“Tell Mum I love her, won’t you?” He nods. “And make sure Fiona looks after her.”
“I will, Bex. Shall I tell them where you are?”
I look round at Mrs Pearce, and she nods. “Yeah. Stop them worrying about me.”
He turns away, back to the waiting taxi.
“Thanks, Maz!” I call after him. He waves a hand as he walks away.
“One of your friends?”
“Yeah. He wanted to make sure I was safe.”
She picks up one of my bags, and I take the other.
“You’d better come inside, and tell us what’s going on.”
*****
“And you quit? On TV?”
I nod. Dan’s parents didn’t watch the interview, but his dad is already scrolling through the channels on the kitchen TV, trying to find a repeat. It makes me smile to see his expensive shirt, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, just like Dan.
“Was that a good idea?”
“I don’t know, Mrs Pearce. I just couldn’t sit there any more.”
She puts a bowl of soup in front of me, and sits down at the table.
Dan’s dad stops searching for a second. “What’s your plan?”
“I really don’t know. I had to get away from Fiona, but I don’t know what to do now.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’ve landed you in the middle of all this.”
Dan’s mum puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t worry, Bex. I’m glad we can help.”
The soup warms me up, and it’s lovely to be sitting in my friend’s kitchen. No one’s looking for me. No one wants to arrest me, or put me on TV again. I’m here because this is where I want to be, and no one is asking for anything in return.
“There’s a bed made up in the guest room upstairs. There are towels in the en suite, and plenty of soaps and smellies.”
“Thank you.” I make myself smile, but I’m close to tears. All this kindness, when I’ve just walked out on everyone I care about. I know I don’t deserve it.
“We’ll be leaving early in the morning, but you’re welcome to stay. I’ll leave a front door key on the hall table. And there’s plenty of food in the fridge – help yourself. We’ll be back by seven, and we’ll fix something to eat.”
I nod, hiding a yawn.
“Go on,” Dan’s mum says, clearing the empty soup bowl away. “Go and get some sleep.”
“Thank you,” I say, through another yawn. “For everything.”
“Second door on the right, top of the stairs. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
I pick up the rucksacks and carry them up to the guest room. It’s huge, with turquoise throws and pillows, and dark wood furniture. I’ve never been to Dan’s house. I’ve written to him during the holidays, so I know the address, but I’ve never visited. I’m not surprised that everything is beautiful, and neat, and expensive.
I tip Maz’s rucksack up and shake out the clothes in a corner of the room. I pull out a pair of pyjamas, and grab my toothbrush from the other bag.
The bed is enormous, with a huge duvet and piles of pillows. I crawl in, and stare at the ceiling, wrapping the duvet round me.
I really did it. I told Fiona to carry on without me.
I can’t help smiling to myself in the dark.
I’m free. And I have no idea what I’m going to do next.
Morphine
Ketty
Fiona drops me at the hospital, and I walk myself inside. It seems strange to be walking in, pain-free, knowing that I’m going to need the morphine drip when I take off the PowerGel.
The nurse smiles when I check into my ward. I head back to my room, and change out of my smart clothes. I pull on shorts and a T-shirt, and sit down on the bed.
I’m sorry, Jackson. I let them use you. I let Fiona use you.
And I let her use me.
*****
The nurse hooks me up to the morphine drip, and leaves me with a tray of food. I sit back against the pillows, and wait for the painkiller to take effect.
I don’t feel like eating, but I pick at my meal, trying to forget what happened today.
The Face of the Resistance quit, live on TV. Fiona’s big symbol, her figurehead for the resistance, walked out in front of the entire country.
And it would be funny, if it wasn’t my fault.
But Bex blamed me, in front of all the cameras. Bex told them who Fiona is working with.
I’m supposed to symbolise everything they were fighting against, but here I am. In Fiona’s hospital room, wearing Fiona’s PowerGel.
What do you want from me, Fiona?
Dr Hayes knocks on the door. “Are you ready?”
I nod. She moves the table away, and pulls on the surgical gloves.
She reaches for the power switch, but I pull my knee up and flick the switch myself. I lower the knee gently back to the bed as the cold sensation starts to fade. She gives me an approving look.
“You don’t need me, do you?” She smiles, and starts to pull back the fastening strip.
I’m bracing myself for the pain, but when she takes away the gel pack the morphine has kicked in. It hurts, but not as much as it should.
She leans over, and pulls the brace from the end of the bed. She slides it gently under my foot, pulls it up until it sits over my knee, and straps it in place.
“OK, soldier?” She asks, and I can’t help smiling.
“OK. Thank you.”
She packs the PowerGel away and leaves the box on the table.
“I’ll be back in the morning to get you walking again,” she says, pulling her gloves off as she leaves.
I lean back against the pillows.
I need Fiona. I need the PowerGel, and I need the morphine.
I can’t go back to prison.
Fiona needs me, to make Franks talk. She needs me to tell her what happened in the Home Forces.
But after today? After losing the Face of the Resistance? How much longer will she need me?
And what happens when my usefulness runs out?
