It’s true. The recruits are reacting well to their duties, and we’re making a good impression on the organisers of the conference. Even Taylor is on his best behaviour. We couldn’t ask for a better patrol.
Except that we’re here as bait, and no one’s biting.
*****
It’s two hours from the end of our shift, and I’m writing up the day’s activities, when Brigadier Lee walks into our building. I jump to attention, and salute. I had no idea he would be here.
“At ease, Lead Recruit Smith. As you were.”
I sit down, and he sits across the table from me.
“Anything I can help you with, Sir?”
“I’m just doing the rounds, Lead Recruit. How is it out there?” He waves his hand at the door.
“Fine so far, Sir. No problems.”
He nods, and looks around the room.
“You run a tight operation, Smith. You’re a credit to the RTS.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
What is this? A courtesy call to the people you’re using as terrorist bait?
He looks me in the eye.
“I’m here because HQ has given me the job of taking a good look at the Recruit Training Service. Assessing the good and the not-so-good. Reviewing our processes. Checking our personnel.”
I nod, not sure how to respond.
“What’s your opinion of your commander?”
I look at him, surprised by the directness of the question.
So this is about Bracken. A close look behind the scenes at Camp Bishop while we’re distracted, doing our best to catch your terrorists for you?
I struggle to think of a suitable response. Bracken is my ticket out of camp. He’s promoted me, and I know I can make sure he takes me with him when he moves on. He’s the person who saw potential in me when no one else did. He’s the person who saw my determination and rewarded it with responsibility. He’s also trusting me with his secrets. We’re a team, Bracken and me.
And Lee wants me to casually discuss his strengths and his failings.
I take a deep breath.
“I work closely with Commander Bracken, Sir. I find him to be a good commander, and a good man.”
And someone I can usefully manipulate.
Lee smirks.
“You don’t think he’s made a few mistakes?”
I think about the last few weeks. Bracken’s trust in HQ over the weapons test. His failure to report the prisoner, and our failure to make her talk. The recruits breaking out of camp under our noses. The undeclared gun in Jackson’s pocket.
I force myself to shrug. “I suppose so, Sir – but we’ve dealt with some difficult situations recently. I’m not sure it’s a crime to be caught off-guard once in a while.”
He tilts his head, and gives me another uncomfortable stare. He waits, as if he’s expecting me to say something else. I meet his gaze, and it’s like looking into the barrel of a gun. He doesn’t move or blink, and I force myself to maintain eye contact, battling the urge to look down, to run away. When I don’t say anything else, he continues.
“Thank you, Lead Recruit. Good to know where you stand. Is Camp Bishop well-run under Bracken?”
Keep throwing me the hard questions, won’t you, Sir.
“I think so. The recruits are well-trained, the camp is a safe place to be. We have order, for the most part. Only the occasional teenage outburst.”
I push thoughts of Taylor from my mind. Taylor smashing his partner’s nose. Taylor begging me and Jackson to let him go. Taylor curled in pain on the floor. I bite down on a smile.
You don’t need to know about that.
Lee watches me, waiting to see if I have anything else to say. I sit quietly.
“And what about you? You were Lead Recruit, but Bracken demoted you, and now you’re back in the job. What’s the story behind that?”
I keep my expression neutral, but I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.
None of your business, Sir.
It takes me a moment to make sure my voice is under control. I can’t meet his eyes. “A misunderstanding, Sir,” I say, eventually. “The commander and I had a disagreement about recruit discipline. I believe we understand each other better now.”
“So you and Bracken work well together?”
I think about the bottles on the shelf. The commander drowning his fears when things get tough.
“I believe so, Sir. I believe that we’ve developed an understanding.”
“You make a good team.” It’s not a question, but there’s a mocking edge to his voice.
“Yes, Sir.”
I look up, and find that his gaze hasn’t flinched. He’s looking right into my eyes. It’s a moment before he looks away.
“Well. Thank you, Lead Recruit,” he says, standing up. I stand, too. “Anything else you can tell me. Background on Camp Bishop, on Bracken. Anything at all – give me a call.” He hands me a business card.
“Thank you, Sir. I’ll remember that.”
He gives me another long stare, then nods, and walks away. I watch him leave the building. When he’s out of sight, I sit down and gather my thoughts. I take a look at his card – his name, rank, and photo, and a phone number. London dialing code. I slip it into my shirt pocket, and I notice that my hands are shaking.
What do you know? And what are you expecting me to tell you?
*****
“You’ve got the gun?”
We’re on the coach, heading back to camp. The day has been uneventful, and the kids have done their jobs perfectly. We’re all tired – several of the recruits are asleep in their seats – but we can’t afford to let our guard slip. There’s nothing to stop the terrorists targeting us on our way home.
Jackson reaches for his pocket, and nods. “Ready and loaded.”
“Good.”
I’d love to close my eyes and rest, but an ambush is still possible. I focus on the road ahead and watch as we pass through villages and towns, past farms and fields and woodland. It’s getting dark, and I’m increasingly aware that every shadow could conceal an attacker, every ditch and gateway could hide a terrorist gang.
