The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Churcher

  Bracken strides over, a look of thunder on his face.

  “Corporal Smith! What on earth …?”

  “Sir. Meet Mrs Ellman. Bex’s mother. I think she prefers ‘Liz’.” And I can’t hide my grin.

  *****

  “Ketty – you realise I need to get clearance for this? I can’t just waltz in here and stash a prisoner in a Top Secret cell – a prisoner who’s done nothing wrong.”

  I look around the empty waiting room, the door to the cells propped open on the far side. “It looks as if that’s exactly what you’ve done, Sir.”

  Bracken rolls his eyes. “Give me a few minutes to get this sorted out with the brigadier.”

  “Yes, Sir. And don’t forget we have reason to believe she helped her daughter escape.”

  “Thank you, Ketty. I think I’ll try to play that angle down, seeing as we don’t yet have Bex in custody.”

  I shrug. “Liz is the bait, Sir. This is how we’ll get to Bex.”

  He gives me a long, furious stare, then marches out of the room.

  I stand in the waiting room, a very satisfied smile on my face. If Ellman risked turning up at the nursing home to see her father, what will she do to get to her mother? She won’t get in here. She won’t even know that this place exists. All she knows is that I’ve got her mother – and she knows what I’m capable of. The feeling of power is back. I can do what I want to the woman in that cell, and no one will stop me.

  Afraid yet, Bex?

  *****

  We start with an interrogation, the morning after the fire alarm.

  The prison doctor visits Mrs Ellman in her cell, checks her medical status, makes a note of the drugs and assistance she needs, and then I’m cleared to run her through whatever questioning I choose. Technically it’s Bracken who has the authority here, but I’ve worked with him long enough to know how to take the lead. Brigadier Lee is turning a blind eye. He doesn’t want her here, and he’s made it clear that he thinks I failed again when I let Bex get away.

  Too bad, Sir. I rescued the nursing home operation. This is going to bring us our missing recruits.

  A nursing team transfers her to the bed, gets her up in the morning, and dresses her for the interview in an orange jumpsuit. I talk Bracken through operating the recording suite, remembering the steps Conrad went through to set up the equipment, and I push Mrs Ellman into the interrogation room. I snap the handcuffs onto her wrists and make sure they’re threaded through the loop on the table. She looks past me, at the mirror. I close the door, and take a seat, my back to the cameras. The recording light comes on over the door, and I lean back in my chair.

  “Elizabeth Ellman,” I say, slowly, watching her face.

  She looks at me across the table, her eyes cold.

  “That’s Mrs Ellman to you, Corporal Smith.”

  I shrug. “I don’t think so.” She holds her gaze steady, and says nothing.

  I consult the file on the table in front of me.

  “Elizabeth Ellman. Formerly of Orchard House Nursing Home, Stockport.” I look up. “I understand there was a fire at Orchard House yesterday. Or was that a prank? Some irresponsible person sounding the alarm, calling the fire brigade – wasting everyone’s time?”

  A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, but she controls it.

  “All those poor people, evacuated to the car park. Crutches. Wheelchairs. Hospital beds.”

  That wipes the smile away. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “Not to you.”

  I pull Bex’s Wanted poster from the file.

  “Rebecca Ellman. Your daughter?” She sits still, eyes still closed.

  Starting to understand this, are you?

  “Tell me, Elizabeth. When did you last see your daughter?”

  She opens her eyes and shakes her head.

  “When do you think I saw her, Corporal Smith?

  I raise my eyebrows. “I think you saw her yesterday.” I put the Wanted poster down on the table. “I think she walked into Orchard House disguised as a delivery driver. I think she asked to use the toilet, changed into a nursing home uniform, and ditched the disguise. I think she came to your room, said goodbye to her father, spoke to you, and then left. You punched the fire alarm to give her a chance to escape past my guards.” There’s a look of surprise on her face, as if she’s just figuring out how Bex got in. “And I think that makes you guilty of aiding and abetting a known terrorist.”

