Man vs. Beast by Robert Muchamore
The living-room curtains were pulled to stop the afternoon sun bleaching out the TV picture. James strolled into the gloomy space and handed over the hot mugs.
‘Cheers, James,’ Adelaide said.
‘Anything happening?’ he asked.
Mark shook his head. ‘They’re not showing any live footage. Just old farts sitting in the studio speculating over what we’re gonna do next.’
‘Adelaide,’ James said, ‘I think I’ve got this rash on my head, from the hair dye or something. Would you mind having a look at it?’
‘Sure,’ Adelaide said, as she stood up.
James headed through to the kitchen.
‘Where are you going?’
‘It’s lighter in the kitchen,’ James explained.
Adelaide huffed reluctantly, but followed after him. ‘If your skin’s reacting to the hair dye, it’s probably easiest just to dive in the shower and wash it out.’
Adelaide was exactly the same height as James and he didn’t think she’d be difficult to take down. The tricky part was doing it without Mark overhearing.
‘Sit in the chair or something then,’ Adelaide said. ‘I can’t see your head from all the way up there.’
‘What happened to your gun, by the way?’ James asked. ‘Did you leave it in the bike?’
Adelaide looked surprised at the abrupt change in subject matter. ‘It’s here,’ she said, lifting up her shirt to reveal it tucked into the waistband of her sweat pants.
As soon as James saw the gun, he grabbed the sodden tea towel off the cabinet top. He snatched Adelaide’s wrist and twisted her arm up behind her back with one hand, while bundling her forward and clamping the wet cloth over her mouth with the other.
She ended up pressed against the wall with James holding her in an arm lock. A sharp backwards kick hit James in the knee, but it wasn’t enough to knock him back.
‘I can snap your arm like a twig,’ James whispered nastily, tightening the painful lock to make his point clear. ‘Open your mouth.’
As Adelaide opened up, James forced the cloth into her mouth until it was completely crammed. Once he was sure the cloth wasn’t coming out, he let go and pulled the gun out of Adelaide’s waistband.
‘Put your wrists together.’
James tucked the gun in the pocket of his shorts as he grabbed one of the loops of string off the countertop. He hooked a loop over each of Adelaide’s hands, before pulling the nooses tight and securing it with a constrictor knot. He glanced out into the corridor to make sure that Mark wasn’t on the move before whispering in Adelaide’s ear.
‘I won’t hurt you if you do what you’re told, OK?’
‘Mfff,’ Adelaide nodded.
‘Walk into the living-room with me, sit your arse in the armchair and stay still.’
James grabbed the remaining loops of string off the countertop before shoving Adelaide towards the door.
‘What the hell,’ Mark yelled, looking startled as he saw Adelaide with the soggy tea towel sticking out of her mouth. His eyes darted between James and the sports bag alongside his seat.
‘You won’t reach it in time,’ James said, gesturing with the gun and using the firm but slow voice he’d practised in training. ‘Take this and tie Adelaide’s ankles together.’
‘Listen James,’ Mark said. ‘I know you’re young and I guess seeing it all on TV has made you scared. But running away from us isn’t going to help. The best way to stay out of trouble is if everyone sticks to the plan.’
‘Thank you for your input,’ James said. ‘Now take the piece of string and tie Adelaide’s ankles together or I’ll shoot you.’
Mark put his arm up on the back of the couch and smiled confidently. ‘There’s no shame in being scared, James, but this is silly. None of us is going to get caught so long as we stick to the plan.’
The TV pundits were droning in the background, ‘The police have asked us not to broadcast any live footage from the Animal Freedom Army webcast at this time, but we can tell you that Nick Cobb has had a tube forcibly inserted into his stomach and has been force fed approximately one pint of cleaning fluid. At this stage, we’re not clear how damaging the fluid will be, but our doctor here in the studio has indicated that the dosage could be fatal if he doesn’t receive medical treatment within two or three hours …’
The words made James realise that he didn’t have time for a debate with Mark.
‘Fine,’ James yelled as he lunged forwards. ‘I’ve tried being nice.’
