Balancing Act

by Rachel Churcher

  Ketty attacked the prisoner. That’s why she sounded breathless. Ketty, in front of two trained interrogators, took Margaret’s questioning into her own hands. Her own fists.

  Iron fists and steel toe caps. She couldn’t stand back and let someone else throw the punches. She’s too used to dealing out beatings herself.

  I’m shaking my head. I knew she was dangerous. I knew she was wild, but I wasn’t expecting this.

  I realise I’m smiling. No wonder she walked away, on the Embankment. She needs to be in control. Fully in control, all the time.

  I never stood a chance with Ketty Smith.

  I just have to hope that she’ll keep my secret, whatever Lee threatens her with.

  *****

  “I’m taking her off the trial.”

  It’s the first thing Lee’s said since we left Belmarsh. Our driver speeds us along the military lanes, passing queues of civilian traffic, and I’m watching our progress through the rain.

  “Sir?”

  “Corporal Smith. I’m taking her off the Watson trial.”

  I know better than to answer him. I nod, and wait for his lecture.

  “It’s too important. We need the entire country to be watching. After this morning? I can’t trust her to focus on the details. She’s too busy chasing her RTS refugees. Too busy letting her job get personal.” He shakes his head. “She’s distracted. I need someone I can trust on this. Someone who’s not going to let me down.”

  He turns to look at me, and I know what he’s going to say.

  “I need you, Corporal.” I raise an eyebrow. “The Watson trial is yours. Get yourself up to speed, and get everything ready for an audience of sixty million.”

  “Sir …” I begin, but he interrupts.

  “This is critical. This is the next step in our fight with the OIE. We need a spectacle, and we need everyone to be watching.” He watches me for a moment. “Can you do that for me?”

  I take a breath. I can feel my heart, thumping.

  He’s right. This is important.

  I was expecting to help Ketty. I was expecting to be on her team, closer to the event.

  I wasn’t expecting to be in charge.

  “I thought we were keeping her busy, giving her the trial?”

  “A distraction? And how did that work out for our prisoner this morning?” He shakes his head. “We can’t have a trial – we can’t have an execution – if Corporal Smith has taken it upon herself to dispose of the defendant.” He looks at me again. “No. Katrina Smith will not be permitted to contact Margaret Watson again. She will not be permitted to work on the trial. You will take over her role, and I expect a flawless event. I expect my prisoner to walk onto that platform alive, conscious, and ready to confess. I do not expect bruises and broken bones. I do not expect personal attacks. I do not expect to be interrupted by interrogators pinning one of my soldiers to the wall.”

  He takes a breath, and I’m blinking away a vision of Ketty, fighting the men in black. Shouting at Margaret. Finding herself restrained as she threw her own punches at the silent girl.

  “Why not send her home? Back to the RTS?”

  Lee laughs. “Believe me. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d have given her an extremely dishonourable discharge this morning.”

  “But …?”

  He shakes his head again. “But Franks likes her. And for reasons beyond our understanding, she likes Bracken, too. And she knows that sending Smith home means losing Bracken.” He shrugs. “My hands are tied. I gave the order. I gave Corporal Smith permission to use Enhanced Interrogation. Franks will blame me for what happened, so Smith stays, for now. I don’t want a run-in with the Major General. It’s up to Franks to decide when Bracken and his assistant overstep the mark.”

  I think about the trial. The time involved. The work that’s about to land on my desk.

  “What about the committee? What about the Canterbury job?”

  Lee waves a hand. “You’ve got – what – a week left on the Canterbury job?”

  “Yes, Sir, but then I’ll be busy with the aftermath.”

  He gives me a long stare.

  “I will be busy with the aftermath,” he says, his voice cold. “The committee will be busy with the aftermath. You?” He stares at me again. “You will be busy with the trial. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, as calmly as I can. I can’t believe Ketty has stolen my job from me.

  I might be picking up her work on the trial, but I’ve lost my committee privileges. After the bombing, Lee won’t be turning to me to make decisions about the Canterbury cell. It won’t be me sending troops to arrest them, or deciding to let them go free.

  All my work. Four weeks undercover, building relationships, preparing for the biggest bombing since Crossrail. Everything I’ve done to make this operation a success – and she’s cut me out. She used her fists on Margaret, and she’s cut me off from decisions about Emma. Decisions about the cell.

  I can make sure the plan is on track, but after that it’s out of my hands. I’ve lost the power I worked so hard to build.

  “Pick up the files from Smith, and get started as soon as you can.” Lee checks his watch. “I’ll tell her tomorrow. Morning meeting with Bracken.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  All I can think about is Emma. High heels and a black dress. A kiss at the heart of an explosion.

  And Ketty, screaming. Fighting the interrogators as she threw her fists at Margaret – an explosion in the shape of a girl.

  PART THREE: ROSE

  Corporal David Conrad

  London, January

  Legend

  “David?”

  “Jen.”

  This is what I need. Someone who trusts me. A team acting on my orders.

  Jen demands my password and gives me hers, confident that this will keep her safe. Hidden from the Home Forces. I watch the Thames from the conference room window, grey water sliding past under a grey sky, and smile.