By the time we reach the Leominster bypass, I’m exhausted. I notice they’ve put a black cover over the sign at the edge of town, and there are permanent roadblocks in place on all the routes in and out. It’s as if the whole place never existed.
Commander Bracken is waiting at the gate. He sends the recruits to stow their crates and assemble in the dining room for a briefing before dinner. Miller arrives to take away the radio equipment, and Jackson helps him carry the boxes to the store room.
“How was Oxford?” Bracken asks as the coach driver locks up his empty luggage compartment next to us.
“It was OK. No problems. Everyone behaved really well.”
“Even Taylor?”
“Even Taylor. I think Jackson has the magic touch, getting problem recruits to play their part.”
The driver checks the coach for lost property, then gives us a cheerful wave from the front steps, and drives away. The commander returns his wave and waits for the engine noise to fade, then turns to me.
“But no attack?”
I shake my head. “No attack.”
“HQ will be interested to hear that.”
I bet they will. No spy at camp? Or no one we can trace this time?
“Does this mean we’ll be given more patrol jobs?”
“That’s what I’m expecting. I’ll report back, and see what they send us next.” He looks at me for a moment. “Good work, Ketty. These recruits are growing up and learning what’s expected of them. We have you to thank for that.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I can’t hide my smile.
Castle
The schedule begins again the following morning. No day off for the tiny fighters this time – they’re straight back into their training, making sure they’re ready for their next patrol.
Miller teaches Taylor every day while the other recruits are w
ith Jackson and me, training with their guns and armour. After a few days, this feels normal, and no one seems to notice when he doesn’t show up for our sessions.
The commander seems happy with our progress, and with Taylor and Brown. They’re both keeping their heads down and training hard. We’ve had no more discipline problems, and no more violence from Taylor. He’s still sitting alone at the briefing sessions, but he’s paying attention – and most importantly, he’s stopped talking back.
So I’m surprised when Bracken brings up Brown at one of our daily meetings.
“HQ has looked at my reports, and it seems that they agree with you about Brown. She’s the most likely person to be in contact with Ellman and the terrorists. They want you to talk to her.”
“Talk to her? You mean interrogate her again?”
He shakes his head. “It seems they have something more gentle in mind.”
I can’t help smirking. “What – like a woman-to-woman chat?”
“Something like that.”
You have got to be kidding. They want me to play big sister with Ellman’s loyal buddy?
“You’re not serious.”
He looks at me. “HQ is serious, so I’m serious. There’s more to command than shouting orders and handing out discipline. You need to be able to talk to your recruits when they need it.”
Amy doesn’t need this. HQ needs this. And I need to show them I can handle it.
“Fine. What do they want to know, and when am I supposed to corner her?”
“They’re interested in what she thinks is going to happen next. Whether she sees herself sticking around and joining the army, or whether her long-term aims are less aligned with our own. You’ll need to ask some careful questions. She’s not going to tell you everything you need to know, but how she answers the questions will tell you a lot about her expectations.
“And as for when – they’ve organised another patrol, for Monday. Taylor is on radios, with Jackson, and Brown is being assigned as your assistant. If you get there without incident, you’ll need to find a time, and somewhere private, to start a conversation.”
“Won’t the other recruits be upset that the safe jobs are going to the kids who broke the bad guys out of camp?”
“I’m sure you can handle some hurt feelings, Ketty.” He can’t stop himself from snapping at me. There’s frustration in his voice as he dismisses my concerns. “Orders from HQ are more important than temporary jealousy. Get Brown alone, and ask her how she’s doing. See what she tells you.”
*****
It’s Monday morning, and we’re loading another coach with armour, guns, and recruits. Jackson shows the commander the handgun, and puts it carefully back in his pocket before we join the kids on board.
“Best of luck,” the commander says, his voice serious. “You both know what you’re doing. Bring the kids back safely.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He stands at the gate and watches the coach drive away. He’s still standing there as we turn onto the bypass. This time, we’ve shared the patrol information with the recruits, but HQ has leaked it as well. If anyone has a connection with the terrorists, they’ll know where we’re going.
We’re heading for a castle in Wales, to provide additional security for an open day for schoolchildren. Every school in the area is sending children to the event, and we’re the visible deterrent against a terrorist attack. Again, we’re sticking to smaller roads, and again, they’re unnervingly quiet.
I find myself sitting forward in my seat, watching the road. Every time we drive through woodland, I’m on edge, looking for shapes in the trees. This is where they could stage an ambush. It all feels too easy.
About an hour into the journey, we’re driving through fields, and there’s a track that joins the road. I can’t see any buildings, but the track runs across the fields and away, out of sight. There’s a Land Rover, parked a few meters into the field, with a good view of the road in both directions. There’s an older man standing next to it, and two younger men further down the track.
They’re not doing anything, they’re not on their way anywhere. They’re just watching the road.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I nudge Jackson.
“I think we’re being watched.”
He sits forward, watching the men.
