Hostage (12 page)

‘We’re expected to take a
bullet
for someone else!’ exclaimed Amir.

Jody’s expression became solemn.
‘Hopefully, with your training, it won’t ever come to that. And even if it
did you should be wearing your issued body armour. But when you’re on assignment
you take on the very same danger your Principal faces. You are their shield.
That’s why bodyguards are sometimes known as
bullet-catchers
.’

The waves rolled towards the shore, long
white lines that peeled in perfect curls. Bobbing on the sea’s surface like eager
seals, local surfers waited to catch their ride and follow the surge in. Along the
three-mile stretch of golden sand, a few families dotted the shoreline but otherwise the
beach belonged to Alpha team. After twelve weeks of basic training, they’d finally
earned some proper time off and Steve had driven them to the Gower Peninsula to relax.
Now it was June, the sun was warm, the sky cloudless and the day perfect for a barbecue
on the beach.

Jason prodded the sausages and slapped on a
couple more burgers.

‘These should be done in a
minute,’ he announced, swigging from a can of Coke.

Ling lay on her beach towel, soaking up the
sun’s rays. ‘Did you keep my veggie kebabs separate?’

‘Of course,’ said Jason, quickly
shuffling Ling’s food to one side and sharing a guilty grin with Connor and Marc.
Now that training was over, the rivalry between them had relaxed a little. Although
their relationship was still
fractious, Connor had come to realize
Jason wasn’t a bad lad in himself. Just neither of them wanted to be second
best.

For Connor, the past twelve weeks had flown
by and he now felt a completely different person. When a geography lesson was paired
with survival in hostage situations, a physics class with fire training, and
cross-country running with anti-ambush drills, the mix was mind-blowing. It was as if he
now wore special lenses that identified every threat surrounding him on a daily basis.
Connor no longer classed this as ‘paranoia’ – he was simply
aware
of the world, living in Code Yellow. When he walked down a busy street, passers-by
seemed to be in a perpetual, and worrying, state of half-sleep.
Did they notice the
security camera above the shopping centre entrance recording them? Did they have a
clue where the fire exit was in an emergency? Had any of them spotted the suspicious
individual hanging near the cash point?
As a direct result of his training,
Connor instinctively picked up on these details. And though he was alert to more danger
he paradoxically felt safer, since he was now prepared to deal with any trouble that
might occur.

Connor wondered if his mum or gran would
notice the difference in him when he returned to London for the summer holidays. Despite
the intensity of the training, he’d managed to call home every week. His mother
always sounded upbeat and eager to hear news of his progress, although he could tell by
the edge in her voice that she was often in a great deal of pain. He had to gloss over
the details of his bodyguard training, but she was pleased he
was
learning new subjects as well as continuing his martial arts. His gran seemed happy too,
and particularly glad he was paying attention to his ‘other’ studies. Sally
was proving a great help around the house and she’d taken them to local garden
parks and on day trips out of London, something the two of them never could have managed
before. Any doubts Connor had about joining Buddyguard were dispelled each time he heard
about the care they were receiving. Whatever the commitment in becoming a bodyguard, the
sacrifice was worthwhile.

Connor watched a surfer catch a wave and
ride it all the way in.

‘So could
you
do it?’
asked Amir.

‘Surf like that?’ said Connor.
‘No chance.’

‘I mean …’ Amir dug his foot
into the sand ‘… take a bullet for someone else?’

Connor glanced at his friend. Ever since
their body-cover lesson, the spectre of being a ‘bullet-catcher’ had hung
over them. No one really talked about it, but Connor had thought long and hard over the
matter. Was this a risk he was willing to take? Had his father made such a sacrifice?
He’d never been told the full story. And, if his father had, did
he
have
the guts to throw himself in the line of fire?

‘Perhaps,’ replied Connor.
‘If I cared enough about the person.’

‘But as a buddyguard you won’t
know the person at first,’ said Marc.

‘And worse – you might not even like
them!’ added Jason, flipping a burger and glancing in Connor’s
direction.

Ling pulled out her headphones. ‘I
wouldn’t worry about it, Amir. Jody says such a situation rarely
happens.’

‘Rarely doesn’t mean
never
,’ replied Amir. ‘And who’s to say another
person’s life is worth more than mine?’

‘I suppose it’s about standing
up for what is right,’ said Connor. ‘The strong protecting the
weak.’

‘That’s easier said than
done,’ Ling pointed out. ‘And Charley should know.’

Charley had rolled down the beach to the
point where the last gush of the waves fingered the shore. The sea rushed around her
wheels and her feet were lost in the swirling white waters.

‘Is Charley all right down
there?’ asked Connor.

Ling glanced from beneath her shades and
nodded. ‘She likes to get close. Reminds her of her competition days.’

Connor thought back to their unarmed combat
scenario. ‘So Charley actually
was
a pro-surfer?’

Jason laughed. ‘Do koalas live in
trees? Charley was awesome! Youngest Quiksilver Champion ever.’

Connor looked at Charley, constrained by her
wheelchair. He could only imagine the frustration she was experiencing at being unable
to surf – if he couldn’t practise martial arts, he’d go mad.
‘I’ll go tell her that food’s ready.’

