woman studied it closely, putting it under a UV scanner and comparing Michael's face to the photo on the card.
"Can you take your hat off, please?" she asked, her voice loud enough to drown out the children behind him.
Michael took his hat off and looked at the woman, who started typing something into her computer.
"I'm sorry sir, I need to check this with my supervisor," she finally said, handing back his ID card. "Just wait here for five minutes."
She picked up a corded telephone and dialled a number, then had a hushed conversation with someone.
"What should we do?" George asked James, trying to look bored.
"The ID card is fake," James said quietly. "If her supervisor is from the border police we've got no hope."
"Could you just step out of the queue and wait until my supervisor arrives, please?" the woman said to Michael, gesturing to show where he should stand. "It won't be long."
Michael nodded and stepped back, allowing the woman to begin checking the passports of the family behind him.
Lucy stepped over to them. "We've got to get him, now," she said, urgently. "I've seen her computer screen and she's picked up that he's in the Interpol database."
"Go to the car," James told her. "I'll get him."
Without any further hesitation, James pushed his way through the small crowd until he reached the border control point. The woman was working her way through a stack of passports and didn't notice him at first.
"Excuse me!" James shouted, waving a leather wallet at her.
She glanced up. "Yes?" she said.
"I'm with the CIB," James said, ducking under a barrier so he could pass the woman the wallet with his ID and badge in it. "James Macallan."
The woman studied the wallet for a second. "How can I help you, officer?" she asked.
James pointed to Michael. "We had a tip-off. I need to take him."
"He hasn't got the right documentation to enter the country," she said flatly.
"Doesn't matter, we're arresting him anyway," James said. "This is urgent, I can't hang around."
She shook her head. "Wait for my supervisor to get here."
The queueing passengers were starting to get impatient, craning their necks to see what was holding everything up.
"I'm sorry, madam, but I must insist," James said, stepping past her booth to where Michael was waiting.
"Hey, stop right there," she protested, but Michael had got the message and didn't make a fuss as James twisted his arms behind his back and slapped on a set of cuffs. They pushed back past the family and headed for the exit as the woman grabbed her phone and started frantically dialling.
"Don't walk with us," James hissed to George as they passed, and George deliberately took a detour, as if he'd recognised someone in the queue. Then by the time he'd doubled back, James and Michael were gone. Satisfied, George was going to go and catch them up, but a pair of border police officers in yellow high-vis jackets appeared, jogging over to the woman in the booth who frantically pointed in the direction James had gone. George left before he could see any more, striding across the tarmac towards the car park as quickly as he could without drawing any more attention.
"Police are here," he said when he got close enough to the cars to see Michael and the others. "Two officers."
"They'll alert the main force," James said, shaking his head and releasing Michael's cuffs. "We need to go, right now."
But Michael couldn't resist. He pulled George into a big hug, crushing him.
"It's so good to see a friendly face again," Michael said, happily.
"You absolutely reek of BO," George said, making a face.
"What do you expect, I've been sleeping rough for a week," Michael shrugged, grinning.
"Let's go," James said, but before they could get car doors open, there was the short squeal of a police siren and a flash of blue lights from the road leading to the car park.
"Michael, you're with George," James shouted now, ripping open one of the BMW's doors. "We'll be the decoy car."
Lucy threw herself into the BMW's driver's seat and Michael, keeping his head down, bundled into the back of the VW as George climbed into the front, squeezing over the gearstick to reach the driver's side. In the time it took him to get the keys in and the engine started, Lucy was already pulling away in an ostentatious squeal of tyre smoke, and before the police could get close, George followed, keeping a lower profile. He had the advantage of four-wheel drive, though, so as Lucy had a close call getting past the police car, who tried to block her in but chickened out at the last moment when confronted with a big vehicle coming the other way at speed, George instead cut across a small patch of grass, the car's wheels digging in and spraying turf behind him, and came out on the access road slightly ahead of Lucy. The bigger BMW showed its muscle, though, gaining speed and overtaking him, and in less than a minute after the police car's siren had gone off, they were both speeding up the road, warehouses and shipping containers on either side of the road just a blur.