“Certainly looks that way.”
I keep my eye on the older man as we drive. He watches the coach as we pass. His eyes meet mine through the side window before he drops behind us, and I feel my spine turn to ice.
I don’t like being this vulnerable.
I turn to the driver. “How much longer? When do we get there?”
“About half an hour,” he says, cheerfully.
That’s a long time to wait for an ambush.
I settle back in my seat. There’s nothing else I can do.
*****
Half an hour later, we’re pulling into the car park at the castle. It’s still early, but there are marquees and colourful gazebos on the lawn in front of the castle gates, and people in historic costumes are preparing for the schoolchild invasion. I leave Jackson and the recruits on the coach, and walk through the tents to the ticket office.
“Oh, you’re here!” The woman behind the desk looks thrilled to see me. “You’ve brought us some brave recruits to guard the gates?”
She seems much too relaxed to understand what we’re here for. She doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously, and the chaos outside on the lawn is going to be very difficult to patrol effectively.
I can’t help sounding cold and humourless. “I’ve got fifty recruits on a coach outside. They need a place to change, and space to store their personal belongings. I’ve got radio equipment that needs power and a place to set it up. I’m hoping you know where I can find all this.” I don’t smile.
My demands don’t put a dent in her cheerful attitude.
“No problem at all! We’ve set up a marquee for you. Round the corner, at the far end of the car park. You can park the coach down there as well, out of the way.” She waves her hand to indicate the general direction of the marquee, and starts ticking off points on her fingers. “We’ve run a cable, so you’ve got power and lights, and we’ve set it up exactly as we were told to. Changing areas, seating, tables, portaloos. You should find everything you need!” If anything, her smile gets broader.
I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She might have set up the marquee as requested, but the castle itself is not a secure area. We’ll be patrolling without a proper perimeter. There’s no way we can keep everyone safe.
“Are we the only patrol you’ve got, today?”
She looks confused. “Oh, no. We’ve got some soldiers here as well. They’ve got a marquee next to yours. Smaller, but that’s what they asked for.”
I resist the urge to start shouting, and force myself to be polite.
“Perhaps I could talk to them about patrolling today’s event?” I wave my hand vaguely at the door.
“Oh, they’re expecting you. They’ll be waiting in the marquee. In your marquee.” She smiles again.
I take a deep breath, and then flash her an unfriendly smile. “Thank you,” I manage, teeth clenched, before turning on my heel and leaving the office. I have to control the urge to punch something on my way out.
I walk quickly back to the bus, ignoring the people in costume who seem to have time to wander about and gossip. I head straight along the path, fast enough that I force people to step out of my way.
Get used to it. You’ll be moving out of the way for my tiny fighters all day, or you’ll be answering to me.
I climb back to my seat, and direct the driver to the far end of the car park. We park next to two marquees, and a row of army vehicles. The woman in the ticket office was right – we’re a long way from the castle gate. We’re expected to keep everyone safe, but we have to keep our distance.
Jackson directs the unloading of the coach while I head into the larger marq
uee. It’s a huge space, with partitions for changing areas and storage, and lines of power sockets on the ground along one canvas wall. There are tables and chairs for two or three coachloads of recruits, and at one of them Brigadier Lee is waiting.
Are you here to spy on us? Or is this a personal visit?
“Lead Recruit Smith! Good to see you again.”
“Sir!” I walk to the table and salute.
“At ease.” I relax, hands behind my back, and stand up straight. “Welcome to Wales. We’re looking forward to working with you.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“So, what have you brought us today?”
“Fifty trained recruits, all with armour and guns. One radio operator. One radio assistant. One assistant for me.”
“Very good, Lead Recruit.” He smiles.
I nod, and wait to see what he’s here to tell me.
“Obviously you’re here to be the visible deterrent.” I nod. “We’ll need your recruits to patrol along the edge of the car park – from the driveway, past the castle gates, up to here, and back. While you’re out there, we’ll be securing the grounds to the rear of the castle, and keeping an eye on your patch as well. We expect the recruits to call in anything that requires our attention, and we’ll make sure we’re there inside a minute or two. But we’re not here to babysit them.”
I nod again. “I understand, Sir. No problem.”
“We’ll talk to your radio operators, when they’ve set up their equipment. We’ll make sure we can contact you, and you can contact us. If we run into anything out back, we’re going to need you to run an evacuation out front. Get everyone into the car park and away from the castle. Can you manage that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Thank you, Lead Recruit.” He stands. “Perhaps you could notify us when the radios are ready?”
“I will, Sir.”
I stay where I am while the brigadier leaves the marquee, then head back to the coach.
No awkward questions for me this time?
Jackson and the kids have unloaded the boxes, and they’re waiting for me to tell them what to do next. I send them into the marquee to get changed, and help Jackson with the radio boxes. Taylor and Brown are sitting at a table together when we walk in. They haven’t brought armour or guns. Like us, they’ll spend the day in fatigues, supporting the recruits on patrol.
False Flag (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 2) Page 13
