Bring it on. I want to get this over with.
We load up the recruits, filling the coach. Bracken comes to the gate to see us off.
“You’re ready?”
“Yes, Sir!”
He turns away from the gate and pulls something from his pocket, shielding it from the kids on the coach. He steps towards Jackson, and hands him a bundle of camouflage cloth. Jackson flips the cloth back and looks inside.
It’s a handgun, with extra bullets.
“Take this on the coach with you. Make sure you keep it out of sight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He looks at both of us.
“If they come after the crates, let them take what they want. But if they come after the kids, I want you to use that. Defend the coach, Jackson. I want my recruits back.”
Like a momma bear, Commander.
“Yes, Sir.”
I wonder whether HQ knows about this.
*****
It’s a two-and-a-half hour drive. No motorways – only smaller roads, where we’ll be most vulnerable to attack. This early in the morning the roads are clear, and it’s obvious how easily someone could stop the coach.
Jackson and I sit at the front, alert for any sign of a raid. The kids are noisy to start with, but they calm down as we drive. Jackson slid the handgun into a cargo pocket on the right leg of his fatigues when we climbed on board, and his hand keeps moving to touch the pocket, making sure the gun is within reach.
“Do you think we’ve got a spy at camp?” Jackson keeps his voice down, and speaks close to my ear.
I shrug. “Who knows? HQ thinks so, so that’s why we’re here. Testing their theory for them in the open, while they sit at their desks and wait for our report.”
“Amy?” He asks, glancing back over his shoulder.
I shrug again. “Could be. More likely than Taylor, I reckon – but this is just speculation. We might not find out who the leak is. Or there might not be a spy at all. Brown and Taylor might just be casualties of a bad plan gone wrong. Ellman might have got lucky, or maybe the prisoner organised the breakout. Who knows?”
He nods, and checks his pocket again.
*****
We make it to the conference centre without an attack. We’re here to work, so I leave Jackson to get all the kids off the coach while I find the security office and figure out where we need to be.
“RTS Unit 77B.” The security coordinator runs her finger down a list of names. “Commander Bracken’s group?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And you must be Lead Recruit Smith?”
“I am, Sir.”
“Sign in here.” She slides a clipboard across the desk, hands me a pen and watches as I sign my name.
“Lead Recruit. Your group will be providing visible patrols on the perimeter. You’re based here,” she puts a plan of the site down on her desk and circles a building in the car park in red ink. “There are changing rooms and storage areas. You’ll have power for your radio base. Your patrols will run from the main entrance, here,” she marks each location on the plan with a cross, “to the side access here, and from there back to the car park. How you split the route, and your recruits, is up to you. Just make sure that each patrol group is visible to the groups behind and in front of them at all times.”
She hands me the site plan, a file of information for the radio team, and a bag of ID tags for the recruits.
“We’re not expecting trouble, but I assume your recruits know what to do in the event of an attack?”
“Protect the public. Get them to safety. Call the attack in.”
She nods. “Thank you, Lead Recruit.” She looks up at me and smiles. “I hope you have an uneventful day.”
*****
We escort the kids to our staging area with their crates. Jackson and Taylor set up the radio equipment, I assign the recruits to their patrol teams, and they get dressed in their armour. I pair Brown up with one of her new friends, and she seems surprised to be given the assignment she wanted.
You’re in luck, tiny fighters – I can’t be bothered to deal with teenage hissy fits today. I have bigger things to worry about.
I give out ID tags and explain the patrol route. No one has any questions, so I send them out with instructions to walk the route until we call them back.
Jackson and Taylor are working the radios. Jackson has his recruit keeping detailed records of all the orders given and received, and checking each patrol’s frequency for activity. Taylor is quiet to begin with, only grudgingly giving Jackson feedback on what he’s doing, but by mid-morning he’s dropped the sulking and started engaging with his tasks.
I spend the morning liaising with the security coordinator, and putting together a rota for pulling the recruits back for breaks and food. By the time we call the first team in for lunch, everything is running smoothly, and Taylor is taking an interest in the tasks Jackson gives him.
We cycle all the teams through a lunch break, and by the time the last team heads out again, it’s half past two.
“Four hours to go.”
I’m checking in with Jackson, and keeping the clipboard up to date while Taylor takes a break.
“We’ve done OK, haven’t we?” Jackson looks around at the empty building. “No one’s freaked out, or had a tantrum, and there’s no sign of the terrorists.”
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 with 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. Jac
kson 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.”
The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3 Page 31