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operation, and discussing a few other situations where CHERUB agents might be useful.’
    ‘Sounds like it’s all working out for you,’ James said.
    ‘It’s manic, but I’m loving every second,’ Amy said. ‘I’m on a flight to Dubai tomorrow lunchtime, but if you’re on campus tonight us three should have dinner together.’
    ‘Sure,’ James said, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s six now and I’ve hardly eaten all day. How about I scrub up and meet you both at seven?’
    Amy was fine with this, but Bruce shook his head. ‘I’m going out for a drink with Bethany Parker.’
    James laughed. ‘Your old flame!’
    Bruce acted defensive. ‘You and Bethany always rubbed each other up the wrong way, but she’s cool once you get to know her.’
    James took a step back towards the lift and gave Amy a smile. ‘See you at seven.’
    When James got in the lift, he pressed six to go up to his old room, but then realised he was all grown up now, and hit number two to go to the staff quarters.
    ‘Is it true you’re James Adams?’ a puffed-out little grey shirt holding a tennis racket asked. ‘The guy who started the food fight and had sex in the campus fountain?’
     
    Ryan had been awake for twenty-four hours, but sleep doesn’t come easy when you’re ten thousand metres above the United States in a plane packed with high-energy explosive, piloted by a terrorist and a woman whose family is being held at gunpoint.
    His mouth felt dry as he stepped out of the cramped toilet cubicle, shaking drips off his hands, tiredness making everything blurry. Before heading back to his seat, Ryan looked through the open cockpit door. Tracy and Elbaz looked serene, lit by the clean gold sunlight that you get when you’re above the clouds.
    ‘Hey,’ Elbaz said, looking back as Ryan’s shadow sent a flicker across the cockpit glass. Ryan expected a rebuke, but Elbaz sounded friendly for once. ‘We’ll put the mayday call out in three minutes. Should be on the ground five after that, so jazz them all up back there.’
    ‘Right, boss,’ Ryan said.
    Tracy looked around and seemed like she was going to say something too, but nothing came out and Ryan tried not to think about her torment as he walked back to the single row of passenger seats.
    ‘Hey,’ Ryan said, tapping the arm of the terrorist dude, who had a cheapo iPod rip-off plugged into his earholes. ‘Elbaz says eight minutes. Be ready to move as soon as we touch down.’
    The other IDoJ terrorist was studiously reading a Koran and gave Ryan a nod as he tucked the little blue hardback into the pocket of his linen shirt, then started feeling around the cabin floor for his trainers.
    Kazakov was the only person who’d slept, same as he’d done on board the IL-76. After two tours of duty during the Russian invasion of Afghanistan, Kazakov claimed he could sleep anywhere provided nobody was shooting directly at him.
    ‘Get up, Dad,’ Ryan said.
    He put emphasis on Dad , because it’s easy to forget a cover story in the first seconds after waking up.
    ‘Where are we?’ Kazakov asked, before opening wide into a yawn.
    ‘A few minutes from landing,’ Ryan said.
    As Ryan lowered himself into his seat, the plane lunged and his knees thumped the partition in front. He leaned out to look back into the cockpit, half-expecting to see Tracy fighting Elbaz for control of the plane. Instead, she was in her seat, making the emergency call.
    ‘Mayday, mayday!’ Tracy said. ‘Globespan 2726 heading for Atlanta. Our left engine just had a major blow-up. Right side is spluttering and I can’t get accurate fuel readings. Turning one-sixty degrees east. Emergency landing in progress. Mayday, mayday!’
    Ryan couldn’t hear the reply from air traffic control.
    ‘Roger your emergency landing coordinates,’ Tracy said. ‘Navigation has pinpointed runway, over.’
    Ryan clipped his seatbelt on and felt his guts head for his throat as the plane lurched again.