She has nothing to lose, and she’s happy to act as a distraction. If we’re questioning her, we’re not chasing the recruits, and she can feel as if she’s protecting Bex and her friends.
Ketty throws the questions out, and the answers come back. More evidence for Elizabeth’s trial, and more fuel for Ketty’s war against her recruits. She’ll pick the highlights from this interview to send to PIN, and if Bex has access she’ll have no choice but to watch her mother earning her execution.
Elizabeth is laughing, but Ketty lets her speak, her head tilted to one side, listening.
“Corporal Smith. My daughter is brave, and kind, and she stands up for what she believes in. The fact that she believes in something other than your uniform, and your training camps, isn’t a weakness. And as far as I can see, she hasn’t changed.”
I smile. That’s a quote for PIN. Ketty nods.
“So she’s always been a terrorist?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Corporal.”
I can’t help laughing. There’s something dangerous about Elizabeth Ellman, and Ketty never fails to play with that danger. It’s a joy to watch.
“But she’s always had sympathy for people who stand up for her beliefs?”
I’m expecting another soundbite, but instead Elizabeth points across the table.
“Don’t you?” She demands. “Isn’t that why you wear their clothes and do as you’re told?”
There’s a pause, and I wonder how Ketty is going to respond. I realise I’m on the edge of my seat.
She takes a breath. “Elizabeth. I’d like to talk about Bex as a young child. What was she like? Did she have any violent tendencies?”
She’s in control. Changing the subject, and keeping Elizabeth one step behind. She really is good at this.
“What kind of question is that, Corporal?”
Ketty stays calm. “One I’m interested in following up. Was Bex ever violent as a child?”
I’m hoping for anger from the prisoner, but instead she bites back a laugh, composing herself.
“Corporal, that is none of your business. My daughter’s childhood is not under discussion here.” There’s another pause, and Elizabeth’s eyes never leave Ketty’s face.
I’m holding my breath.
“But I think I’d like to ask you the same question. Was there violence in your childhood, Corporal Smith?”
Ketty freezes, and I watch as she takes a moment to straighten her spine. She tilts her chin up, just a fraction – but I know what that means.
Elizabeth has hit a nerve, and Ketty is getting ready to fight.
I can’t look away.
Ketty shakes her head, slowly. As she drops her arms to her sides I can see her hands shaking. She curls her fingers into fists, every movement deliberate and controlled.
If she assaults a prisoner, I’ll be in trouble. I’ll have to explain this to Lee.
No one is speaking. Elizabeth watches Ketty and Ketty stares back. I’m on my feet and stepping towards the door when Elizabeth gives a slow nod.
“I thought so,” she says, and Ketty’s fists tighten, her knuckles white under the lights.
My hand is on the door handle, but I can’t leave. I have to see what happens next.
Ketty’s voice is calm and controlled. “I see your bruises have healed, Elizabeth. That black eye is almost completely gone. It probably doesn’t even show up on the TV screen.”
Elizabeth sits back in her wheelchair, waiting. I let go of the door handle and step towards the glass.
Ketty allowed a prisoner to get to her. There was a gap in her armour, and Elizabeth hit her in exactly the right spot. I thought she might retaliate, but instead I’m watching as she pulls all the power back to herself. She’s dangerously calm when she speaks again.
“Remind me how that happened? Slipped in the shower, didn’t you?” Ketty shakes her head. “The carers in prison aren’t as good as the staff at your care home, are they?”
There’s a smile on my face as I watch her lean her elbows on the table. Elizabeth glares at her, waiting.
“I’d watch out, Elizabeth,” she says, quietly. “You never know when they might slip again. I’d hate to put you on PIN with another black eye.” She tilts her head slightly, mocking the woman in front of her. “What would Bex think?”
Elizabeth responds, but I have no idea what she says – and it doesn’t matter. I’ve just watched Ketty Smith go from victim to credible threat in a heartbeat. She let her prisoner land a blow, and instead of reacting she recovered, and she turned the interview around.
It’s thrilling, watching her work – watching her flirt with danger and turn it against the people she’s questioning. She’s an ice queen, taking control and making sure her prisoner’s aggression has consequences.
I switch off the equipment as Ketty leaves the room, and all I can think about is her fingers, white knuckled, curled into her palms. Her fists, ready to strike out. The way she controlled herself, and her prisoner.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, attitude, excitement.
Lydia’s right. I’m in trouble.
Clueless
We’re at Belmarsh again. Ketty invited me back for Round Two with Elizabeth, and I’m beginning to regret having anything to do with this interrogation.
Twenty-four hours ago, Ketty Smith threatened Elizabeth with further injury, just for fun. Just because she could. Just to show her who has the power, here.
And here we are, watching the prisoner through the one-way mirror while I set up the recordings. She has a broken arm, and a dark bruise that covers almost half of her face.
Twenty-four hours, and Ketty has managed to arrange this. I think back to Elizabeth’s comments – her question about violence in Ketty’s childhood – and I wonder what Ketty lived through. What she survived, if Elizabeth was right. If this is her response.
