Gabrielle nodded. ‘That boy is so dumb.’
‘Why?’ James grinned. ‘What’s he done this time?’
‘You remember the little DVD production line he was running?’
James nodded, his mouth too full to speak.
‘I think the staff were prepared to turn a blind eye while he was running off the odd movie for his mates,’ Gabrielle explained. ‘But he started getting greedy.’
‘How come?’ James asked.
‘Kyle started getting more orders than he could handle by himself, so he employed Jake Parker to help burn the DVDs and put the labels on.’
James nodded. ‘I know Jake, he’s Bethany’s little brother.’
‘Jake thought it would be funny to mix up the labels.’
James broke into a smile. ‘That’s not good.’
‘No it wasn’t,’ Gabrielle said. ‘Especially not when a bunch of six-year-olds ended up at a sleepover with a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre instead of Harry Potter.’
‘Classic,’ James yelled, banging on the tabletop and howling with laughter.
Kerry kicked him under the table. ‘It’s not funny, James. One poor kid peed her nightie.’
‘I guess it’s not really funny,’ James said, before erupting into a fresh round of hysterics.
Kerry was struggling to keep a straight face herself. She leaned across the table and stared into James’ eyes. He wiped the Bolognese from his mouth and kissed Kerry on the lips. It was good to have her back.
EPILOGUE
JANE OXFORD did not cooperate with the FBI. She refused to answer any questions, except to acknowledge her name. She faces charges for murder, racketeering and weapons smuggling and can expect to spend the rest of her life in prison. The complexity of the charges against her mean that a trial is unlikely to take place for several years. In the meantime, she remains on remand at the federal supermax prison in Florence, Colorado.
After Jane’s arrest, the FBI used information in her possession at the time to uncover homes and assets she controlled around the world. As more secrets were unveiled, it became clear that Jane Oxford had changed the focus of her operations from stealing weapons, to stealing the technology underlying them. She then used front companies, such as Etienne Defence Consultancy, to sell this knowledge on to other weapons manufacturers.
With the global armaments industry turning over half a trillion dollars a year, Jane found this business far more lucrative than selling arms to terrorist groups and poverty-stricken third-world governments. The FBI has already uncovered assets belonging to Jane Oxford worth more than $1.4 billion. Not only is this figure well in excess of what the FBI had expected to find, it is more than Jane’s relatively modest lifestyle would ever have required. It seems that, true to her psychological profile, Jane Oxford carried on her criminal activities purely for the thrill of it.
So far, no specific information has been found about the PGSLM Buddy missiles. The FBI now suspect the missiles were stolen to order on behalf of a rival weapons manufacturer. However, until concrete evidence is found, there is no way to be certain of this. The possibility remains that the weapons have fallen into the hands of terrorists or even that Jane Oxford did not steal them at all.
CURTIS OXFORD was reclassified as an escape risk and returned to a single cell inside Arizona Max, after forty-eight hours in the hole.
A few months later, Curtis’ Las Vegas based ‘uncles’ discovered that the psychiatrist who recommended he be sent to the Arizona-based military school was being investigated for accepting money in return for recommending his patients to the school. They instructed a lawyer to appeal Curtis’ case, on the grounds that the murders he committed were a result of the inappropriate advice given by the corrupt psychiatrist.
On appeal, the judge accepted the arguments of Curtis’ lawyers, stating that: ‘Curtis Oxford has a long history of mental health problems. While Curtis must clearly still accept some responsibility for these very grave actions, this new evidence shows that it was inappropriate to try and sentence him as an adult.’
Curtis’ original convictions for first-degree murder were quashed. Charges relating to the death of Scott Warren and the subsequent escape were also dropped. Three weeks later, Curtis pleaded guilty to four counts of the lesser charge of manslaughter in an Arizona youth court. Following a detailed psychiatric evaluation, he received a sentence of seven years, to be served in a medium-security young offenders institution. The families of the three people Curtis shot appeared on a local TV station saying that they were appalled by this decision.
It has also emerged that Jane Oxford had set up a trust fund for her son, thought to be worth more than $30 million. This money has been thoroughly laundered through the international banking system and FBI sources believe it will be impossible to prove that it is the proceeds of criminal activity. When he is released from prison in 2012, Curtis Oxford will be an extremely wealthy young man.
