Balancing Act

by Rachel Churcher

  “Jake Taylor is no longer in Scotland.”

  This doesn’t make sense. Ketty’s recruit was in trouble – he was under arrest. But if Lee is this angry, then he hasn’t been sent home. He’s not in the UK.

  And that’s bad news for us.

  “Sir?" Lee glares, waiting for me to catch up. “He was locked up. He broke all those laws. They were trying to deport him …” I’m shaking my head again. “I’m confused.”

  He nods. “So was I, Corporal.” He watches my reaction. “Would you like to know why Jake Taylor is no longer north of the border?”

  My throat is dry. This can’t be good news. I nod.

  “The incredibly lucky Mr Taylor has been shipped out to the Netherlands. Flown, in fact. And granted asylum.”

  My stomach drops. This is very bad news.

  “But we don’t have …”

  Lee cuts me off. “No, Corporal. We don’t have an extradition treaty with the Netherlands. In fact,” he waves a finger to emphasise his point, “we don’t have any formal contact at all with the Dutch government.”

  I stare at him for a moment, thinking this through.

  “So Jake is safe?” He nods. “We can’t touch him?”

  “Jake Taylor is firmly out of the picture. No more negotiations. No deportation, no trial, no execution.”

  “So why the Netherlands? There are plenty of countries that won’t negotiate with us. Why chose one of our nearest neighbours?”

  Lee’s face darkens. “That’s a very good question, Corporal. One I will throw at Bracken and see what he has to say. Call down and let him know I’m coming.”

  He strides across the office, but turns back at the door. “On second thoughts, cancel that phone call. I want him scared. I want to see his face when I walk in. I want to watch him hide his whisky bottle and pretend to be sober.” He checks his watch. “If I’m not back here in twenty minutes I expect you to knock on his door, whether or not his babysitter permits the interruption. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  And he slams the door behind him.

  *****

  I have a few minutes before I need to rescue Lee, but there’s no harm in arriving early and making sure Ketty doesn’t stand in my way. She glances at me as I step into her office, then turns back to her notes without a word.

  I roll my eyes. While Lee and Bracken are working together, I need to work with Corporal Smith, and she needs to work with me.

  I didn’t choose her coach as a target – that was Lee. I’m the messenger here, not the mastermind. And I didn’t put the gun in Liam Jackson’s hand. I didn’t tell him to fight off the attackers. If he’d stayed on the coach and followed orders, he’d still be alive, and Ketty would have no reason to hate me.

  She wouldn’t know about me and William. There would be no awkward history between us. I might have been enjoying her charms, instead of dropping my guard with Rose.

  I need to remind her that she can’t ignore me, if she wants to keep her job. She can’t walk away.

  And this morning’s news changes everything. No more playing nice with the Scottish government. No more hiding what happens to the prisoners in our cells. With Jake gone, there’s nothing to stop her putting injured prisoners on TV.

  “At least you can use all that footage now,” I say, stepping across to her desk. “Elizabeth, Margaret. You can show off all the bruises on PIN.”

  “I suppose I can,” she says, without looking up.

  “Come on,” I say, smiling. “I thought you’d be happy. All that trouble you went to, giving Elizabeth a broken arm? And now you get to show it off on TV.”

  She’s still writing notes. Still ignoring me.

  “Corporal Conrad,” she says, her voice tight and controlled. “Is there a reason you’re in my office?”

  I give her a shrug, and glance at Bracken’s door. “Just waiting for the brigadier.” I bite back a grin. “Is he roasting your boss alive in there? What’s taking him so long?”

  She places her pen carefully on the desk, and gives me a cold stare.

  “I don’t know, David,” she says. “But I think you should wait in the corridor.”

  I have to stop myself from laughing. Corporal Smith is trying to give me orders. She’s trying to push me around.

  After this morning – after Rose and Lee and Jake – I could use a fight. Particularly one I know I’m going to win.

