“What are we telling people? Is PIN covering the troop movements?”
He looks at me, and smiles. “Absolutely not. PIN is stepping up its coverage of local news. Raids on safe houses. Interrogations. Terrorist trials.”
“Margaret Watson?”
“Margaret Watson. She’s the big distraction. Keep everyone looking at her, and we’ll keep them from noticing what’s going on beyond our borders.”
*****
My run takes me round St James’s Park, past Buckingham Palace, and the lines of Home Forces soldiers protecting the King, and back along the Mall. I can’t run along the South Bank any more, and the roads around the bomb site are all closed. I miss running along the river, but running under the trees on Birdcage Walk I can forget about the bombing. Forget about how close I came to being one of the casualties. I can forget the flames, and the smoke. The London Eye, falling.
And I can forget about standing with Conrad next to the water at midnight. About the touch of his fingers on my skin. About all the mistakes I’ve made.
Come on, Ketty. Focus on running.
But my thoughts circle in my head, and I keep coming back to the invasion.
Is this the OIE, putting pressure on us? Are they sending a signal to the resistance cells in the UK? Is this the start of more bombings?
Bracken said things would get worse before they get better. What if he’s right? What if the resistance thinks it can get away with more attacks like the South Bank bomb?
A line of soldiers in black uniforms blocks the pavement in front of me, and I turn to run through the park.
There are more guards on duty today. Is the threat of invasion making the Home Forces concerned for the safety of the King? Or are we worried that he’s working with the resistance?
Are the guards keeping bombers out, or are they keeping the King locked in?
Where are the good guys in all this?
Focus, Ketty. This isn’t about good and bad. This is about survival.
So how do I survive? How do I protect myself from whatever’s coming?
Stick with the Home Forces? Put my trust in Franks, and the Army?
Or find a way out?
There are more soldiers lined up in front of the Victoria Memorial as I turn to run the length of The Mall. They’re armed with power-assisted rifles, cradled in combat-ready positions. The weapons we used at Camp Bishop. The weapons my recruits stole from the coach. I feel a jolt of pain as I think about the coach raid – Dan firing his rifle, sending the bullet through my knee. I see Saunders’ look of surprise when I sent a bullet into his chest at the bunker. I know how much damage those guns can do, and I can feel them behind me as I run.
Is this how it feels to be a target?
If the Dutch army invades, will we be targets? How far will they get? I can’t imagine a foreign army marching into London. I think about defending the capital – lining up in my armour with the Army and the RTS to keep the invaders out. It feels absurd.
And I wonder how it would feel if they win. How it would feel to be on the losing side.
Visions of prison jumpsuits and handcuffs distract me from the rhythm of my run, and I stop for a moment, bent double to catch my breath.
Prison jumpsuits, and the inside of a cell.
I shake my head.
Come on, Ketty. You’re overreacting. Just keep running.
Keep Bracken working. Keep your job. Keep yourself safe.
But it’s a relief when I reach Whitehall, and the guns are out of sight.
Despair
Bex
“Dan?” I knock on his door again, but he doesn’t answer. I shout as loudly as I dare. “Dan!”
There’s a shuffling sound from inside the room. He unlocks the door, and walks back to his camp bed, crawling under his sleeping bag and switching off his torch before I can stop him. I take my torch from my pocket and use it to find my way across the room.
I kneel down on the floor next to his bed and put my hand gently on his shoulder.
“Dan.” He shrugs. “Talk to me.”
“What’s the point?” He lies, curled up, with his back to me. His voice is rough, and I realise he’s been crying.
“Because we promised. Any time this gets too much, you’re supposed to talk to me.”
“Like that’s going to help.” His words are muffled by the sleeping bag.
I rest my head on the edge of his bed.
“It’s not going to make it worse.”
There’s a long pause. “No. I don’t think it can get any worse.”
I squeeze his shoulder, and move to a more comfortable position on the floor.
“I’m here, Dan. I’m not going away.”
For a while, he says nothing, and then he nods.
“Thanks, Bex.” His voice is quiet, and he doesn’t move. I put my hand back on his shoulder.
*****
Dan didn’t come to breakfast this morning, and he’s been ignoring everyone who knocks on his door. I’m lucky he let me in.
It’s been nearly two weeks since I reminded Fiona that our friend’s life is in danger. That we’re here to save her, and that we need the coalition’s help to do that.
And Margie’s trial is tomorrow.
We’ve heard nothing. The invasion was always going to take time, but no one thought we’d be waiting this long. Fiona gives us updates every day, but so far there’s been nothing to report. Stand by. Hold position. Even when the OIE committee meets, she doesn’t have anything else to tell us.
And now the worst is happening. Now we have to watch the government execute our friend, and there’s nothing we can do to help her.
So I sit with Dan. I’m missing a committee meeting, but Fiona doesn’t need me there to discuss the running of the hotel, again. Dan needs me this morning. He’s said everything he can say, and he’s told Fiona what we need to do, and nothing’s happened. He’s at the end of his road, and all he can think about is Margie.
