Ash was shut in the back of a van for the first part of the drive back to Coumarine House. Even though he was knackered and the driver wasn't allowed to talk, he couldn't sleep. After a couple of hours the driver stopped at motorway services. They both drank nasty tea and used the toilet. Ash was allowed in the cab for the rest of the journey. He read the first road sign he saw; they were near Birmingham, heading towards London. It wasn't much of a clue about where CHERUB was. Ash reckoned they'd already gone more than a hundred kilometres.

It was three in the morning when Ash arrived back at Coumarine. The entrance was locked. Ash rang the doorbell and waited ages. A house parent shone a torch in Ash's face before unbolting the door.

"Where on earth have you been?" It hadn't occurred to Ash that CHERUB had taken him without telling anyone. He scrambled for an excuse.

"I went for a walk," Ash said.

"For twenty-six hours?"

"Well..."

"Get to bed, Ash. We'll deal with you in the morning."

Coumarine looked even dingier after CHERUB. Ash crept into his room, but Brock woke up anyway.

"Hey, Einstein," Brock said. "Where've you been?"

"Go back to sleep," Ash said.

"I heard about your adventure in the off-licence. Ten out of ten for being a dumbass." Ash gave his nose a blast of some pain relief spray CHERUB had given him and started undressing.

"Can't say you didn't warn me," Ash said.

"Vince is crapping himself," Brock said. "He reckons you grassed him up and they've moved you to another home for protection."

"I never grassed," Ash said. "I've got to get him back though."

"Don't mess, Ash. He'll cut you up if you give him an excuse."

Madeline shook Ash awake later that morning.

"What are you still doing here, Ash? It's ten-thirty. You should be in school." Ash sat up and rubbed his face. His nose was tender. At least the headache was gone.

"I didn't get in until gone three this morning."

"Bit young to be out clubbing, aren't you?"

"I just um..." Ash still couldn't think of a decent excuse for turning up at 3 a.m.

"I want you in school uniform and out of the door in twenty minutes."

"I'm tired."

"Whose fault is that?"

"I'm sick," Ash said, pointing at his nose.

"Fighting, I suppose?"

"No."

"How then?"

"I think I must have slept in a funny position." Madeline started laughing.

"Ash, I've heard some excuses in my time, but a swollen nose and a black eye from sleeping in a funny position is the worst ever."

"I've got a black eye?"

"A shiner." Ash explored the tender area under his eye with his fingers. He'd always wanted a black eye, they looked cool.

"Can I see the nurse?" Ash asked hopefully.

"We don't have a nurse here. There's one at West Road School, though."

"Please let me off school, Madeline. I'm dying."

"You've been here for three weeks, Ash You've been cautioned by the police, arrested for stealing beer, we've had a complaint from school about your behaviour in class and now you disappear for a day and a half. We're pretty lax here, but we have to draw a line somewhere. Get your clothes on. If you want to complain, go and see the superintendent."

Ash was putting his schoolbooks in his backpack when Ramos came in.

"Aren't you too tired for school, Ash?"

"Madeline is making me go." Ramos locked the door and sat on Brock's bed.

"Those tests are exhausting, aren't they?"

"What?"

"I know where you were, Ash. I was one of the people who recommended you."

"The last thing I remember is being in your office upstairs. Was it you that gave me the injection to make me sleep?"

Ramos smiled. "Guilty as charged... So have you thought about joining CHERUB?"

"It's so much better than here. I can't see any reason not to go."

"It is a fantastic opportunity. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there."

"You were in CHERUB?" Ash asked.

"Back in the Stone Age. My mother and father died in a gas explosion. I was recruited from a children's home, just like you."

"You went spying and everything?"

"Twenty-four missions. Enough to earn my black shirt."

"What's that?" Ash asked.

"Did you notice everyone at CHERUB was wearing different colour T-shirts?"

"Yeah. Nobody would talk to me because I was wearing orange."

"An orange shirt is for guests. You need clearance from Mac to talk to a guest. The red shirt is for younger kids being educated on the CHERUB campus. When they reach ten years old they can do basic training and become agents if they choose to. The pale blue shirt is for trainees. When you qualify you get the grey shirt. After that, you can go dark, which means you get awarded the navy T-shirt after an outstanding performance on a mission or missions. The real high flyers get awarded the black shirt, which is for outstanding performance over a large number of missions."

"How many?"

"It could be three or four really outstanding missions, it might take ten. The Chairman decides. The last shirt is the white one, that's for staff and old girls like me."

