Cherub Series: Class A Part 8

'Where you going?'

'G.o.d knows. We can get burgers or something, hang around the shopping centre.'

'Whatever,' James said. 'Anything beats lessons.'

One of the coolest things about missions was being able to break all the rules without getting into trouble.

The two boys crawled under the back gate and ran a couple of hundred metres away from the school. Junior did a strip. He had a Puma T-shirt and shorts under his uniform.

'If you're gonna bunk off,' Junior explained, 'it's best to get rid of the uniform. Otherwise you get some old bat spotting the badge on your blazer and ringing up your school to complain.'

'Smart,' James nodded. 'But all I've got under here is bare skin, so unless you want me to walk round in my boxers, I'm stuck with it.'

'You want to go to the Reeve Centre?' Junior asked.

'What's that?'

'Big shopping place. You're seriously telling me you've never been there?'

'We only moved here a week ago,' James explained.

'Why's that?'

'We were in London,' James lied, repeating the cover story they'd all had to memorise. 'My stepdad got a job at the airport, so we moved up here.'

'If you've never been to the Reeve Centre, we should definitely go. It's half an hour on the bus. There's sports shops, games shops and a big food court.'

'Sounds cool,' James said. 'But I've only got the three quid Zara gave me to buy lunch.'

'I can lend you a fiver, James. But I'll send my geezers round to smash your legs if you don't pay me back.'

James laughed. 'Cheers.'

9. THEFT.

They wandered round the Reeve Centre for an hour, looking at trainers and computer games that they didn't have any money to buy. It wasn't as boring as school, but it wasn't exactly exciting either. When they got hungry, they got stuff off a Mexican stand in the food court.

'My dad's loaded,' Junior said, taking a chunk out of his burrito. 'But he's so tight. He says he doesn't want me turning into a spoiled brat. I'm telling you, half the poor sc.u.m living down on the Thornton estate get more cool stuff than I do.'

'That's where I live,' James said.

'Sorry,' Junior smiled. 'No offence.'

'None taken.'

'Actually, it's quite a laugh hanging out on Thornton. I was down there in the holidays and some kids started chucking bricks at the police.'

James laughed. 'Excellent.'

'It was brilliant. One cop car got the windscreen smashed and everything. I go to boxing club down there as well. Have you been round there?'

'No.'

'My dad sponsors it, actually. You should come along, everyone who goes boxing is a nutter. It's a good crowd.'

'Maybe I'll try it,' James said. 'Does boxing hurt?'

'Only when you get punched,' Junior said, grinning. 'So that's something you should definitely try to avoid.'

'So how come your dad's loaded?' James asked. 'What does he do?'

James knew what Keith Moore did, of course, but he wondered what Junior would say.

'Oh, he's a businessman. Import and export. He's a millionaire actually.'

James acted impressed. 'Seriously?'

'No kidding. That's why I get so p.i.s.sed off he won't give me decent pocket money. There are six Playstation games I want really bad. I'll get a couple of them for my birthday, but that's not till November.'

'Steal 'em,' James said.

Junior laughed. 'Yeah, but knowing my luck I'd get busted.'

'I know a few things about shoplifting,' James said. 'My mum was into it, before she died.'

'Did she get nicked much?'

'Never,' James said. 'Shoplifting is a snip, as long as you use forward planning and kitchen foil.'1 'How many times have you done it?' Junior asked.

'Hundreds,' James lied.

In fact, the only time James had tried shoplifting was when he was in care shortly after his mum died. He'd ended up in a police cell.

'So what's the tin foil for?' Junior asked.

'I'll show you, if you want to go for it.'

'I'm in if you reckon it's safe.'

James gurgled up the last of his c.o.ke. 'There's no guarantee, but I've never been caught before.'

He reckoned shoplifting was a good way to cement his friendship with Junior. If they got away with it, he'd be a hero and he could invite himself round to Keith Moore's house to play the games. It would be trickier if they got caught, but the experience of getting in trouble together would probably bring them closer.

James wouldn't get in real trouble with the police, because they would arrest and charge James Beckett, a boy who didn't really exist. As soon as the mission ended, CHERUB would pull James Beckett's criminal file and have it destroyed, so no fingerprint or DNA evidence would ever be linked back to James' real ident.i.ty.

James bought a roll of tin foil in one of those everything for a pound shops. They locked themselves in a disabled toilet. James gave Junior the stuff out of his backpack and lined it with a double layer of the shiny aluminium.

'What does it do?' Junior asked.

'You know those alarms that go off when you take something out of a shop?'

Junior nodded.

'They're metal detectors,' James explained. 'They put those sticky metal tag thingies on everything, and the alarm goes off when it detects them.'

'So, won't the metal foil make it go off?'

'It only goes off when it detects the right-sized piece of metal. Otherwise, it would ring for every umbrella and belt buckle. So, as long as you wrap the security tags inside something made of metal, the alarm thinks it's something different and doesn't go off.'

'Genius,' Junior said, breaking into a grin.

'All we need is a shop where they keep the Playstation discs in the boxes, not behind the counter.'

'Gameworld does,' Junior said.

'We'll have to go in separately. I'll go up and stick the games in my pack. Your job is to distract the security guard, or any staff that come near me.'

