Fighting Back (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 4)

by Rachel Churcher

  I don’t have a choice, do I?

  I shrug. He waves me to a chair, and switches on the screen in his office. He consults the file, selects a channel with the remote, then types in a code to unscramble the signal.

  “Scottish news. What are you looking for?”

  “Jake Taylor. He’s left the OIE.”

  Conrad whistles. “Now, that was a silly thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  I can’t help grinning at him. “Yes, it was.”

  He turns up the sound, and I’m watching the news from across the border.

  I’m watching news that doesn’t come from PIN.

  This is illegal, and Conrad is a witness. I have to force myself to stay, and to keep watching.

  It’s all part of the job, Ketty. Get used to it.

  *****

  “Ketty. Have you found him?”

  Bracken looks up from his paperwork.

  “Jake is in custody, Sir. At a police station in Edinburgh.”

  He nods. “Good work. What’s he charged with?”

  I can’t keep the smile from my face. “Do you want the list?”

  He sits back in his chair and waits for me to continue.

  “Violating the terms of his temporary visa” Bracken nods. “Stealing a car.” He raises his eyebrows. “Driving without a licence or insurance. Assault on a member of the OIE security staff. And possession of a firearm.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Took a gun from a guard and used it to get out of the building. Took one of the OIE vehicles, drove it to the airport, and tried to claim asylum again. Oh – and he left the gun in the car.”

  “So he’s in trouble, then?”

  “He’s in trouble, Sir. They’re talking about deporting him.”

  “How useful.”

  “Indeed, Sir.”

  “Do we have anything to offer them, if they’re willing to discuss it?”

  I pull a piece of paper from my folder and hand it to him. “One of the workers from the shop in Newcastle is a Scottish citizen, Sir. I think they might appreciate his release, in exchange for Jake.”

  Bracken nods. “That might convince them.”

  “So – what now, Sir?”

  He reads the detention report for the Scottish prisoner.

  “Now? Now I make contact north of the border, and see what arrangement we can come to.”

  “Will they want assurances? Guarantees of safety for Taylor?”

  He smiles. “Probably.”

  “But we won’t honour them?”

  “What can they do, once he’s on UK soil?” Bracken waves a hand. “We’ll come up with something to smooth things over. Plant a gun on him, or some drugs. Enough to make the Scots back off when we make him disappear.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He nods. “I think we can have Jake Taylor in one of our cells by the end of the week.”

  *****

  I leave Bracken to make contact with Scotland. I bring him coffee between calls, and after an hour or so I leave two painkillers on his desk. They’ve gone when I come back.

  “Thank you, Ketty,” he says, as I put another cup of coffee in front of him. He’s just put the phone down.

  “How is it going, Sir?”

  He makes a face. “It’s hard to tell at this stage.”

  “But they do have Jake?”

  He nods. “They have confirmed that he’s in their cells.”

  “And the shop worker?”

  “I haven’t mentioned him yet. We’ve got a lot more to discuss before we start making bargains.” He takes a sip of coffee. “At the moment we’re just registering our interest in Jake Taylor, and expressing a preference for them to deport him to the UK.”

  “How long will this take?”

  He shakes his head and shrugs, his voice raised. “As long as it takes, Ketty.” He leans his elbows on the desk. “This isn’t something you can rush. We’re talking about a sixteen-year-old. This is going to take some very careful negotiating.”

  “Sorry, Sir. I’m just hoping we can bring him home soon.”

  He sighs. “We all are, Ketty. Another of Ellman’s friends at Belmarsh? That’s a huge score for us.” He sits back in his chair. “We just need to be ready when they hand him over. We need TV footage, and we need another show trial.” He looks at me. “We’re going to be busy, Ketty.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Safe

  BEX

  “We’ve found them!”

  Gail stands over our table, one hand on the back of Charlie’s chair. The dining room is crowded and noisy.

  “Come on!” She gestures to us to follow her out of the room. “Bring your sandwiches. You’re going to want to see this.”

  We pick up our plates and drinks and hurry out, following Gail up the stairs to the conference room. She opens the door and ushers us inside.

  There’s a laptop on the long table, and Dan’s liaison is talking to someone on a video call. We put our lunches down at the end of the table. He looks up and waves us over.

  “They’re here!” He says to the screen. “They’re just coming.” And he slides his chair away.

  Dan and I exchange a glance, and follow Amy over to the laptop. She faces the screen and lets out a startled cry, clapping her hands over her mouth. Someone on the other end of the call laughs.

  It’s Neesh.

  Neesh is alive.

  I step up behind Amy, and there she is on the screen, waving and smiling.

  For a moment, I forget to breathe.

  Neesh is OK.

  “Sit down, you lot! I can’t see your faces!”

  I push a chair towards the laptop, and another. We sit down, leaning in until all four of us are on camera.

  I can’t believe she’s safe.

  “Neesh! What happened? Where are you?”

  She smiles. “I’m in the Netherlands. Not where I expected to be, but they’ve offered me asylum, and I’m safe for now.”