"So you still work for CHERUB?'" Ash asked.

"No, I work for Camden Council, but when I see someone like you I make a recommendation. I'd like to give one warning before you decide, though."

"What?"

"Life on the campus will be hard to begin with. You have to learn a lot of skills and CHERUB needs you to learn them before you're too old to use them. Everyone will seem better than you at everything. How do you think you'll cope with that?"

"I want to try," Ash said. "When I got arrested the other night, the policeman said kids like me get out of their depth and end up in prison. It freaked me out when he said it because that's exactly what always happens. I never try to get in trouble, but somehow I always do."

"So would you like longer to think, or shall I ring CHERUB and tell them you're coming?"

"I've got nothing to think about," Ash said.

Ash was being picked up at three, leaving tons of time to get packed. He felt a bit sorry for Brock. He was a nice kid who deserved more from life than a crummy room at Coumarine House and three quid a week pocket money. Ash peeled two £50 notes out of his wad and stuck them under Brock's bedcovers. He scribbled a quick note.

Brock,

You've been a mate. Moving to another home.

Ash.

Brock came in the door. Ash panicked; he was crap at making excuses.

"What time's our pick-up?" Brock asked.

"What?" Brock asked.

"You heard. When's the bus to CHERUB?"

"They recruited you as well?"

"When I was eight."

"I don't understand," Brock said. Brock started pulling everything out of his wardrobe. "Four months ago I was on a mission for CHERUB in the Caribbean. I put something I shouldn't have been touching back in the wrong place. The bad guys noticed, got suspicious and disappeared. Nobody knows where. Two years' work for a dozen MI5* agents down the toilet. All thanks to me."

"What's that got to do with you living here?" Ash asked.

"I wasn't exactly the golden boy when I got back to CHERUB, so they sent me on a recruitment mission."

"Here?"

"Bingo, Ash. Stuck in this dump trying to find another kid to join CHERUB. Ramos thought you looked the type when he saw your school record. He made sure you got this room so I could evaluate you."

"So what you told me about your parents and stuff was lies?"

Brock smiled. "Hundred per cent fiction, sorry... You wanted to get Vince back. Did you have a plan?"

"You said stay away from him."

"I hate him," Brock said. "He was in a foster home and picked a fight with a seven-year-old. Threw him off a roof and broke his back. The kid's in a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

"Jesus."

"You know where they keep the spare sand for the kiddies' pit?" Brock asked.

"Under the stairs."

"Get two bags. I'll meet you outside Vince's room."

"It'll be locked," Ash said.

"I can deal with that."

Ash struggled upstairs with the sand. Brock had picked Vince's lock and was already in his room.

"I thought you were a slob until I saw this," Brock said.

Vince and his little brother Wayne weren't big on housekeeping. There were dirty clothes, magazines and CDs everywhere.

"It's a normal boys' bedroom," Ash said.

"It's not going to be for long. Start tipping the sand everywhere, I'll find some liquid."

Ash put sand in the beds, drawers and desks. Brock smuggled catering size bottles of Pepsi out of the kitchen. They shook each bottle up so it exploded when the lid came off. When they finished everything was soaked in gritty brown sludge.

Ash laughed. "I'd love to see his face."

"We'll be long gone. Want to see what's in his locker?" Brock pulled a metal object out of his pocket.

"What's that?" Ash asked.

"It's a lock gun. Does most locks. You'll learn to use it in basic training."

"Cool," Ash said. Brock slid the gun into Vince's padlock and wriggled it until the metal door sprung open.

"Girlie mags," Brock said. Brock tipped the magazines on to the floor.

"Hang on."

"What?" Ash asked.

"Look at these." There was a row of savage-looking knives in the bottom of the locker.

"I'll be confiscating these," Brock said. "Get me something to wrap them in."

"Everything's soaked."

"I don't care," Brock said. "I can hardly walk down the corridor with that lot in my hand."

Ash found a sweatshirt under Wayne's bed that only had a bit of sand on it. Brock bundled up the knives.

"OK, Ash, how long to pick-up?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes too long," Brock said. "I hate this dump."

*MI5 is the adult branch of British Intelligence.

Decided to get 2 chapters out in quick succession, might start doing 1 a day now. Have a bit of writers' block at the minute and other stuff means I have no time to write. FlashPhoenix, I'm going to try to get those ideas started in the next few days, but if I don't, I'm really sorry, I just don't have time on my hands at the minute and I'll message so you can get someone else to write. But till tomorrow, peace.