I don’t know what to do. Fiona can’t help. There’s nothing we can do until the coalition is ready. Charlie’s right – anything else would be suicide.
I know Dan doesn’t care. I know he wants to go to Horse Guard’s Parade tomorrow. To see for himself that there’s nothing he could do to save her. But that’s suicide, just as much as if he stormed the stage with his rifle. Our faces are on posters all over London, and there’s no way he’d get near the trial without being caught. I just have to make sure he doesn’t try.
*****
“I can’t do this, Bex. I can’t wait like this.” He turns to look at me, his face grey in the torchlight. “If I knew where she was …”
“If you knew where she was, you’d be doing something brave and stupid, and it would take everyone here to wrestle you into a chair and stop you.”
“I’d like to see them try.”
“Anyway. Brave and stupid is my job. You’re supposed to stop me, not the other way round.”
“I didn’t stop you from visiting your Dad.”
He throws his words like a punch, and I feel as if he’s winded me.
“Dan …”
“You went to the nursing home, and you had the chance to say goodbye. I didn’t stop you.”
He’s right. I had the chance to give my Dad a hug. To make sure he knew I was there, before he died.
But I screwed up. I let Ketty take Mum away. Dad died alone, because of me. And Mum’s in the government’s cells, and on PIN every night, because of me.
“Maybe you should have stopped me.” He turns away from me, and stares at the dark ceiling. “All the damage I caused by going to the nursing home? Maybe it would have been better if I’d stayed in Newcastle.”
“So because you messed up, I have to let them execute Margie.”
“Come on, Dan. It’s not like that. People are in prison because of what I did. People are in exile. We betrayed a safe house network, and Neesh lost her business, because of me.”
“So …”
My pulse races as I think about hiding under Mum’s bed. Ketty, searching the room for me. The box, pulling away from my knees as she checked my hiding place. The darkness, keeping me hidden.
“You screwed up, so you won’t even let me try?”
“I learnt a lesson, Dan. I stayed hidden, and Ketty took my mother away. I hurt so many people that day, and I nearly lost everything.” I can feel my hands shaking. Tears stinging my eyes. “I’m not going to let you make the same mistake.”
“Why should you get to …”
There’s another knock at the door, and we both stop talking.
“Dan? Bex?”
“Amy?”
“You need to get out here. You need to come downstairs.”
“I don’t think Dan wants to …”
“It’s the signal, Bex. Fiona’s had the signal. We’re moving.”
*****
Dan’s out of bed and pulling on a pair of jeans before I’ve made it to the door. We follow Amy down the stairs, our torch beams bouncing on the walls as we run. There’s a tiny slice of light between two of the wooden panels on the windows, and I have to check my watch to convince myself that it’s still morning outside.
The ballroom is full when we walk in, and the atmosphere is electric. People are talking and whispering as they find places to sit in the rows of seats. Charlie waves us over to the places she’s saved for us at the front.
“You two OK?” She raises her eyebrows at Dan, and I notice that his hair is matted and tangled. He’s wearing the old white T-shirt that he usually wears to bed, and socks, but no shoes. There’s stubble on his cheeks, and he hasn’t switched off the torch in his hand, even though the lights in the ballroom are on.
I’ve never seen him like this.
I look back at Charlie. “I think that depends on what Fiona has to say.”
*****
“Listen up!” Fiona steps up to the front of the room, a grey folder in her hands. The room falls silent. “It’s been decided. Everything is in place, and we make our move tomorrow.”
I feel Dan tense up next to me, and I reach out and take his hand. He grips my fingers tightly, holding his breath.
“As you all know, Margaret Watson’s trial is scheduled for two in the afternoon, at Horse Guard’s Parade. After the South Bank bomb, Home Forces staff were evacuated from their building, and accommodated in offices along Whitehall – buildings that back on to Horse Guard’s.
“We’re going to use this, and the distraction of the trial, to take out the chain of command.”
There’s a murmuring from behind us, which dies away as Fiona carries on.
“We’ve had some useful intelligence from our resistance partners. There are several key meetings happening while the trial gets started. The heads of the armed forces – Army and Home Forces, Navy, and Air Force – are meeting in a room overlooking Whitehall. The regular meeting of senior Civil Servants is taking place close by. And there’s a meeting of the Terrorism Committee, overlooking Horse Guard’s Parade.
“Our role will be to enter these meetings, keep the senior commanders in their seats, and cut off their communications. When we’ve done that, the coalition will make its move, and the forces on the ground will be cut off from their chain of command.
“We are going to decapitate the military government.”
There’s a muted cheer from the seats behind us, and Fiona raises her hands.
“This won’t be easy. We won’t have much support. We need to take, and hold, positions in the heart of London.” She looks around the room. “There will be troops behind us – British fighters, from the Netherlands camp – but they can only move when we’ve taken away the command structure.” She looks down, and opens the folder. “We have limited supplies of armour, uniforms, and weapons. If you haven’t been issued any yet, come and see me at the end of the briefing. If you have, make sure everything is in working order before tomorrow morning.”
She pauses, and people start to whisper all over the room. Charlie takes my free hand and holds it in hers.
