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Maths moved slowly. Neither Dan nor Phil had any great prowess in the subject, and they teamed up immediately to tackle the tangled equations that sprawled across the worksheet they’d been given.

“I literally cannot wait to drop maths next year.” Phil groaned.

“Same,” Dan said ruefully, knowing only too well that he wouldn’t be able to. Maths A level was compulsory at the Unit, as were at least one foreign language and a science.

“So. Where are you from and why did you move here?”

“I’m from Brighton,” Dan shrugged. “My Dad always worked in London but he decided he was bored of commuting up every day.”

“What does he do?” Phil asked.

“No idea, really. I don’t pay much attention to him. He works for a business that sells technology and software and stuff overseas. Well, he part owns it with another guy.”

Phil nodded, interested. “My dad owns a company too. It sells like stationary though, not as cool.”

“Whereabouts do you live?” Dan asked.

“Egerton Place.” Phil replied.

“Yeah, I only just got here I don’t know where that is. Not sure why I asked really,” Dan laughed. “We’re in Brompton Square.”

“No way!” Phil exclaimed. “That’s like, two minutes from my house. We’re basically neighbours.”

“That’s really cool,” Dan grinned. “Especially as we have to travel so far to get here. And now we’re sitting next to each other. Coincidence, huh?”

“Yeah,” Phil smiled shyly. “So, you’re my new maths buddy. Can I see your timetable? Maybe we’re in other classes together.”

It quickly transpired that, conveniently enough, they were in almost all the same classes and had taken the same options, except for art, as Dan had opted for drama instead. They talked easily, finding all the many things they had in common, and Dan left Phil at the corner of his road bubbling with success.

“Well?” Janet asked as Dan turned his key in the lock, slinging his bag off his shoulder and leaving it in the hallway to close the door behind him.

“Really good actually. Phil’s nice, it seems like his Dad keeps all the criminal stuff away from his kids as all Phil mentioned was the stationary business, and he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. But it’s hard to say so early. We walked home together and sit next to each other in most of our lessons. I don’t think it’ll be long, he’s already promised to give me a tour of South Kensington in his Dad’s new car.”

Janet beamed. “Well that’s excellent, you’ve made a great start, Dan. Don’t push it too much though, obviously, remember you’re new and you want to make lots of friends. Not just Phil. Ideally you want to find out who his friends are so that you can stay close to him without him suspecting.”

Dan nodded. “I know. He didn’t mention a single other person all day though, I’m not sure he has a lot of them. Anyway it’s only the first day. And they made me learn Latin – it was excruciating. I hate private schools, what’s even the point of Latin?!”

Janet rolled her eyes, ignoring him. “We’ve set up a surveillance room in the study where we’ve got all our equipment stored. It’s locked with a combination padlock ready in case you need to bring a friend home, obviously it’s the usual ‘oh that’s my dad’s study, he doesn’t let anyone go in there because of important documents yadda yadda’ and don’t let them go in my room either if you can help it, nothing unexplainable, but I have got a rather large collection of throwing knives that I need to get round to polishing.”

~

Sophie was an ex Underage Unit operative herself and she took every opportunity to reminisce with Dan.

“Does the combat building still have that purple squashy floor that looks like it’s something from a psychedelic nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Dan chuckled. “With the horrific yellow spirals. It certainly helps disorientate you while people are trying to kick your face in.”

Sophie grinned. “How’s the new library? They were building it the whole time I was there but I never got to use it.”

“It’s actually really cool. Fastest Wi-Fi anywhere on campus and loads of comfy armchairs, but you’re not allowed to talk which renders them pretty useless. More books than you could ever read in your three years.”

“Three?” Sophie said sharply.

“Yeah,” Dan paused, unsure. “Did you not know? They’re accepting new recruits aged fifteen to train for a year before they can go on missions or do any field work. It’s much better, because it’s really hard to get us trained up in time to be any real use if we’re only there two years.” Dan cowered under Sophie’s expression.

“Sixteen is already a massive breach of the law. They’re passing it off as military, but in reality it’s way more dangerous than getting shot at. Fifteen on the other hand breaks every single law ever – I can hardly believe they’re telling the UN about this,” She sighed. “I get it, though. More training is always better. But I reckon they’re just going to use it as an excuse to send the kids into much more dangerous situations.”

Dan shrugged. “I’ve got a year left, and I’ll probably go on to MI5. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll return as an instructor only to find myself teaching five year olds how to fire a machine gun.”

Sophie smiled ruefully. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Presumably they’re teaching them how to drive at fifteen too then?”