  “Is everything on schedule? Any problems?”

  “Everything’s fine.” She sounds impatient. I wonder whether Emma has shared the target with her – whether this call is for my benefit, not hers.

  It doesn’t matter. They know what they need to do.

  “The target, David?” She sounds breathless. Maybe Emma hasn’t told her.

  “Your target is the Marlowe Arcade.”

  Jen gasps.

  “Is that a problem for you, Jen?” I try to sound kind. Friendly. I can’t afford to lose her now. “Jen?”

  “No,” she says, quietly. “No. If you think that’s what we need to do …”

  “Thank you,” I say, gently. “Thank you.”

  I explain the details. The exact placements of the suitcases. The timings – early in the morning, before the shoppers arrive. Where to park, and which route to take to the target. When and where the surveillance cameras will be switched off. I can hear Jen taking notes, her pen scratching as I talk.

  “Any plans for getting the suitcases to the target?”

  “Yes,” she says, brightly. “We’re going to borrow a van from a building company in town. Pete’s friend. He doesn’t know what we’re using it for, and no one will look twice at a local van unloading boxes.”

  She sounds proud. I’m impressed – it’s a good idea.

  “Thanks for taking the initiative,” I say, smiling. “That’s exactly what we need.”

  There’s a pause, and then she speaks again, her voice quiet.

  “Thank you, David. For everything.”

  I’m going to miss this, when it’s over. Jen’s careful planning. Her focus on the job. Her trust in my guidance.

  I end the call, smiling down at the grey water.

  I’m back in control. This group will do everything I ask them to do. They still don’t know who I am, and they don’t know who they’re working for. They checked me out, Jen and Emma, and they found nothing to make them suspicious.

  I think of Emma, la
ughing. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and curves, tanned against the white holiday-cottage sheets.

  I think of Jen, on the trawler. Her arms holding me up as the deck tipped and rolled.

  They’re mine. They’re doing this for me.

  They’re doing this in seven days.

  *****

  Lee’s diary is full, and I spend the rest of the day preparing him for meeting after meeting. Putting papers on his desk, filing his notes, acting as his personal alarm call when his appointments overrun. When he heads upstairs to meet Franks, I take advantage of the free time and head to the basement coffee room. The Canterbury job is on track. I feel like celebrating.

  Twenty minutes later I have a date for the evening. Rose is a Private – one of Penny’s friends. She works in – what did she say? Supplies? Security?

  I don’t care. It doesn’t matter who she is. She’s meeting me at seven, and I don’t plan to go home alone.

  Dark hair in a neat ballerina bun. Brown eyes. Mediterranean skin. No agenda, no questions – just something to distract me from Ketty, and the mess she’s made.

  I’m smiling as I head back upstairs to meet Lee.

  *****

  Rose is waiting outside her flat when I arrive, five minutes early. No last-minute panic here, just fashion-model perfection and a smile.

  “David,” she says, reaching out to take my elbow with one elegant leather-gloved hand. “Shall we?”

  It’s a short bus ride to Leicester Square. I pay both fares, and we stand together at the front of the bus.

  “So – where are you taking me?” She sounds excited as the driver navigates the evening traffic. “Somewhere special, I hope?”

  I’ve booked a table at a high-end chain restaurant. Nothing too expensive, but I can see that Rose is expecting wining and dining. She’s dressed for a VIP table – flawless makeup, sweeping black coat, and a knee-length pencil skirt skimming her slim hips. Tall boots with smart heels. Her hair in a long neat plait.

  I give her a smile as we step off the bus, and offer her my arm. She hooks her gloved hand into the crook of my elbow, tightening her fingers as we cross the street.

  “Dinner?” I say as I hold open the door to the restaurant, and she steps inside, smiling as she slips the coat from her shoulders.

  *****

  We talk – about work, about families, about her plans for her career. We eat a three-course meal – she doesn’t shy away from dessert, in spite of her delicious figure – and I order champagne.

  “Celebrating something?” she asks, smiling, as the waiter fills her glass.

  “I think so,” I say, returning the smile, and there’s the hint of a blush on her cheeks. I think about Emma, still working for me, whatever happened between us. Jen and the others, making the final arrangements. The suitcases, waiting on the trawler.

  I’ve done my job. Now it’s up to them.

  “Well then,” says Rose, raising her glass. “Cheers!”

  “Cheers,” I say, and drink, my eyes never leaving hers.

  *****

  “So,” she says, pulling on her gloves and buttoning her coat against the cold. I hold the door open, and she steps outside. “What’s next?”

  I offer her my arm, but she turns to face me, straightening my coat. Her hands linger on my chest, and she stares at her fingers, biting her lip.

  She’s making this easy.

  “Your place or …” The familiar line trips off my tongue, but she doesn’t give me a chance to finish.

  “Your place, David,” she says, her fingertips finding the buttons on my shirt. She leans in, her voice a whisper. “You’re a legend, Corporal Conrad. I have every intention of finding out what I’ve been missing.”

  “My coffee room reputation precedes me.” I smile, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her perfect lips. She tastes of chocolate and champagne, her cheeks flushed. Her hair smells of cinnamon and roses.