It’s extremely awkward to hit a person who is sitting on a low couch, especially if they’ve got gangly arms and legs in the way. James propped his knee on the sofa and swung the gun at Mark’s head. But the punch missed and Mark managed to get an arm around James’ back.
The badly aimed punch might have cost James against a powerful opponent like Viv, but Mark was scrawny and James managed to wriggle out of the clumsy hold and land a better punch with his empty hand.
It connected with the side of Mark’s head, and the follow-up loosened a couple of teeth as the gun smashed into his mouth. But Mark wasn’t unconscious and he struggled as James threaded loops over his hands and secured his arms behind his back.
‘Now look at the state of you,’ James said angrily. ‘And whose fault is it?’
James stood up and realised that his tennis shirt was spattered with blood. He found Mark’s phone stuck between two sofa cushions and waved the gun at his bound-up victims before heading out into the hallway.
‘I’ve been nice so far,’ James warned, ‘but if I hear so much as a squeak, I’m putting bullets through both your heads.’
James went out into the hallway. He flipped open the mobile and dialled Zara.
‘James, thank god. Are you safe?’
‘For now,’ James said, as he noticed beads of blood welling up on his knuckles. ‘I’m in some flat in Whitley Bay. Nick Cobb is being held at Hummingbird Farm near Rothbury and Kyle’s up there too.’
34. BLOOD
It was the vilest thing Kyle had ever seen. Nick Cobb threw up as the feeding tube came out of his throat and hadn’t stopped retching in the hour since. At first he’d brought up food, mixed with Cobb Cleanse, but now he was bringing up blood as the powerful cleaning solution burned its way through his digestive system.
Viv basked in front of the cameras. He poked a microphone between the bars, continually tormenting Cobb about the pain he was in; and even read out a recipe for rabbit pie from a Nick Cobb cookbook.
Cobb was defiant at first, but as the pain grew he swallowed his pride and begged for water.
‘You paid to make a hundred and eight rabbits suffer exactly like this,’ Viv taunted. ‘They didn’t get water and neither will you. The AFA wants everyone out there to know – farmers, scientists, supermarket executives, laboratory workers and shoppers – this is just the beginning. When the AFA gets you, we’re going to make you suffer in whatever way you made animals suffer.’
Kyle and Tom sat together on a woodwormy bench at the rear of the dining-hall. Jo steamed through the door behind them with a mobile at her ear.
‘We’re off air,’ she announced, flipping her phone shut angrily. ‘I’m not sure how they’ve done it, but none of the remote sites are receiving our satellite signal.’
The room filled with moans, as Jay turned away from his control console. ‘Do you want us to keep filming?’
‘Might as well,’ Jo shrugged. ‘We can use the footage later, but it’s not gonna have anything like the same impact that it does going out live.’
Over on the set, Viv noticed a glimmer of hope in Nick Cobb’s eyes.
‘Go ahead and smile, bunny rabbit,’ Viv sneered, kicking the bars. ‘You’re still gonna die in that cage.’
Cobb raised his head off the ground to be sick again. There was nothing left in his stomach and all he could do was retch before slumping back to the floor of the cage.
Tom stood up and headed briskly out of the room. Kyle followed him
‘What’s up?’ Kyle asked.
Tom looked upset. ‘Do you think my brother’s enjoying himself just a little bit too much up on that stage?’
Kyle nodded solemnly. ‘I think he’s loving every minute.’
‘Do you think this is right?’ Tom asked.
‘I …’ Kyle said, unable to think of anything worth saying. He couldn’t imagine how Tom could think this was anything but wrong.
‘This whole eye for an eye deal. You kill bunnies so we kill you,’ Tom said, wrapping his hands around his head and looking stressed. ‘And seeing a man tied up in a cage, puking himself to death. I thought we’d be blowing up a building or something. I wish we’d never got involved in this shit.’
Kyle felt a huge surge of affection: he’d always thought that Tom was basically a good person and the confirmation made a tear well up in his eye.
