“No, Mr Dewar. No lawyers.”
The prisoner nods, looking at his hands.
“So. What did you do for Morgana Healthfoods?”
He shrugs again.
“You know. Shop stuff. Shelf stacking. Cleaning.”
“And were you friendly with the owner?”
“Neesh?” Bracken nods. “I guess. Maybe.”
“Did you work with her?”
“Sometimes.”
“And did you know that she lived in a flat above the shop?”
He nods. “Yeah, yeah. She lived upstairs.”
“Did you ever go to her flat?”
Dewar’s head snaps up and he looks straight at Bracken. The drumming stops, and he holds his hands still.
“What? No! I never …”
I raise my eyebrows.
Fond of your boss, were you?
“And were you aware that there was another flat in the building?”
He shrugs.
“Is that a yes, Mr Dewar?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought there must be.”
“And why did you think that?”
He places his hands carefully on the table, and looks down at them. “There were … people. Working out back.”
“Did you meet these people?”
He shakes his head.
“Can you describe them?”
“No. Not really.”
“Can you remember anything about them?”
Dewar shrugs.
Come on. Give us something to work with.
“They were young, I guess.” He looks at Bracken again. “I didn’t see them properly. Just glimpses.”
“And who did you think they were, these people?”
He shrugs again.
“Illegals, I guess. Europeans.” He tugs at his handcuffs. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
I roll my eyes. It’s amazing what you can ignore if you don’t want to get involved.
Bracken lays out more photos – the images from the wanted posters for the recruits.
“Do you recognise any of these people?”
“Don’t know. Maybe.”
“Which ones?”
The man gestures towards one of the photos. Bracken points at Dan’s image.
“Yeah. He was there.”
Thank you, Dewar. That’s what we needed.
“And the others?”
“I don’t know.”
Bracken sits back in his chair.
“I understand that you’re a Scottish citizen, Mr Dewar.”
“Yeah.”
“So what were you doing, working in the UK?”
“I’ve got papers. I’m allowed to work.”
You were allowed to work. Don’t expect to be going back to a job any time soon.
Bracken nods.
“We’ll be checking that out.”
Dewar leans back in his chair.
“Is that why I’m locked up? You think I don’t have papers?”
He’s smiling. He looks relieved.
He has no idea why he’s here.
“Are you aware, Mr Dewar, that the person you identified is a member of a terrorist cell?”
“I just said. I don’t know who they are …”
“Are you a member of a terrorist cell?”
Dewar blinks, and looks at Bracken as if he’s been slapped.
Go on. Answer the question.
“Wait – what?”
“Are you a member of a terrorist cell?”
The prisoner gapes at Bracken, and looks down at his handcuffs.
“It’s a simple question, Mr Dewar.”
“No! No, I … No!” He’s shaking his head.
I stifle a laugh. He has no idea what this is about.
Bracken leans towards him.
“I want you to think about this, very carefully. Did you ever see any evidence of terrorist activity at Morgana Healthfoods?”
Dewar stares at him, then looks away. He laughs.
“I don’t understand.”
“Did you ever see any evidence …”
“No!” He holds his hands out, palms up. “It was a health food shop! We sold muesli and vitamins and vegetarian sausages! What are you …?” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
Bracken points at the photos again.
“Do you know who these people are?”
“I told you. I have no idea.”
“These are some of our most wanted terrorists.”
Dewar leans forward and stares at the photos again.
He swears. “They’re the kids from the posters.”
Well done, Dewar. You got there in the end.
“That’s right.”
“And they were working at Morgana?”
“We have reason to believe so. And you’ve just confirmed that one of them was there.”
He looks up.
“Did Neesh know?”
“We have reason to believe that Neesh was hiding them.”
“No. No way.” He’s shaking his head again.
Defending your friend? That’s going to end well for you.
“Mr Dewar. Are you hiding anything? Anything we should know about your boss?”
Your boss, who disappeared from the shop at exactly the right moment.
“I don’t understand – like what?”
“Like where she is?”
He looks around.
“She’s not here?”
“No, Mr Dewar. It seems that she had a tip-off, and got out of the shop before we could arrest her. Do you know where she might be?”
He blinks, and starts drumming his fists again. He shakes his head.
“Think, Mr Dewar. Where did she go? Did you see her leave?”
He’s still shaking his head.
“I didn’t … I don’t know.”
“Your colleague told us she was at home, in the flat. But she wasn’t. So when did she leave?”
Dewar closes his eyes.
“I really don’t know.”
“So she left without telling you she was going? She left without warning you to get out?”
He nods.
“She left you, and your colleagues, to be arrested?”
“I guess …”
His voice is a whisper.
How are you liking her now, Mr Dewar?