  That’s like a slap in the face. She sits up straight.

  That’s right, Elizabeth. Life in here if you’re lucky, firing squad if you’re not. Regretting breaking that glass yet?

  “Anything you want to tell me? Anything you want to correct about my theory?”

  She glares at me, and there’s the steel behind her eyes. She speaks slowly and clearly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I sit for a moment, returning her glare, then I lean forward and take something out of the file. I flip it over and over between my fingers.

  “That’s disappointing, Elizabeth,” I say, turning the ID card towards her and placing it in front of her on the table. I wave my hand, dismissively. “I know the hair is ridiculous, and the glasses are just plain funny, but under that disguise, I think we can both figure out the identity of the missing delivery driver.”

  She looks down, and reaches out awkwardly to pick up the card, restricted by the handcuffs. She sighs, and hunches over in the chair.

  “I found that in the ladies’ toilet, Elizabeth. Next to reception at Orchard House. Just before I came to your room.” She takes a long look at the card, and throws it back onto the table. I pick it up and slip it back into the file. “So. Let’s try this again. When did you last see your daughter?”

  She hesitates for a moment, slumped forward in her chair. Then she sits up straight and fixes me with a determined stare.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Is that so?” I let a smile spread across my face. “You’re sure about that? Because I’d hate to have to jog your memory.”

  Her voice is quiet, but determined, her gaze unwavering. “I don’t remember.”

  “Well. I think we’re done here. Don’t you, Elizabeth? I think I’ll give you some time to sit and think about everything we’ve talked about. See if you remember anything you might want to tell me.” I smile.

  She glares back at me, defiant.

  *****

  I join Bracken in the recording suite.

  “Anything we can use?”

  “Ketty Smith. You are one hard-nosed, determined, scary woman.”

  I smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Is that how you used to run my camp?”

  I shrug. “Didn’t need to, Sir. The kids were much easier to scare.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “What are you planning to do with the footage?”

  “I thought we might turn The Bex Ellman Slot on PIN into a recurring feature. What do you think, Sir?”

  He shakes his head again. “That might just work.”

  Mrs Ellman is back in her cell, the cameras are offline, and our encounter is backed up on several of the boxes in the recording suite. All we need to do is choose a section of the recording to put out on the news tonight, and Bracken can take it to PIN.

  Bracken plays the footage back, and we watch as Elizabeth refuses to talk. There’s the dramatic change in body language when she realises what we’re accusing her of, and the resignation when she sees the ID card. We pick a suitable section, transfer it to a memory stick, and head back to Whitehall to run it past Brigadier Lee.

  *****

  It’s after lunch when the car drops us back at the office. Bracken takes the memory stick to Lee’s office while I make sure there’s nothing urgent in today’s briefing papers.

  Back at my desk, I call the hospital again.

  “Nevill Hall Hospital, High Dependency Ward.”

  “Corporal
Ketty Smith, calling about Liam Jackson. Is there an update?”

  “Corporal. We were wondering when you’d call.” I wait, my breath catching in my throat, for the nurse to say something else. “He’s not so good today. There’s an infection in his lung. We’ve started him on antibiotics, and we’re doing everything we can. We should have an update for you in the morning.”

  My throat is dry, and my breath comes in shallow gasps. I force myself to thank the nurse and hang up the phone.

  Keep fighting, Jackson. Keep fighting.

  Fear

  Bex

  I haven’t slept. Charlie comes in after the morning delivery and brings me a mug of tea, but I don’t want to talk. I lost two people yesterday, and it was worse than the nightmares. Letting go of Dad – that wasn’t a panic dream. That was real, and it was final. I don’t get to try again. I don’t get to say another goodbye.

  And Mum. Ketty has my mother, and the thought of what she might do makes me sick. I think about Ketty, pinning me down in the woods while Jackson punched me over and over, every blow bruising my ribs and crushing the air from my lungs. Margie’s face when they’d beaten her up, too. The things Jake told us about his imprisonment at Camp Bishop, after the rescue. Mum needs nurses and carers and medicine. The things that Ketty could do, just by withholding her care – I realise that my nightmares are only just beginning.

