And there’s something else, behind them on the grass. I don’t have a clear view, but I can see what look like piles of clothing, colourful, heaped up on the ground.
Miller reaches a decision. Eyes on the map, he waves his hand to the right.
“Turn here, then turn left at the next junction. Then you’ll be back where you should be.”
I nod, and start turning the truck. I keep watching the view ahead, and as I swing round and speed up along the road, I realise that they’re not clothes. They’re people. Bodies. Piles and piles of them.
Unauthorised personnel. An entire town of unauthorised personnel.
*****
I focus on driving the truck. Miller and Jackson are still looking at the map on the tablet and arguing, and we’ve moved on, out of sight of whatever it was that I saw.
A couple of turns later, and we make it back to the drop-off point. We unload the weapons, and the officer in charge signs us off for the day.
“Good work. Drop the vehicle back with HQ, and report in with Commander Holden. And stick to your route on the way out of town.”
“Yes, Sir.”
We climb back into the truck. Miller consults the map, and directs me to the north and out onto the bypass. This isn’t the quickest route back to HQ. There must be more places in town they don’t want us to see.
I don’t know what Miller and Jackson saw while they were discussing our route, and I’m not sure I want to find out. We drive back to HQ in silence.
We return the vehicle and the tablet, keeping our visors over our faces, and hurry to the changing rooms. I take off my helmet, and wash my face. As much as I like the war paint, Holden won’t approve, and the cold water feels good against my skin.
I change out of my armour, stack it in my crate, and double-check my face for any traces of the lipstick. I meet the others outside, and we walk back to the briefing room. Holden and Brigadier Lee are waiting.
“Good work, recruits,” says Holden, looking pleased. “The eastern section is clear, on schedule, thanks to you.
“As I said this morning, this operation is classified. You will not discuss what you have seen here today with anyone. Commander Bracken may debrief you. He is part of this operation, and he has the relevant security clearances. You have permission to speak to him.
“Whatever you saw, or think you saw, was done with the full permission of your government. Disclosure of anything you saw or did today to anyone outside this room, or Commander Bracken’s office, will be severely punished. And trust me, you do not want to find out what that means. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Holden glances at Brigadier Lee, who nods, and takes over. “This operation is now over. I am pleased to announce that we have successfully tested the most useful weapon in our arsenal. Thank you, recruits, for your contribution. I will be reporting back to Commander Bracken on your performance today, and my report will be glowing.”
He smiles at me, and I can’t decide what he’s thinking. His smile is warm, but his eyes are cold.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Dismissed.”
*****
The driver takes us back to camp, and drops us at the gate with our crates of armour. I’m aware that no one speaks on the journey, and the three of us all stare out of the windows, alone with our thoughts.
I’m starting to doubt what I saw. Were there really piles of bodies on the grass? And what about the gunshots, when I handed over the little girl? There has to be an explanation, for all of it. We can’t be killing civilians now. I can’t believe that.
Can I?
Whatever you saw – or think you saw. That’s what Commander Holden said. What was he expecting us to see?
What’s the plan behind all of this? Is there something bigger going on? Something I can understand?
“We’ve missed dinner.” Miller sounds stunned, standing on the gravel path into camp. I hadn’t realised how late it was.
“They’ll have saved something for us.” Jackson claps Miller on the shoulder. “We’ll go and raid the kitchen. Ketty?”
I’m looking at Commander Bracken’s office. The lights are on, but the blinds are closed.
“I’ll follow you. Give me a minute.” I look at Jackson. “Actually – would you mind taking my crate to the dorm?”
He shrugs, and holds his crate out. I stack mine on top.
“Thanks”, I say, distracted, as the two of them walk away.
And I march over to the commander’s office.
I’m starting to get angry. I want to know what he knows.
Challenge
“What did we do?”
Commander Bracken sits up in his chair, surprised to see me. Surprised by my tone of voice.
“Close the door”, he growls.
I’ve never seen him like this. I hesitate.
“Close the door!”
His shout shakes me out of my uncertainty, and I push the door closed behind me.
“Sit down.” He waves at the chair in front of his desk. I do as I’m told.
He rubs his hands over his face, as if he’s trying to wash something off. There’s a glass of something – whisky? – in front of him on the desk. He sits, hunched over, unable to look at me.
“What. Did. We. Do?” I ask again, through clenched teeth.
He shakes his head.
“Ketty … Ketty. There are some things you need to understand.”
I sit back in the chair.
“Try me.”
He nods. Takes a drink. Sets the glass carefully down in the centre of his desk.
“Yesterday wasn’t an exercise.”
So it’s true. We did attack a town full of people.
“OK.” I keep my voice neutral.
“It’s all part of a larger plan.” His tone is pleading. He’s begging me to understand.
“A plan to do what? Win the war for the terrorists?”
He shakes his head again. Makes calming motions with his hands. Takes a deep breath.