Among the other prisoners, ELWOOD and KIRCH both turned eighteen and were moved into the adult section of Arizona Max shortly after the escape. The brothers STANLEY and RAYMOND DUFF fully recovered from their injuries and returned to cell T4 once the riot damage had been repaired.
The Arizona Department of Prisons has a long-standing policy of naming cellblocks after officers who died in the line of duty. The SCOTT WARREN memorial cellblock is due to open soon in a new prison complex east of Phoenix. The inquiry into the escape made several recommendations for tightening up security inside Arizona Max. These included replacing the oversensitive doors and issuing all correctional officers with personal attack alarms that activate automatically when an officer is knocked down. A lack of money means these recommendations are unlikely to be implemented.
WARREN REISE (a.k.a. Scott Warren), quit his job as an FBI special agent so that he could spend more time with his wife and three young children. THEODORE MONROE and MARVIN TELLER remain on the FBI team investigating the legacy of Jane Oxford’s criminal activities.
PAULA PARTRIDGE was questioned by police in California and Arizona. They saw no reason to doubt her story about being held hostage. She later received an undisclosed compensation payment from the Arizona Department of Prisons and $7,000 from a news agency for an interview about her ‘Terrifying ordeal at the hands of ruthless teenage killers’. The article appeared in more than one hundred newspapers and magazines across the United States and around the world. The money enabled Paula to move out of the trailer park and make the down payment on a small house. She also took her daughter, HOLLY PARTRIDGE, for an overnight stay at Disneyland.
VAUGHN LITTLE’s ranch was searched by the FBI and a significant cache of illegal weapons was found. These included Glock machine pistols, mortar rounds and sniper rifles. Vaughn and his wife LISA LITTLE were charged with harbouring a fugitive and possession of unlicensed firearms with intent to sell. Vaughn was sentenced to eight years in prison while Lisa received a term of four years. The ranch and Arabian horses had to be sold to pay legal costs and REBECCA LITTLE (Becky) moved to live with her eldest sister in California.
EUGENE DRISCOLL recovered fully after the Biro was removed from his neck. WILLIAM BENTLEY (Bill) similarly recovered from the gunshot wounds inflicted by Marvin Teller. Police checks indicated that the two men had been working together as contract killers for more than forty years. They were wanted for thirty murders, in eleven US states and two Canadian provinces.
After the two men had recovered, the FBI transported them to Texas. Following a three-week trial, they were found guilty of six counts of murder and sentenced to death by lethal injection. The lengthy appeals process means it will be several years before their death sentences are carried out.
DAVE MOSS was quietly removed from his guarded room in the Arizona hospital and arrived back at CHERUB campus a few days after James and Lauren. He resumed light physical training shortly after returning and was declared fully fit two months later, when ultrasound scans showed that the blood clot on his chest
had dissolved.
A detailed report is written on every CHERUB mission. The report on the prison break congratulated all participants for the overall success of the mission. However, JAMES ADAMS was severely criticised for his reckless crashing of the Toyota and Dave Moss for falling asleep and almost allowing James to be stabbed by Stanley Duff.
Only LAUREN ADAMS escaped without rebuke. The report described her as ‘Courageous, clear thinking, cooperative’, and as a ‘young agent with massive future potential’. After reading the report, Dr McAfferty decided that her role in the mission justified giving her the navy T-shirt, making her one of the youngest ever to wear it.
While the staff at CHERUB had some reservations about the performance of their young agents, over in America the CIA and FBI were delighted with the capture of Jane Oxford. Four weeks after James returned to campus, Dr McAfferty received a package from CIA headquarters. It contained three boxes made of highly polished piano wood, one each for James, Dave and Lauren.
James wondered what was in the box when he came up to his room after lessons and spotted it resting on his pillow. He pulled open the tightly sprung hinge and stared at the gold disc, with the head of an American eagle at the centre of a five-pointed star, before reading the inscription beneath it:
The Intelligence Star is a medal
awarded by the United States for a
voluntary act, or acts, of courage
performed under hazardous
conditions, or for outstanding
achievements or services rendered
with distinction under conditions
of grave risk.