  I’m shaking my head. “When we saw the video on PIN, we thought …”

  She nods. “I know. It was close. We only just got away in time. I didn’t have time to warn the staff or close the shop – we had to grab what we could carry and run.”

  “And Caroline?”

  Neesh smiles. “Caroline’s here. She’s the one who got us out. Me, and the other safe houses.”

  “Jo?” Amy asks.

  “Yes. Jo, and your friends from the bunker. They’re all here.”

  I find that I’m letting out a breath, and it feels as if I’ve been holding it for months. Our friends are safe. We haven’t lost them – Jake didn’t hand them to the government when he wrote about the safe house online. I can’t help smiling. This is a victory – a small one, but it’s important. The people who helped us are still out there, still fighting.

  “That’s brilliant news, Neesh!” Charlie grins. “What’s happening now? Can you start another business?”

  Neesh grins back. “That’s the best part.” She waves at the window behind her – there’s a stretch of grass, and a view of the sky. “We’re in a camp for displaced people. There’s a whole community of people who’ve escaped from the UK. They’re keeping it quiet, but there are loads of us here.”

  “People who need health foods?”

  Neesh shakes her head. “Better than that. They’ve given us an airfield. We’ve got housing and work spaces, and there’s a training camp for anyone who wants to fight back.” She smiles. “We’re building a resistance force. We’re raising an army, and the Dutch government is helping.”

  I sit back in my chair. In Edinburgh, it’s just the four of us training. There are soldiers here, and guards, but there’s no army. We’re being trained, but we can’t fight back alone.

  But Neesh has an army. The Netherlands is sheltering a British rebel force.

  It’s like finding the light in a dark room.

  She’s right. This is amazing news. This could be our chance to fight back.

  *****


  “Why can’t we go?”

  Gail shakes her head again. “Bex … you need to understand.”

  “I understand! I understand that there’s an army in the Netherlands, training to fight back in the UK. Training to take down the government. Why can’t we join them?”

  I’m standing in the conference room, and I’m shouting at Gail as she perches on the edge of the table. I can’t believe she’s not hearing me.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Except that it is. We go, and we sign up. We train, we fight, we make a difference.” Dan sounds as angry as I am.

  Gail holds up her hands. “Enough. The situation is complicated. You’re being sheltered by the Scottish government. We can’t just fly you to another country and hand you over. There are rules about these things – asylum, refugee status – plus you’re under eighteen. You have to stay in the country where you made your claim.”

  I can’t help shouting at her.

  “We didn’t have a choice! The OIE flew us here. You gave us forms to sign and boxes to tick. No one asked us where we wanted to be.”

  Gail fixes me with a hard stare. “You wanted to be safe, Bex. We kept you safe. Don’t throw that back at us – we’ve done everything we can to keep you out of danger.”

  I nod, closing my eyes. It’s true – I’m not being fair. They saved our lives, and they’re still keeping us safe.

  But it makes no sense to stay here. Not after talking to Neesh. Not now that we have a real chance to fight.

  *****

  “We could escape.” I’m pacing up and down in the common room. I can’t sit down. There’s an army, and we’re not allowed to join it. There’s a way to fight back, and we’re banned from taking part.

  Dan laughs, and sits back on the sofa. “What – like last time? Hire our own helicopters? Find our own drivers and friendly oil rigs? Or would you rather steal a car and a gun, like Jake?” He shakes his head. “Gail is right. This isn’t going to happen. Maybe it’s not our fight, Bex.”

  I can’t stop myself from shouting. “How can you say that? How can you sit here, when Margie’s in the cells, and my Mum’s on TV, and we’re doing nothing to get them out?”

  He closes his eyes. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. “That’s not fair, Bex. That’s not fair. You know I would do anything to get Margie out of prison.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever shouted at Dan before, but I can’t help myself. He’s wrong, and it hurts that he’s not fighting with me.

  “So why not this?”

  He slams his hands down onto the cushions, and shouts back at me. I’ve never seen him this angry. “Because this isn’t real! We can’t go to the Netherlands. We can’t join their army. We’re stuck here.” He jabs a finger at me. “Stop pushing, Bex. Stop trying to make this work when it can’t.”

  I stare at him. I know what’s at stake here, for both of us, and I can’t understand why he’s giving up.

  “Maybe Dan’s right.” Amy is curled up against the arm of the sofa. She shakes her head as she speaks. “Maybe we can’t make this work.” I throw my hands in the air in frustration, and she sits up and looks at me. “What if we try? What if we do everything we can to get out of here, and join their army – and what if we get caught? Do you think the Scottish government will let all of us stay if we break our visa rules? They’ll send us all home, Jake included. We’ll all be on PIN. We lose everything, and the government wins. They get their most wanted terrorists, and they get to blame everything on us. Anything they want.”

  But I can’t accept this. I can’t give up so quickly.

  Warning

  KETTY

  “Are you free this afternoon?”

  Conrad smirks. “Are you asking me out?”

  You wish.

  I smile. “Better. Do you want to help with an interrogation?”