“There was terrorist activity in town. We tracked them going in, scouting for an attack.”
“So the town was full of terrorists? We just did what we had to do?” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.
He looks at me, and I see that he’s close to tears, or to losing his temper. I keep quiet and nod, encouraging him to continue.
“HQ has been looking for a target. They wanted to test their wide-area weapon.” He takes another drink. I sit quietly. I don’t want to provoke more shouting. He shouldn’t be telling me this, and I don’t want him to remember that. I want to understand what’s happened.
“When we tracked the terrorists into town, we had orders to leave them alone. We were told to contact HQ, and to stand by for instructions.”
“And they sent Holden.”
He nods.
“They asked for local liaison officers to be sent over, and they told me to clear the camp for the day. They sent the recruits to Birmingham, they gave the camp staff and medics an NBC drill, and they put their own guards on the gate. I … I left them to it.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, leaves them there. Rests his forehead on the palms of his hands.
“You didn’t know?”
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t certain.”
“Who else knows?”
He shrugs.
So we’re in this together. HQ has put us in this position.
“And they sent me, and Jackson, and Miller to clean up after them?”
He nods, slowly. I think through what HQ is doing. What they might be planning.
What we can do.
“So how does this work? Do we claim it was an accident? A demonstration gone wrong? Or do we claim that we’ve wiped out a nest of terrorists?”
“I don’t know, Ketty.” His voice cracks, and he sits up, cups his hands around his glass. “HQ will update me.”
He sits in silence for a while, staring at the drink in his hands.<
br />
“You shouldn’t know this”, he says, quietly.
I say nothing. I know he’s right, but I know what I saw in town. Things I can’t forget.
“Can I trust you?” He looks up, meets my eyes.
And I see my chance. I see that he needs me. I see what I can do.
I lean forward in my chair. “Sir. As I understand it, your Lead Recruit would need to know this.” I’m offering him my loyalty, and I’m asking for my job back. I’m taking a risk. I’m gambling everything on his need for an assistant to share this with. For someone to go through this with him.
I’m gambling that he’s telling me the truth. I’m gambling on HQ having a plan to manage the situation. I’m hoping he wants me back. And I’m using the worst atrocity of this fight – of my lifetime – as leverage.
I feel sick. I’m terrified that he’s going to say no, to send me away in disgrace. I’m horrified that this could be my ticket back into his confidence.
And then I realise that I have another lever to use against him. Behind him, on a low shelf, I can see a row of bottles. Two empty vodka bottles, and a half-full bottle of whisky, which must be what he’s drinking now. He looks up at me, and follows the line of my gaze.
This is easy. This is what I’ve been doing all my life. Negotiating my survival with the alcoholic who holds my future in his hands.
Thanks, Dad, for the training.
He looks back at me, his expression begging me not to notice. Not to say anything. I hold his gaze, keeping my expression neutral. I raise an eyebrow, fractionally.
And I have to stop myself from laughing when he responds.
“Absolutely.” He clears his throat. Sits up straight in his chair. “Absolutely, Ketty. You’re right.”
He reaches into a drawer in his desk, pulls out my file; opens it, pushing his drink out of the way.
“This could have happened in any number of towns. Anywhere we had evidence of terrorist activity. The first town to track terrorists on their streets. It happened to be on our doorstep.”
He pauses, and nods to himself, thinking this through.
“That puts us in a unique position. We’re under HQ’s microscope, while this situation is being handled. We have an opportunity to step up and show what we can do.”
He looks at me briefly, then continues.
“This changes things. We’re not just running a kindergarten here any more. We’re on the front line. We’re not babysitting these kids. We’re fighting a war.” He flips the pages of my file until he finds the record of my work at Camp Bishop. “I’m going to need someone I can rely on. Someone with a strong stomach, and the willingness to follow through on whatever HQ does to handle this situation. Someone willing to take risks. To get their hands dirty. To do uncomfortable things.” He glances behind him, at the bottles on the shelf.
“Yes, Sir.”
He looks at me again, speaks slowly and deliberately.
“We need to be the team that exceeds HQ’s expectations. We need to become the people they call to sort out their toughest situations. This could be good for both of us.” He’s looking me in the eye. “This could bring us to the attention of HQ. This could be my ticket to a promotion.
“And if I go to London, I want you to come with me.” There’s a hint of panic in his eyes, now. The begging expression is back. “We’re a team, Ketty. I know I can trust you to do what needs to be done. Let’s show them what we can do together.”
He picks up a pen, and adds a line to my work record. Signs his name.
“Recruit Smith.”
“Sir!”
“You are once again promoted to the role of Lead Recruit for Camp Bishop.”
“Sir! Thank you, Sir.”
“Your security clearance is reinstated. Your silence on this conversation, and all conversations with me going forward, is assumed and expected.”
I’ll keep your secret, Sir.
“Yes, Sir.”
“And Ketty?”
“Sir?”
