The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Churcher

  She laughs again. “I have no idea! My daughter doesn’t need me any more. She’s old enough and smart enough to look after herself, and her friends. I’m just happy that she’s still on the run. You people had no right to take her from school in the first place. Good luck to her.”

  I look down at the table. “You know, that aiding and abetting charge doesn’t go away, especially if you make statements like that.”

  Elizabeth leans forward in her chair, and her eyes meet mine. She’s not laughing when she speaks again.

  “Corporal. You’ve got me. I’m locked up, and you can do what you like with me. Too bad. There’s nothing I can do to stop you.” She puts her hands flat on the table. “But what I can do? I can keep you here. I can keep you talking, and jabbing at me, and making vague threats. You want me alive, so you can put me on TV and use me to threaten my daughter. Fine. Let’s chat. Let’s put footage of me on the news.

  “Because while you’re focusing on me, you’re not focusing on my daughter. You’re not hunting her, and you’re not chaining her up in the next cell. There’s no family reunion while you’re in here talking to me.

  “Do you know what a mother would do for her daughter? Do you have any idea?”

  I shrug.

  Not my area of expertise, Mrs Ellman.

  “You’re looking at it.”

  And there’s the sound bite. Aiding and abetting. A confession, ready to go to PIN.

  “Thank you, Elizabeth. I think that’s all I need for today.”

  And I’m smiling as I leave the room.

  Online

  Bex

  “Type your username, here,” Gail points at my screen with the end of her pen, “and your password, here.” She watches me copy the details from the piece of paper in front of me. “And you’re in the system.”

  I’m looking at a desktop, like the front page of the tablets we used at school. The crest of the OIE is in the background, and there are icons and logos down both sides of the screen.

  “And click on this one.” She points again.

  I click, and a white window fills the screen.

  “You’re online.”

  “That’s it? I’m on the Internet?”

  She nods, smiling.

  “Now – as we explained. No logging into anything. No creating accounts. No posting information about yourselves, or about us. No posting at all.” She looks at me. “Do you understand what that means?”

  I shake my head.

  “There is information out there.” She waves her pen at the screen. “Anything you want to know about – it’s out there, somewhere. You just need to learn how to look for it.” She leans over and uses the touchscreen to pull down a menu and change a couple of settings, too quickly for me to follow what she’s doing. “I think we’ll start with safe searching on. No point scaring yourselves on day one. I’ll allow PIN, and the Scottish news sites,” she types some chains of text into the window, “but let’s keep the child locks on for now.” She closes the settings and sits back in her chair.

  “So what do I do?”

  She smiles. “What do you want to know?”

  I stare at the screen. Something ordinary. Something everyday.

  “There’s a book I’ve been waiting for. Can I find out whether it’s been published yet?

  She smiles, and points at the screen. “Absolutely. Type the author’s name into the box.”

  I type, and click ‘Search’, and the screen is filled with text.

  “OK – so those are your hits.”

  “This is all information on the author?”

  “Probably. We’ll need to check that.” She leans forward to look at the screen. “The top one looks good … but the second one is the author’s homepage. Click on that.”

  And there’s the author’s photo. An introduction to her work. A brief life history. And a list of books. I stare at the screen for a moment. This is incredible. All this information, right in front of me.

  I scroll down, and at the bottom of the list is the next book in the series I was reading with Dan, before we left school. I try clicking on the title, and I’m taken to another screen. There’s a photo of the cover, and a synopsis of the plot.

  “That’s it! That’s the book.”

  Gail leans in again. “Published … last month.” She smiles. “I should be able to get that for you.”

  There’s a grin on my face as I wave at Dan, sitting across the room with his liaison officer.

  *****

  We’ve been playing with the computers all morning. We’ve looked up our favourite books and authors, our favourite films, our favourite bands. The liaisons left us to it, once we’d got the hang of searching, and we’ve been calling each other over to see what we’ve found. Only Jake has been quiet, sitting on his own and looking at sites I don’t recognise, and Charlie’s at her meeting with the committee.

  After lunch, I ask Gail how to get to the PIN website. She types in the address for me, and shows me what they’ve put online.

  “Of course, this is designed for people outside the UK, so they won’t cover all the news. They are trying to reach us, though, so there might be some items of interest to catch up with. When did you last watch PIN?”

  “Four days ago.” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. Since we arrived in Newcastle, we haven’t missed a night. Four days feels like an eternity.

  She nods, slowly. “OK, Bex. You need to be ready.” I look at her, my pulse suddenly loud in my ears. I put a hand on the table to steady myself.

  “What have I missed?”

  She looks at me, a frown on her face. “It’s your mother. They’re putting her on TV every night. They’re trying to get to you.”

  I shake my head. “Every night? They’re questioning her every day?”

  “We don’t know. But they’re putting new clips up every day. Just – be ready. OK?”

  I close my eyes and slow my breathing. “OK.”

  Gail reaches over and clicks on some links. She pulls up a video, three days old from the date on the file.