Bracken lets him sweat for a moment while he pulls the list of questions from the folder. He checks it, slowly, then puts it back.
“Are you aware that we have offered you to the Scottish government as part of a prisoner exchange?”
The prisoner opens his eyes and slowly shakes his head.
Just realising how serious this is? Get comfortable. You might be here for a while.
“It was looking promising, too. Your freedom for our prisoner. One of the mysterious workers, actually.”
He points at the photo of Jake, and Dewar stares. The colour is draining from his face, and he rests his hands against the table.
“So I’m going back?”
Bracken shakes his head.
“Your government, in its wisdom, decided to send our prisoner to another jurisdiction.” He shrugs. “So there’s nothing for them to trade.” He starts to collect the photos from the table. “You’re staying with us, for now. Until we can work this out.”
Dewar tries to reach across the table, but his handcuffs catch in the restraining loop, and he looks down in surprise.
“You can’t! I haven’t done anything!”
Bracken holds up the photo of Dan.
“You’ve just admitted that you shared a workplace with Dan Pearce. A terrorist we would very much like to get our hands on. You didn’t report this. You didn’t tell anyone. According to you, you carried on selling healthfoods while illegal workers looked after the stock.”
The prisoner has his head in his hands.
“Those illegal workers were terrorists, on the run from the government. And you? You look very much
like someone who was protecting them.”
“I didn’t know!”
Bracken shrugs.
“If that’s your story, we’ll take that into account.”
“My story? That’s the truth!”
Bracken pushes the photo of Dan into the folder and closes it. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“Mr Dewar. Are you aware of the penalty for aiding and abetting terrorists in this country?”
Dewar looks up and meets Bracken’s gaze.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.”
He looks down at his orange jumpsuit, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.
All those firing squads on PIN. All those trials on the evening news, and you’ve just made the connection.
He tugs at his handcuffs.
“No! You can’t!”
“Are you legally resident in the UK?”
Dewar nods, and there are tears in his eyes.
“Has your government arranged for your extradition?”
He shakes his head.
“The evidence in front of me is enough to convict you, Mr Dewar. I suggest you think about that.” Bracken stands up, and picks up the folder. He walks to the door, and the prisoner watches him in silence.
“I’ll remind your government that you’re here. See how much they’re willing to trade for you.” He turns as he opens the door. “We’ll talk again. See what you can remember about our terrorists. If you can help us, maybe we can help you.”
As the door closes, the prisoner begins to shout. I leave the recording running. He smashes his fists into the table, and looks up. It’s as if he hasn’t noticed the one-way mirror until now. He points at me, invisible behind the glass.
“You can’t do this! You can’t execute me! I’m a Scottish citizen! I have rights!”
Not here, you don’t. Get used to that.
“I’m not a terrorist! I’m not a terrorist.”
And he sinks his head into his hands.
*****
I fetch Bracken a coffee. He looked confident in the interrogation room, but when I meet him in the waiting area, his hands are shaking.
“Did you get something we can send to PIN?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Something convincing?”
“I think so, Sir. The section about the illegal workers should be enough to start with.”
“Good, Ketty. Good.” He sinks into a chair, coffee in his hand. “Franks will be pleased.”
I just need to make sure she knows this was my idea.
Blessing
BEX
“Neesh!”
“Bex.” Neesh looks tired. I wonder whether she’s slept.
“I’m so sorry.”
She nods. “Thanks, Bex.”
“It’s not fair of them to use your workers like that. It’s not as if he did anything wrong.”
“No. He didn’t, and it’s my fault he’s there. It’s my fault he got caught.”
I’m waiting for Fiona in the tiny recording suite, and I’ve talked the sound engineer into lending me his laptop. He put the video call through for me, and Neesh answered straight away.
“Come on, Neesh. It’s me who blew your cover. I’m the one who led them back to the safe house.”
She holds up her hand. “Enough, Bex. I knew what I was doing when I agreed to take you in, and I knew what I was doing when I drove you to Stockport. This is on me. I’m the one who put my employees in danger, and I’m the one who couldn’t warn them on the night of the raid.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t think they’d end up in London. I thought … they didn’t know anything. I thought they’d be safe. It’s bad luck that Craig’s a Scottish citizen. I thought that would protect him – not put him in the line of fire.”
We all watched the report on PIN last night. Craig Dewar admitting that he knew we were there. Picking Dan’s photo out of the line-up.
Incriminating himself. Walking into a charge of aiding and abetting. And Commander Bracken, guiding him to his confession.
Another innocent person, being punished because of us.
“So what’s going to happen to him?”
Neesh sighs. “We don’t know. Caroline and Fiona are talking to the Scottish government later. I’m waiting for one of them to get back to me. If we can arrange an extradition …”
There’s a horrible, knotted feeling in my stomach.