Am I free, when Fiona decides I’m not useful any more? Or is that when they put me back behind bars?
I shake my head. I’ve done this before. I need to figure out what she needs from me, and keep delivering.
You can do this, Ketty.
PART 2
MAY
Gift
Bex
I unlock the front door and step back to let Mum push herself into the flat. I look out for a moment, over the lawns and the parkland to the flats on the far side. I still can’t believe this is ours. That we have somewhere of our own to live, after everything that’s happened.
I pick up the shopping bags and follow her inside.
*****
The keys arrived in the post, addressed to me at Dan’s parents’ house. A set of keys, a map, and an address. Maz and Charlie came with me on the bus, and I followed the directions. I had no idea what to expect.
It’s a ground-floor flat on the old Olympic park. Wheelchair accessible, three bedrooms, and a view of grass and trees, in London.
Inside, we found a huge bunch of flowers, and a note.
For Miss Ellman, who gave a better speech than I did at Horse Guard’s Parade. Thank you for your dedication, and your bravery.
Handwritten, on Buckingham Palace stationery, and signed by the King.
Charlie threw her arms round me, and Maz grinned. We explored the flat together.
There was a folder of legal papers, and a voucher and catalogue for a furniture store. Mum and I spent hours in meetings with banks and lawyers, getting paperwork signed and restoring her bank accounts. We spent weeks, buying furniture and setting up the kitchen.
And it’s ours, now. Our own home.
I have my own room. It’s not a hotel room – no one tidies and resets it every day. And it’s not Fiona’s, or the OIE’s. It’s mine.
I found a frame for Saunders’ sketch. It was the first thing on the wall in my room, over my desk where I c
an see it. And I have bookshelves, and books, and cushions, and clothes that I’ve chosen in the wardrobe. Mum’s carers come twice a day, and she’s even hired a cleaner. She doesn’t want me to spend my time looking after her.
But we still go shopping together, in the supermarket round the corner. And we take it in turns to cook.
It’s as far from orange jumpsuits and armour as I can get, and I love it.
*****
“Fiona misses you, you know.” Dan helps himself to another sandwich. “And what did you say to my mother? She keeps asking how you are!”
I laugh, and lean back on the picnic rug. It’s a gorgeous day, and we’re sitting in the park outside the flat – Margie, Dan, and me.
“Number one: I don’t care what Fiona thinks.”
“After everything she’s done for you?” Dan laughs.
“Did she buy me a house?” I point across the lawns at my own front door. “No. Does she listen to me? No. And does she really care about me? Or does she want the Face of the Resistance back to make people vote for her?”
He shrugs. “Fair points.”
“And number two: I think your mum liked having me around. She did say several times that I’m more house trained than you or your dad.”
Dan gives me a hurt look, and then grins. “Also a fair point.”
“So what’s it like, at the Royal, now that Fiona’s campaigning?”
“Same old,” says Dan. “Lots of interviews and photos. I’m a total TV celebrity now, you know.”
Margie laughs. “She is working Dan pretty hard, now that she can’t put you on screen. And she’s giving Amy lots of interviews, too.”
“And you? Did she listen to you?”
Margie nods. “Yeah. She’s been good about what we said. She’s mostly leaving me alone.” Dan takes her hand, and she smiles at him. “I think telling her what we thought on live TV made her understand that we meant it.”
“Useful to know.” She nods. “And Ketty?” My voice is quiet, and I’m staring at the blanket. I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Dan shrugs. “She’s turned into Fiona’s shadow. She follows her everywhere. But she mostly stays away from us.”
“Does she live at the Royal?” I have a sudden vision of Ketty, sleeping in my old room, her wardrobe full of Fiona’s uniform, identical to mine.
“No idea.” Dan grins again. “Don’t care.”
“How are you, Bex? How’s life in the Olympic Park?” Margie looks round at the grass and the trees. “It is gorgeous here.”
I’m smiling as I tell them.
Belmarsh
Ketty
The drive to Belmarsh takes more than an hour, without the Military lanes. Fiona sorts through papers, a pile of reports and transcripts growing on the seat between us.
She waves at the folders. “Find me the Terrorism Committee briefing, would you, Katrina?”
I pick up the files and start working through them.
A career profile for Brigadier Lee. A report on the Home Forces command structure, Major General Franks at the top of the list. A thick file on the Recruit Training Service. Transcripts of interrogations.
And a career profile for David Conrad.
My breath catches in my throat. Everything is here. The date he signed up. His training and promotions. His transfer to act as Lee’s assistant.
And his Terrorism Committee duties.
What he did for Lee: contacting the resistance groups, co-ordinating the bombings – that was all official, and it’s noted in his file.
What he did to me, and to Jackson. There are records.
I’m smiling as I realise that he will suffer for this. He will pay for Jackson’s death. And he will pay for the South Bank bomb.
“Katrina?”
I stare at the page in front of me. “Is Corporal Conrad at Belmarsh?”
She leans across and glances at the report. “I think so. He was Lee’s Assistant?” I nod. “Yes. I think he’s there.”