James couldn’t help grinning as he turned the medal over and read his name engraved on the back.
READ ON FOR THE FIRST CHAPTER
OF THE NEXT CHERUB BOOK,
THE KILLING.
1. UNIFORM
For the past three years George Stein has worked as an economics teacher at the exclusive Trinity Day school near Cambridge. Recently, information has come to light suggesting that Stein may have links with the environmental terrorist group Help Earth. (Excerpt from CHERUB mission briefing for Callum Reilly and Shakeel ‘Shak’ Dajani.)
JUNE 2005
It was a fine day and this part of Cambridge had the whiff of serious money. The immaculate lawns were coiffured by professional gardeners and James drooled over the expensive lumps of German metal parked on the driveways. He was walking with Shakeel and both boys felt self-conscious in the summer uniform of Trinity school. It consisted of a white shirt, a tie, grey trousers with orange piping, an orange and grey blazer and matching felt cap.
‘I’m telling you,’ James moaned, ‘even if you sat down and tried really hard, I don’t think you could come up with a way to make this uniform look any dumber.’
‘I dunno, James. Maybe we could have partridge feathers sticking out of the hats or something.’
‘And these trousers were meant for Callum’s skinny butt. They’re killing my balls.’
Shak couldn’t help seeing the funny side of James’ discomfort. ‘You can’t blame Callum for pulling out of the mission at the last minute. It’s that stomach bug that’s going around campus.’
James nodded. ‘I had it last week. I was barely off the bog for two whole days.’
Shak looked at his watch for the millionth time. ‘We need to up the pace.’
‘What’s the big deal?’ James asked.
‘This isn’t some London comprehensive full up with scummy little Arsenal fans like you,’ Shak explained. ‘Trinity is one of the top fee-paying schools in the country and the pupils aren’t allowed to wander around the corridors whenever it suits them. Our arrival’s got to coincide with the changeover between third and fourth periods, when there’s hundreds of other kids moving around.’
James nodded. ‘Gotcha.’
Shak looked at his watch for the millionth and first time as they cut into a cobbled alleyway that was barely wide enough for a single car.
‘Come on, James.’
‘I’m trying,’ James said. ‘But I’m seriously gonna rip the arse out of these trousers if I’m not careful.’
Once they’d cut between two large houses, the alleyway opened out into a run-down park with knee-high grass and a set of tangled swings. To the boys’ left stood a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, behind which lay the grounds of Trinity Day. The main gates were carefully monitored during school hours, so this was their only way in.
Shak wandered through the long grass next to the fence, placing his shoe carefully to avoid turds and litter, as he searched for an entry point made by an MI5 operative the previous night. He found the flap cut in the wire behind the trunk of a large tree. Shak lifted it, doffed his cap and attempted a snooty accent. ‘After you James, my good man.’
James fed his backpack and hat through the gap, before sliding under. He stood with his back against the tree and brushed dirt off his uniform, while Shak followed.
‘All set?’ James asked, as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. It weighed a ton and the equipment inside clattered around.
‘Cap,’ Shak reminded him.
James let out a little gasp as he leaned forward and picked the cap out of the grass. A claxon sounded inside the school building a couple of hundred metres away, indicating a lesson change.
‘OK, let’s shift,’ Shak said.
The boys broke out from behind the tree and began jogging across a rugby pitch towards the school building. As they did, they noticed a groundskeeper striding purposefully towards them from the opposite end of the field.
‘You two,’ he bellowed.
Because James had been pulled on to the mission at the last minute to replace Callum, he’d only had time to skim through the mission briefing. He looked uneasily at Shak for guidance.
‘Don’t sweat it,’ Shak whispered. ‘I’ve got it covered.’
The groundskeeper intercepted the boys near a set of rugby posts. He was a fit looking fellow with thinning grey hair, dressed in workman’s boots and a grubby overall.
‘Exactly what do you think you’re doing out here?’ he demanded pompously.
‘I was reading under the tree at lunchtime,’ Shak explained, pointing backwards with his thumb. ‘I left my cap behind.’
‘You know the rules of the school, don’t you?’
Shak and James both looked confused.
‘Don’t try playing the fool with me, you know as well as I do. If you’re not attending a lesson, a 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.’
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