Dan nodded, and Sophie sighed. “Never mind. It’s none of our business, hey? So. Where’s the coolest place you’ve ever been on a mission?”

~

Janet, it transpired, cooked a beautiful macaroni and cheese that Dan was very grateful of after the questionable school lunch. David was working on the case from Westminster and would only be at the house when he was needed, which fitted nicely with the busy company he was supposed to be running. Sophie was recently qualified and this was to be the first mission of her second year on the field. Janet however was close to retirement, and had left the more fast paced intelligence work in favour of these low importance, low budget operations. While Sophie cleared away the remains of their dinner, Janet spread out the case notes on the table and force fed Dan a biscuit.

“Okay,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate. “Phil either doesn’t know about his dad or is a RADA trained actor. We’ve yet to make contact with the other three Lesters living in Kensington, and don’t forget the third brother in Australia. He moved away before the money started coming in though so it’s not dangerous to assume at least for now that he’s also uninvolved. The Met[1] have been on Michael Lester’s tail for a long time now trying to pin something on him, but he’s proved pretty slippery – hence why we were called in. Sophie, you’ve got the files?”

Sophie nodded. “He’s been seen meeting with some pretty prolific figures in the criminal world, which is why they’ve decided to invest in a whole MI team to try figure it out. The real reason we’re all here, as I’m sure you know, is that the first agent sent in to make contact went missing and has yet to return. There are lots of reasons for this. Firstly, it was very low budget and she was only given three days to get inside and so she attempted to break in. We’re not going down that route. Strictly friendly. She was also working alone, which increases the risk factor tenfold. We’ve all got trackers in our mobiles and there’s loads more all shapes and sizes if you’re going into a potentially dangerous situation that won’t be detectable. We’ve got Dave as our liaison in headquarters, a team backing us of just normal police dudes and of course the mission control back at campus for Dan. We’re not going anywhere. There’s absolutely no way this man is innocent, after what happened to Callie, and there’s every possibility that we will uncover something pretty massive. At which point Dan will be pulled or at least side-lined and backup is ready to step in and help us out. This is all mostly for you Dan, as I’m sure you’re used to by now. That was my ‘Re-brief on location’ – wanna pull out?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Dan grinned.

“Thought so somehow.” Sophie smiled. “I mean, it’s a good idea – I remember agreeing to a mission in Russia that sounded like a bit of a holiday and a chance to actually use a gun for once, but when we got there it was just very scary and very cold. The girl I was with got cold feet which meant the whole mission had to be scrapped, but I was secretly glad – I’d just been too proud to pull out. The scariest thing I’ve seen so far on this one was the huge ass spider in the shower this morning.”

Dan gave the two older agents the low down on what little he’d learned from Phil, but there wasn’t much to tell and Janet carried the paperwork through into the living room while Sophie retreated to her laptop. Dan eyed it enviously. He’d taken his PlayStation with him but the only TVs were the pair in the basement, and he hadn’t been able to figure out where to plug it in.

He kicked about the house for half an hour before heading out for a walk. The leafy, suburban streets were very quiet. It was only 8pm and Dan sighed – he was already bored, things were not looking good. He painted a mental picture of Phil in his mind. Pale skin, a long nose, blue eyes, and a shock of dark hair that was definitely dyed. An inch taller than Dan at 6ft, maybe two. Average build with broad shoulders but long, slender limbs. Half smile. Floppy fringe. Wardrobe was hard to judge after just one meeting, but Dan suspected black skinny jeans were on the agenda 99% of the time. No particularly defining features, definitely a look that could be scrapped at a seconds notice, but somehow Dan got the impression Phil was just as transparent as he came across. Open and warm. The phrase ‘head in the clouds’ came to mind, but in an endearing way. He didn’t look particularly athletic, but then again neither did Dan under the baggy school jumpers.

Dan squinted at a street sign. It was hard to make out under the dusty yellow glow of the streetlamps, but it wasn’t a name Dan recognised. He kicked out irritably at paper bag drifting silently along with the breeze, but it caught on his trainer and he had do a sort of hop-skip to shake it off. Cheeks burning, he glanced around, thankful for the quietness at last. MI5 agents going missing sounded exciting. There was nothing exciting about King Charles Place.

Dan turned moodily on his heel, heading back the way he had come. He was trying to retrace his steps, but the buildings all looked the same. Wide crescents of tall Edwardian townhouses with a well-kept green lawn in the middle, and perhaps a few trees. He muttered angrily under his breath as he turned eastwards, hoping to find the high street and take the long way home.

