Class A (16 page)

‘So,’ Kyle asked, ‘are you gonna bust this place up?’

‘No,’ John said. ‘We’re going to put it under surveillance. We’ll get an undercover team to rig the loft up with video cameras and microphones. We’ll watch who comes and goes and where they’re coming from and going to. Hopefully, we can track the drugs that are processed at
Thunderfoods
back to wherever they’re being smuggled in.’

‘So it’s really only the beginning,’ James said.

‘You kids have got our foot in the door,’ John said. ‘That’s not the same as bringing down KMG, but it’s going to be a lot easier now we know where their cocaine is being processed.’

John shook everyone’s hand before he left. The sun was on its way up and Lauren was the only one who’d managed any sleep.

*

It was three in the afternoon when James surfaced from under his duvet. He was busting for a pee, but Kerry was in the shower, merrily singing her head off. Lauren had left a note on the kitchen table.

    
James

    
U looked peaceful! Didn’t want 2 wake U up.

    
CU soon.

    
Lauren.

    
XXX

James was miffed. He’d wanted to say a proper goodbye and wish Lauren luck in training. He sprinted back upstairs as soon as he heard Kerry unlock the bathroom.

‘What took you so long?’ James gasped, lifting the toilet seat and starting to pee without bothering to close the door behind him.

‘Sorry,’ Kerry said, towelling her hair. ‘Have you seen
Ewart
or Zara?’

‘Not yet. They’re at the supermarket.’

‘They want a word with us later on,’ Kerry said.

‘You think we’re in trouble for not asking before we broke in?’ James asked.

‘Lauren got a blasting from
Ewart
before she left.’

‘Was she upset or anything?’

Kerry shook her head. ‘She seemed to handle it OK.’

‘So, what do you reckon they’ll do to us?’

‘Kyle overheard
Ewart
and Zara talking,’ Kerry said. ‘Apparently we’ve landed ourselves washing-up duty for the rest of the mission.’

James shrugged. ‘We could have got worse, I suppose.’

15. CONTENDER

Not much happened in the three weeks after they broke into
Thunderfoods
. That’s how undercover missions usually work: you find a few things out quickly, then it starts getting tougher. You have to be patient, slowly winning the confidence of your targets and working your way deeper in to an organisation.

Meryl Spencer sent James an e-mail to say Lauren had completed her first week of training and was coping well.

Nicole had put listening devices and miniature cameras around Keith Moore’s house. James still liked Nicole, but he hadn’t kissed her after the first time because he was more interested in Kerry.

Kerry had wired Mr Singh’s house with microphones and was spending a lot of time with
Dinesh
, trying to squeeze out more information. James still hadn’t found the right moment to tell Kerry how he felt about her. At least, that’s what he told Kyle. There had been loads of opportunities, but James always chickened out.

Kyle had given up targeting
Ringo
Moore and was helping a couple of Year Ten kids make deliveries for KMG on weekends. James still couldn’t get his head around Kyle being gay, but it hadn’t changed anything in their day-to-day lives.

Some days, James almost forgot he was on a mission. It was like being a normal kid: getting up and playing with Joshua, going to school, sitting through boring lessons or bunking off, coming home and eating whatever frozen delight Zara had warmed in the oven, then going out making deliveries.

It wasn’t a bad life. There was a hundred a week in drug money to spend. James had got new jeans and tracksuit tops, video games and the dearest Nike trainers he could find. School was a doss and Junior and James always messed around and had a laugh. The two boys had loads in common: they both supported Arsenal, hated school, liked
Playstation
and had similar tastes in music and girls.

*

James hadn’t been in a proper three-round fight yet, but he’d done some sparring and loved the buzz you got in the boxing ring. As soon as you get punched, the chemicals in your body rise up and make you mad, like somebody plugged you into the electricity. Your bad side takes over and you’re not scared of anything.