“In addition to taking the commanders hostage, we also need to change the mood of the public. PIN is expecting a huge crowd for the execution tomorrow.” Dan grips my fingers more tightly, never taking his eyes off Fiona. “We can’t be sure what mood they’ll be in when we start our operation. So we’re going to make a broadcast. We’re going to patch into the PIN feed, and the feed to the screens on the stage, and we’re going to send them a message.”
There’s a twisted feeling in my stomach. I know what Fiona wants me to do.
“We’re going to show them the Face of the Resistance, and we’re going to ask for their support.”
I slump down in my seat, my head on Dan’s shoulder. She’s not going to let me save Margie. She’s going to put me on TV in my armour, looking like my photo, and she’s going to expect me to inspire people. She wants me to appeal to the people who’ve come to watch the murder of my friend, and she’s not going to let me fight.
“Front-line doll.” I don’t mean to speak, but I can’t stop myself, and there’s frustration in my voice. Charlie glances at me, and squeezes my hand.
“Bex,” Fiona points at me. “We’ll escort you to the meeting room, when the Terrorism Committee is under guard. We can patch into their feed from there. You’ll give your speech, and we’ll follow yours with other broadcasts to keep the crowd in line.”
I lift my head. “And Margie? What about Margie?”
“When we’ve done what we can to the commanders, then we’ll see about saving your friend.” She turns to the room. “We’ve divided you into teams …”
I pull my hands back from Charlie and Dan, and stand up.
“No.”
Fiona looks at me, her face carefully calm.
“No, what, Miss Ellman?”
“No. I’m not doing it.”
“Bex. You’re a critical part of this plan.”
“And so is my friend.”
Dan looks up at me, eyebrows raised. I give him a nervous smile.
“Can we talk about this later?”
I shake my head. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, but I don’t care.
“No. I want this agreed now.”
She closes the folder carefully, and holds it against her chest like a shield.
“Go on then. What’s your objection?”
I take a deep breath. I need to ask for the right thing. I need to make her understand.
“I’ll make your broadcast. But my friends? They get to save Margie.” Dan sits up straight in his chair, and Amy nods. Fiona shakes her head and opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “While I’m addressing the crowd – while I’m distracting the crowd – my team gets to break the prisoner out. And when I’m done speaking, I’m going to help them.”
Fiona glares at me, her eyes flashing with anger.
“Bex – our resistance contacts have spent weeks on this plan. We can’t …”
“Then neither can I.” I sit down, returning Fiona’s glare.
She hangs her head for a moment, one hand massaging her forehead.
“Are you serious, Bex? Are you putting this whole plan in jeopardy, just to free one prisoner?”
I’m about to answer, when Dan stands up next to me.
“Yes. Yes she is. Because that prisoner is our friend, and we’re here to rescue her.” Fiona opens her mouth, but he doesn’t stop. “And when we’ve done that, we’re rescuing Bex’s mother, and our teacher, and all the people who are locked up because of us. All of them.” Fiona’s shoulders are sagging, and she’s shaking her head. “That’s our price, Madam Chairman. We’ll agree to your plan, if you agree to ours.” And he sits down.
Fiona sighs.
“How many of you are in on this?”
I look at Dan and Amy, and Charlie and Maz. They’re all looking at me. I rea
ch out, and hold hands with Dan and Charlie again. Charlie reaches out to Maz, and Dan takes Amy’s hand, and we stand up, holding our joined hands up between us.
Fiona nods.
“Right. We’ll talk about this after the meeting.”
“Is that a yes?” Maz calls out.
Fiona bows her head. “That’s a yes. Can we move on with the meeting now?”
She doesn’t get an answer. I’m too busy being hugged by my friends, and pushing tears from my eyes with my sleeves.
Deception
Ketty
“Corporal Smith.” Lee walks into the office, checking his watch. “As of now, you no longer have clearance to be in this room.”
I stand up behind my desk. “Sir?”
“Bracken and I have matters to discuss. I need you to be elsewhere.”
Don’t mind me, Sir. I’ll get out of your way.
“Yes, Sir.” I start to gather the papers I’m working on.
“Now, Corporal. Not next week.”
“Yes, Sir.” I push a pen into my pocket, and shuffle the papers into a folder, stepping round the desk.
“And bring some coffee. I think the Colonel could use some refreshment.”
Bracken is sitting at his desk, watching Lee throw me out of the room. He doesn’t react.
I think he could, too, Sir.
“Yes, Sir.”
*****
“You’ve been evicted?”
Conrad smirks as he pushes past me into the tiny kitchen. He shakes his head as I ignore him, and concentrate on spooning instant coffee into two mugs. He pulls another mug from the cupboard and lines it up next to mine. I ignore that, too.
“Enjoy that,” he says. “There’s a chance we’ll run out soon.”
More cryptic comments, David?
I turn to face him. “I’ve had enough of your secrets, Corporal. Tell me what you’re talking about, or shut up.”
“Coffee.” He grins, watching my reaction.
The kettle boils, and I give him a recruit-scaring glare before turning away and pouring water into my mugs.
Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5) Page 3