‘This is a big bloody mess we’ve got ourselves in,’ Kyle said, grinning wryly. ‘I guess we could grab a van and try making a run for it, or something.’
‘Viv wouldn’t leave; he’s in his element in there.’
‘Screw Viv,’ Kyle said. ‘I’m talking about us.’
‘We can’t,’ Tom said, shaking his head as his eyes welled up. ‘If we walk out on Jo now, she’d definitely find a way to stitch us up – grass on us for the arson attack or something. The only way we’ll come out clean is by seeing this through.’
Jo stepped out on to the front lawn. ‘Hey, you two lazy asses,’ she yelled aggressively. ‘We need a hand.’
‘Doing what?’ Tom asked.
‘I don’t know why communications have gone down, but I know I don’t like it.’
Kyle was confused. ‘I thought you said they might shut the websites down.’
‘The websites are working fine,’ Jo explained. ‘It’s the satellite link. It might be a technical glitch, but it could mean that someone is on to us. Either way, I want everyone on alert.
‘You two go over and get the three vans ready for a quick departure. I want them driven around to the front of the house and facing the gate, with keys in the ignitions. And I want the two motorbikes unloaded from the back of the van and ready to roll as well.’
Tom walked towards the courtyard behind the barn where the vans were parked, as Kyle headed into the house to get the other two sets of keys. Kyle wondered if the satellite had been shut down as a result of James getting the information about their location out to Zara, but he doubted it. Blocking a satellite signal is easy once you know where it’s coming from, but it also puts your opponent on high alert.
‘Has anybody got van keys?’ Kyle asked loudly, as he walked into the dining-room.
He was surprised to see seven masked terrorists gathered around the cage, debating furiously. Nick Cobb had coughed up more blood and lots of it. He lay in the middle of the cage convulsing violently. Kyle could hardly bear to look.
‘Get Cobb out of there!’ Jay yelled.
‘Screw him,’ Viv said. ‘So what if he’s not lasting as long as we expected? We knew there was a chance he might die. If he pegs it, we’ll still be making our point and we can pack up early and be home in time for Neighbours.’
Nobody was interested in Kyle’s request for keys, so he decided to use the set he already had in his pocket and headed out towards the courtyard.
‘What happened?’ Tom asked.
‘It’s going pear-shaped in there,’ Kyle explained. ‘Looks like Cobb’s gone into shock.’
‘Great,’ Tom said, shaking his head miserably.
‘I’ll get the other keys in a minute when they’ve calmed down,’ Kyle said. ‘I might as well drive our van up to the exit gate in the meantime.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘I dunno,’ Kyle shrugged as he climbed into the van. ‘Have you checked to see if they’ve got the keys in the ignition already?’
‘Good point,’ Tom nodded.
Kyle considered his options as he reversed the van out of the courtyard and trundled up the rutted path towards the gate.
He didn’t fancy taking on nine people and until now he’d been relying on James getting the information about the farm out to Zara and sitting tight until the cops arrived. But with Nick Cobb’s health declining faster than anyone expected, this option looked increasingly like a death sentence for the TV chef.
Kyle’s first thought was to squeeze the gas pedal, plough through the gate and keep going, but Chase was on guard duty with her British army assault rifle and if anything, the combination of his escape with the satellite signal going down might make Jo even more paranoid and push her into a violent standoff with the cops.
As Kyle stopped the van and pulled on the handbrake, he realised that Nick Cobb’s only decent chance of leaving Hummingbird Farm alive would be if he rescued him.
*
Back at the cottage in Corbyn Copse, Zara had barely been off the phone in the half hour since James rang through with the information on AFA headquarters. She’d taken down all the details of the farm layout from James, as well as who the activists were and what weapons they had, before relaying it all to the headquarters of the national anti-terrorist unit in Milton Keynes.
One problem with CHERUB operations is that you have to cover your tracks if agents behave in a way that makes it clear that they aren’t ordinary kids and James’ situation at the safe house was one of them: Adelaide and Mark were surely going to wonder how a fourteen-year-old boy had overpowered them, before disappearing without trace.