James couldn’t manage Ken’s target of a hundred and fifty skips a minute, but he’d got well past the stage where the other boys pissed themselves laughing every time he picked up a rope. He stopped skipping and mopped the sweat off his face when Kelvin called him to ringside.

‘One round sparring with Del,’ Kelvin said.

Del had a longer reach and seven fights under his belt, but James wasn’t worried as he stepped through the ropes wearing gloves and a head guard. James was built for boxing: solid arms, big shoulders and strong enough to take a punch.

‘Touch gloves,’ Kelvin said, stepping back from the two fighters.

James charged forward on the bell. Del landed the first hit, a glancing blow on the side of James’ head guard. James hit Del’s head harder, sunk another punch in Del’s guts and then covered his face, blocking Del’s jabs while spying for an opening through the crack between his gloves. When it came, James pounced forward and landed his glove in Del’s face. The next punch caught Del off balance, sprawling him out over the canvas.

James wanted Del to get up so he could thump him again, but Del waved his gloves in front of his face and crawled to the ropes. James was disgusted. He spat out his mouth guard before tugging off his glove and hurling it at Del’s back.

‘Call that a fight?’ he shouted. ‘Come back for some more, you little wimp.’

Kelvin grabbed James by his shoulders and pulled him backwards. ‘Cool it, tiger,’ he grinned. ‘Try and remember this is amateur boxing. You win on the number of clean punches you land, not on how hard you punch or even how many times you knock the other guy down.’

‘I
wanna
fight somebody really good next time.’

Kelvin laughed. ‘You’re a strong lad, James, but you need to work on your speed, so don’t start getting cocky.’

James unbuckled his head guard and jumped out of the ring. Junior was walking towards him.

‘You almost look good enough to fight me,’ Junior said, smiling.

‘I’d fight you now if they’d let me.’

Del had staggered around from the other side of the ring. His hair was soaked in sweat where it had been trapped under his head guard.

‘You’re too strong for me,’ Del gasped.

‘Sorry I called you a wimp,’ James said. ‘I got carried away.’

Del and James gave each other a sweaty hug. It was always the same: in the ring you wanted to kill someone, but once you got out you were mates again. As James walked over to his training pals, Kelvin called him back.

‘I hear you’ve been a reliable delivery boy since you started,’ Kelvin said. ‘Don’t think it’s gone unnoticed.’

‘Cheers,’ James said, his mind still fixed inside the ring.

‘You fancy a little train ride tomorrow evening?’

‘How far?’ James asked.

‘We need a package delivered down St Albans way. You up for it?’

‘Sure.’

‘There’s twelve kilos of coke split into four bricks. Get someone you can rely on to help you carry it. You’ll earn forty pounds each.’

‘Sounds fair,’ James said. ‘Where do I pick the stuff up?’

‘You know Costas?’

James nodded. ‘I’ve seen him around.’

‘He’ll meet you in the Thornton playground at about six o’clock. Bring your mate so we can check him out.’

*

Kyle was on another delivery, so James offered the job to Kerry.

‘It’s fifteen minutes’ ride on the train,’ James said, ‘and we’ll be earning twenty pounds each.’

Kerry shrugged. ‘I was gonna do homework with
Dinesh
after school, but I’m not getting anything new out of him.’

It was a drizzly night, so nobody else was in the playground. Costas was a burly sixteen-year-old who’d dropped out of school the year before. His face was a mass of zits and he didn’t like the look of Kerry.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he asked. ‘You weren’t supposed to bring your girlfriend. You need someone with a bit of presence in case there’s trouble.’

‘This was arranged at short notice,’ James said. ‘Kerry’s all I could get and she’s well up to the job.’

Costas looked at Kerry. ‘No offence, babe, but we don’t use little girls.’

Unless you were a very large person, preferably armed with a baseball bat, calling Kerry
 
babe
 
was a seriously bad idea.