“Don’t screw up again.”
“No, Sir.”
“Debrief will be at breakfast tomorrow. I’ll pass on whatever I hear from HQ, and you will help me to enforce their orders, and their version of the events of the last 36 hours.” He leans forward again, elbows on the desk. “This all begins tomorrow, you and me. And there’s a … complication I’m going to need your help with.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He looks as if he’s going to say something else, but then he shakes his head.
“Dismissed. Go and get some sleep.”
I stand up and walk to the door, my head spinning. I know that was a horrible thing to do. I took advantage of the situation, and of the commander. But HQ did this, not us. We’re not the bad guys here. We’re the ones who have to clean up for them and cover their tracks if we’re all going to get through this.
And I deserve that job. The commander needs me, and I need him. It’s going to take hard work, but I need to become indispensable. When he gets out of here, I need him to take me with him.
I’m committed, now, and so is he. And I can handle whatever we need to do.
Time to get tough, Ketty.
I leave the room, and make it out of the building before I allow the smile to show on my face.
*****
Jackson is in the Senior Dorm, feet up on the table in the dining room, empty meal tray next to him. I walk past, push his feet off the table, and sit down opposite him. He holds his hands out, offended.
“Hey! You’re not the commander’s enforcer any more.” He starts to lift his feet up again, but pauses when he sees my face. “Aren’t you?”
“Got my job back.”
He plants his feet on the floor, and leans his elbows on the table.
“You … what? … How? How did you convince Bracken?”
“Long story. Convinced him I’m worth it. And here I am.”
“Congrats. That’s … that’s brilliant.”
“Yeah.”
There’s an awkward pause.
“Any news on today? On a debrief?” He asks, quietly.
I shake my head.
“Tomorrow, breakfast.”
He nods, suddenly serious, and I wonder whether he saw more in town than he’s letting on.
Lies
So that’s how they’re spinning it. They’re using it as a false flag attack. They’re blaming it on the terrorists.
We’re all in the recruits’ dining room – Commander Bracken, Senior Recruits, newbies. Breakfast is over, and Bracken is addressing the group.
“This morning, we have bad news. Today will not be the training day you are expecting. There has been an attack.”
Woods is setting up the TV at the front of the room.
“We will not be following our usual route on the training run. The town is sealed off. The terrorists have struck on our doorstep, and we are only just coming to understand the severity of the attack.
“In the coming days, it will be our duty to assist the army in whatever capacity they require. You are no longer recruits. You have graduated to armed auxiliaries. The army can now request your service at any time.
“This is an extremely serious attack. It demonstrates that the rebels are no longer a background threat to our way of life. They are well-armed and very dangerous. We don’t know where they will attack next, but we will be on call to help prevent future incidents, and to assist if they attack again.”
Woods turns on the TV, and switches to the Public Information Network. A newsreader, her face white with shock and her hands shaking in front of her, begins to read this morning’s only headline.
“Good morning. It with great sadness that we bring you a live report from the site of another terrorist attack. Early this morning, the terrorists struck the town of Leominster, in Herefordshire. It is not yet clear how this attack was launched, but what is clear is the near destruction of the entire town.
“Ruth Davis is on the ground in Leominst
er. Ruth – what are you seeing?”
The view cuts from the studio to a hand-held camera on a street in town. A reporter in a bullet-proof vest and helmet is walking along the pavement, picking her way over scattered belongings, past lines of empty cars. The camera takes in the rubble of the buildings, the damage to the road surface, the fallen trees.
There are gasps from the recruits. The reporter describes the scene, but the images are far more shocking. I wait to see what else the news will be permitted to show.
They switch to drone footage of the town, while the reporter explains what she is seeing. The scale of the destruction is more obvious from the air. I watch, carefully. I want to confirm what I saw.
And there they are. Piles of bodies in parks and open spaces. People killed by gas from the weapons after running from the shaking and following the soldiers to safety. Commander Holden’s ‘Unauthorised Personnel’ were the residents of Leominster. All of them. There were no survivors. There was no safety for anyone unlucky enough to live in his test town. He may have had official permission for everything he did, but he didn’t have permission from the people whose lives he took yesterday. From the innocent people who just happened to live in his testing range. I take some deep breaths to fight back the nausea.
So they’re blaming it on the terrorists. An interesting move. A good way to promote our role in the fighting. To shift public opinion in favour of government forces.
The newsreader returns.
“Breaking news: the Prime Minister has just announced a heightened state of National Emergency, and the introduction of Martial Law. In the light of such an audacious terrorist attack, she has placed the security of the country in the hands of the army. Parliament will be dissolved, until such time as these attacks can be stopped, and the democratic process can be safely reinstated …”
That’s it. That’s the excuse they needed to put the army in power. No wonder Holden wanted a whole town to play with. He’s tested his weapons, the government blamed the terrorists, and the army get all the reasons they need to take over the country.
The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3 Page 26
