CHERUB: People's Republic (31 page)

The operator sounded confused. ‘Did you say you’re a security agent?’

‘Yes,’ Amy yelled. ‘Please, I’m begging you, just put me through.’

‘I’m going to have to speak to a supervisor,’ the operator said. ‘Can you hold for a moment?’

‘For Christ’s sake,’ Amy shouted.

The clock on Amy’s phone was now on 7:45. As she held the landline to one ear waiting for the operator, she flipped through her mobile phone’s memory until she came to U for Unicorn Tyre Repair.

‘It’s Amy Collins, former agent 0974,’ she yelled, when someone picked up. ‘I need a passenger stopped at Edinburgh Airport. Name of Fu Ning. She’s on flight CI208 to Beijing.’

Amy was reassured by the voice of Chief Mission Controller Ewart Asker.

‘You’re cutting things fine,’ Ewart said. ‘But I’ll see what I can do.’

Meantime the 999 operator had come back on the landline. ‘Hello,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve spoken to my supervisor. She wants to know if you’re reporting the possibility of an imminent threat to an aircraft.’

Amy decided to leave stopping the plane to Ewart, but she was still furious and gave the operator a mouthful. ‘No there’s not a terrorist threat,’ she yelled. ‘And the speed you work at it’s a bloody good job as well, isn’t it?’

*

Jean put her hand on Ning’s knee as CI208 taxied towards the runway. The safety demonstration had just ended and the seatback screens had gone blank. Ning was in a window seat and she looked out, wondering if the sunrise and the expanse of concrete would be her last ever sight of Britain.

A woman with a Chinese accent came over the intercom. ‘
Good morning, lady and gentlemen, this is your co-pilot speaking. Welcome to China International. Sorry we are a few minutes late backing away from gate, but I am pleased to say we have not lost our departure slot and are expecting to take off within the next few minutes. Weather forecast for our arrival in Beijing is eighteen degrees with light showers. Our flight time will be twelve hours twenty minutes. Flight crew, secure doors and take positions for take-off
.’

Ning had flown often, but still felt a jolt of anticipation, glimpsing the runway lights as the Airbus turned into its pre-take-off position.

*

Amy didn’t bother with niceties such as socks or a bra, just a T-shirt, jeans and trainers. She bounded down to the Balmoral’s lobby with a bag slung over her shoulder and her mobile in hand. There was a taxi rank right outside.

‘Really sorry,’ Amy said as she bumped an elderly American couple from the head of the taxi queue and jumped into a waiting cab. ‘Airport,’ she told the driver. ‘Any idea how long it takes to get there?’

‘Twenty minutes if the traffic’s good,’ the driver said. ‘Twice that if it isn’t.’

Fortunately they were half an hour from peak morning rush hour, and once out of the city centre they were going against the traffic.

Amy called TFU headquarters in Dallas, and asked them what the chances were of stopping a China International flight once it was in the air.

‘Not a hope in hell,’ the duty officer told her. ‘Unless there’s an immediate security threat you’d be creating a huge diplomatic shit storm. Your best bet would be to put in a request to interview Fu Ning when she reaches China.’

‘That’s what I thought you’d say,’ Amy said. ‘I just hope we caught her before that plane took off.’

When Amy hung up, she saw that she’d missed a call from CHERUB campus. Ewart had left a voice message.

‘
Amy, it’s Ewart. Fu Ning is a confirmed passenger aboard CI208. I got a call through to Air Traffic Control at Edinburgh. They were going to try pulling the flight, but I don’t know if we’ve caught it in time
.’

Amy tried calling Ewart back, but he was engaged, so she opened her web browser and refreshed the flight information page:

CI208    Beijing          7:50      Gate Closed

By this time Amy’s taxi was passing a big yellow and black sign saying Welcome to
Edinburgh International Airport
. She saw that it was quarter past eight, and realised there was no point panicking: Ning had either flown or she hadn’t. Running around wouldn’t change a thing.