She’s thrilled. There’s a cat-and-mouse smile on her face as she stares at her prisoner, arms folded across her chest.
“Ready?” She asks for the third time, and I nod, stepping away from the machines.
“Ready.”
She takes a breath, and turns to the door.
“Careful, Ketty.” She looks back, still smiling. “Just – be careful.”
I don’t want to have to break up a fight. If Ketty and Elizabeth keep toying with each other, how long will it be until Ketty decides to inflict the injuries herself?
I make myself sit down and watch today’s live episode of the Ketty-and-Elizabeth soap opera.
*****
She’s in trouble.
The footage aired last night. Elizabeth Ellman with her bruises and her arm in plaster, answering questions about Bex. Telling everyone that what her daughter is doing is right.
Giving us more evidence for her trial.
But what Ketty and I both failed to consider is Jake Taylor. Lee and Bracken are negotiating with the Scottish government, trying to persuade them that he’ll get a fair trial in the UK. Trying to convince them to extradite him to London.
The image of a prisoner – of Bex Ellman’s mother – with her handcuffs secured over a plaster cast isn’t helping their case. The bruises on her face are dramatic, and obviously painful. Scotland has no choice but to take our treatment of prisoners into account when they’re making decisions about Jake’s future, and they don’t like what they’ve seen.
Lee is blaming Ketty, and I’m happy to hide behind her decision. I don’t need trouble from the brigadier, and this could be enough to take her down. Her Belmarsh pass gives her the ability to record her own news clips, and apparently she’s not expected to clear them with anyone before she sends them to PIN.
If her access pass is a test from Franks, she’s just gone down in flames. I need to make sure none of this reflects on me.
Lee is downstairs with Ketty and Bracken, and if his shouting up here earlier was anything to go by, she’ll be wishing she could turn back the clock.
She’ll be wishing she’d neve
r left the RTS.
I check my watch. Lee is running late, and he has another meeting to get to. I give him a couple of minutes, but when he doesn’t show up I realise I’m going to have to go and fetch him.
I’m surprised to find Ketty at her desk. She’s reading through paperwork, doing her best to look calm, but everything about her is angry. She’s clenching and unclenching her fist, and her fingertips are white as she grips her pen. Her face is red, and her shoulders are tense.
Lee must have finished with her. She knows what she’s done. I need to make sure she knows it’s her fault.
“So, Ice Queen,” I say, controlling my smile. “Pushed it too far this time, did you?”
Slowly, she puts down her pen and looks up at me.
“You’re enjoying this,” she says, her voice flat.
I can’t hold back a grin. “I really am.”
She shakes her head, and looks back at her paperwork.
“Seriously, though – is he mad about it?”
“Yes, David,” she says, as if she’s talking to a child. “He’s mad.”
“Good to know. I’ll make sure I’m under the radar today.” She glances up at me. “I’ll let him take this out on you.”
She doesn’t bother to reply. She shakes her head, and picks up her pen.
“Is he in there?” I wave a hand at Bracken’s office. There’s a suspicious lack of shouting, but I’m guessing he hasn’t left yet.
“Yes,” she says, without looking up. “He’s talking to Bracken.”
I make a show of checking my watch. “He’s going to be late. You don’t want to go in and tell him …?”
The look she gives me is enough to make me back down.
“No,” I say as she goes back to her reading. “I guess not.”
She leaves me to knock on Bracken’s door. She doesn’t look up when I follow Lee as he strides through her office and out to the corridor, but I can see her fingers curling and uncurling, white-knuckled on the desk in front of her.
*****
“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Corporal.” Lee points at me across his desk. “I know you were there. I know you made the recordings. I’d ask what you were thinking, but I’ve already spoken to Corporal Smith, and she was pathetically clueless. I’ll assume you suffered the same momentary lack of judgement.”
I thought I’d made it. I thought I’d reached the end of the day without any of this rubbing off on me, but I was wrong. Lee is still mad about the PIN clip, and it’s my turn to be shouted at. I stand to attention, fixing my eyes on the wall above his head, and let him shout.
“Tell me, Corporal,” he says, his hands clasped in front of him on the desk. “Was it worth it? Did you gain some insight into Corporal Smith’s weaknesses? Her secrets? Other than the mutual lack of intelligence, of course.” He leans towards me, his voice hushed. “Are you any closer to tempting her into your bed?”
I could give him an honest answer. I could tell him that, far from learning about her weaknesses, I learnt more about her strengths. I saw her take another prisoner apart, using their own convictions against them.
But that’s not the whole story, and it’s not what he wants to hear. I could tell him about her reaction to Elizabeth’s question. The violence in her childhood that Elizabeth figured out and threw back at her.
Or I could keep quiet, and let him shout. If I’m going to get anywhere with Ketty Smith, she needs to think I’m on her side. Spilling her childhood secrets to Lee won’t help me, and right now I need less drama, not more. I don’t need to be in trouble with her as well as with Lee.
“Corporal?”
“No, Sir,” I say, my gaze still fixed on the wall.
“Well. You know what you have to do. Corporal Smith is your problem.” He raps a finger against the desk. “Solve it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Dismissed.”