Was he going east, though? They’d been taught to spot the North Star at night, but through the canopy of trees and rooftops had Dan unwittingly picked out the wrong sparkling light? He should have hit the high street by now. Uneasily, he checked his watch. It was nine already and if he was out much later he’d get a call on his phone and an earful from Janet. He broke into a quiet jog, his eyes squinting into the darkness. A rustle in a privet hedge made him jump and a sleepy squirrel sent his heart pounding into his mouth. He cursed again. Paranoia was not going to help, he needed to calm down. Hadn’t he just been thinking how quiet and boring this district was? Dan took a few steady breaths. He’d emerged on a street with shops, but it wasn’t the high street he was after.

He slowed back to a walk, not wanting to draw attention to himself. One of the shops had pink graffiti on the shutters and Dan was starting to panic. Had he left Chelsea completely? A bin lay overturned in an alley and an empty bottle rolled forlorn down the tarmac. It wasn’t much, but it would have been enough to cause an outcry from the residents of his road at least. Dan thrust his hands in his pockets, shivering. He wished he’d brought a coat. Defeated at last, he pulled out his phone and waited for google maps to load. The tall buildings made the GPS useless, but at least he could look for road names and figure out where he was.

Dan was concentrating on his phone and almost didn’t notice the two boys in grey hoodies sauntering down the pavement towards him. Warily, he slipped his phone back in his pocket. If this had been a road in Hackney perhaps he would already have been tensing to run, but this was South Kensington. The hoodies were branded and the flicker of a shop sign caught the pinstripe of their trousers. In fact, Dan could see a blue tie poking out the neck of the taller boy’s sweater.

Dan relaxed, supressing a snigger as he noted how ridiculous they looked with their hoods pulled down over their faces. The smile vanished from his face completely however when the smaller figure pulled out a small, curved knife.

“Alright stranger?” The boy drawled, only Dan was pretty sure the question was rhetorical. “We ain’t seen you ‘round here before. What’s your name?”

Dan fought off the urge to laugh again at the valiant attempt at a cockney accent. “Dan.” He said quickly.

“No need to be afraid. We saw you move in, actually. We figured we’d check up on you. See how you’re settling in. Friendly, like.”

Dan raised his eyebrow at the glittering blade.

“Even the upper-class streets have to be owned by someone, Dan. And we own these streets. The name’s Bullet, and this here is Rocko. No one walks them without our permission. Understand?”

Dan nodded, incredulous. He’d had encounters like this a hundred times on some of the grimiest, most bone chilling streets in England; but this pair had him perplexed. It was 9:15. He could hear someone watching reruns of the Antiques Roadshow in the building next to them, and the boys clearly went to one of the plentiful private schools.

“You look a bit lost, friend,” Bullet continued. “You’re only five minutes from home, don’t worry. Keep heading straight then take a left at the traffic lights.”

“Um, thanks,” Dan said alarmed. He stayed where he was for a moment, before tentatively starting forward – resisting the urge to give them a large berth. He was nearly passed them when Bullet stepped in front of him again.

“Listen, you need anything, you come to us. I can’t get a reading on you. Usually I got people pretty sussed, but not you. You don’t look like you belong here. Your clothes aren’t right, and you don’t carry yourself right either. It’s not new money though. I can sniff new money a mile off. It’s something else. Your folks – what do they do?”

“Um, my dad runs a technology company.” Dan held his breath as Bullet scrutinized him, their faces mere millimetres apart.

“That’s not true. Maybe that’s what he says, but you don’t believe it. It’s not oligarch – you’re too tan to be Russian. Something a little dodgy, maybe. Something you don’t think is going to make you any friends around here. Politics? Bank? I’m not sure. We’ll see each other again soon, Dan. The boss will be interested in you.”

Bullet had clearly been saving this sentence up, knowing it would send chills down Dan’s spine. He wondered how many other teens he’d given the same speech to.

“If there’s anything you need, come to us – you hear? If you spot kids causing a scene, it’s our duty to put an end to it. This is Chelsea, not Milwall. Need drink but daddy’s got a lock on the liquor cabinet? We’ll sort you out, no sweat.” Bullet looked again into Dan’s eyes. “If you’re into drugs you need to be buying from the right sort of people. Street rats are unreliable at best, and we can put you onto someone. Only the purest, that’s a guarantee. You’ll find us at the gym most days. Tyson’s. Not the community gym, obviously.”

“Um, okay. Sure. Thanks.” Dan blinked.

“We can hook you up with a cut price membership, too. We’ll clear it with Mr Lester. See you around, shrimp.”