  “Do you?” I say, my feet planted solidly in front of her desk.

  She glares at me for a moment, then stands up. I’ve taken a step back before I can stop myself.

  Her voice is quiet, but her anger blazes through every word.

  “You are not a friend, Corporal,” she says, her eyes fixed on mine. “You are not my protector. And you are not my date, when you’re bored.” She leans across the desk, her fists pressed into the paperwork in front of her. I can feel my smile fading. “You are the person responsible for the death of someone I cared about, and I will not forget that.” She sounds calm, but I can see her shoulders shaking as she tenses all the muscles in her arms. She’s barely in control, but she can’t touch me here. Not with Lee and Bracken on the other side of the door. She can’t make me leave.

  I nod, smiling again, and wait for her to continue.

  She takes a breath. “You are not invited,” she says, as if she’s talking to a stranger, “and you are leaving now.”

  I’m about to congratulate her on a great speech, and point out that she has absolutely no power to make me do anything, when Lee slams open the door to Bracken’s office and steps into the space between us. He glares at Ketty, her fists still resting on the desk, and raises an eyebrow at me, then walks out, shaking his head. I follow him into the corridor, and when I glance back she’s still watching me – chin tilted up, jaw tight, and a flash of victory in her ice-blue eyes.

  Exhausted

  I need to sleep. I’ve spent the last three nights with Rose, and my face is grey in the bathroom mirror. I’m running on caffeine and the thrill of scoring points against Ketty. The Canterbury job will be over in a few days, and the Home Forces will have an excuse to claim more power, and impose more restrictions. Lee will be happy, Franks will be happy, and I’ll be one step closer to a promotion.

  I’m changing the world. I’m reshaping the country. I feel invincible, but I need to stop. I need to spend a night alone, and asleep.

  So why am I here, staring at the mirror at – what? Two in the morning?

  Jake Taylor. Ketty Smith. Rose. Emma. Lee.

  This was supposed to be straightforward. Seduce the RTS girl. Get a good look at the curves under her uniform and the scars I put on her knee, make sure she spills her secrets, and work out how to destroy Bracken. Bring back Jake, and show the country what we do with terrorists and resistance cells. Avoid drama. Avoid complications. Keep the brigadier happy.

  And here I am. Ketty isn’t speaking to me. Jake is out of our hands. Rose and Emma are … complicated. I see their faces every time I close my eyes – their hands on my skin, my fingers tracing their curves. The final night in Canterbury and every night with Rose playing like high-definition movie scenes every time I try to sleep.

  Lee is angry – with me, with Ketty, with Bracken, with Scotland.

  I’ve lost my role on the committee. My power over Emma and Jen and the others. After the bombing, it won’t be me deciding what happens to them. It won’t be me deciding whether they live or die.

  There’s no one in my power. No one in my bed. Everything I live for is drifting away, like smoke.

  I splash water on my face, and try to ignore the dark circles under my eyes.

  I can’t think like this. Things will change. I have the Watson trial, and I have faith in the Canterbury cell. In less than four days, the country will be reeling from a devastating attack. Lee will be congratulating me. I’ll remind the committee – remind Franks – who I am, and what I do for them. I’ll put Ketty and Rose and Emma behind me.

  I k
now this is true. I know everything will work out. It’s just hard to believe it, alone, in the dark.

  I switch off the bathroom light and crawl back into bed. There’s nothing I can do until morning. I need to sleep.

  *****

  It’s hell, crawling out of bed. Forcing myself to get dressed and dragging myself to work.

  I need to show my face. Lee needs me, even if it’s just to have someone to shout at. I need caffeine before I face him and whatever he’s angry about today.

  The basement coffee room is empty, and I sit at the table with my drink. I’m grateful that I don’t have to make conversation – that I have a few minutes to myself. I rest my head on my arms.

  “Corporal!”

  Lydia’s parade-ground shout wakes me, and I’m on my feet before I realise where we are.

