The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Churcher

  “Anything?” Bracken asks as he hands me a coffee.

  “A few sightings of Ellman. Not much else.” I take the cup and take a grateful sip. Staring at film of empty corridors isn’t the best way to stay awake.

  “Do we know how she got from the toilets to her parents’ room?”

  I smile. “Actually, we do. She seems to have changed – taken off the disguise, gone back to her natural hair colour – and put on a nursing home uniform. There’s a shot of her walking down the corridor with the box she brought with her. That’s where she must have hidden the clothes.”

  Bracken nods. “So she put some planning into this. Any idea where she bought the uniform?”

  “None, Sir. But I don’t think it was local. It’s standard nursing scrubs – she’d be able to buy them in any major town.”

  “So no leads there?”

  “I doubt it, Sir.”

  We both watch the screen. It’s footage of the corridor outside Elizabeth’s room. I’ve watched Bex go in, and I’m waiting to see her walk out, but the next person on screen is me. Me and my guards.

  I rewind and watch the whole section again, just to make sure.

  Where are you, Bex?

  She never left the room. She was in there all the time. I think back to my search – where was she? I checked the living room and the bathroom, and there was nowhere for her to hide.

  She must have been under the bed. Behind the boxes.

  I was inches from catching her when her mother broke the glass on the fire alarm. I can feel my cheeks warming with the memory of Lee’s assessment of my actions. Bracken looks down at me and points at the screen.

  “So Ellman was in the room …?”

  I clear my throat and try to sound unconcerned. “It seems so, Sir.”

  He looks at the images – at me opening the door. “Probably not a good idea to draw the brigadier’s attention to this section of the footage.”

  “Probably not, Sir.”

  When she leaves the room, it’s with the nursing team around her father’s bed. I replay the footage several times until I’m sure of what I’m seeing. She’s let her hair down, and she’s carrying a bag instead of a box, but it has to be her. I note the time stamp on the camera, and track her progress until the bed is out of shot.

  Now I know what to look for, it isn’t hard to track her out of the front doors and into the car park.

  Two minutes after she disappears from the corridor, she’s heading out of the building, still holding the rail of her father’s bed. The footage gets confusing here, with firefighters running past, blocking the view from the camera. The next time we see the bed, Bex has vanished.

  I search for another car park camera to see whether I can track were she goes, but there’s always someone in the way, or a vehicle blocking the line of sight.

  Come on, Ellman. Just one more star appearance, and we’ll know how you got away.

  And then I notice the car. As Ellman leaves the home, another camera shows something strange. Someone crosses the street towards the evacuation, and instead of offering help or asking what’s going on, they climb into one of the cars at the edge of the car park and drive it away.

  Using the evacuation as a distraction?

  I play the footage again, double-checking the time stamps. The driver has time to watch the chaos in the courtyard, notice Bex coming through the doors, and then let themselves into the car and drive away.

  I play it again, and freeze the image. A short woman, dark skin, short dark hair. No one we’ve seen before, but we’ll add her image to the wanted list. I move the film on until the car turns onto the road, and right in the corner of the screen I can pick out the number plate.

  I can’t help smiling. We’ve got the car. We’ve got the driver. Maybe that’s all we need to find Bex.

  *****

  I phone the number plate through to the Police Liaison Office, and wait for their response. I’m back in my office with another coffee, leafing through the folder of still images. Bracken has his office back, and he couldn’t wait for me to close the door before heading to the filing cabinet. I left him to his whisky, and brought him a coffee to wash it down.

  In the back of the folder there’s a photocopied sheet showing the front and back of the ID card we found at the nursing home. I’d assumed that the delivery company was a fake, that the whole thing was a fiction, but there’s a telephone number on the back of the card. I don’t recognise the dialing code, but it can’t hurt to give them a call.

  I dial the number, and the phone rings twice.

  “Roker Couriers, how can I help you?”

  So far, so professional.

  “I hope so. Can I drop off a parcel with you for delivery?”

  “You certainly can. We accept parcels at several locations in Sunderland.”

  Bingo.

  “What sort of parcel are you looking to send?”

  “It’s an awkward shape. I’m not sure how to package it. Maybe I should bring it in. Would you be able to help me?”

  “Of course. Do you have a vehicle?”

  “I do.”

  And he gives me an address in Sunderland.

  *****

  The Police Liaison Office calls back while I’m checking the location on the map opposite my desk. If the courier company is local to where Bex and the others are hiding, we need to focus our search on the North East. Sunderland, Gateshead, Newcastle. I just need to trace the car to the same area, and I’ll have something useful to report to Brigadier Lee.

  “Corporal Smith?”

  “Yes. Do you have a trace for me?”

  “We’ve located the vehicle. Do you have something to write with?”

  I grab my pen and notebook from the desk and turn to a fresh page, cradling the phone under my chin.

  “Go ahead.”

  “The car is registered to an address in Jesmond, Newcastle Upon Tyne.”

  It’s my lucky day.

  *****

  I’m smiling when Bracken calls me into his office.