  It’s Mum again, and Ketty. They’re talking in the same room, Mum’s hands cuffed to the table. Ketty puts something down on the table between them.

  “I know the hair is ridiculous, and the glasses are just plain funny, but under that disguise, I think we can both figure out the identity of the missing delivery driver.”

  It’s the ID card. Mum picks it up, and I watch as her shoulders slump. I realise I’m watching the moment when she knows they have evidence against her. That this could mean a firing squad.

  I’m fighting for breath. I’m holding onto the edge of the table, but I can’t stop watching the screen. The reporter speaks over the rest of the video – some nasty gloating about arresting a terrorist sympathiser. I put my hand up to the touchscreen, and the video stops. Mum, paused in the act of looking at my card. Of seeing the evidence I left behind.

  “Turn it off.” My voice is hoarse, and not much above a whisper. Gail leans in and closes the window.

  “Are you OK?”

  I shake my head, still gripping the edge of the table. I focus on stopping the tears, and force myself to look at Gail.

  “Is there any more?”

  “Of your mother?”

  I nod.

  “Are you sure you want to see?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “OK.” She clicks again, and another video fills the screen.

  “Let’s try this again. When did you last see your daughter?”

  Mum pulls herself up straight and looks Ketty in the eye.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Is that so?”

  I can tell that Ketty is smiling. I feel sick, watching her with my mother. Remembering what she could do.

  “You’re sure about that? Because I’d hate to have to jog your memory.”

  Mum glares at Ketty. She’s ignoring the threat. She’s showing Ketty that she’s tough. I feel like cheering, and I feel like scr
eaming.

  “I don’t remember.”

  I feel like punching the air.

  *****

  There’s more footage of Mum, and there’s more footage of prisoners on trial. I work my way through the last three days, and there’s no one I recognise. Amy and Dan have joined me for the last few videos, and the other liaison officers have left. When we’ve seen all the reports we missed, I slump back in my chair.

  “Thank you, Gail. That’s really helpful.”

  “Anyone you know?”

  “Other than Mum? No. Not that I could see.”

  “They blamed us for the bomb in Bournemouth.” Amy sounds upset.

  “Of course they did. We can’t exactly explain to everyone that we weren’t there. We’re easy targets for anything they want to blame on us.” Dan looks at Gail. “Can we come back after dinner? Catch up on tonight’s news?”

  Gail nods. “Sure. I’ll come back with you, if you like.”

  I nod. “Thank you. That would be great.” I look at her, my face serious. “They’ve got our friends in their cells. We want to make sure they’re still OK.”

  “I understand. I’ll come and find you in the dining room.”

  We log out of our computers and leave the room. Jake stays, head down, typing fast. I have no idea what he’s searching for.

  *****

  After dinner, we head back to the computer room with Gail. Jake didn’t sit with us tonight – he’s found some staff members to talk to, and I’m happy to let him go. Conversation over dinner is much more pleasant when everyone is happy to join in.

  Dan, Amy, and Charlie pull chairs over to my computer. I log into the system, and Gail pulls up the PIN web page. She checks the time in the corner of the screen.

  “Tonight’s videos should be available. Let me take a look.”

  She clicks through, and pulls up a full-screen image of Ketty and Mum.

  But this isn’t the same. Mum has a black eye, and there’s a graze on her cheek.

  I can’t stop myself from crying out, my hands over my mouth. Dan puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “Do you want me to close it?”

  I shake my head, and put my hands on the table.

  Dan squeezes my shoulder and nods at Gail, and she lets the video play.

  “Corporal. You’ve got me. I’m locked up, and you can do what you like with me. Too bad. There’s nothing I can do to stop you. But what I can do? I can keep you here. I can keep you talking, and jabbing at me, and making vague threats. You want me alive, so you can put me on TV and use me to threaten my daughter. Fine. Let’s chat. Let’s put footage of me on the news.”

  Mum, talking back to Ketty. Mum, being brave and strong and showing the government that she’s not afraid.

  “Because while you’re focusing on me, you’re not focusing on my daughter. You’re not hunting her, and you’re not chaining her up in the next cell. There’s no family reunion while you’re in here talking to me.”

  There’s a smile on my face as I watch my brave, amazing mother stand up to the cruelest person I’ve ever met.

  “Do you know what a mother would do for her daughter? Do have any idea?”

  Ketty shrugs.

  “You’re looking at it.”

  Dan puts his arm round my shoulder and pulls me into a hug.

  “She’s amazing, Bex. And she’s OK.”

  I hug him back. And then the newsreader cuts in.

  “This confession is breaking news. Elizabeth Ellman declared her intention to continue helping her daughter this morning, under interrogation. Under Martial Law, a confession like this will automatically convict Mrs Ellman of the aiding and abetting charge. It’s just a matter of time before she faces her firing squad.”

  And the video ends. I break away from Dan, my hands shaking. Gail closes the window and gives me a helpless look.

  “I’m so sorry, Bex. I wasn’t expecting …”

  I clasp my hands together in front of me, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Charlie stands up and comes to kneel in front of me. She takes my hands in hers.

