1     See the Henderson’s Boys series for more information on how CHERUB began. week at the vehicle shop here on campus.’

7. LYNX

Four days later

James eyed himself in the mirror. He pulled up the tatty white CHERUB T-shirt he was wearing and clenched his stomach muscles, struggling to make any kind of six-pack. He needed to eat less and exercise more, and decided to start by just having coffee for breakfast.

Since he was a fairly junior staff member, James’ first-floor apartment wasn’t huge and didn’t have the luxury of a view over campus. But on the other hand, it was modern and rent free, comprising a bedroom, shower room, walk-in wardrobe and a combined kitchen and lounge. He’d added a few personal touches, including a large photo of his late mother, and black and white photos of retired Arsenal players.

After popping a pod into his Nespresso machine, James pulled a shirt up his arms, then sat at his glass dining-table and flipped up the lid of his laptop. There were fifteen e-mails since he’d finished work the previous night, but before he got to any of them he noticed his mobile was vibrating and saw John Jones on caller display.

‘John,’ James said, faking enthusiasm. It felt like he spent half his waking hours with his boss’ voice in his ear.

‘You’re not in your office,’ John noted.

James scowled. ‘I didn’t finish work until gone ten last night.’

John laughed. ‘I’m not having a go, pal. I appreciate how hard you’ve been working these past couple of months with so many other controllers away on missions. You’ll be going up a couple of notches when the pay review comes around in Feb.’

‘Really?’ James said, smiling at the prospect of extra cash.

‘Gotta keep pace with that banker-bonus girlfriend of yours,’ John joked. ‘Anyhow, I’ve been nagging various people and Birmingham is good to go.’

‘Seriously?’ James grinned, relishing an escape from campus bureaucracy to head off on a mission.

‘I’m just about to send through an e-mail with all of the details of the agreement.’

As soon as John hung up, James pocketed phone and keys and charged for the exit. He was halfway out the door when he had a realisation. After opening a shoe cupboard just inside the door, he pulled off the shoes he usually wore in his office and grabbed a trashed pair of combat boots, clad in dry mud.

Rather than leave mud flakes down the hallway and stairs, he kept the boots hooked over his fingers until he was out through the revolving door of the staff building. It was a school day, so the paved walkway through Campus Village’s low-rise accommodation was deserted, apart from a cleaner picking up litter and leaves with an electric handcart.