  “You’ve found them?”

  “I’ve narrowed down the search.”

  “And?”

  “They’re in the North East. Newcastle, probably – but we should look at the surrounding areas.”

  “Any leads?”

  I lean over his desk and put two sheets of paper down in front of him.

  “Courier company, and the car from the nursing home, Sir.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “This is good, Ketty. Two addresses, and that’s before we’ve taken anyone in for questioning.”

  I nod, and I can’t hide my smile.

  “It looks as if Ellman has made her big mistake.” He pushes the notes back to me across the desk. “Take this to Lee – he’ll want to know where to start looking.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  It’s a relief to have something positive to report.

  Sit tight, recruits. We’re coming for you.

  Running

  Bex

  Caroline hands us each a black hoodie and sends us downstairs. There’s a car waiting in the service road – a big SUV with tinted windows to keep our faces hidden. We put the hoodies on and pull the hoods up, then Charlie and I step outside and climb in with our rucksacks. The driver is a man we’ve never seen before. He nods to us in the mirror, but doesn’t introduce himself.

  “Caroline’s passengers?”

  “That’s us.”

  “Buckle up. We’ll be about an hour and a half.”

  Dan gives us a wave from the storeroom as he brings down the shutter, and we’re leaving. Leaving the flat, leaving the shop, leaving the service road. Everything we’ve known for the last two months, and everyone who’s kept us safe.

  Charlie catches my eye as the car turns out onto the main road.

  “You OK, Bex?”

  I take a deep breath. “I’m OK.” I’ve been outside before, with Neesh. This should be no different. I’m hidden in the car, and no one can see my fa
ce.

  But this is different. This time, we’re not going back.

  Charlie puts her hand on my arm. “I know these last few weeks have been rough. But this is good.” She waves her hand at the car, and the city streets around us. “We’re getting out of danger. We’re going somewhere really safe.”

  I think about Mum, sitting in a cell in London. About Margie and Dr Richards and Will. About the risks we took going to Stockport. About everything I’ve done wrong.

  “What right do we have to be safe?”

  Charlie sighs. “None, Bex. None at all.”

  “Then why …?”

  “Why are we leaving? Why am I happy about it?”

  I nod. I don’t want to be angry with Charlie, but I want her to understand.

  “Because we can. Because we’re still free. Because all those people we’ve lost – they need us, fighting for them. And we can’t do that from here.”

  I shake my head. This all seems so unfair. How do we get to walk away, to get ourselves to safety, when our friends are locked up in London? When Ketty is holding my Mum?

  “I should be in London.”

  Charlie takes her hand from my arm.

  “No one should be in London. Least of all sixteen-year-olds who should be at school.” She looks at me, frustration in her voice. “You’re not responsible for everything, Bex. You didn’t make this happen – any of it.”

  “I went to see Dad.”

  “And you had every right to do so! It was dangerous, but we made a plan, and we made the best of a horrible situation.”

  “We screwed up.”

  “And Caroline is fixing it for us.”

  I stare out of the window and watch the traffic on the dual carriageway. Why doesn’t she see? Why can’t she understand how many mistakes I’ve made?

  It’s a while before she speaks again, and when she does, I’m not ready.

  “What’s happened to you, Bex? Where’s the fearless girl I met at Camp Bishop? Where’s the girl who didn’t think twice about borrowing a kitchen uniform and sneaking into a prison, just to talk to her friend?”

  I stare at her. I have no idea what to say.

  “Where’s the calm leader who took us all safely out of the bunker? Who went straight from finding her murdered friend to walking like an avenging angel through a farmyard full of soldiers?”

  I shake my head, trying to understand what she’s saying to me. She raises her voice.

  “Where’s the recruit who walked into the middle of a government atrocity, just to see what was happening? Who stood up to Ketty and Bracken, protected her friends, and took the bruises without telling anyone?”

  She looks at me, searching my face for an answer.

  “Where did the fight go, Bex?”

  I’m numb. I’m trying to find an answer, but there isn’t one. She’s asking me to be strong again, when everything’s been taken away. Mum, Dad, Saunders, Margie, Dr Richards – I’ve lost them all, and I’m supposed to keep going? To keep leading people and rescuing people and finding a way to put it all behind me?

  “I can’t save them. I can’t save anyone.” I start to turn away, but she won’t let me. She catches my elbow and pulls me back.

  “Rubbish, Bex. Rubbish. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  She’s not going to stop. She’s not going to let this go.

  “So you couldn’t save Leominster. Did that stop you saving Margie? You couldn’t save Saunders – did that stop you saving the rest of us?”

  I want to curl up and hide. I want to lie down and never get up. I want to forget all the things I’ve done, and I want to stop feeling responsible for everyone else.

  But I am responsible. My friends wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t planned Margie’s escape. Mum wouldn’t be in London if I hadn’t gone to see Dad. And Saunders … Saunders would be alive if we’d stayed at Camp Bishop.

  “I’m sick of losing people!” I shouldn’t be shouting, but I can’t stop myself. “I’m sick of everything I do ending in someone else’s pain.” I brush tears away from my eyes. “Whatever I do, someone gets hurt. Whatever I do.”