‘Good drive,’ Amy told the cabby as she handed him a twenty-pound note and jumped out. ‘Keep the change.’

‘Excuse me,’ the driver shouted after her.

Amy turned back, thinking she hadn’t given the driver enough money, or that she’d left something in the taxi, but the driver pointed at her face.

‘I know you’re in a hurry, lass,’ he said, ‘But I thought you’d like to know that you’ve got a blob of something on the end of your nose.’

Amy smiled as she rubbed her hand across her face, then looked at porridge smeared across her palm.

‘Messy eater,’ she explained, as she gave the driver a thumbs-up. ‘Thanks, mate.’

All the junk Amy had hastily stuffed into her bag rattled as she walked through the automatic doors into the airport check-in area. She looked up at the giant destination board and liked what she saw:

CI208     Beijing          7:50       No Information

She wasn’t sure where to go next. She figured airport security was best and headed for an information counter, but her phone rang before she got there. The man on the other end had a thick Scottish accent.

‘Miss Collins?’ he asked. ‘When you reach the airport I’m at the fast-track security gate at the extreme left of the terminal.’

Amy looked up and saw a stout little police inspector speaking into a mobile phone less than twenty metres away.

‘Did you stop the plane?’ she asked, as she dodged baggage trolleys and rushed across the concourse.

*

The pilot told the passengers that they’d been called back to the terminal for technical reasons as he peeled off the runway. The plane rolled across the airport for more than ten minutes, passing the entire length of the terminal building and stopping on a stretch of bare tarmac.

‘This is odd,’ Jean said, as Ning watched airport security police wheeling metal steps towards the main door at the front of the Airbus.

People in the rows on either side spoke with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as four armed policemen raced up the steps and moved swiftly down the plane’s single aisle. Jean and Ning were surprised as the lead officer stopped by their row and spoke after a quick glance at the seat numbers.

‘Fu Ning?’ the officer asked. ‘We’ve been asked to remove you from the plane.’

‘What’s going on?’ Jean asked, as she pulled out her immigration service ID. ‘I’m accompanying her.’

‘Nobody tells us anything,’ the officer said. ‘We need you to come with us.’

Everyone looked around as Jean and Ning walked towards the front of the plane.

‘
Ladies and gentlemen, this is your co-pilot. As you can see we’ve been called back to the terminal for the removal of two passengers. Unfortunately regulations do not allow us to fly with checked baggage unless the passenger is present. We’re hoping that a baggage cart will be available shortly, but we may be subject to
…’

The airport security police seemed pleased to have a bit of drama on their hands. Besides the four cops who’d boarded the plane there were two more at the bottom of the stairs and another bunch in the arrivals lounge when they reached the top of a long metal staircase.

Ning looked about curiously as she re-entered the warm carpeted world of the airport terminal.

‘Does anybody know what’s going on?’ Jean asked, as she pulled a BlackBerry out of her coat pocket.

Nobody answered, but the girl who did know was hurrying towards them in jeans, trainers and a scruffy grey T-shirt. She broke into a huge relieved smile as she shook Ning’s hand.

‘Hi, Ning,’ Amy said. ‘Looks like I caught you just in time.’

40. BURGER

Amy took Ning to the airport Burger King. They faced each other across a glossy table top, with a plastic tray between them.

‘So,’ Amy said, as she blew on her coffee, ‘I expect you’re confused.’

Ning smiled awkwardly as she peeled waxed paper away from her cheeseburger.

‘I’ve got a picture that you might find interesting,’ Amy said, as she rummaged in her bag. She pulled out a photo printed with a dodgy inkjet cartridge, so that it looked all pink.

Ning gawped as Amy slid it across the table. There were three women in British Army uniform, and the one on the right was Ingrid, looking about twenty.

‘That’s my stepmum,’ Ning gasped.