  Ketty has my mother. Ketty is cruel and violent, and she’ll use Mum to get to me.

  I couldn’t save Mum. Like all the other people I’ve lost, I couldn’t hold onto her. I couldn’t protect her.

  Charlie comes back maybe an hour later. I haven’t moved. I haven’t touched the tea. She looks at the full mug, shakes her head, and sits down on the bed. She puts a hand on my knee.

  “Bex,” she says, quietly. “Bex, I’m so sorry.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  “Bex? You’ve got to keep going. Let me get you some breakfast, while you get up and have a shower. You’ll feel better.”

  I want to shout. I want to show Charlie how much this hurts, but I can’t move. My arms and legs are too heavy. My eyes are swollen and puffy from crying. My head is full of black thoughts and I can’t lift it from the pillow. There’s a weight like a rock in my stomach. All I can do is lie here and think about Mum.

  “Hey, Bex.” Amy is standing in the doorway. “Come and have some breakfast. Dan’s talking about making sandwiches.”

  Charlie turns to look at her, shaking her head, and Amy’s expression changes. She hesitates for a moment, then she walks in and kneels down on the floor in front of me. I’m staring across the room at the wall, and she kneels in my eyeline, sitting back on her heels. When I don’t react, she leans forward and pushes one arm under my shoulder, wrapping the other round my back and holding me tightly.

  It’s as if something inside me thaws. I reach out and hug her back, clinging to her. It’s like finding a life raft after swimming for hours in an empty sea. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t ask anything of me, but for the first time I feel as if someone understands.

  *****

  “Charlie says you were amazing yesterday.” Dan puts a plate in front of me, loaded with one of his trademark sandwiches. He sits down across the table and waits for me to take a bite. It’s past lunchtime, and I’ve dragged myself to the kitchen. Charlie’s right – I do feel better after a shower and a change of clothes.

  I shake my head. “Not amazing enough.”

  “Oh, come on. You got in and out, right under the noses of the guards. You gave Ketty the slip. It sounds as if you called out all the fire engines in Stockport to do it, and you walked away! That’s amazing, Bex.”

  I look at him for a moment. I need him to understand. My voice is a whisper, but it gets stronger as I push myself to speak.

  “Ketty took my Mum. My Mum is in London with the person who beat me up, and beat up Margie and Jake. The person who shot at all of us when we drove out of camp, and tried to gas us in the bunker. She came for me, and she took Mum instead.” I can feel the tears starting again. “If she doesn’t have me, what do you think she’s going to do to my Mum?”

  “Your Mum saved you, the way Charlie tells it. Gave herself up to let you walk away. Your Mum’s a hero.”

  “She is a hero. But she’s a hero who needs carers and nurses and doctors. What if Ketty doesn’t give her those things? What if they take away her medication and her carers and her wheelchair?” I shake my head and brush away tears. “That’s on me, Dan. That’s my fault.”

  “She had a choice, Bex,” Dan says, gently.

  “No, she didn’t. I stayed too long with Dad, and I made this happen. If she hadn’t gone with Ketty, I’d be in handcuffs in London right now. They’d be parading me around in an orange jumpsuit. You’d be seeing my face on the news tonight.” Something is twisting inside me. There’s a pain like a knife in my back, and I can’t fill my lungs. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been going over and over what happened yesterday, and everything comes down to me. I lost Mum. I gave Ketty another prisoner. I stayed too long, and I dragged my family into Ketty’s war.” I push the plate away, my stomach too knotted to eat.

  Dan thinks for a moment. “So Ketty was there to catch you?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “She didn’t know you were coming?”

  I shrug.

  “So what was she doing in your parents’ room?”

  “Asking my Mum questions. Being a bully.”

  He leans forward. “Bex. If she was there anyway, and she was questioning your Mum, who’s to say she wasn’t planning to take her back to London, whether you were there or not? Maybe that’s what she was there for – to take your Mum away.” He puts his hand in mine. “Maybe there’s nothing anyone could have done.”