  Charlie’s voice is calm. “Everything you’ve done has helped people, too. What about the people you’ve saved? What about your Dad – he knew you were there. You did a good thing for him, Bex.”

  “But I hurt …”

  “It was a risk. We all took a risk for you.”

  “And now we have to run again.”

  “Now, we’re getting to safety. Real safety. We’re going to be OK.”

  She’s watching me, carefully. Waiting to see what I say.

  I let out a breath, and try to keep my voice calm. “So we can keep fighting.”

  She nods. “So we can keep fighting.”

  She puts her hand on my arm again, gently.

  “I get it. Some terrible things have happened. You feel responsible.” I nod. “That’s OK. You need time to process what’s happened. To work out what you did wrong, and what you did right. To come to terms with the people you’ve lost, and think about the people you could still save.” She looks down for a moment.

  “It’s been hard, in the flat. We haven’t been able to do anything useful. We haven’t been able to save anyone or help anyone, and we’ve been focused on each other. You didn’t need that. You needed time to be yourself – to look after yourself. And time to figure out what happened to us. Who you are without school, or Ketty, or Will, or Caroline demanding things from you. Who you are when you’re not just surviving.”

  I nod, looking down at my hands. “Everyone wants to tell me who I am. But I’m not this hero that everyone talks about. I just did stuff. I did what I needed to do.”

  Charlie laughs. “That’s what makes you the hero. You didn’t run away. You didn’t put your head down and keep yourself safe. You looked after your friends, and you allowed yourself to see what was going on around you. You got involved.”

  I can’t help smiling back at her. “That was stupid, wasn’t it?”

  She grins, and gives me an awkward hug round the seatbelts.

  “Maybe,” she says, “but it wasn’t wrong.”

  She sits back and takes my hands.

  “Promise me, Bex. When we get to Edinburgh, you’ll take some time to figure out who you are, and what you need. You’ll stop. You’ll get help if you need it. You don’t need to be the soldier and the hero all the time – that’s a hell of a weight you’re carrying. We’ve got your back. Let some of this stuff go – give yourself a break, and give yourself a chance.”

  I hold onto Charlie’s hands. She’s right – safety in Edinburgh will give me time to figure out what all this means. To stop. To think about what happens next.

  And I realise that it’s not all up to us any more. We won’t be hiding, and we won’t be alone.

  We’re about to be part of something bigger.

  *****

  The car pulls into a car park on a narrow country lane. There’s a light rain falling from a grey sky, and everything outside looks cold and unwelcoming. I want to stay in the car, where it’s warm and dry, but the driver passes a plastic bag into the back seat.

  “Put those on. You’ll need them.”

  We pull two sets of waterproofs from the bag – coats and trousers – and two pairs of gloves. Charlie’s waterproofs are purple, and the smaller set is black. We take off our seat belts, pull on the gloves, and shrug our shoulders into the coats.

  “You’re going to keep walking from here.” The driver points along the road, towards the sea and a low island in the distance. “The tide is in at the moment, but when the water clears, you walk. The road goes all the way to the island. I’ll fetch the others, and we’ll catch up with you on the other side.” He hands us a map, and points to a junction of roads in the village on the far side of the island. “We’ll meet you there, in about three hours.” He looks back at us. “Keep your hoods up, and keep your voices down. It’s not busy today, but there will still be people around. Do
n’t get caught.”

  We thank him, and climb out of the car, pulling our coats and trousers on and taking our bags from the back seat. As soon as the doors close, he drives away, and we’re left in the car park in the rain.

  Invitation

  Ketty

  It’s after three when I climb the stairs to Lee’s office. Conrad is at his desk in the outer office, and he smiles as he sends me through to see the brigadier. I’m smiling as I walk through the door.

  “Found them already, Corporal?” Lee raises an eyebrow.

  “Not yet, Sir, but we have two leads that you’ll want to know about.”

  He takes the papers from me and looks them over.

  “The car and the courier?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I think we can look into these two.” He checks the map on his wall. “I’ve got troops on stand-by at the camp in Morpeth. I’ll send them down this afternoon to ask some questions. Maybe take some prisoners. Rattle a few cages.” He looks at me. “Good work, Corporal.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He puts the papers down on the desk. “Any news on the recruits?”

  What do you think, Sir?

  I shake my head. “No Sir – not yet. I’m hoping these leads will help point us in the right direction.”

  He looks at me as if he’s about to dissect me.

  “I’m hoping so, too, Corporal.”

  I wait for him to dismiss me, but he doesn’t break his gaze.

  “How’s Bracken, Ketty? How is he holding up?”

  I try to hide my surprise.

  I thought we were through with this game.

  “He’s fine, Sir.” I stare at the wall above Lee’s head, keeping my voice neutral.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Lee smirks. “You’re bringing him plenty of coffee?”

  “When I can, Sir.”

  “You should probably get back to him.” Lee waves at the door. “Dismissed.”