“I’ll give you some time to decide. Speak to your friends, choose what you’d like to do.” She pushes her chair back from the table and sorts through the papers on her clipboard, waiting for me to stand up, to ask everyone what they think we should do.
But I don’t move.
“I don’t need to talk to anyone. And I don’t need any more time.” Gail looks up in surprise.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “The government has my mother in a cell. They have my friend, and my teacher, and the person who ran the terrorist cell that saved our lives. I’m not going to run away from that. I’m not going to sit in Scotland, studying for exams, while they wait for their trials.”
I’m talking, and I’m making my decision as I speak. I didn’t know this was going to be asked of me. I didn’t know what would happen when we reached Edinburgh, and safety. But I know that I can’t let Mum sit in her cell, and Margie, and not train myself to get them out. My life isn’t starting over. I have a chance to help, and I’m going to take it.
“I’m sure.”
Gail nods her approval. “OK, then. Tick this box, and this box, and sign here.”
I scribble my name, and set the course for my life in exile.
*****
They give me a room, like a one-person hotel room. I’ve got a single bed, a desk and chair, some bookshelves, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. I’ve also got my own bathroom, stocked with towels and toiletries. It’s much larger than my room in the flat, and when I’ve taken everything out of my rucksack, it still looks empty. There’s a pinboard on the wall, and I’ve pinned Saunders’ sketch of us in our armour in the corner over the desk. I sit on the bed and look around at the empty, cream-painted walls, and my view of the compound through the windows.
It would be easy to feel at home here. I could buy some books, and some posters. I could decorate the room and make my own space. I could put cushions on the bed, and a rug on the floor. It could be mine, in a way that nothing has been mine since Mum sold the house.
But I can’t get comfortable here. Mum and Margie and the others are in London. I’ve asked the OIE to train me, and I know I’m going back to fight. I’m not staying here. For now, I have permission to remain in Scotland, and the OIE is working on getting us citizenship and passports.
I’m a refugee.
But I don’t want to hide here. I want to go back, and I want to save the people I care about. I want to change my country.
I’m grateful. I’m safe for now. But this isn’t where I belong.
*****
“En suite showers! Real beds! Single rooms! We’ve gone up in the world.”
Dan leans back on the sofa, hands behind his head, shirt sleeves rolled up. The four of us are sitting together in the common room at the end of the corridor. We’ve had time to shower and change, and it feels great to be out of the clothes we were travelling in. There’s a kitchen area, tables and chairs, and a couple of sofas. There’s a TV, for the nightly news. I have to remind myself that we can’t watch PIN here. There are other news channels, and we could see things that our government doesn’t want us to see. The thought is thrilling and frightening at the same time.
“So – what did everyone choose, for the education form?” Amy sounds nervous.
“Vocational!” Says Dan. “More training like the RTS, but from people who actually care about keeping us safe.”
Amy smiles, relief showing on her face. “Me too. We need to keep fighting.”
“Bex?” Dan gives me a look of concern. “What did you decide?”
I nod. “Vocational.” Dan and Amy exchange a glance. “I’m not staying here. I’m going back, and if the OIE wants to make me a better fighter, that’s fine with me.”
Amy puts her hand on mine, next to me on the sofa. “That’s great, Bex. We’ll be training together.”
“Jake?” Dan nudges him. “You’re fighting with us, right?”
Jake looks down at his hands in his lap.
“Jake?” Amy leans forward. “What did you choose?”
He shakes his head, and his voice is quiet. “Academic.” He won’t meet our eyes.
The room is silent.
Dan sits up and turns to Jake. “Are you serious?”
Jake nods, slowly, eyes down.
“But …” Amy holds a hand out to Jake, pleading.
“They gave me a choice.” He still won’t look at us. “For the first time since they took me from school, someone gave me a choice.”
“Yes, but …”
He looks up at Amy, anger flashing in his eyes.
“I’m not going back. I’m not fighting any more battles for other people. I’m sick of being used, and I’m sick of being left behind. I’m done.” He throws his words like stones, and Amy sits back in her seat, tears in her eyes.
This is about me. This is about leaving him behind.
“Jake, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we left you at Camp Bishop. I’m sorry about what happened to you. I …”
He looks at me, and I can feel his anger burning into me.
“How can you apologise? How can you sit there and say you’re sorry when it was me who had to face Ketty? When it was me with Bracken’s gun to my head? Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you have any clue what Ketty and Jackson did to us?” He points at Amy, and back at himself.
Amy is shaking her head. “No. Don’t put this all on Bex. She knows what Ketty did. Ketty punished her, you know. For looking after Joss, that day on the run. For looking after all of us.” Amy points at me. “Jackson beat her up for helping us – for helping you. Did you know that? Did you ever bother to find out?”
Jake looks shocked. He looks at me, wide-eyed. “Is that true? Did you know what Ketty would do?”
I shrug. “Of course not. But I knew what she was capable of.” I can feel the bruises. Jackson’s fists, landing on my ribs.