  “I could have stopped her. I could have turned myself in.”

  “And now you’d both be in London. The face of the resistance, on TV with her mother, in matching jumpsuits.” He takes my other hand. “Come on, Bex. Don’t blame everything on yourself. Sometimes the bad guys win, and there’s nothing you could have done.” I shake my head, but he carries on. “You got in, you got out. That’s the story of yesterday. What happened to your Mum – that’s part of a different story. You got to see your Dad, he knows you were there, and you got away. Hold on to that.” He gives my hands a squeeze.

  I think about what he’s saying. Maybe Ketty wasn’t there for me. Maybe she was after Mum all along. Maybe it wasn’t my fault – maybe Ketty was always going to take her away.

  I don’t know what to think. I hold Dan’s hands as defeat hits me and tears stream down my cheeks.

  Jake is right. I’m no hero. I’m a pawn in the game, and it doesn’t matter what I do. Someone else always wins.

  *****

  I’m still at the table when Amy comes in to ask about cooking dinner. I’ve eaten the sandwich – I let Dan persuade me to take a bite, and realised how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Dan and I have been drinking tea all afternoon, and we’re talking about going back to school. He’s doing a good job of keeping me distracted, asking what I’ll do on my first day back. Which lesson I’ll look forward to most. Which teacher will be most disappointed to see us again.

  I know we’re not going back, but it beats thinking about Ketty.

  He turns to Amy, and I sit back and listen as my friends talk about normal things. An everyday conversation that makes me wish I had nothing else to worry about. I’m smiling as they discuss what to cook.

  And then Jake is running into the room, shouting my name. His face is white, and he’s breathless.

  “She’s on TV, Bex. She’s on TV.”

  Dan’s asking who he’s talking about, and Amy’s asking him to repeat himself, but I already know who it is.

  I feel as if I’ve been dropped into icy water. I’m shaking, and I can’t move. Amy and Dan are talking to me, but I can’t hear them over the sound of my own he
artbeat, drumming in my ears.

  Amy sits down next to me, her hand on my arm. I’m looking at her, but I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. Jake is standing in the doorway, looking lost. Dan is talking to him, and looking across at me.

  Slowly, I push myself to my feet. Amy stands with me and takes my arm. I force myself to walk to the door, where Jake steps aside to let me pass. Down the corridor, through the living room door. Step after step. Charlie is waiting, her hands reaching out to me.

  The TV is on, PIN headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen. But I’m not reading them. I’m not seeing them at all.

  I’m seeing Mum.

  Mum in an orange jumpsuit. Mum handcuffed to a table.

  Mum facing Ketty in an interrogation room.

  I don’t know what happens next. I think I cry out. I’m on my knees on the living room floor and all I can see is Mum, her face moving from defiance to fear as Ketty speaks.

  There are gentle hands on my shoulders and arms, lifting me up and sitting me down on the sofa. I can’t take my eyes off the screen. Charlie and Amy sit with me, arms around my shoulders, holding my hands, as we watch the report. Jake sits on his bed and Dan stands in the doorway.

  PIN cuts back to the newsreader, who flashes up a photo of me and calls me a wanted terrorist. She praises the arrest of my mother, and announces the charge against her.

  She’s charged with aiding and abetting a known terrorist.

  That’s a firing squad offence.

  She’s being held for helping me.

  “They can’t!” My voice rasps in my throat. “They’ve got no proof! Ketty didn’t see me. She can’t prove I was there.”

  And then the screen changes, and there’s a photo of my ID card. The fake ID from the delivery company. The ID I put in my pocket at the entrance as I walked in, before I changed my clothes. ID I must have dropped as I stuffed my clothes into the box.

  Proof.

  I slump back on the sofa. Charlie and Amy tighten their hold on my shoulders. The news report runs the footage of Mum again, her face changing as Ketty accuses her of helping me.