I have work to do.
Seen
I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying here, staring at the ceiling, and all I can think about is Ketty. Curves, scars, attitude – and the distance between us.
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to take Ketty Smith from predator to prey. How to sidestep the fighter, and reach the girl behind the uniform. How to bring her from the office to my bed, and how to unlock her secrets.
She’s too strong. She fights too hard, and she doesn’t let anyone defeat her.
I was right, the first time we met. She’s playing a game. Defending herself, and figuring out who to trust.
I’m getting closer. She chose me to make the recordings at Belmarsh. She chose me to witness Elizabeth’s injuries. But I’m not there yet.
She doesn’t trust me. She’s competitive and focused, and she refuses to let anyone score points against her. The only person I’ve seen make a dent in her armour is Elizabeth Ellman – no one else can touch her. Not Bracken, not Lee, and not me.
She keeps fighting back. Standing up when she falls. Refusing to give in to anyone. Even when I’ve mocked her – when I’ve hidden behind her bad decisions or reminded her how little she knows – she’s reminded me who she is. What she can do.
She’s incredible.
My playbook doesn’t work here. Lee needs this – he needs me – and there’s nothing I can do.
I stare at the ceiling, fighting thoughts of Ketty. The scent of apple and mint. Her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. The blouse she wore for our drinks at the bar.
Her scars. My marks on her skin. The way she fights me, every time we talk.
And I realise I’m afraid. I don’t want to push her too far. I don’t want her fists tightening for me. Her questions, incriminating me. She’s tough, she’s smart, and she’s used to fighting everyone to get what she needs. I can’t count on her loyalty, and I can’t count on her support. I can’t flatter her, I can’t dazzle her with my rank and knowledge. I haven’t earned her respect – and without that, there’s no way to bring her here.
We’re too similar. We’re playing the same game. We’re both trying to protect ourselves and we’re both trying to do better. We’re both trying to win.
We both want power. We both want to be in control.
Maybe …
I blink at the ceiling in the darkness.
My breath catches. Maybe that’s the answer.
Maybe I need to put myself in her hands. Maybe I need to give her control.
Maybe I need to let her win.
*****
I haven’t had enough sleep. I’m sitting with Lee in the Terrorism Committee meeting, a mug of coffee in front of me, and I’m running on caffeine and willpower. But if I’m not at my best this morning, it doesn’t matter, because Bracken is a disgrace.
He’s slurring his words. He can hardly hold a pen. He’s so obviously drunk I wonder whether he slept at all.
And he’s challenging everything. Questioning decisions that were made before he came to London. Asking for clarification on plans we’ve already discussed.
It’s embarrassing.
Lee throws him out before the end of the meeting, and we all hear the brigadier shouting at Ketty to fetch her boss some coffee.
“Sent him off with his babysitter?” Someone calls out as Lee closes the door.
Lee takes his seat and gives the room a cold smile. “If only we all had such decorative assistants.”
The rest of the committee laughs, and I have to stop myself from choking on my coffee.
That’s not the way I would describe Ketty Smith.
*****
I’m staring at the ceiling again. Another night, alone. Another night with Ketty on my mind.
I wish I could call Penny, or one of Lydia’s other girlfriends, and invite them over, but Lee wants me focused. Corporal Smith is my target, and he won’t be impressed if he hears that I’ve been distracted by someone else’s charms.
I’m not used to sleeping alone. I’m not used to having no one in my power.
I’m not u
sed to missing someone – there’s always someone else to turn to, when the drama gets too much.
I wish I could call Emma.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles, and curves. Sleeping in her arms.
That kiss, after dinner. Secrets and lies. Black dress, lipstick, and heels.
But when I sleep, it’s Ketty who dreams her way into my arms.
I wake up confused by her absence.
*****
Lee calls me into his office as soon as I arrive in the morning. He’s standing in front of his desk, TV remote in his hand, staring at the screen.
“What do you think, Corporal?” he says, playing the footage.
It’s from a security camera on the ground floor of the Home Forces building. Black and white, but the image is sharp. It’s a view of the checkpoint at the entrance, and there’s a guard on duty. The street beyond the doors is dark.
“Timestamp,” he says, pointing at the screen.
“Nine-seventeen.” I check the date. “Last night?” He nods.
“Watch,” he says.
Two figures stumble into shot, one supporting the other as they walk down the hallway towards the doors. The taller figure is tripping over his feet, and the other is holding him up. They’re both in uniform, and it’s hard to tell who I’m looking at, until I realise the other shorter figure is limping.
I step forward for a closer look.
Ketty and Bracken, leaving the building after nine o’clock last night. Bracken is so drunk he can hardly stand. Ketty might as well be carrying him.
The guard steps towards them, and Ketty pulls her ID pass from her pocket. He checks the pass, shoots a disgusted look at Bracken, and holds the door open as they walk out into the night.
Lee stops the footage, and looks at me.
I thought I’d had a rough night, sleeping alone and dreaming of someone I can’t reach. Ketty’s night must have been much, much worse.
“Any idea what happened to them after that?”
Balancing Act Page 13