CHERUB: Divine Madness - Robert Muchamore Page 0,1

That left James and two girls fighting over the last ball.

Dana Smith currently held it. She was a fifteen-year-old Australian, about the same height as James, muscular for a girl and an excellent athlete and swimmer. Gabrielle O’Brien had just turned fourteen and was the youngest on the course, but she could hold her own and had Dana penned into a corner looking for a way out.

James positioned himself a couple of metres behind Gabrielle. He figured Dana would make a break for it. Hopefully, Gabrielle would take her down and he’d be able to wade in and grab the ball while the girls tangled on the floor.

But Dana showed no sign of moving and Miss Takada was growing impatient. She had a queue of red-shirts outside, waiting for their beginners’ Karate class.

‘You got one minute, or all three of you run,’ Takada said, drumming on the face of her watch.

Gabrielle backed away from the corner, trying to lure Dana out. James was backing up too, as Dana made her move. Gabrielle lashed out, but Dana dropped down and skidded beneath the flying kick on her knees, sweeping away Gabrielle’s leg in the process.

James sensed an opportunity to snatch the ball, while Gabrielle was falling and Dana was on her knees. He ploughed into Dana, grappled her around the neck, ripped the ball out of her hand and clasped it to his chest, ignoring the pain in his fingers.

Dana yelled as she broke out of the choke hold and flipped James on to his back, before straddling his waist. She pinned his shoulders under her knees and batted him across the face. As she did so, James’ weakened fingers lost their sweaty grip on the ball. It bounced between his legs and began rolling across the mat.

Gabrielle spotted the ball and dived in. By the time Dana realised that James had let go, Gabrielle was sprinting triumphantly towards the girls’ changing room.

James was still pinned to the floor as Miss Takada made a circular motion with her finger. ‘OK, you two. Round and round, twenty time. You know the drill.’

As the instructor stepped out to yell at the rowdy group of red-shirts outside, James looked up at Dana with a hint of desperation. Her beefy thigh muscles loomed over him and her entire bodyweight pressed on his shoulders.

‘Let us up,’ James gasped. ‘It’s over.’

Dana gave him an evil smile. James didn’t know Dana all that well. She was a loner, still a grey shirt after five years of CHERUB missions and notoriously bitter towards younger kids like him who’d achieved better things.

‘This is because I’m a navy shirt, isn’t it?’ James said. ‘Well maybe you’ve been unlucky, or whatever, but you can’t blame me for that.’

‘It’s not that,’ Dana grinned.

‘C’mon, let me up,’ James said, getting angry as he tried to wriggle out. ‘Takada’s gonna have a right go if she comes back and sees we’re not running.’

‘She’ll be a few minutes helping the little kids get changed. I’ve got long enough.’

‘Long enough for what?’

‘You’ll see,’ Dana said, shuffling forwards so that her bum loomed over James’ head.

James heard a rumbling sound from inside Dana’s shorts and felt a blast of warm air.

‘Oh, Jeeeeeesus,’ James whined, screwing up his face.

Dana started laughing as she rolled off and found her feet.

‘You’re an animal,’ James groaned, wafting his hand in front of his face. ‘That’s putrid. I’ll get you back for that.’

He couldn’t help seeing the funny side. He liked Dana,even though she was an oddball.

Dana shrugged. ‘Don’t expect me to lose any sleep.’

James’ laughter dried up as he staggered towards the dojo exit, grabbed his trainers and began stripping off his padding. Twenty laps around the dojo takes half an hour when you’re knackered, and it was freezing outside.

2. CLYDE

The Echelon security network is the world’s most sophisticated electronic surveillance system. It is jointly run by the United States National Security Agency (NSA) and the intelligence services of several friendly nations, including Great Britain and Australia.

Echelon monitors communications, including telephone calls, e-mails and faxes passing via microwave links, communications satellites and fibre optic cables. The system currently scans nine billion private messages and conversations per day.

Every hour, approximately one million messages containing trigger words such as bomb, terrorist, napalm, or phrases such as Help Earth or Al Qaeda are picked out and stored by the system. These suspicious messages are run through logic analysing software that is capable of determining the emotional state of a person from their voice, or the