Hostage (11 page)

The man was chewing slowly on a stick of gum
as he blocked Connor’s way.

‘Did you get a good shot?’ he
asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Connor, showing
his phone to his surveillance tutor. ‘It was the square-jawed man with the gold
stud in his right ear.’

Bugsy raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed.
‘And what about the woman who was following you? Did you take a photo of her
too?’

Connor’s brow creased in puzzlement.
‘What woman?’

‘The blonde in the green
jacket.’

Connor vaguely remembered someone fitting
that description, but couldn’t quite place where.

‘What about the one in the red jacket
and sunglasses?’ asked Bugsy.

‘You mean the woman by the bus
stop?’

Bugsy nodded.

‘No,’ admitted Connor.
‘That was the first time I’d seen her.’

‘They’re the
same
person,’ revealed his surveillance tutor with a grin. ‘Just a reversible
coat and sunglasses. It’s
amazing how a simple disguise can be
enough to fool the untrained observer. And a word of warning: women are far better
chameleons than men in that regard.’

Charley and the rest of Alpha team appeared
from behind the van.

‘So how did Connor fare at
anti-surveillance?’ Bugsy asked them.

‘Pretty good. For a first
attempt,’ said Amir, punching Connor lightly on the arm.

‘He kept his techniques covert,’
observed Marc. ‘Nice use of windows and natural looking around.’

Connor smiled, pleased by his friends’
compliments.

‘Until he stared right at his tail in
the main street, that is,’ Jason was keen to point out. ‘That was overt. The
guy knew he was on to him then.’

Connor hadn’t expected praise from
Jason – and didn’t get any. Their relationship was still pretty frosty after their
unarmed combat tussle the week before.

‘But loads of people looked,’
argued Ling. ‘That idiot almost got himself killed.’

‘I think Connor was clever to use the
alley as a “choke point”,’ noted Charley.

‘Agreed,’ said Bugsy. ‘If
any tail had followed him through, their surveillance would have been exposed. But he
still failed to spot the woman.’

He pointed to a blue estate car two rows
behind Connor. The blonde-haired lady was behind the wheel. She gave Connor a teasing
wave. Beside her sat the square-jawed man with the gold stud.

‘You must remember that experienced
operatives work in teams. There won’t be just one person following you or your
Principal. And they’ll take it in turns to avoid detection.’

Connor nodded, his lesson learnt. Bugsy had
been training Alpha team in anti-surveillance techniques for the past week. He’d
explained that any coordinated attack was always preceded by a period of surveillance.
If that surveillance was detected early enough, the attack might be abandoned. The
problem was spotting the operatives in the first place. And if the enemy was an
organized terrorist group, then they would be highly trained and virtually impossible to
detect.

‘Criminals, terrorists and kidnappers
look the same as everyone else,’ reminded Bugsy. ‘Men, women, young and old,
any could be monitoring your Principal. Children – just like
you
– are also
used as information gatherers. A skilled operative will be the “grey”
person, the one who blends into a crowd – so you have to suspect everyone.’

He popped another stick of chewing gum into
his mouth before offering the packet round.

‘The key to identifying surveillance
is to force multiple sightings and unnatural behaviour,’ he explained, chewing
voraciously. ‘Drop a piece of paper and see whether anyone picks it up to examine
it. Frequently change direction – although try to have a reason for doing this,
otherwise the technique is quite obvious. Get on a bus and jump off at the next
stop.’

‘You could use your mobile phone to
scan the area for Bluetooth devices,’ suggested Amir. ‘If the same username
pops up in two or more locations, then you’ve got a
ping!’

Bugsy grinned as he chewed. ‘Now
that’s
a new trick!’ he remarked, nodding appreciatively at his
student. ‘In terms of unnatural behaviour, look for people peering round corners,
over stands or through doors and windows. Check for “mirroring” – if you
cross the road, who else crosses the road? They’ll have some means of
communication, so watch out for a clenched fist or mic switch. A vacant expression on a
person can be a dead giveaway – they’re concentrating on a radio transmission.
Fidgeting, talking to themselves or the avoidance of eye contact are all possible signs.
Also be vigilant for handovers. If you suspect an individual, watch them closely but
covertly. They may identify another operative by hand signals, eye contact or using a
mobile phone.’

Connor now realized that the square-jawed
man’s stare at the blonde-haired lady had been a blatant signal – and he’d
missed it.

‘Anti-surveillance is sometimes the
only way to meet a threat and deter – or even survive – an attack,’ Bugsy
emphasized. ‘So stay in Code Yellow and keep your eyes peeled for repeated
sightings. Remember:
Once is happenstance. Twice is circumstance. Three times means
enemy action.
’

Hazim kept the sub-machine gun tucked into
his shoulder as he crouched behind the rusting oil barrel. A soldier with a rifle
emerged from behind a building to his left. Hazim squeezed the trigger. His weapon let
loose a deafening barrage. The soldier was hit in quick succession by four body
shots.

Almost immediately two more soldiers
appeared. Kedar, who stood in the shelter of a nearby doorway, raked them with gunfire.
Then a woman darted across from the opposite building. Hazim targeted her, but his
initial burst of bullets missed. Hurriedly re-aiming, he fired again. The woman was
winged twice in the hip before going down.