Dan froze to the spot as they slouched away, hands thrust into the pockets of their Hugo Boss suit trousers. Mr Lester? That was the last name he’d been expecting to hear. Maybe he would be paying a visit to Tysons’ Gymnasium after all.

Dan was about to start off again when he caught the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly. He spun round in time to see the fist connect with his face. Pain shot through his right cheek and he ducked instinctively out of the way as Rocko made to swing another punch. He was as tall as Dan but twice as wide, and he looked strong. Dan rammed forwards into Rocko’s gut with a shoulder. Rocko swayed, winded. Another fist grazed Dan’s face, but he blocked it with an arm, wincing in pain. That would bruise tomorrow. Rocko struck out again and Dan tasted blood as his lip split against his teeth. He ducked down under Rocko’s flailing fists and thrust the base of his palm up into Rocko’s jaw. His head snapped back and he stumbled. Dan grabbed his arm and twisted it quickly behind his back before he could regain his balance. Finally he spotted Bullet, a few metres away watching the struggle in silence. Bullet had a knife. If he joined in, Dan would be out matched.

Rocko used his vast weight to wrench his arm out of Dan’s grip. Dan jumped backwards, poised on his toes. His mind was racing. If they were going to attack him, why had they bothered with the little chat? Was this a display of dominance? If so, Dan probably should have taken the beating. Proving he knew how to defend himself only marked him out as someone to watch.

Rocko was hanging back too, eyeing Dan cautiously and rubbing neck. He seemed unsure of himself, glancing back at Bullet for instruction. It seemed more and more likely that the intent was only to shock Dan into being scared of them. At a nod from the shadows, Rocko lunged forwards again. He barrelled into Dan and Dan sidestepped quickly, bringing his knee up into Rocko’s gut. Rocko doubled over and Dan put all his weight behind his elbow, slamming down into a soft spot on Rocko’s wide back. He crumpled, concaving inwards and letting out a bellow of pain. His eyes were livid and just as Dan was about to back off Rocko’s arm started moving towards his pocket. Dan didn’t know what he was about to pull out, but it wasn’t worth the risk. He charged forwards with a kick that knocked Rocko spread-eagled on the floor and straddled his waist, pinning his arms up above his head on the cold floor.

Bullet remained in the shadows, unmoving. Dan looked up at him warily as he spit out a mouth of blood into the gutter.

“What the hell was that about?” He muttered. “I don’t want trouble.”

Bullet shrugged. “Wanted to get a measure of you. Reckon I got a pretty good one now. You know some moves, kiddo. Rocko’s a big lump of meat. He could crush you. If you stayed still long enough. I spotted you. I’m good at spotting people. I could see you had potential. Let him up, he’s not going to hurt you.”

After a moment’s pause, Dan grudgingly released Rocko’s wrists and clambered awkwardly to his feet, taking a few steps back.

Rocko pulled himself slowly into a sitting position, glaring murderously at Dan and wheezing.

“Meet us at Tyson’s. Saturday at 6pm. We’ll be in the weight training basement.” Bullet continued, ignoring Rocko as he muttered under his breath.

“Why should I?” Dan asked.

Bullet just smirked. “You’ll come. Like I said, I spot people. You’d come even if you were certain we planned to string you to the wall and beat you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You should have run. You were outnumbered, and I’d already shown you I had a knife. Why were you wandering around here anyway? You got bored. You like a bit of danger and excitement. You wouldn’t have learned all that shit if you didn’t. See you Saturday, Daniel. C’mon, Rocko.”

Dan stayed where he was until he was sure the pair were well out of attacking distance, Rocko limping slightly as they walked. Satisfied that they really were going, Dan turned and broke into a fast but quiet jog, glancing back over his shoulder every few strides half expecting Bullet to spin round and pull a gun on him. What the hell was that? He shook his head, his face still stinging from Rocko’s clumsy punch. He shouldn’t meet them. It wasn’t anything to do with the mission. It was stupid and reckless. But Bullet’s half crazed mystery talk had sparked Dan’s curiosity. What could possibly have driven the pair to that? What did they want Dan for? This was one of the most affluent areas in London, they were hardly recruiting street drug runners or thugs. Kids round here didn’t need money. So why did they need Dan?

He shouldn’t go. It was unprofessional on every level. But then again, they had mentioned a Mr Lester. A small voice in his head was making a very compelling argument: he was following a lead. Being thorough, just in case. Michael Lester was an enigma, a mystery to be solved. This too was a mystery, but maybe they were the same one. Dan would know by Saturday because, of course, he was paying a visit to Tyson’s gym.