CHERUB: The Killing - Robert Muchamore Page 0,1

match, or an official practice, you do not set foot on the games pitches because it causes unnecessary wear and tear.’

‘Yes,’ Shak nodded. ‘Sorry, sir. I was in a hurry to get to my lesson, that’s all.’

‘Sorry,’ James added. ‘But it’s not like the pitches are muddy or anything. We’re not really tearing them up.’

The groundskeeper took James’ comment as a threat to his authority. He swooped down and showered James with spit as he spoke. ‘I make the rules here, young man. You don’t decide when you can and can’t set foot on my pitches. Got that?’

‘Yes, sir,’ James said.

‘What’s your name and house?’

‘Joseph Mail, King Henry House,’ James lied, recalling one of the few elements of his background story he’d managed to remember from the mission briefing.

‘Faisal Asmal, same house,’ Shak said.

‘Right,’ the groundskeeper said, bouncing smugly on the balls of his feet. ‘I’ll be reporting both of you to your housemaster and I expect your cheek will have earned you both a detention. Now, you’d better get yourselves to your next lesson.’

‘Why’d you answer back?’ Shak asked irritably, as the boys walked towards the back entrance of the school.

‘I know I shouldn’t have,’ James said, raising his palms defensively. ‘But he was so full of himself.’

They passed through a set of double doors into the main school building, then up a short flight of steps and into the busy thoroughfare that ran the length of the ground floor. There was plenty of noise, but the Trinity boys walked purposefully, nodding politely to the teachers standing in the doorways as they entered their classrooms.

‘What a bunch of geeks,’ James whispered. ‘I bet these dudes don’t even fart.’

Shak explained the situation as they headed up the stairs to the second floor. ‘Every kid has to pass special exams and an interview to get into Trinity. There’s always a humungous waiting list, so they can afford to boot out anyone who doesn’t toe the line.’

‘Bet I wouldn’t last long,’ James grinned.

By the time they reached the second floor, most kids had found their way to lessons and the classroom doors had been pulled shut. Shak pulled a lock gun from the pocket of his blazer as they passed by a couple of classroom doors. He stopped at the door of an office with a nameplate on it: Dr George Stein BSc, PhD, Head of Economics and Politics.

Shak pushed the tip of the lock gun into the keyhole. James stood close by, blocking the view of a bunch of kids waiting outside a classroom fifteen metres away.

The lock had a simple single-lever mechanism, meaning Shak only had to give the lock gun a brief wiggle and pull on the trigger to open the door. The pair hurriedly stepped into the office and put the latch down so that nobody could burst in on them, even with a key.

‘Stein should be teaching two floors up,’ Shak said. ‘We’ve got until the next lesson change in thirty-six minutes; let’s get to work.’

2. TECHNIQUE

While Shak stepped behind Stein’s desk and dropped the Venetian blind, James surveyed the office. It contained nothing exciting: basic desk and chairs, two filing cabinets and a coat rack. Shak used the lock gun to undo the metal cabinets, then began sifting through the files. He was looking for any papers relating to George Stein’s personal life, especially anything to do with his campaigning for environmentalist groups.

James sat at the desk and switched on Stein’s PC. While the computer booted up, he pulled a miniature JVC notebook from his backpack and ran a network lead between the two computers. Stein’s machine demanded a password, but James wasn’t flustered. He started up a suite of hacking tools on his computer and used it to run system diagnostics on Stein’s machine.

Once the software had gleaned basic information about Stein’s hard drive and operating system, James opened another module of the hacking software, which allowed him to view all of Stein’s files.

‘Candy from a baby,’ James smiled confidently.

Now he could see the files, James clicked the Clone icon and the notebook began copying the entire contents of Stein’s PC on to its hard drive.

‘How much data’s he got?’ Shak asked, as he pulled out the second drawer of the cabinet.

‘Eight-point-two gigabytes. The progress bar says it’ll take six minutes to copy it all across.’

While the computers went about their business, James shifted some papers and stood on the desk. He reached up and pulled out the metal reflector covering the ceiling-mounted light fitting.