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For official purposes, these agents do not exist. They are sent out on missions to spy on terrorists, hack into crucial documents, and gather intel on global threats—all without gadgets or weapons. It is an extremely dangerous job, but these agents have one crucial advantage: Adults never suspect that teens are spying on them.

In Mad Dogs , the British underworld is controlled by gangs. When two of them start a turf war, violence explodes onto the streets. The police need information fast, and James has the contacts to infiltrate the most dangerous gang of all….

Robert Muchamore was born in London in and used to work as a private investigator. For more on the series, check out CherubCampus. By clicking 'Sign me up' I acknowledge that I have read and agree to the privacy policy and terms of use. Must redeem within 90 days. See full terms and conditions and this month's choices.

Tell us what you like and we'll recommend books you'll love. Sign up and get a free eBook! By Robert Muchamore. Trade Paperback eBook. Table of Contents Excerpt. About The Book. James Adams had a shoulder touching the plastic wall on either side of him as he leaned over the steel bowl, looking at flecks of his lunch in the disinfectant-blue water. His girlfriend, Dana Smith, yelled from outside.

He stood up and turned to face himself in the mirror. James dried his hands by wiping them on his camouflage pants and had to duck under the door frame as he stepped out into the cavernous interior of the aircraft.

I did one in basic training. Come to think of it, I did a couple before then; when I was a red-shirt. The turbulence did his stomach no favors as they clanked across the corrugated metal floor, heading away from the cockpit.

The Hercules C5 is a dual-role aircraft. For cargo operations the interior can be loaded with anything from United Nations food parcels to Challenger tanks. When the Parachute Regiment comes to town, rows of seats are bolted to the floor and the side doors can deploy a company of paratroops in ninety seconds.

Pike was the head training instructor. He was tough but fair, and James respected him a great deal. He was a bully who James had gotten to know rather too well after sharing his tent for the past seven nights.

He was Ukrainian by birth with a dusting of cropped gray hair and a facial scar worthy of an action figure. Pike roared, giving James and Dana the evil eye as he pointed at the drop clock.

This bright LED display hung over the door at one side of the aircraft and indicated that there were only one hundred and eighty-six seconds until they were over the landing zone. Pike shook his head. Some of them were so small that they could barely see over the bed rolls on top of their packs.

Kazakov was inspecting each trainee in turn: checking helmets, tightening harnesses, and screaming abuse when they got something wrong. Right now he was dealing with ten-year-old Kevin Sumner. Ironically, James had helped Kevin get over his fear of heights a few months earlier. Do you want to land on that? Pike shouted. The youngsters would be making a static line jump, meaning that a pull on the strop would open their chutes automatically once they were clear of the aircraft.

As the countdown dropped below one hundred seconds, Mr. His stomach churned as the giant Russian eye-balled him. You make that jump or tonight you sleep outside with the spiders and snakes. Pike began opening the aircraft door, flooding the gloomy metal tube with sunlight.

The numbers on the clock began to flash as the count dropped below sixty seconds. Now take deep breaths and stay calm. Pike shouted from beside the door. None of them looked happy, but none had worked themselves into as much of a state as James. Navigation confirms we are in location. Winds are nine knots northeasterly, giving us a drop-zone window of fifty-eight seconds on my mark. There was an eleven-year-old boy less than twenty centimeters ahead and Dana right behind with a reassuring glove on his shoulder, but he felt isolated.

The drop clock changed from red to green as Mr. As soon as the first trainee was out, the next had to stand with their toes overhanging the door. After waiting in a crouching position for the two seconds it took the previous jumper to clear the aircraft, it was their turn to leap. The gap of less than four seconds between jumps turned the queue into a slow walk. So James found himself in the doorway, buffeted by freezing air and sunlight with his strop hooked to the cable above his head.

With the drop zone closing in twenty-two seconds, he crouched and felt extremely dizzy as he looked down. They were below cloud cover and the orange chute of the previous jumper was unraveling high above seven kilometers of golden sand. Pike yelled impatiently. He felt like he was going to shit and puke at the same time and made a lunge for the handle on the side of the door.

But before he got a grip, Dana batted his hand away and slammed her palm into the back of his chute, tipping him forward. James found himself falling face first towards the beach. The reality of this was more than his brain could comprehend. His pants billowed, air tore beneath his helmet, making his chin strap dig into his neck. It was awful and wonderful. His first upward glance only earned him a face full of sunlight, but two seconds later the sun was filtered through a billowing mushroom of orange nylon.

Instead of crumpling, your body gets twisted in all directions. So James was alarmed when he looked down and saw a crab the size of a dinner plate coming into focus. All he could do was crumple and hope for the best. About The Author. Photo Credit:.

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CHERUB: Mad Dogs : Book 8

Would you like to tell us about a lower price? If you are a seller for this product, would you like to suggest updates through seller support? James is heading into the lethal world of gang warfare The British underworld is controlled by gangs. When two of them start a turf war, violence explodes on to the streets. The police need information fast, and James Adams has the contacts to infiltrate the most dangerous gang of all. Cherubs are trained professionals, aged between ten and seventeen.


Cherub: Mad Dogs by Robert Muchamore - review

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