'How?'

'Anything to take their attention off me. Just walk up and ask where something is.'

'You're sure this isn't going to go wrong?' Junior asked excitedly. 'If we get caught, my dad will crucify me.'

'Trust me,' James said. 'Besides, you're only a lookout. I'm the one taking the big risk.'

James felt confident as Junior led him through the shopping centre towards Gameworld.

The security guard stood in the entrance. James went straight up the back to the Playstation games. His foil-lined backpack was already unzipped. He found four of the games Junior wanted, then realised he might as well grab a few for himself while he was taking the risk. It was dead easy: the security guard was picking his nose and the guy at the checkout was texting on his mobile.

James zipped the pack up and slung it over his back. Junior stood in the doorway, with the security guard pointing out the DVDs to him. James headed towards the exit as nonchalantly as he could, but his heart was thumping. As he pa.s.sed through the detector, an alarm went berserk and a mechanical voice boomed out: 'We're sorry, an inventory tag has been left on your item. Please return to the store. We're sorry, an inventory ...'

The guard took hold of James and tried to drag him into the shop. Junior could have kept his head down and n.o.body would have been able to prove he was involved, so James was impressed when he charged towards the security guard and punched him in the side of the head. James kneed the guard in the stomach and started running, with Junior a few paces behind.

The security guard in the store opposite had seen the whole show and came after them. When James glanced back over his shoulder, the guard was shouting into his walkie-talkie, requesting back-up.

'You t.i.t,' Junior shouted, as shoppers dived out of their way. 'What a great plan.'

James couldn't work out what he'd done wrong. Two security guards came out of a department store up ahead, blocking their path and forcing them to cut into a women's clothing store. A woman with a buggy went flying into a display of leggings as James crashed into her. The store was crammed with rails of clothing that brushed against James as he ran. Junior stumbled. One of the security guards got a hand on him, but he spun away and recovered his balance.

James burst out of the fire exit at the back of the shop, setting off another alarm. He'd hoped the door would lead out on to the street, but he'd emerged into the central concourse of the shopping centre. There was a big fountain and a stand where they did temporary exhibitions. The yellow banner hanging over the exhibition stand sent James into shock: BEDFORDSHIRE POLICE THEFT PREVENTION SQUAD.

FIND OUT HOW TO PROTECT YOUR.

HOME AND CAR FROM CRIME.

There was a long fold-out table, with three policemen behind it handing out crime prevention leaflets.

'Holy s.h.i.t,' Junior gasped, stopping in his tracks.

With the police up ahead and security guards behind, their chances looked about nil. James considered surrendering, but Junior noticed a door with a toilet sign a few metres away and barged it open. He led James down a narrow corridor, with six pairs of men's shoes clattering after them. They pa.s.sed the entrance to the ladies' toilet and crashed through a fire door, into the dim confines of a multistorey car park.

They sped towards the lift, but there was no time to wait for it. Instead, they scrambled on to the staircase and ran down, leaping three steps at a time, fuelled by adrenalin. James twisted his ankle, but he didn't have time to think about the pain, or the fact that if he tumbled he'd smash his head open on bare concrete.

The policemen were more cautious on the stairs and the boys had gained ground by the time they booted open a set of doors that led into a sunlit alleyway. There were ma.s.sive steel bins and boxes of rubbish piled around them. They clambered over everything, reaching the front of the shopping centre as the police emerged through the doors at the bottom of the stairs. The security guards had given up.

There was a pedestrian crossing, with two lanes of waiting traffic. James saw the green man flashing and they made a dash for it. They ran into the outdoor car park, crouching low and jogging between the b.u.mpers of two lines of parked cars.

The police got stranded on the other side of the road, waiting for the lights to change. One cop tried to stop the traffic with a hand signal and nearly got splattered by a motorbike. By the time the cops had halted the traffic and made it across, James and Junior were crouching behind a car a hundred metres away.

The three cops stood on the pavement by the car park, staring hopelessly at row after row of parked cars. The boys kept low until they came to the far side of the car park. They pushed themselves through shrubs, emerging on to the narrow pavement beside a fast-moving dual carriageway. Junior started to run.

'WHOAH,' James said. 'Keep cool.'

Junior turned around. 'What?'

'Walk,' James said. 'It looks less dodgy if we're spotted.'

They walked nervously for twenty minutes, looking back over their shoulders and having miniature heart attacks every time they spotted a white car. When they noticed a bus coming, they sprinted to the stop and hopped on. They went upstairs and sat at the back, well away from the other pa.s.sengers. James finally felt safe.

'Sorry about that,' he said breathlessly. 'You're not p.i.s.sed off with me, are you?'

Junior burst out laughing. 'That was mental. The look on those cops' faces when we lost 'em. Oh man ...'

'I'm an idiot,' James said. 'You know what I did? When I put the games in, I must have pushed the foil down the bag so it wasn't covering them over.'

'Who cares now?' Junior grinned. 'Gimme, gimme, gimme.'

James unzipped his pack and pulled out nine Playstation games. Junior read out the price stickers.

'Forty, forty, twenty-five, thirty-five. How much is that?'

'A hundred and forty.'

'Thirty-eight, twenty-four and three at thirty-five.'