Grabbing a drink from the cool box, he
wandered down to the shoreline.

‘I thought you might like a Diet
Coke?’ he said, offering Charley the ice-cold can.

She accepted it and offered him a brief
smile.

‘There’s a good swell
today,’ she said wistfully. ‘Nothing like LA, but the breaks are clean and
long.’

Connor nodded as if he knew what she was
talking about. He wished he had more knowledge of surfer speak. The icy cold sea washed
up his legs, soaking his shorts, and he jumped back.

Charley didn’t move. ‘I just
love the feel of the waves. Their power. The overwhelming rush as the surf seizes you.
Nothing in the world compares to riding a wave.’

Connor studied her face, bathed in the
golden sun, her bright eyes keenly following a surfer. He noticed that in her hand she
clasped the gold Buddyguard badge.

She’s certainly brave
, he
thought,
but was the sacrifice worth it?

‘Mr President, here are the files on
the organization you enquired about.’

‘Thank you, George,’ said
President Mendez, taking the folder marked
CONFIDENTIAL
from his White
House Chief of Staff.

Leaning back in his leather chair in the
Oval Office, he studied the winged shield on the first page, then read the opening
summary. After a thoughtful pause, he glanced over to a broad-chested man dressed in
full military attire.

‘You can vouch for this Colonel Black,
General?’

‘One hundred per cent, Mr
President,’ replied General Martin Shaw, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and
the highest-ranking military officer in the United States Armed Forces. ‘Colonel
Black and I go back a long way. Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan. I’d trust him with my
life.’

‘What about your child’s?’
remarked a tall man pointedly, who sat ramrod straight on the Oval Office’s cream
upholstered couch. With premature grey hair and stress lines around his eyes, Dirk
Moran, the Director of
the Secret Service, was far less enthusiastic
about the current issue on the agenda.

The general nodded. ‘If you met the
colonel, you would too.’

‘But we’re not talking about
him, are we?’ replied Dirk, pushing his objection further. ‘We’re
considering a
child
protecting the President’s daughter.’

‘They’re teenagers
actually,’ corrected the White House Chief of Staff. ‘And this Buddyguard
organization has an impressive track record.’

‘So does my son on sports day, but
I’m not considering
him
for the Olympics!’ said Dirk, standing up
as he struggled to control his frustration. ‘A child bodyguard is a joke! Trained
or otherwise, they’re simply not in the same league as a Secret Service
agent.’

‘That’s true. They’re in
an entirely
different
league,’ observed the general, raising an eyebrow.
‘No one would ever suspect a teenager to be a bodyguard. A buddyguard would
provide an “invisible” ring of protection around the President’s
daughter. He or she can go where your Secret Service agents can’t.’

Dirk turned to the President, whose dark
brown eyes followed their discussion with interest.

‘Mr President, you have at your
disposal the finest and most dedicated close-protection force in the world,’ he
implored. ‘Are you convinced this is necessary?’

The chief of staff stepped forward and
interrupted with a polite cough. ‘Dirk, you can’t deny that there have been
a few holes in the Secret Service net recently.’

Dirk’s jaw tightened. ‘Granted,
but they have been
plugged
.’

‘I have complete faith in your team,
Dirk,’ assured President Mendez. ‘But, considering the severe threat level
the Director of National Intelligence has advised us of, a buddyguard seems like a
sensible extra precaution.’

‘I’ve read Karen Wright’s
report. All the more reason to
tighten
security. Not to introduce a weakness.
We need only double the Secret Service team,’ suggested Dirk.

‘You know my daughter won’t
stand for any increased protection,’ replied the President, holding his hands up
in resigned despair. ‘That was the source of the problem in the first
place.’

‘We can function
low
profile.
There’s no need to resource externally –’

‘Dirk, I understand your concerns. But
I must consider every option when it comes to my family’s safety. Let me examine
the profiles first. If none prove suitable, we won’t pursue the matter any
further. Is that acceptable?’

Dirk reluctantly nodded his agreement and
sat back down.

When it came to serious decisions, President
Mendez always kept his cards close to his chest. Therefore he hadn’t disclosed the
similar doubts that he shared with his Secret Service Director. It seemed unbelievable
that he was considering entrusting the life of his daughter into the hands of a young
teenager! The buddyguard in question would have to be truly exceptional to deserve his
approval.

He studied each of the profiles in turn, his
forefinger
rubbing at his temple as he read. The list of potential
candidates was short but impressive, their credentials and training equal to any
professional close-protection officer.

Dirk watched as the President turned over
each page, setting none aside. When the final profile was reached, he allowed himself a
satisfied smirk. At last he could put this absurd proposal back into his filing cabinet
where it belonged and get on with his job of protecting the President and his
family.

‘I cannot believe this,’ uttered
President Mendez under his breath.

‘I’m glad you agree, Mr
President,’ said Dirk, shooting a subtle but triumphant glance at his associates.
‘However, you can be assured that my department will maintain impenetrable
security round your daughter.’

But President Mendez wasn’t listening.
He held up the last sheet and handed it to his chief of staff.

‘Contact Colonel Black
immediately,’ he instructed. ‘Tell him that we’ll be requiring his
organization’s services.’