Balancing Act Page 8

  Let them think they’re making a difference.

  “Are you asking us to plant a bomb?” It’s the first time Emma has spoken to me, and it’s clear she doesn’t trust me. Her arms are folded across her chest, and she’s leaning away from me in her chair. Her eyes are narrowed as she waits for me to answer.

  I meet her gaze. “How do you feel about that?” I ask, and she shrugs and looks away.

  “We’re up for it,” says Kieran, looking round the room. “We’ve already decided we’ll help. Just tell us what you need from us.”

  So I do.

  I don’t give them the target yet – I tell them we’re looking into it – but I explain the suitcase bombs. We’ll give them the equipment, but they’ll have to assemble everything themselves – detonators, explosives, containers. They’ll have to learn those skills as quickly as possible, while I’m here to teach them. Kieran volunteers the house and garage, and we arrange to start in the morning.

  Jen offers to drive me home.

  *****

  It’s a fifteen minute drive back to Whitstable, and Jen is happy to talk about her studies. She’s specialising in electrical engineering, and Said is on the chemical engineering course, so they make a good team.

  When she pulls up outside the holiday cottage, I turn on the charm and ask her in for a coffee. I don’t have long to shape this group, so I might as well start now.

  “David …” She gives me a sad smile. “I hardly know you. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad we’re getting this chance to make a difference.” She shakes her head, blushing. “Let’s keep this simple. OK?”

  I hold my hands up, and give her a warm smile. The colour darkens on her cheeks. I know she’s tempted.

  “No problem,” I say. “Simple is good.” She smiles back.

  I thank her for the ride, and step out into the cold. I take my time walking to the front door, and when I take off my coat and draw the curtains, she’s still parked outside. It’s several minutes before she drives away.

  Insider

  The next couple of weeks are intense. I train the group, fitting discussions and practical sessions around their studies and work schedules. After a week, most of them can follow a simple circuit diagram and figure out how to pack dummy components into the set of wheelie cases I’ve bought with Lee’s cash. The final equipment won’t be here until after I’m back in London, but I’m confident in their skills. Between the two engineers and the time I’ve spent with the others, the Canterbury cell has everything they need to make this happen.

  I have to be careful, working with the team. I need to give clear instructions, and I have high expectations for their performance, but I have to hide any trace of my own military training. They think I’m from another resistance cell – that there’s a chain of command for groups like them – so I need to be firm, but kind. Tolerant of mistakes. Encouraging.

  It’s exhausting.

  I make a dent in Lee’s cash, ordering pizza for our late-night training sessions, but it helps. They’re warming to me, accepting me into the group. We’re all in this together, and they’re enjoying being the focus of my attention. I’m giving them hope. I’m giving them a reason to do what I tell them to do.

  I’m making sure I have all the power.

  While Jen stays friendly but distant, Emma watches everything I do. She’s determined to be the best – to learn everything I’m teaching, and be the first to get things right.

  So I’m not surprised when it’s Emma who offers me a ride home after a late evening of training, and I’m not surprised when she invites herself in, and doesn’t leave until morning.

  She could be one of the Home Forces girls. A toned runner’s body under leggings and a fitted top. Burnt vanilla scent on her skin. Blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles.

  I have to catch my breath as she drops my T-shirt on the floor and flicks her hair away from her face.

  She could be Ketty.

  *****

  By the second night with Emma, I’ve run out of questions about the group. I’ve spent enough time working with them to know who I’m dealing with, and I know everything I need to know about the girl lying in my arms.

  So we talk. There’s no agenda. She tells me about herself, and asks about me. I stick to my official story, but I’m happy to steer the conversation onto the training, and the mission they’ll be running without me. If I can keep Emma happy, she’ll back me up if the group doesn’t like part of the mission. If I can make her think I’m sharing secrets with her, she’ll be my champion against her friends.

  And lying in bed with a naked Ketty look-alike isn’t exactly hard work.

  I know what I’m doing. I’m recruiting an ally, and it works. When Kieran objects to my counter-surveillance training, she backs me up and brings the others with her. When Saanvi cuts a session short because she’s angry that I’m making her repeat a task, it’s Emma who persuades her to stay.

  Between us, we control the group. Emma is the ambassador, and I’m pulling the strings. We’re keeping each other entertained, and we’re setting the cell up to succeed. She has no idea she’s working for the Home Forces.

  It’s perfect. I’m enjoying Emma, and I’m enjoying the power.

  I just have to make sure she’s enjoying me.

  *****

  “We need a place to work.” Kieran glances over his shoulder, then steps towards me. “Somewhere that’s not the house.”

  He’s followed me to his kitchen. The others are working on safety protocols in the living room, and it’s clear he wants to talk to me alone.

  I put my mug down next to the sink and lean back against the worksurface, giving Kieran a concerned smile.

  “Is there a problem with the house?” I wave a hand at the kitchen, and the living room beyond.

  He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. He can’t meet my eyes.