  “Tired, are we?” She grins, and puts a fresh cup of coffee on the table in front of me. “Drink up. I want to know everything.”

  She sits down across the table, and waits.

  I check my watch. I still have a few minutes before I need to get to the office. I intended to put my head down for a minute, and I realise I’ve been asleep for ten. I have time for my caffeine fix. I’m not sure I have time for Lydia.

  “Sit down, David. Drink your coffee.” She smiles as I sink into the chair. “I want to know about Rose.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. My throat feels as if it’s lined with gravel, and my eyes feel like sand. “You don’t.”

  “Oh. Oh no.” She rests her elbows on the table. “Was there drama? Are you heartbroken?”

  I concentrate on the mug in my hands.

  Lydia gives a dramatic gasp. “You didn’t … fall for her, did you?”

  I roll my eyes, and she giggles.

  “Corporal Conrad! This is unexpected.” I hold up a hand to stop her, but she’s not finished. “Rose? Rose? She’s the one who grabbed your heart? She’s not blonde, she has very brown eyes, and definitely no endearing freckles.” She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, thinking. “Unless it’s not your heart she grabbed …”

  “Stop.” I wrap both hands round my drink, and make myself meet her eyes. Her laughter fades.

  “She actually got to you.” Lydia shakes her head.

  “I don’t want to …”

  “Talk about it?” She laughs. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  I finish my coffee, and slam the cup onto the table.

  “Go easy on yourself, David,” she says, her voice hushed. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” She gives me a kind smile. “Get some sleep. And if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

  I can’t help laughing.

  “I’m not your personal gossip factory, Sergeant,” I say, standing up. “I think I can handle this on my own.”

  She gives me a mock salute. “Yessir, Corporal. But if you change your mind …”

  She doesn’t have the chance to finish. I’m already walking away.

  *****

  “Canterbury, Corporal. Where are we?”

  Lee glances up from his desk, then turns back to his notes.

  “Final contact tomorrow, Sir. Everything’s ready.”

  He puts his pen down, and gives me a long stare. “And you trust your team? You’re happy with their progress?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “No cold feet? No suspicions? No one bailing out and leaving you without the promised attack?”

  I think of Emma. Black dress and heels. Her kiss, when I gave her the target.

  I think of Jen, taking notes as I ran through the details.

  Niall and Simon, and the Lindisfarne Lady, stocked with explosives.

  Lee raises an eyebrow, and I realise I’m smiling.

  “No, Sir,” I say, my smile widening. “I have every confidence in my team.”

  *****

  Ketty hasn’t wasted any time. She doesn’t have to play nice with Scotland any more, so tonight’s terrorism update on PIN includes footage of the Scottish shop worker they arrested during the safe house raid in Newcastle. They’ve edited the feed to make the answers fit the questions, trying to establish a link between the safe house and the shop, and Ketty’s recruits.

  They’ve done a good job.

  I’m sitting on the sofa, beer in hand, watching Bracken guide the prisoner to a confession. It’s not as entertaining as watching Ketty, but at least the Colonel looks sober, and the unfortunate Mr Dewar looks suitably scared.

  And clueless. He has no idea where Bracken is leading him.

  He claims to have seen strangers working in the store room at the back of the shop. There’s a smile on my face as I watch Bracken lay out the photos from the recruits’ wanted posters.

  “And who did you think they were?”

  Dewar shrugs. “Illegals, I guess. Europeans.” He tugs on his handcuffs, as if he has somewhere more important to be.

  “Do you recognise any of these people?”

  The prisoner looks at the photos in front of him. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Which one?”

  And Dewar picks out Dan Pearce. Ketty’s recruit from Camp Bishop, Bex Ellman’s right-hand man, and one of our top ten most wanted terrorists.

  “Yeah,” he says. “He was there.”

  PIN cuts back to the studio, and the newsreader confirms the charge of aiding and abetting a known terrorist. The prisoner has just signed his own execution papers.