“Bex wasn’t in control of everything that happened at Camp Bishop, Jake.” Dan’s voice is calm and reasoned. “There were five of us in the truck, and Charlie made the decision to keep driving.”
“And you all went along with it.”
Dan shrugs. “Didn’t have much choice, at the time.”
Jake points at me. “You knew. You knew, and that makes it worse. You left me behind, and you knew what would happen to me.” He points at Amy. “To us.”
“Leave me out of this, Jake.” Amy holds her hands up in front of her.
He folds his hands in his lap. “I’m done with fighting. I’m done with looking down the barrels of other people’s guns. The OIE will let me stay here? Great. I’m in. I’ll sit some exams, I’ll go to university, and I won’t look back.” He points at us. “If you want to go and risk your lives for someone else’s fight, that’s up to you. But I’m safe now, and I’m not giving that up.” He stands up and walks to the door. “Get yourselves trained, and get yourselves sent to war. Get yourselves shot. Get yourselves killed. Not my problem any more.”
He walks out into the corridor and slams the door behind him.
Evidence
Ketty
“Nevill Hall Hospital, High Dependency Ward.”
“Corporal Ketty Smith, calling about …”
“Liam Jackson. Yes. Hold the line, please.”
I wait while the nurse checks the patient files. My hands are shaking when she comes back to the phone, and I realise I’m holding my breath.
“No change, Corporal. We’re still treating the infection.”
I force myself to breathe. “Thank you,” I say, and hang up the phone.
I sit at my desk, eyes closed.
Fight, Jackson. Between Lee and Conrad and Bracken, I’m losing myself. I need you to remind me who I am.
*****
When Bracken arrives, it’s with Major General Franks. I stand up behind my desk and salute as she enters the room.
“At ease, Corporal.” She waves a hand at my chair. “Take a seat.”
I sit down, hands c
lasped in front of me on the desk.
“Corporal Smith. I’m here to congratulate you on your strategy for using PIN to unsettle our missing terrorists.”
“Sir?”
“Bracken tells me that running daily footage of Ellman’s mother was your idea.”
I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
“And implicating Ellman in the Bournemouth bombing on last night’s news? Very clever.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I hear you’re planning on putting one of the Makepeace prisoners on trial as an encouragement to the others to cooperate?”
“Yes, Sir. Margaret Watson. She’s the RTS deserter from Ellman’s school. She joined the terrorist cell instead of coming to Camp Bishop. We thought she’d motivate the other prisoners and give Ellman’s friends something to think about.”
“I like the way you think, Corporal.” She looks at Bracken. “I think you can both expect some career progression to result from this.”
Bracken smiles. “Thank you, Sir. Anything we can do to help.” He nods at me. “Corporal Smith has been instrumental in shaping our search for the missing recruits, as well as using PIN to reach them.”
Franks gives me a friendly smile. “I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labour, Corporal. I’m sure the people of this country will feel safer when we finally have your targets in the cells.”
“Yes, Sir. That’s what we’re aiming for, Sir.”
She nods. “In the meantime, I’m sure Recruit Ellman would appreciate seeing more of her mother on TV. Don’t you?”
I smile back. “Yes, Sir. I’m sure we can handle that, Sir.”
She pulls something from her pocket and hands it to me. “This should help.”
It’s an access card, for Belmarsh Prison. I stare at it, trying to understand what she’s giving me. She points at the card. “That will get you through the front door, and into the interrogation area. No more security checks. The code is on the back.” I turn the card over, and there’s a four-digit code on a sticky note. “Memorise it. This gives you 24-hour access to the prisoners and the standard interrogation suite. You’ll need permission and specialists for Enhanced Interrogation, but Brigadier Lee can give you that.”
I nod, still staring at the card. “Thank you, Sir.” I try to hide the surprise in my voice.
That’s a lot of power, Ketty. Don’t screw it up.
Franks smiles. “I know we can count on you, Corporal. Oh – and there’s no need to run your prisoner clips for PIN past the brigadier in future. Send them directly to the newsroom. They’ll be expecting them.” She turns to Bracken. “The Colonel will keep me informed of your progress.”
Bracken nods. I stand as Franks leaves, then slump back into my chair.
“I think we have work to do, Ketty,” says Bracken, taking his coffee and briefing papers from my desk. I look at the card in my hand, and feel a rush of excitement at the power I’ve been given.
“Yes, Sir. I think we do.”
*****
I schedule a trip to Belmarsh for the morning, and concentrate on the planning for Margaret Watson’s trial. We need to make sure everyone’s watching – Ellman, Pearce, the OIE – as well as William Richards.
This needs to be the trial of the year.
I need evidence – the kind we can prove. Photos, CCTV, school records. With that as a framework, we can accuse her of anything else that suits us, and the PIN-watching public will eat it up.
We’ll need her school reports. Her desertion before the RTS recruiters turned up will make sure she’s disgraced before the trial begins. I’ll keep Sheena Richards out of the story for now – this will play better if the prisoner is shown to have acted alone.