‘I was able to access a version of the UK military personnel database that isn’t available to agencies like the immigration service,’ Amy explained. ‘It wasn’t hard to find her, because Ingrid isn’t a very common name in the UK. Your stepmother’s real name was Ingrid Miller, born in 1970 in Bootle, Merseyside. The woman on Ingrid’s right is called Tracy Hepburn. She wasn’t your stepmother’s sister, she was an army friend, and I suspect she’s the lady who sent you presents on your birthday.’

‘Ingrid claimed she was thirty-seven,’ Ning said. ‘But I guess she lied about her age along with everything else. So does Ingrid have any real relatives?’

‘Her parents both died before you were born. Ingrid does have a real sister called Melanie. She’s married and lives in Manchester. I don’t think she’s the kind of auntie you’d want to end up living with though. She’s been in and out of prison for drug and shoplifting offences and two of her own children have been taken into care.’

‘That about sums up my luck,’ Ning said.

‘Don’t worry,’ Amy said. ‘I looked into Ingrid’s background purely to determine how much truth there was in the statements you gave to the police and your immigration officer.’

‘It’s
all
true,’ Ning said.

‘I know,’ Amy said. ‘You don’t need to worry about being shipped back to China. The British secret service will support your application for citizenship, provided you agree to help us. The organisation I work for is investigating the Aramov Clan and I’ll need to give you a detailed debriefing on everything that you saw in Kyrgyzstan.’

‘I don’t mind that,’ Ning agreed. ‘Though I didn’t exactly see much.’

‘You’d be amazed how often tiny details can turn out to be critical in an investigation,’ Amy said. She glanced around to make sure nobody was close by and then spoke in a lower register. ‘I’d also like you to visit a place called CHERUB campus, with a view to becoming one of their agents.’

English wasn’t Ning’s first language and she thought she might have misunderstood. ‘Agent?’

‘The principle behind CHERUB is simple,’ Amy said. ‘Adults rarely suspect that children are spying on them.

‘For instance, I’m twenty-three. If I went undercover, became a drug dealer’s girlfriend and started asking a lot of questions about his business, he’d probably suspect that I was an undercover policewoman. But if you started hanging out on that drug dealer’s patch, maybe you’d approach the dealer and ask if you could earn some pocket money working as a lookout or something. As far as the dealer is concerned you’re a kid. You can’t be a snitch or an undercover agent because you’re eleven years old.’

‘Twelve,’ Ning said. ‘I had my birthday last week.’

‘CHERUB agents need to be a cut above,’ Amy explained. ‘Physically strong and clever. Trained to run fast, or fight their way out if things get hairy. You’ll have to undergo a set of recruitment tests before CHERUB can accept you. After that you’ll face a hundred days of basic training which is very tough indeed. But according to your school records—’

Ning looked surprised as she interrupted. ‘I went to school in
China
.’

‘I’ve done my homework on you,’ Amy said, wagging her finger. ‘We got a Chinese-based CIA officer to bribe an education official in Dandong. I’ve read through copies of your entire education file, going back to when you were three years old.’

‘I’d
love
to read those,’ Ning said. ‘I’ve always wondered what people were writing while I was getting yelled at.’

‘I doubt any of it would surprise you,’ Amy said. ‘Apparently you’re clever but easily bored and disrespectful towards adults. The English translation that I read had the phrase
heading for trouble
a hundred and six times.’

‘But you still want me?’ Ning asked.

‘Kids who are clever and obedient tend not to make the best CHERUB agents. Troublemakers tend to be bolder and more creative, and CHERUB needs people who can think for themselves on undercover missions.’

Ning felt hopeful for the first time in weeks as she pushed the last piece of her cheeseburger into her mouth.

‘I always used to wind my teachers up by saying that I wanted to be a rock star or a terrorist,’ Ning said. ‘I never thought about being a secret agent, but I guess that could be fun too.’

*

After stopping at the hotel to pack up and pay the bill, Amy and Ning boarded the next London-bound train. They had a first class carriage almost to themselves and they sat facing each other.