  He sits back in his chair. “You know all the right things to say, Ketty.”

  I shrug. “Bracken’s busy with the Scotland negotiations. I’m guessing Lee’s busy, too. And you did steal my session with Elizabeth the other day.”

  “So you want me to …?”

  “Run the recordings. Get me some footage for PIN. We need to keep the pressure on Bex and her gang, especially if we’re going to get our hands on Jake.”

  He shakes his head. “I get you access to illegal foreign news broadcasts. I get the blame for putting an important prisoner in your interrogation room. And let’s not forget your special access card.” He grins. “And you want me to push some buttons while you question someone’s mother?”

  “That’s what I had in mind.”

  He reaches for the phone, and orders a car to take us to Belmarsh. He stands up, and picks up his jacket. “Let’s go.”

  *****

  “So what’s your plan, when we get Jake in the cells?”

  We’re in the car, and the driver is using the military lanes to bypass the traffic.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Questions. TV footage.” I smile. “I’m pretty sure he’ll start screaming when he sees that it’s me on the other side of the table.”

  Conrad looks impressed. “So you two have history, then?”

  “We do.”

  “One of your Camp Bishop victims?” I start to answer, but he cuts me off. “What was your phrase? Iron fists …”

  “… and steel toe caps. Yes.”

  “So he’s got that to look forward to.”

  “That, and a trial. We’ll make sure we put on a good show for his friends.”

  “How old is this kid? Sixteen?”

  “Sixteen. Maybe seventeen. I haven’t checked.” He shakes his head. “Don’t judge me, David. I know how to handle these kids.”

  “But that’s what they are, though. Kids.”

  “So we’re soft on terrorists if they’re young and sweet, are we?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No. And if we want Bex, and the others – if we want to get rid of the Face of the Resistance – we can’t afford to be distracted by their age. A terrorist is a terrorist.”

  He looks at me for a moment, and I can’t decide whether it’s mocking, or respect that I see in his eyes.

  Or fear.

  You’re still underestimating me, David.

  *****

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Corporal Smith. Here for more news footage, I presume.”

  I smile. “Let’s start with some questions about your daughter.” She watches me as I open my file and pull out a sheet of paper.

  This is becoming routine. Me, Elizabeth, her wheelchair, and a list of questions for PIN. I’m having to get more creative, to find new questions to ask. New ways of getting her to talk.

  I give her a long look. “We’re going to talk about Bex, and what she was like before she joined her terrorist cell.” A smile creeps across her face, and I do my best to ignore it. “It’s obvious that joining a terrorist group would change someone, but there are usually clues, before they take that step. So let’s talk about Bex. Let’s talk about what put her on this destructive course.”

  Elizabeth laughs. “Corporal Smith. You’re making the assumption that my daughter has changed. That she’s made a mistake somewhere.”

  “Is she, or isn’t she, currently wanted for terrorist offences?”

  “So you say.”

  I sit back and watch her for a moment. Her orange prison jumpsuit is more baggy than it was when she arrived, and her wrists are bruised where she’s handcuffed to the table. “And what do you say? Do you deny that she deserted the RTS? That she was traced to a terrorist camp? That she’s being sheltered by a banned organisation in a foreign country?”

  She shrugs, pulling the chain of her handcuffs tight.

  “So you say.”

  “Elizabeth. These are serious charges. What do you think led Bex to run away from her training camp? Can you think of any signs that she might be capable of terrorist acts?”

  She laug
hs again. “Corporal Smith. My daughter is brave, and kind, and she stands up for what she believes in. The fact that she believes in something other than your uniform, and your training camps, isn’t a weakness. And as far as I can see, she hasn’t changed.”

  Still incriminating yourself, and your daughter. Keep going, Elizabeth. Give me a soundbite I can use on TV.

  “So she’s always been a terrorist?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Corporal.”

  “But she’s always had sympathy for people who stand up for her beliefs?”

  She points at my uniform. “Don’t you? Isn’t that why you wear their clothes and do as you’re told?”

  Careful, Ketty. Don’t let her distract you.

  “Elizabeth. I’d like to talk about Bex as a young child. What was she like? Did she have any violent tendencies?”

  She looks me in the eye. “What kind of question is that, Corporal?”

  “One I’m interested in following up. Was Bex ever violent as a child?”

  She looks down at the table, suppressing a laugh, and then looks back at me. “Corporal, that is none of your business. My daughter’s childhood is not under discussion here.” She pauses, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “But I think I’d like to ask you the same question. Was there violence in your childhood, Corporal Smith?”

  The question is like a bullet, and for a moment I can’t take a breath.

  I think about Dad, armed with fists and bottles and kitchen knives. I think about the boys in the park. I think about Jackson, on our first night at Camp Bishop. And I think about Mum, walking out. Leaving me with Dad.

  I think about Elizabeth’s room in the nursing home. The photos of Bex on display, always with both parents, always smiling.

  Nothing like my childhood at all.

  I shake my head. This woman – this prisoner – thinks she has me figured out.