“Wait. Neesh, this isn’t about Jake, is it? This isn’t about getting him out of Scotland?”
She looks at the camera for a moment, and then nods. “We think so, Bex. We think they’re using this to punish the Scottish government for saving Jake.”
I shake my head. “So this is my fault.” I slump back in my chair. The knot in my stomach gets tighter.
Another innocent person, being punished because of me. A stranger being threatened because I fought to save my friend. And both of us stuck between the Home Forces and the Scottish government.
I clench my fists and make myself take a breath.
“What are they going to offer London, in exchange for Craig?”
Neesh shrugs. “We don’t have all the information yet. Wait for Fiona. She can update you when she’s talked to them.”
“Yeah.” My fists tighten. I make myself nod. “Thanks, Neesh. I hope we can work this out.”
“Me too.”
*****
Mum was on PIN last night, too. More footage with the bruises on her face, and her arm in plaster. She said things about me and my friends that made me cry, but Ketty twisted them into confessions. Hurting Mum to get to me.
And it’s working.
I’m angry. I’m angry about Mum, and I’m angry about Craig Dewar. I’m angry about all the people I’ve hurt, just by trying to do the right thing. I’m angry about what this government will do. I think about Leominster, and all the people they killed, just so the Home Forces could take over the country.
And I know we need to stop them.
Charlie once called me an avenging angel, and that’s how I feel right now. Angry and righteous.
Fiona wants me to send a message to the bombers, and I realise I’m ready. I’m ready to encourage them, and I’m ready to praise their bravery.
I’m ready to send them into danger.
I’m ready to be the Face of the Resistance.
*****
I look into the camera, and I focus all my anger on the things I need to say. If I can turn anger into passion, into energy, into encouragement, I’ll be able to do what Fiona wants me to do. I feel as if there’s a fire in my chest – a burning determination to bring this to an end. To inspire resistance.
To make a difference.
She’s given me a black T-shirt to wear, and I’ve pulled my hair into a neat pony tail. I look as much like my photo as I can, without armour and a gun. This is what people will recognise. This is what people will expect to see.
I take a deep breath, and begin.
“My name is Bex. You know me as the Face of the Resistance. I’m British, like you. I’m an angry citizen, like you. And I’m a fighter, like you.
“And I want to thank you, for what you’re about to do for us.
“Fighting back is dangerous. It’s messy, and it’s hard, and it takes courage.
“It takes courage to be part of the resistance. It takes courage to get up every morning and live through another day, knowing that your name could be on a list. Knowing that you could end up on PIN. Knowing that your own government wants to lock you up.
“You have courage.
“Fighting back takes determination. Pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, and keeping your nerve when things don’t go to plan. Doing whatever it takes to push back.
“And you do this every day. Your determination inspires you to fight, and not to give up. Not to accept the lies and not to turn your back on the truth.
“You have determination.
“Fighting back takes support. It takes teams, and helpers, and people
working together.
“You have our support, and the support of everyone in the resistance. You have our knowledge and our gratitude. We see you, and we thank you for your actions.
“You have courage, you have determination, and you have our support.
“So, Andrew, Saanvi, Pete, Said, Emma, Jen, and Kieran: thank you. We see you. We know what you’re doing for us.
“We’ve done everything we can to make this a success. To support you, and to keep you safe. And you’ve done everything possible to support yourselves.
“You’re ready. Good luck. And thank you.”
I wait until the light on the camera turns off before I turn away. My hands are shaking, and I need to sit down. All my anger and energy is fading. I lean over and catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees.
Fiona opens the studio door.
“Thank you, Bex. That was fantastic. That’s exactly what we need.” She looks back through the glass at the engineer in the booth, and he gives us a thumbs up. “All in one take, too.” I stand up straight, and nod. “Well done. We’ll send that to them today.”
*****
“You were good in there.” The sound engineer sounds impressed.
“Thanks,” I say, pulling on my sweatshirt. “I hated it.”
“What do you mean? You were great!”
“I hated doing it. Sending people into danger. Reading out their names.”
He shrugs. “You know they’d do it anyway. This way, they go in knowing that they won’t be forgotten. They go in, knowing that the Face of the Resistance knows who they are. They go in knowing that you took the time to do this – that you care what they do.”
“I suppose …”
“You just gave them confidence. You just put fire in their bellies to go out there and do this. You gave them a blessing.”
I look at him, trying to make sense of his words.
He holds his hands up. “I don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t need to know. But if I was putting myself in danger, and someone bothered to send me a message like that, I’d be walking into it with pride, not fear. I’d be polishing my shoes and brushing my hair and doing the best job I possibly could.”
Fighting Back (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 4) Page 20