  “It’s just …” He glances at me, and I shrug. “The neighbours. The neighbours are asking questions.”

  I raise an eyebrow. If he’s right, if the neighbours have noticed the work we’re doing here, we need to act.

  It won’t be easy, finding somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t surrounded by houses and neighbours and traffic. I’d prefer to keep the group here if I can.

  But if the neighbours are watching? If they’ve figured out there’s something going on?

  The group needs a new meeting place.

  “Questions?” I ask, watching him. “What sort of questions?”

  He puts both hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling.

  “I don’t know, David,” he says. “Questions. Questions I don’t like having to answer.”

  I nod, but I’m no closer to understanding the problem. I wait for him to say more, but he stares at the ceiling, hands still clasped behind his head.

  “Is it the noise, Kieran?” I ask, gently. He’s concerned about something, and I need to know what he’s trying to tell me.

  He shrugs.

  “Is it the people? Having lots of friends over all the time?” He shrugs again, and nods. If this is how he answers questions from the neighbours, we’re in trouble. He looks as guilty as hell.

  “Hey,” I say, quietly. “It’s OK to be having second thoughts.”

  He looks at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “It’s not … it’s not that.”

  I settle back against the worksurface.

  “What do you need, Kieran?” He looks at me again, and folds his arms across his chest. “I’m here to help. Tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do my best to sort it for you.”

  He nods, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

  “I think we need a boat,” he says.

  Romance

  “It’s a good idea.”

  Emma coils one arm round my waist, and rests her head on my chest. It takes me a moment to remember what we were talking about, before we fell into bed. She lifts her head to look at me, blonde hair falling over her face, and when she fl
icks it away I have to close my eyes. For a moment it’s not Emma in my arms. It’s Ketty.

  I’m distracted, and I need to be paying attention.

  “Hmmm?” I say, playing for time.

  “The boat.” She smiles. “It’s a good idea. We can take it offshore – build our bombs out of sight, and if we screw up it won’t be the lead story on PIN.”

  I rub a hand over my eyes. Kieran’s plan. We discussed it on the way here last night, but I’d barely closed the front door when Emma pushed my coat from my shoulders and tugged my T-shirt out of my jeans …

  … and here we are. Sleepy, sweaty, and comfortable.

  And still talking about boats.

  I prop myself up on my elbows, and she trails a finger over my skin, biting her lip.

  All I want is to stay here. To let her distract me again.

  But I need to solve Kieran’s problem. I need to figure out how to help.

  “Can we discuss this over coffee?”

  She grins, and traces her finger over my stomach.

  “I guess that’s a no.” I’m whispering. Trying to keep my mind on the conversation.

  “When I have you exactly where I want you, David?” She shrugs. “Why would I let you go?”

  I nearly laugh at that. She has no idea who I am – who she’s working with. That she’s the one being used, here.

  Instead I smile, and give in to her touch. I need to keep her on my side.

  “So you’ll find us a boat?” She breathes into my ear, later. I gather her into my arms, my body pressed against hers, glowing.

  “I’ll find you a boat,” I promise.

  The smile she gives me is angelic.

  “Thank you, David,” she says, and kisses me.

  My breath catches.

  I realise what I’ve done. What I’ve promised.

  She’s figured me out. She’s manipulated me. At that moment, I’d have promised her anything she asked.

  I need to wake up. I need to pay attention. Emma is not like the Home Forces girls – I don’t outrank her. She’s smart, she’s focused, and she’s fighting for something she believes in. She’s much more dangerous, and I need to remember what I’m doing here.

  I need to be more careful.

  *****

  I need to find a boat.

  There’s no point going back on my promise. If Emma thinks she’s controlling me, she’s more likely to support me in front of the group. If she thinks she can manipulate me, she’s more likely to keep coming home with me, and it will be easier to keep her as an ally.

  She’s right – it’s a good idea.

  It’s the same with all the resistance jobs – when the bomb-making equipment is delivered, the cell has to move it to wherever they’re assembling the bombs, and then transport everything to the target. If I arrange to deliver their supplies at sea, they can use their boat as a floating workshop and build everything offshore. That’s one less journey for the group and the explosives. One less opportunity for things to go wrong.

  Emma’s right. If they make a mistake, PIN is going to have a hard time covering up an explosion on a residential street in Canterbury. An explosion on a boat could be reported as an accident, and no one will ask awkward questions.

  *****

  It takes a week, but I find them a trawler.

  I sit for hours every day in a bar overlooking Whitstable harbour, watching the fishing boats and their crews. I get to know who spends the longest at sea, and who is home early, with or without a catch. I see who brings home the most fish, and who could use some extra cash. Which boats are well maintained, and which need some attention.

  So by the time I walk up to the Lindisfarne Lady, I already know she needs work. Her two-man crew never brings much home from their fishing trips, and they look as if they could use a day off.

