CHERUB: People's Republic by Robert Muchamore Page A

to decay. The glass in the automatic doors shone. There were no sticky residues in the bottom of the fridges, or dead flies inside the light fittings.
    Ning couldn’t remember picking up money, but she found coins and a couple of notes in her pocket. Nostalgia drew her towards the instant snacks at the back. She remembered being four or five years old, stopping at a newly opened petrol station on a rare orphanage outing and seeing Pepsi machines, microwaves and fridges filled with bright yellow boxes.
    Ning was now old enough to know that great cuisine didn’t emerge from microwaves in the back of convenience stores. But her inner five-year-old still loved the yellow boxes: fish in sauce, sweet dumplings, American burger and crispy duck with rice.
    Ning dropped an American Burger box into a shiny microwave. As it rotated, she put ice in a cardboard cup and filled it with Sprite.
    The burger came out of the microwave spitting hot, with grease soaked through the cardboard clamshell. She opened it, sniffed and defied her nausea with a scalding bite. The meat was dry, the bun soggy, but when you chewed it up with the ketchup it wasn’t too bad.
    A couple of construction workers in fluorescent bibs were paying for cigarettes as Ning took the Sprite and burger to the service desk. She took another bite of the burger and was reminded of Ingrid as she saw the bottles of spirits lined up behind the counter.
    ‘See you tomorrow,’ the assistant told the construction workers, with a strong Korean accent. Then to Ning, ‘Just the American Burger and medium drink?’
    Ning had been distracted by all the bottles. ‘Sorry,’ she said as she reached into her jeans. ‘Still half asleep.’
    ‘Don’t bite until you’ve paid,’ the woman said, though her tone was motherly rather than cross.
    Ning peeled out a pair of twenty-yuan notes, but almost died of shock as she looked at the counter. The construction workers had blocked her view of the morning newspapers, but now she saw a fresh stack of the Dandong Daily with a huge photo of her stepdad on the front page and the headline: Party officials congratulate police as human smuggling ring is smashed .
    Ning’s neck snapped back, as if a gutting knife had been thrust between her shoulder blades. The Dandong Daily was an official communist party newspaper, filled with dreary articles about party meetings and official appointments. A common joke was that people only bought it because the government-subsidised cover price made it cheaper than toilet paper.
    The privately owned North East China Star cost ten times the price and had a livelier appearance. The front page showed two pictures of Ning’s stepfather. One had him at a function, dressed in black tie and holding a glass of Champagne. The second had been taken after his arrest, and showed him looking scared, holding a sign that read Fu Chaoxiang J051654 . The headline simply said, The Slave Master .
    ‘My dad likes a newspaper,’ Ning said, smiling weakly as she grabbed a copy of both.
    ‘Your change,’ the woman yelled, as Ning headed for the automatic doors.
    Ning stuffed the coins in her pockets and ran out. The construction workers stood nearby, enjoying their cigarettes and drinking tea from thermal mugs. She thought one of them gave her an odd look, but it was just paranoia.
    There was a line of deserted picnic tables alongside the store. Ning ignored the drink and burger and began with the front page of the Star .
     
    ‘Businessman’ Fu Chaoxiang arrested in police crackdown.
    Twenty-eight arrests, including business associates, provincial customs head and six communist party officials. Women’s groups petition for death penalty.
     
    An investigation led by the North East China Star has led to the arrest of businessman Fu Chaoxiang. A well-known figure in the Dandong business community, Fu was known locally for his popular chain of discount stores and sponsorship of Dandong Knights soccer team.
    But while Fu