But that was only one of Zara’s problems. She was on the phone to CHERUB’s liaison at the anti-terrorist unit and she was absolutely furious over the mix-up with the satellite uplink.
‘I have a sixteen-year-old agent on that farm,’ she yelled. ‘I don’t care what your director says about the importance of cutting off the oxygen of publicity to terrorists. I’m concerned about the safety of my agent and when I pass confidential information up to you, I expect you to make intelligent use of it, not to put them at risk.’
‘It’s out of my hands,’ said the voice on the other end of the line.
‘I know it’s not your fault, Joseph, but the local police say it’s going to be at least another hour until they can get their armed response teams out to Rothbury and ready to move in on Hummingbird Farm. The absolute last thing you should have done is cut the satellite relay and put the AFA on a higher state of alert.’
Lauren was dealing with the calls Zara couldn’t take and came running out of the kitchen with her mobile at her ear.
‘Give us a second,’ Zara said into her phone. ‘I’ve got to speak to Lauren.’
‘I’ve got campus on the phone,’ Lauren explained. ‘They’ve contacted MI5. They have a team on an operation in Gateshead who can drive over and sort out the situation with Mark and Adelaide.’
Zara nodded hurriedly as she covered the microphone of the phone in her hand. ‘Good work, Lauren. Can you ring the details through to James yourself? The number’s written on the notice board in the kitchen.’
‘Right,’ Lauren nodded, before dashing back to the kitchen and turning down the volume on the portable TV. Meatball was jumping up and down, wanting to play.
‘Sorry mate, I’m a bit busy,’ Lauren said, giving the dog a quick stroke while dialling Mark’s mobile.
‘Zara?’ James asked anxiously.
‘It’s me,’ Lauren said.
‘Hey, sis. I’ve been stuck here for an hour awaiting instructions. Can you tell Zara to sort something out pronto?’
‘She’s busy dealing with Kyle,’ Lauren explained, ‘but I’ve just got off the phone with the control room on campus. I’ve got your instructions. Ready?’
‘Yeah,’ James said. ‘And say it quick, I keep getting the low battery warn
‘MI5 are sending out a unit to your flat to tidy things up, but they don’t have high enough security clearance for CHERUB operations, so you’ve got to be out of there before they arrive. Have you got a car or something?’
‘Choice of two,’ James nodded.
‘Right, pick up your stuff, get in a car and make your own way back to campus.’
‘So how will they cover for me?’ James asked.
‘The MI5 dudes will inject Mark and Adelaide with enough tranquilliser to knock them out for twelve hours or so. They’ll wake up in a police station in a state of total confusion, and be told that they were arrested following an anonymous tip-off from a suspicious neighbour. They can claim that you tied them up if they want, but nobody’s gonna believe them.’
‘Good stuff,’ James grinned. ‘What about me?’
‘They’ll say that you scarpered out of a window when the cops kicked the door in.’
‘I’l grab some car keys and shoot off then,’ James said. ‘See you back at campus, I expect.’
The phone made another low-battery bleep as James flipped it shut. He wandered into the living-room, where Mark and Adelaide were now blindfolded, gagged and expertly trussed.
‘Hope you’re nice and comfy there,’ James grinned, as he reached into Adelaide’s trouser pocket and grabbed the keys to the rather spiffy looking Mini Cooper parked outside. It was a long drive back to campus, so he decided to take all the paper money from Adelaide’s purse in case he needed to stop for something.
After diving into the toilet for a quick slash, James stuffed the two guns and a bottle of mineral water into a carrier bag. It took a leap of the imagination for James to pass as someone old enough to hold a driving licence, so he looked down at the pavement as he hurried out to the car and stepped into the driving seat.
Once inside, he flipped on the air-conditioning to conquer the stifling heat before fumbling around, looking for a road atlas or map under the seat or in the glove compartment. All he came across was a pair of sunglasses, which he put on in the hope that they made him look older, or at least made it harder to see that he was only fourteen.