  I realise I’m imagining the smile on Corporal Smith’s face as she watched him fall into Bracken’s trap.

  She’s doing it again. Failing. Falling. Paying for her mistakes, and dragging herself back to her feet. Standing tall, and handing another prisoner to a firing squad. Keeping Bracken in his job. Giving Franks and Lee the headlines they need.

  She’s unbreakable.

  And when I crawl into bed and let the tiredness of the last few days drag me into sleep, it’s not Rose in my dreams. It’s Ketty.

  Prepared

  “David?”

  “Jen.”

  I can’t keep the smile from my voice. It’s good to be taking control again. I look out at the view from the conference room, at the pods on the London Eye glinting in the winter sunlight, and exchange passwords with Jen for the last time.

  “Is everything ready?”

  “It’s ready.”

  “Any problems? Questions? Anything I should know about?”

  “It’s ready, David. The suitcases are on the boat. We’ve borrowed a van. We’ve checked out the target. We’re good to go.”

  “Last chance to ask for help.”

  “Relax, David. We’ve got this.” She’s smiling. Confident. Everything I need her to be. “Let us do what we signed up to do.”

  “You’re making history,” I say, and I’m grinning. We’re almost there, and everything is in place. “You’re making a difference.”

  “I know,” she says, still smiling, and hangs up the phone.

  Two days. Two days until Jen and Emma destroy the centre of their city, for me. Two days until they follow my orders and give Franks all the power she wants. Until they give the Home Forces an excuse to restrict freedoms, increase surveillance, and extend Martial Law.

  Lee’s right. This is important. And I’m the one making it happen.

  *****

  The brigadier is waiting in my office when I head downstairs. He checks his watch as I walk through the door.

  “Final contact?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Everything ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  We watches me for a moment, then nods. I can’t hide my smile.

  “We’re expecting a full report, Corporal. Are you prepared?”

  “Absolutely, Sir. Names, addresses, contact records – I’ll make the presentation to the committee.”

  He stares at me, then gives me an icy smile. “Excellent work, Corporal,” he says. “We’ll look forward to it.”

  *****

  I’d like
nothing more than a celebration tonight. A Private from the mail room or the supply office – someone who can’t make trouble for a higher-ranking officer. Dinner, drinks, and a note in the morning. Someone pretty and blonde and drama-free to keep me entertained.

  But I need to sleep. I need to be ready when Franks is handing out credit for the bombing. I need to be at Lee’s side when he announces the success to the Terrorism Committee. I need to make sure they know who made their power-grab possible. Who made the bombing happen.

  So I’m home alone, another beer in my hand as I switch to PIN for the evening news.

  Ketty has been back to Belmarsh. She’s on camera questioning the Scottish prisoner, and he has plenty to say. He talks directly to the camera, and Ketty watches from the side of the screen.

  “It was just a job. Just a job! I worked in the shop. Those kids? They worked out the back.” He shakes his head, glancing at Ketty, and when she points at the camera he takes a breath and carries on. “I didn’t mean to help anyone. I was just trying to pay the rent. I didn’t mean …”

  He shakes his head again, desperation on his face. The feed freezes, and the newsreader cuts in, reminding the viewers that the prisoner is a terrorist sympathiser.

  He looks angry. He looks dangerous. Ketty’s footage is perfect.

  I raise my beer to the image on the screen. Good luck to him. He’s come up against Katrina Smith, and he’s starting to feel the pain.

  She’s in control. She’s always in control.

  The rest of us don’t stand a chance.

  *****

  I wake refreshed, and I find myself singing in the shower.

  One day. One day until all my plans come together. Jen and Emma and the rest of the team are doing exactly what I’ve told them to do, and I can already see the look on Lee’s face as he debriefs the committee. The look on Franks’ face when she comes to congratulate Lee.

  The Canterbury cell will be going through their final checks. Are they packing bags? Preparing to run? Or have I convinced them they’ll be safe if they follow my instructions?