I can prove she was at Makepeace Farm. The CCTV from the bunker gives me plenty to work with, and there’s some dashcam footage from one of the troop carriers in the farmyard. Twinned with the photos of Lee’s planted evidence, we can make the case for her membership of a terrorist cell.
And that’s a firing squad offence.
But for the trial of the year, why stop there? We can place her at Camp Bishop, which puts her around Leominster on the day of the weapons test. We can hang the whole false flag attack on the Makepeace Farm cell, which gives us automatic firing squad sentences for everyone else we picked up there, or with the stolen armour.
Pick them off, one by one, and use Margaret’s trial as the finale.
The feeling of power is growing, and I can’t hide a smile. Margaret Watson is entirely in my hands. I don’t need Jackson to inflict the bruises – I’ve got a staff of interrogators to do that for me. I can use her to keep William under control, and I can use her to frighten her friends. I can tell the country that she helped to annihilate the people of Leominster, and it not only guarantees her execution – it also hides the truth.
It removes her, and it protects me.
Perfect.
I pull out an evidence request form, and start to make the case for releasing the CCTV.
*****
Bracken checks my requests, and sends me to Brigadier Lee for final approval. Conrad gives me an unfriendly smile as I walk into Lee’s outer office. He lounges back in his chair and watches me.
Feeling threatened, David?
“Corporal Smith. Come to beg me for more inside information?”
“Corporal Conrad. I’m here to see the brigadier.”
He looks at the folder in my hands.
“Planning the execution of a schoolgirl? Or giving your missing recruits another chance to escape?”
“What’s wrong, David? No stomach for disposing of terrorists? Good thing us country girls are here to do it for you.”
He grins, and rolls his eyes. “Go on in. He’s waiting.”
There’s an amused expression on Lee’s face as I cross the room to stand in front of his desk. I put the folder down in front of him and stand to attention.
“At ease, Ketty,” he says, indicating the folder. “The evidence forms?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Pull up a chair. Let’s take a look.”
He flicks through the request forms, nodding and making positive comments.
“This looks good. I think we can build a convincing case from the proof you’ve put together.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He looks up. “Do we need to bring Leominster into this?”
“With respect, Sir, I think we do. The prisoner was there, at Camp Bishop – I met her myself. We get public opinion on our side, even though she’s technically a minor. No one will want to forgive a terrorist who wiped out a town.” Lee smirks. “It’s the biggest atrocity yet, and it’s fresh in people’s minds. If the idea is to show William Richards what we can do, let’s go all out and show him that we could pin anything on his daughter. There’s no way she’s walking out of there if he doesn’t play ball.” Lee nods. “Plus, it gives us a plausible cover story. We’re not just pointing a finger at a vague terrorist threat – we’re pointing at this cell, and these people. That makes the truth less likely to come out.”
He nods. “OK. Good thinking. I’ll approve it.”
He picks up a pen, and works his way through the folder, signing every request I’ve made. I can’t help feeling that he’s giving me enough rope to hang myself.
Make this work, Ketty. Show him you know what you’re doing.
He signs the final form and puts the papers back in the folder.
“You’re aiming to turn this into a big event, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to miss it, Sir. Particularly the prisoner’s friends. I think they should see what happens to terrorists, when we catch them.”
He smiles, coldly. “Keep them running scared?”
“That’s when they’ll make their mistake, Sir.”
He watches me for a moment, then nods. “Maybe. And then we need to be ready to catch them.”
Won’t make that mistake again, Sir.
“Yes, Sir.”
&n
bsp; He hands the folder back to me.
“This will certainly be an event, Ketty. Feed back to me if there are any problems with the evidence – we should make use of this opportunity.”
That’s the idea.
I smile. “It’s a show trial, Sir. Let’s put on a good show.”
Superiors
Bex
We all sleep late on our first morning in Edinburgh, catching up for the night we lost on the journey. I went to bed after dinner and slept for twelve hours. By the time I’m up and dressed and headed to the canteen, Charlie has finished her breakfast and the others are helping themselves from the serving counter. I fill a plate with hot food, grab a mug of coffee, and sit down next to Charlie.
“How are you feeling?”
I nod. “Better, thanks.”
“Did you sleep OK?” I realise that, in these private rooms, no one can hear me if I wake up screaming. Charlie is asking because she really doesn’t know.
I smile. “I did. Thanks.” Charlie smiles back. “So,” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee. “What have they got planned for you?”
“While you’re all training and studying, you mean?” I nod. Charlie thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. I offered them help in the kitchen, but they seem much more interested in my resistance activities.” I raise my eyebrows. “Helping you lot. Breaking out of camp. My police record.” She picks up her mug. “We’ll see what they decide.”
When Jake sits down, it’s at the far end of the table. He keeps his head down, and eats in silence. No one pushes him to talk.
*****
The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3 Page 56