  The father-and-son team accepts my offer of a drink, and we head to the back of a quayside warehouse. Inside are crates of fish and ice, and in the corner is a bar built from pallets and planks of wood. It’s freezing – just as cold as it is outside – but the beer is good. We sit on upturned barrels at tables made from cable reels and drink to fair winds and following seas.

  After three rounds of drinks, I’ve learned that they’re open to a business partnership, and that the boat is for hire if I can pay. They’ll crew it for me, and they won’t ask questions.

  I call London from a payphone on my way home. It’s a dedicated line, and whoever is on duty will claim it’s a wrong number unless I give them the password. They promise to pass my query to Brigadier Lee, and tell me to call back tomorrow.

  It’s dark and cold. The boat hire is out of my hands until the background checks have been run, and I need to check in with the group, so I dial Emma’s number and ask her to join me for dinner. I’m feeling better as I walk back to the cottage. We haven’t seen each other for days, and I have no intention of sleeping alone tonight.

  I’m smiling as I turn the corner into my street, and I’m not paying attention, but I’m sure it’s Jen’s car that drives past as I walk towards my front door.

  I don’t react. I keep my head down until I reach the cottage. When I glance round, the car is gone.

  *****

  Emma is smiling when I open the door to her, her hands behind her back. She steps inside, out of the cold, and reveals a bottle of wine in each hand.

  “Dinner?” She says, grinning.

  There’s something intoxicating about this woman. She comes when I call, she stands with me when the group turns against me, and she invited herself into my bed. I should ask her for an update. Find out what the cell has been doing while I’ve been staring at fishing boats.

  But I can’t help myself. I can ask all that later.

  I take the wine bottles to the table, then turn back and kiss her, my hands racing to her waist and the tight muscles under her T-shirt.

  “Easy, David,” she says, pulling away. She looks me in the eye, smiling. “I missed you, too.”

  “But?”

  “But … what’s wrong with a little romance? You invited me to dinner, remember?”

  I step back, running one hand through my hair and willing myself to calm down. “Sure,” I say, pushing myself to smile. “Dinner.”

  She has me on a leash, this woman. I wanted this. I wanted another girl to control and enjoy, but she’s using my own playbook against me. And I’m caught. I can’t walk away. This isn’t Private Penny. This isn’t someone I can use and drop when she starts making demands.

  I have to keep Emma on my side until I’m finished here, whatever she asks of me.

  “So,” she says, looking into the tiny kitchen. “Do you actually have any food, or were you hoping I’d forget what I drove here for?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “That’s why you drove here?”

  She smiles again. “Come on, David,” she says, heading for the fridge. “Let’s eat.”

  *****

  We heat up two ready meals and eat them at the table in the corner of the living room.

  “Romance me,” she says as we sit down, so I do. I ask about her favourite things. Her favourite places. Best childhood memories. I take an interest, and she’s happy to talk.

  She asks me questions, too, and after the first bottle of wine, I realise I’m having trouble keeping my story straight. I’ve already had three pints at the bar on the waterfront, and I hadn’t planned for this. My fake identity only goes so far, and I’m making things up as we’re talking, desperately trying to keep track of what I’ve said.

  I’m losing my touch. I should be making sure she’s drinking more wine than I am. I should be controlling the conversation.

  But I need this group, and I need her to help me manage them. I need to keep her happy.

  So it’s a relief when she pushes her plate away, and takes my hand.

  “Consider me romanced,” she says, and kisses me across the table.

  Boat

  When I open my eyes, it’s to Emma shrugging
into her T-shirt and searching the floor for her leggings. My head feels heavy and my stomach is growling. We had too much wine last night, and not enough food.

  “Good morning,” she says, and leans over the bed to kiss me, pulling away before I can drag her back into my arms. I lie back, groaning.

  It should be her, sleeping late, not me.

  “Give you a lift to Kieran’s?” She sounds far too perky as she reaches under the bed for her socks.

  I shake my head. “Can’t,” I say, aware that this is the opposite of romantic. “Boat stuff.”

  She smiles. “Then I won’t keep you.” She nudges my foot as she walks towards the door. “Go get me a boat!”

  I can’t help groaning again. She’s giving me orders, and I can’t afford to disobey.

  It’s only when I hear her car keys jangling as she opens the front door that I remember last night.

  Jen’s car, on my street. If Emma drove here herself, why was Jen driving past yesterday evening?

  I drag myself out of bed and pull back the edge of the curtain. Right outside, Emma is shrugging off her coat and climbing into her own car. I watch until she drives away.

  I must have made a mistake. It can’t have been Jen.

  I think back, but all I have is a glimpse. An old-fashioned red car.

  I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t paying attention.

  I was thinking about Emma.

  *****

  I make myself get up and take a shower. I have a week left to set the group up with a trawler, and make sure they’re ready to do this job by themselves. I’m needed in London, and I can’t keep coming back to Canterbury to babysit them through the mission. As soon as I’m sure they’re ready, they’re on their own.

  And so am I. When I leave, that’s it for me and Emma. It’s back to the Home Forces, and whichever unsuspecting girl Lee chooses next.