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Authors: Robert Muchamore
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training comparatively easy, but then got to rub in his superiority by pushing him around.
Paul felt sorry for himself: he’d made things worse by faking the injury and part of him was tempted to go downstairs to McAfferty’s office and tell her that he couldn’t take it any more. It had been made clear to all trainees that Espionage Research Unit B was made up of volunteers. But while there was nothing to stop Paul from leaving, his sister Rosie and his best friend Marc lived here and quitting now meant that ten weeks of training would be for nothing.
‘You look beat,’ Troy said cheerfully as he came in and stepped up to the urinal. He now wore the same kind of striped rugby shirt as the trainees.
‘The training kills you,’ Paul said, as he ran the huge red welt on his wrist under the tap and then splashed water up on to his face. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘Have you been crying?’ Troy asked. ‘Your eyes are really red.’
‘No,’ Paul said defensively, as he turned off the tap. ‘Being out in the cold makes them watery.’
He hurried downstairs. Luc had now joined Joel, PT and Rosie on the floor of the hall and he acted like nothing had happened.
‘There you go,’ Sam said, as he passed Paul an enamel mug filled with tea. ‘There’s a pile of towels by the door if you want to dry off.’
But before Paul took his second mouthful, instructor Takada had stepped into the hall and brought his hands together in a sharp clap.
‘In pairs,’ Takada demanded, before leaning out of the door and shouting upstairs. ‘All Group-B boys down here now .’
This would be Troy’s first taste of hand-to-hand combat training. He’d work with Sam and the two other Group-B students. They wouldn’t start their full training programme until two more boys were recruited, but in the meantime Khinde was taking them on cross-country runs to raise their fitness levels and they regularly joined Group-A’s indoor hand-to-hand combat training sessions.
With Marc away there was an odd number of Group-A trainees. While Rosie got sent across to help Khinde train the Group-B kids, PT paired off with Joel and Paul nervously faced Luc.
‘Going down hard,’ Luc grinned, but Takada suspended Paul’s doom by giving everyone ten minutes of warm-up stretches and running on the spot.
When Takada gave the order to face off and grapple, Paul found himself flying through the air and slamming hard on to a mat filled with horsehair. Within a second, Luc’s knees were crushing the wind out of his chest. Paul’s arm was at full stretch and his wrist and fingers were being painfully bent back.
Paul looked desperately between the burly legs that were crushing him and saw Takada coming towards them. Paul hoped he’d tell Luc to take it easy, but instead Takada crouched over Paul and smiled.
‘How’s it going down there?’ Takada asked cheerfully. ‘Maybe when Luc has finished you’ll have a real injury to get you out of training.’
‘Sir, I’ll never lie to you again,’ Paul said breathlessly, as Luc wrenched his arm even tighter. ‘Just tell him to get off me.’
‘No breaks,’ Takada said unsympathetically. ‘Good work, Luc. Let him up and do it again.’
Over the next thirty minutes Takada ordered the two pairs of boys from Group A to perform several drills: there were throwing exercises, trips, straight wrestling and an exercise where you had to disarm your opponent when he lunged at you with a fake dagger. But whatever the drill the result for Paul was much the same as Luc pummelled, kneed, twisted, elbowed and crushed.
At the halfway point of the ninety-minute session, Takada told everyone in the hall to take a breather. Paul’s face was bright red, the elastic had been torn out of his underpants and his bare chest was covered with welts and scratches.
‘Roll on the second half,’ Luc grinned, as he stepped back from Paul and turned around, heading for the water fountain at the back of the
Paul felt sorry for himself: he’d made things worse by faking the injury and part of him was tempted to go downstairs to McAfferty’s office and tell her that he couldn’t take it any more. It had been made clear to all trainees that Espionage Research Unit B was made up of volunteers. But while there was nothing to stop Paul from leaving, his sister Rosie and his best friend Marc lived here and quitting now meant that ten weeks of training would be for nothing.
‘You look beat,’ Troy said cheerfully as he came in and stepped up to the urinal. He now wore the same kind of striped rugby shirt as the trainees.
‘The training kills you,’ Paul said, as he ran the huge red welt on his wrist under the tap and then splashed water up on to his face. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘Have you been crying?’ Troy asked. ‘Your eyes are really red.’
‘No,’ Paul said defensively, as he turned off the tap. ‘Being out in the cold makes them watery.’
He hurried downstairs. Luc had now joined Joel, PT and Rosie on the floor of the hall and he acted like nothing had happened.
‘There you go,’ Sam said, as he passed Paul an enamel mug filled with tea. ‘There’s a pile of towels by the door if you want to dry off.’
But before Paul took his second mouthful, instructor Takada had stepped into the hall and brought his hands together in a sharp clap.
‘In pairs,’ Takada demanded, before leaning out of the door and shouting upstairs. ‘All Group-B boys down here now .’
This would be Troy’s first taste of hand-to-hand combat training. He’d work with Sam and the two other Group-B students. They wouldn’t start their full training programme until two more boys were recruited, but in the meantime Khinde was taking them on cross-country runs to raise their fitness levels and they regularly joined Group-A’s indoor hand-to-hand combat training sessions.
With Marc away there was an odd number of Group-A trainees. While Rosie got sent across to help Khinde train the Group-B kids, PT paired off with Joel and Paul nervously faced Luc.
‘Going down hard,’ Luc grinned, but Takada suspended Paul’s doom by giving everyone ten minutes of warm-up stretches and running on the spot.
When Takada gave the order to face off and grapple, Paul found himself flying through the air and slamming hard on to a mat filled with horsehair. Within a second, Luc’s knees were crushing the wind out of his chest. Paul’s arm was at full stretch and his wrist and fingers were being painfully bent back.
Paul looked desperately between the burly legs that were crushing him and saw Takada coming towards them. Paul hoped he’d tell Luc to take it easy, but instead Takada crouched over Paul and smiled.
‘How’s it going down there?’ Takada asked cheerfully. ‘Maybe when Luc has finished you’ll have a real injury to get you out of training.’
‘Sir, I’ll never lie to you again,’ Paul said breathlessly, as Luc wrenched his arm even tighter. ‘Just tell him to get off me.’
‘No breaks,’ Takada said unsympathetically. ‘Good work, Luc. Let him up and do it again.’
Over the next thirty minutes Takada ordered the two pairs of boys from Group A to perform several drills: there were throwing exercises, trips, straight wrestling and an exercise where you had to disarm your opponent when he lunged at you with a fake dagger. But whatever the drill the result for Paul was much the same as Luc pummelled, kneed, twisted, elbowed and crushed.
At the halfway point of the ninety-minute session, Takada told everyone in the hall to take a breather. Paul’s face was bright red, the elastic had been torn out of his underpants and his bare chest was covered with welts and scratches.
‘Roll on the second half,’ Luc grinned, as he stepped back from Paul and turned around, heading for the water fountain at the back of the
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