  “Taxis are this way,” she whispers, pulling away and tugging on my hand.

  *****

  I don’t need wine. I don’t need cards. Rose doesn’t wait for the front door to close before she’s dropping her coat and gloves to the floor and opening the buttons of my shirt.

  This is exactly what I need. No drama, no manipulation, no persuasion. Someone who wants what I want. Someone who can’t wait to fall into my bed.

  We leave a trail of clothing across the living room, and by the time we reach the bedroom, we have nothing left to lose. She’s in my arms, and I’m in hers, and I don’t expect to sleep tonight.

  Telling

  I wake to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. I reach for my watch, and find I’ve slept for an hour. My alarm is set to sound in fifteen minutes.

  “Join me?” Rose puts her head round the bedroom door, grinning. “The water’s hot.”

  She’s had less sleep than I have, and she looks amazing.

  This isn’t what I’m used to. I expect hangovers and painkillers, and girls who don’t wake up before I’ve closed the front door and walked away. I expect to leave a note in the kitchen, and disappear before the drama kicks in. I expect to head early to work, and wake myself up with coffee before the brigadier arrives.

  But Rose is awake. Rose is in my shower.

  And I have time, before I need to get dressed.

  *****

  Lydia is in the coffee room when I walk in, yawning. She gives me a quick glance as she waits for her drink, and I can see the smile on her face as she turns away.

  “Don’t …” I say, reaching for a cup.

  “Oh, I’m saying nothing.” She sits down at the table, hands wrapped round her mug.

  “Lydia …”

  “But you two looked so sweet, walking in together.” She puts on a thinking face. “Was that a taxi I saw in the road? Did you two carpool this morning?” She gives me a wicked smile. “And don’t you normally walk to work, Corporal? What could you possibly have been doing, to make you late enough to call a taxi?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to answer that, Sergeant.”

  But I can’t help smiling when I think about this morning. Rose, under the shower. Both of us laughing as we searched the floor for our clothes.

  She shakes her head. “There it is. Corporal Conrad’s ‘I’ve been up all night’ smile.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Good night, was it?”

  I take my drink from the machine, and lean back against the worksurface.

  “As a matter of fact, it was.” She sits up straight, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting for me to go on. “But you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

  She gives me a look of mock hurt, and shrugs. “That’s OK, David. I understand.” She smiles again. “But I’m pretty sure Rose has no problem with the kissing, or the telling. I look forward to catching up with her later.”

  “Lydia – do you honestly have nothing better to talk about?”

  “Are you joking? More Conrad gossip?” She winks at me. “You’ve made my day, David. I’ll enjoy hearing all about it from your willing friend.”

  *****

  “He is impossible.”

  Lee storms into my office, barely containing his anger.

  “Sir?” He stops in front of my desk.

  “Bracken. Spineless, gutless, cowardly drunk.” I raise an eyebrow, and sit back in my chair.

  “He did nothing to defend her. Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I listed her mistakes. I listed her failings. I made sure she understood how much trouble she’s in, and Bracken? He just sat there.”

  His meeting. The meeting where he planned to kick Ketty off the trial.

  “So she knows, Sir?”

  He gives me a long stare. “Yes, Corporal. She knows. She’s preparing the handover now.”

  I nod, trying to see the problem. He’s delivered his message, no one’s argued with him – he should be happy.

  “Everything she’s done to keep him on his feet, and he didn’t say a word to defend her.”
/>   I’m trying to picture the meeting. Bracken in the middle of his morning hangover. Lee, shouting. Ketty, standing tall against the brigadier’s accusations.

  “You are a superior officer …” I begin.

  “Of course I am. But I’d expect something from the man she’s babysitting. Some defence.”

  I shrug. “Maybe he can’t see it, Sir. Maybe he doesn’t realise how much she does for him.”

  He nods. “Even when she’d left the room. Even when it was just the two of us. Nothing.” He clenches his fists. “He’s a liability. He’s a walking failure. He’s a disgrace.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say with feeling. He’s right.

  He stares at my desk for a moment, then uncurls his fingers.

  “Go downstairs, Corporal. Pick up Smith’s files. It’s time you took the trial out of Bracken’s hands.”

  He marches to his office and closes the door.

  I am not looking forward to this.

  *****

  “So you’re off the trial?”

  Ketty is writing notes when I walk into her office. She ignores me until I’m sitting on the front of her desk, then she slowly puts down her pen and fixes me with an icy stare.

  “Apparently.”

  I can’t help myself. I feel a hundred feet tall after last night with Rose, and I want to make Ketty understand. She’s taken Canterbury away from me, and I’m not letting her forget her mistakes.

  “What did he use to get rid of you?” She raises an eyebrow. “Elizabeth’s injuries? Missing recruits? What you did in Enhanced Interrogation yesterday?”

  Her hands curl into fists on the desk in front of her, and she nods, slowly. “Plus whatever you told him about our evening out.”

  I nod. I’m not letting her blame me for this.

  “Perhaps it’s for the best, with all the personal stuff between you and Margaret.”

  The colour is rising in her cheeks. I’m getting to her.