‘I’m not your babe,’ Kerry sniffed. ‘And I’m quite capable of defending myself.’

‘I’m sure you are, sweetie,’ Costas sniggered. ‘Sorry, James, but this is not gonna happen. Bringing a chick on a delivery, man… What are you thinking?’

‘Give us those drugs,’ Kerry said furiously. ‘Or you’re in deep trouble.’

James smiled at her. ‘Kerry, calm down. I’ll make a couple of phone calls and smooth this out.’

‘No,’ Kerry said. ‘I’m not letting this bag of pus talk to me like that.’

Costas snorted noisily.

‘What you gonna do, baby cakes, pull my hair?’

Kerry lunged forward, slamming a Karate chop into the front of Costas’ neck and sweeping his legs away as he stumbled backwards. Costas was on the ground with Kerry’s knee crushing his windpipe before he even realised the fight had started.

‘Baby cakes?’ Kerry shouted, pressing her knee in harder as Costas gasped for breath. ‘Nobody calls me baby cakes.’

‘OK,’ Costas gurgled. ‘I’m sorry. You can go with James.’

Kerry stood up and let Costas sit still while his face returned to its normal colour.

‘You surprised me,’ Costas said angrily, as he got to his feet. ‘But you better not try anything like that again or I’ll seriously hurt you.’

Kerry couldn’t help grinning. ‘I’ll try to keep that in mind.’

Costas made sure nobody was around before unzipping his backpack. Kerry and James each grabbed two plastic-wrapped bricks of white powder and tucked them in their backpacks. James started walking away.

‘Hang on,’ Costas said. ‘Unless you want me to keep the eighty quid.’

Kerry snatched the money out of Costas’ hand.

‘Pleasure doing business,’ she said.

She started jogging after James.

‘Eighty quid, James?’ Kerry said angrily. ‘I can’t believe you tried to rip me off when you’ve got a roll of twenties in your pocket and I’m only getting pocket money.’

‘It was a mistake,’ James lied. ‘You can have half, of course.’

‘I’m keeping the lot,’ Kerry said, tucking the money into her jeans. ‘Unless you want to fight me for it.’

16. LOST

James and Kerry stepped off the train on to the platform at St Albans.

‘It’s a shame we couldn’t have got here earlier in the day,’ Kerry said. ‘St Albans is really historic. There’s Roman ruins and mosaics and stuff.’

‘Tragic,’ James said sarcastically. ‘Nothing gets my pulse racing like a good mosaic. We’re not going into town anyway. We’ve got to get out to some housing estate.’

Taxis were lined up outside the station. The driver wanted to see James’ money before he’d take them anywhere. The ride took them past farms and some seriously expensive houses, then from nowhere they found themselves surrounded by graffiti and concrete. It was like an alien spaceship had sucked a housing estate out the middle of London, then decided it didn’t like the look of it and dumped it in the middle of nowhere.

The cab pulled up outside a shopping arcade. Everything was boarded up, except a pub that had been converted into a snooker club. It had a reinforced metal door and bars over the slits of glass that passed for windows.

Kerry looked around nervously as the cab pulled away. It was already turning dark.

‘It must be the pits living in a place like this,’ James said. ‘Thornton may be a dump, but at least it’s near to town. Out here you’ve got nothing.’

It turned out the shops were the high point of the area. Beyond them were eight low-rise housing blocks. Three were boarded up, with
 
CONDEMNED BUILDING
 
notices and signs warning people not to go inside without masks to protect them against asbestos dust. There was a pack of dogs roaming around, druggies in dark corners and the only normal-looking people you saw walked fast, like they were afraid of being mugged.

James got the directions out of his pocket.

‘Twenty-two, third floor, Mullion House.’

They found Mullion House, then walked up a foul-smelling staircase and along the third-floor balcony. The door numbers ended at twenty. James rang the bell and an Eastern-European-sounding woman shouted out of the letterbox in bad English.