  “They’re not going to harm her, Bex. Not while they can still use her against you.”

  I’m shivering now, my whole body is shaking and I can’t see through the tears.

  “Charlie’s right,” Dan puts his hand back on my shoulder. “They’re only showing us the stuff they want you to see. I bet the rest of that interview was your Mum telling Ketty where to stuff her questions.”

  I almost laugh at that. He’s right. All these clips of Mum have been so short. I can imagine that there’s not much they can use if she’s spending most of her time standing up to Ketty.

  But it won’t help. Standing up to Ketty is what just convicted her on PIN, in front of everyone in the country. She’s being built up to be the face of terrorism. Ketty is making sure that my Mum is a focus for all the fear the government wants people to feel. She doesn’t have the rest of us, so she’s using Mum instead.

  I feel sick. I feel completely overwhelmed. If Ketty can manipulate Mum into confessing on camera, what else can she do?

  Charlie asks Gail to leave us alone, and my friends take me to my room. Dan and Amy leave us, and Charlie waits while I pull on pyjamas and climb into bed. She holds my hand.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  I shrug. I don’t want to keep Charlie from sleeping. I don’t want to take up her time.

  But I don’t want to be alone.

  She pulls my chair over to the bed, and holds my hand until I fall asleep. When I wake up later, she’s gone.

  Traitor

  Ketty

  “Good morning, Corporal Smith!”

  Conrad walks into the office as I’m hanging up the phone. No change in Jackson’s condition, and now Conrad is smiling at me as if I’m the mouse he’s decided to eat for breakfast.

  Wake up, Ketty. Don’t let him get to you.

  I match his smile with my own. “Corporal Conrad. Colonel Bracken isn’t in yet. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  He stands in front of my desk, grinning at me.

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  He puts a piece of paper on the desk in front of me. It’s a print-out of a message board or an internal news group. Whatever it is, it’s above my pay grade. I don’t have access to the computer system.

  I glance at it, and look back at him. “What’s this?”

  The victorious grin never leaves his face.

  “We’ve found your recruits,” he says.

  *****

  Bracken is at his desk, and I’m sitting in the chair across from him, staring at the piece of paper from Conrad.

  “I don’t understand.” Bracken shakes his head. “You’re saying they’re in Scotland?”

  “It would seem so, Sir.”

  “And one of them posted this to an Internet site? In public?”

  “That seems to be what happened.”

  “Have we traced the computer it was posted from?”

  I nod. “Edinburgh, Sir.”

  “So it’s genuine.” Bracken runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t imagine how they got themselves across the border.” He looks down at the desk in front of him. “Have we checked up on that?”

  “I think the brigadier is checking it out, Sir.”

  “It shouldn’t be possible. We have patrols all along the border. Fences. Checkpoints. No-fly zones. They shouldn’t have been able to get across.”

  “No, Sir.”

  But they did. And on our watch.

  I read the message again.

  “You can’t catch us here. We’re safe. Scotland forever!” And a photo of Jake Taylor, sitting in front of a computer. There are people in the background – one of them could be Bex – all sitting at their own computers, concentrating on the screens.

  I take a closer look at the site he’s chosen for his message. It’s called Connexxion, and he’s created an identity for himself. His screen name is ‘RebelRefugee’, and
the image he’s using is a photo of a camp-issue rifle.

  Of course it is. Taylor’s weapon of choice.

  I’ve seen print-outs like this in briefings. I’ve never been online – I’ve never seen a live website – but I can see how this site seems to work. Jake posts an image, and then other users respond. There are comments here from other people, and there’s a rant from Jake about Bex, and how she’s not the hero everyone thinks she is. Other users have asked him who he is, and where he’s come from. And he’s answered them. There’s no detail, but he mentions the RTS, and the bunker.

  I sit up in my chair.

  He mentions Newcastle.

  “Sir, I think he’s given us something we can use.”

  Bracken looks up.

  “Newcastle, Sir. He says they were hiding in Newcastle.”

  “Don’t we have the owner of the getaway car in the cells?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “He was from Newcastle?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Is it time to ask him some questions?”

  I can’t hide my grin. “Yes, Sir. If we can’t catch the recruits, at least we can round up whoever was helping them.”

  Bracken reaches for the phone.

  *****

  Conrad is grinning when we walk into the office. He knows I’m in trouble, and he’s enjoying watching me squirm.

  “Colonel, Corporal. The brigadier is waiting.”

  I manage to keep my fists to myself as we cross the office to Lee’s door.

  Lee is leaning on the front of his desk as we walk in. We waves to the chairs in front of him.

  “Take a seat, you two. I gather you’ve heard the miraculous news?”

  We sit down in front of him.

  He grins at me.

  “Your recruits, Ketty. We finally know where they are!” There’s a sing-song sarcasm in his voice, as if this is a good thing.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Remind me, Corporal Smith. Which foreign country have they managed to run to? Which enemy government has taken them in as honoured guests?”