More enemy popped up. Hazim sprayed them in
a deadly hail of gunfire, the sub-machine jarring against his shoulder like a
jackhammer. His palms became sticky with sweat and a red haze seized him as the gun
thundered in his grip. He spun on a girl standing in a doorway. His bullets ripped
through her too. Only too late did he realize his mistake as the teddy bear clasped in
her arms was shredded into tatters.

‘Cease fire!’ barked Kedar.

Hazim took a trembling finger off the
trigger. His breathing was rapid and the air was tainted with the smell of burnt
gunpowder and hot metal.

‘Good shooting,’ commended
Kedar, slapping Hazim on the back.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean
to kill the girl,’ replied Hazim. ‘I lost control.’

Kedar grinned. ‘It’s easily
done. With one of those guns in your hand, you can feel invincible. But you must remain
focused.’

Kedar reset the cardboard targets on the
private shooting range and turned to the other men in the group.

‘The Secret Service agents will be
well armed and highly trained,’ he warned them. ‘That’s why we must be
capable of holding our own in a gun battle.’

He raised his compact sub-machine gun aloft.
‘But don’t worry, we’ll possess equal firepower and meet force with
force.’

Kedar aimed at the furthest target on the
range and planted a bullet straight between the figure’s eyes, before obliterating
the target’s head entirely.

The
crack
of a gunshot shattered the
peace of the valley, sending a flock of startled birds into the sky.

‘RUN!’ bawled Amir into
Connor’s ear.

Roughly seized by the shoulder, Connor was
spun round and shoved in the opposite direction to the shooter. Amir was directly behind
him, holding his body close to shield Connor from the threat. Like some mad three-legged
race, they sprinted across the field for the safety of a stone wall.

‘Keep going,’ ordered Amir,
gripping him tight.

As they neared the wall, Connor spotted a
burning fuse amid the grass.

‘Grenade!’ he cried.

Amir’s eyes widened in panic and he
attempted to alter their course. But their feet became tangled up by the sudden change
in direction. They both tumbled to the ground, landing face first in the dirt. The
grenade exploded inches from their heads. There was a blinding flash. An ear-splitting
blast. Then a shower of red sparks rained down on them.

‘That was close,’ remarked Amir,
laughing nervously as the firecracker burnt out.

Connor dislodged Amir from his back and glared
at him. ‘Not as close as this sheep muck!’

Amir stifled a snigger as Connor wiped off a
dark brown smear of dung from his face with his sleeve.

‘Gross,’ said Amir, but his
amusement was brought to a swift end when he heard the angry shouts of their
instructor.

‘A-C-E,’ said Jody despairingly,
as the two of them rejoined Alpha team on the school’s front lawn. ‘Amir,
have you forgotten what that means?’

Amir shook his head. ‘Assess the
threat. Counter the danger. Escape the kill zone.’

‘Then why didn’t you assess your
escape route? It’s no good running with your Principal if you’re heading in
the wrong direction. Or worse – towards the threat itself!’

Jody was teaching Alpha team the concept of
‘body cover’: how to effectively shield a Principal from an attack.
They’d spent all day doing ‘action-on-drills’: grabbing their
Principal from sitting, standing, walking and running positions, and covering them
against various assaults from the front, rear, left, right and even from above. Through
constant practice, the aim was to make A-C-E as instinctive as ducking.

‘Whenever there’s an apparent
danger, you must assess the situation
before
you react,’ Jody reminded
them. ‘This might take a millisecond or ten seconds, but it’s vital to your
survival. The threat – whether it is a punch, a knife, a bullet or even an egg –
determines your response. Then, once the assessment is made, you cover your Principal,
placing yourself between them and the threat. For example –’

She grabbed Marc, stepped in front of him and
shouted, ‘STAY BEHIND ME!’

The demonstration took less than a second,
but was effective.

‘You need to control the Principal
both physically and verbally,’ she explained, still holding on to Marc’s
arm. ‘The shock of the attack might have caused
fight
,
flight
or
freeze
. This could mean the Principal is either functioning with you or
has brain fade. Whatever the case, you need to stay in control and ensure they
don’t hamper the evacuation.’ Jody held up her right hand. ‘Leave your
strong arm free to punch and defend. And, when you do evacuate, the body cover must
remain on. As you’ve just witnessed with Connor and Amir’s spectacular
bellyflop into the sheep dung, this isn’t easy. Which is why you need to
practise
.’

She released Marc and asked Connor to step
forward.

‘Punch Marc,’ she
instructed.

Marc looked shocked. ‘But he’s a
kickboxing champion!’

‘And I’m your bodyguard,’
replied Jody with a wink.

Obeying his instructor, Connor swung a fist
at Marc’s face.

‘GET DOWN!’ screamed Jody,
leaping forward and driving her hip into Marc. He was shoved so violently sideways that
he was thrown several metres. But he was no longer under any direct threat and Jody now
engaged with the attack. Effortlessly blocking it, she countered with a hook punch that
stopped just short of Connor’s jaw.

‘You see, by
suddenly
moving
your Principal, the
assailant doesn’t know where to look: at his
original target or at you, his new threat.’

Jody lowered her fist and patted Connor on
the shoulder. ‘Remember to block next time,’ she said with a grin.

‘Isn’t the technique a bit
aggressive
?’ commented Connor, as Marc stood rubbing his bruised hip.
‘You could hurt the Principal.’

‘In a life-threatening situation, this
technique needs to be aggressive,’ Jody replied. ‘The Shove, as I like to
call it, will save your Principal from any direct attack – a punch, a knife or even a
bullet.’