*****
“Miss Price.” Colonel Ryan meets us at the door to the waiting room. “And Miss Smith.”
Fiona shakes his hand. “Thank you for meeting with us, Colonel. Is everything ready?”
He smiles. “Your prisoner is waiting.”
I look round the room, and there’s an icy feeling at the back of my neck. Everything looks the same. The chairs, the tables, the coffee machine. Even the smell – coffee and disinfectant. All my muscles tense, and I realise I’m expecting Lee or Bracken to walk in. I’m expecting to have to explain myself.
Breathe, Ketty.
But I’m not in uniform today. I’m wearing one of Fiona’s smart suits, and I’m carrying her document bag. I’m here with the OIE. With the coalition.
With the winning side.
And I’m standing where I stood when the soldiers put me in handcuffs.
Breathe.
My hands are shaking as Fiona takes the bag from me, and Colonel Ryan leads us towards the interrogation room.
“Just one thing, Colonel.” He looks back at Fiona. “We’ve been waiting for weeks for the chance to talk to Franks. Why now?”
“We’ve tried everything else. You and Miss Smith are the next weapons in our armoury.” He watches her for a moment. “I know you want to be the person who cracks Jane Franks. I know you think it will help your election campaign, but this isn’t about you. This is about building a case against the person who ran the Home Forces, and the RTS, and the Terrorism Committee. That’s the connection we need to make, before we put her on trial. We need to confirm what she knew about the activities of the Terrorism Committee.”
I’m really doing this. I’m really taking Fiona’s side, against Franks.
Breathe.
*****
Ryan opens the door, and Fiona walks into the interrogation room, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. Franks looks up, glancing between Ryan and Fiona. She’s handcuffed to the table, but she sits up straight, and there’s an air of authority about her in spite of the orange jumpsuit.
It’s a shock to see her here, on the wrong side of the table. She might be in handcuffs, but she looks confident and self-assured.
She looks as if she’s the one in charge.
“Good morning, Colonel Ryan,” she says, as if she’s welcoming him into her private office. She looks at Fiona, and raises her eyebrows. “And Fiona Price. To what do I owe the honour of a visit from the OIE?”
Ryan pulls out a chair for Fiona, and steps away to stand against the wall, arms folded. Fiona looks up at me, and holds out her hand to the other chair.
I take a breath, and walk into the room.
I should know what to expect. I’ve been here so many times before, but that was always to question terrorists. To get soundbites from Elizabeth Ellman, or Craig Dewar, or Margaret Watson. I wore a uniform, and my authority was clear.
But today is different. There’s no uniform to protect me. And this isn’t a terrorist behind the table – this is Major General Franks. This is the head of the Home Forces, who wanted to promote me. Who overlooked my unauthorised knowledge of the Terrorism Committee, because she wanted to give me a career.
I can’t hide from Franks. I can’t pretend I wasn’t part of what she did. She knows exactly how much I know.
And that’s why I’m here.
And I realise – this is my price. This is what I have to give them, to save myself. Not just the head of the Home Forces – I agreed to that – but my mentor. I have to hand over the person who believed in me, for a PowerGel and a ticket out of prison.
I didn’t expect to feel this way.
This is it, Ketty. This is where you choose.
I know what Franks did. She deserves to be here. But I also know what she did for me. She stopped Lee from sending me home. She protected me when I knew too much.
And now she’s my ticket to freedom. All I have to do is make sure she confesses to her crimes.
All I have to do is bring down t
he only person who had my back in London.
I had no idea this would be so hard.
I sit down, and turn to Franks. I realise I’m mirroring her body language: back straight, chin high. Looking as if I’m in charge.
She looks at me, and I see her shoulders slump. She looks down at the table, and across at Colonel Ryan, shaking her head.
She turns back to me.
“Corporal Smith.”
I nod. “Major General.”
I sit up straight, but inside I’m screaming.
I’m here to make sure she spends the rest of her life in the cells.
I don’t want to do this.
I could refuse to co-operate. I could walk away.
And I would lose my freedom.
I remember the panic I felt in prison. The idea of spending sixty years behind bars.
I can feel myself fighting for breath.
Come on, Ketty. This is how you survive.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to betray her.
But it’s my only way out.
She looks at my suit. At the Belmarsh visitor pass clipped to my pocket.
“Have you bought your way out of detention, Smith?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust myself to speak. I can’t answer her. I can’t tell her that she’s the price I’m paying.
She looks around the room. “And do these people know what you’ve done? Who you worked for?”
I nod. She looks down at the table again.
Don’t let her get to you. You can do this.
“So what’s the point of this meeting, Colonel?” She says, eventually.
Ryan shrugs. “We’re just curious about the Terrorism Committee, Jane. We thought a familiar face might persuade you to talk.”
She smiles, closing her eyes. “I’m sure Corporal Smith can tell you everything you need to know.”
Ryan smiles. “Oh, she already has. She’s told us about the Terrorism Committee. And Jane? She was in Leominster. In the town, after the attack.” Franks looks up at Ryan. Her smile is gone, and the colour is draining from her face.
Victory Day (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 5) Page 23