Hostage (20 page)

‘I trust you had a good first day,
Connor?’ asked Kyle as he shut Alicia’s door.

‘Tiring, but otherwise
uneventful.’

‘That’s
exactly
how it
should be,’ he replied with a wink.

The two black limos turned down a side street
just as a woman with a baby stroller walked out into the middle of the road. The driver
of the lead limo put on his brakes, slowing to allow her to cross. But when the mother
was halfway she reached into the stroller and drew out a large black gun. Aiming the
muzzle at the limo’s grille, she pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened
apparently
.

There was no bang. No sound of a bullet or
projectile hitting the limo. Just a tiny mechanical
click
and a frisson in the
air, like just before a bolt of lightning is about to strike.

The driver floored the accelerator. But the
limo failed to respond.

Unseen by the human eye, an intense
electromagnetic pulse had been unleashed. Channelling through the metalwork of each car,
the massive energy surge fried all the internal circuitry. Both engines died.
Power-assisted steering failed. So did the headlights, along with every other electronic
system that the handheld EMP weapon had
knocked out – including radios
and mobile phones. In an instant, the two armour-plated limos were rendered useless
hunks of metal. Without power or control, they simply hit the kerb and juddered to a
halt.

A second later, several armed men, their
faces concealed by bandanas, broke from the cover of the side alleys. Keeping their
weapons trained on the two immobile limos, they surrounded their targets and closed
in.

Realizing they were sitting ducks, the
agents jumped out of their vehicles to engage with the enemy. But snipers on the nearby
roofs took each of them down before a single shot was fired in retaliation, their
muffled long-range rifles sounding no louder than a whisper to ensure the ambush
wasn’t heard in the adjacent streets.

In fact, the entire attack was executed in
sinister silence.

Inside the front limo, the remaining
occupants were cocooned within the armoured box of the passenger section. No way in –
but no way out for them either.

Kedar rushed forward and crouched beside the
rear door. Pulling out a circular metal device from his backpack, he fixed it to the
reinforced glass window.

‘Keep clear!’ he warned,
sheltering behind the limo’s bumper. Then he pressed a button.

A high-pitched whirring quickly built in
intensity. Just as the sound reached the limit of human hearing, the sonic charge
shattered the bulletproof glass. Chunks, like cracked ice, fell to the ground. As soon
as the security of the limo was breached, Kedar was at the window with his gun.

‘Out!’ he growled.

Malik’s face appeared, a crooked smile
on his lips. He checked his watch.

‘Not bad, Kedar,’ he said.
‘The technology works. But your team needs to shave off another eight
seconds.’

He opened the limo door and looked around
the disused industrial estate. The downed “agents” were getting to their
feet, rubbing their chests where their bulletproof vests had taken the impact of the
snipers’ “simunition” rounds.

‘Drill your men again,’ Malik
ordered. ‘This ambush has
only
a sixty-second window of opportunity. I
intend to seize it.’

Connor collapsed on his bed in the White
House guest room. His head aching, he closed his eyes for a moment, while he waited for
his laptop to boot up. Maybe it was jet lag or the strain of his first day on protection
detail, or a combination of both, but he felt utterly drained. Colonel Black had
insisted that Code Yellow became easier with practice. Connor seriously hoped that was
the case, otherwise he’d likely burn out from exhaustion in the coming weeks.

He picked up his father’s key fob from
the bedside table. He’d overlaid the photo of himself with his father’s, cut
from the picture Colonel Black had given him. Squeezing the talisman in his hand, he
wondered how his father could have done this job day in, day out. While the training had
been tough, Connor had never expected actual close protection to be so demanding – and
nothing had really happened apart from going to school. But there was always an
underlying pressure that came with the responsibility of protecting someone. He may be
the last ring in the Secret Service’s defence, but if any attacker did get through
he
would be the one held accountable for Alicia’s life … or death.
And that weighed heavily on his mind.

His laptop buzzed and the Buddyguard logo
flashed on the screen. Unlocking the device with his fingerprint, he clicked the Answer
button. Charley’s smiling face appeared. She looked fresh and vibrant, despite the
time being 1 a.m. in the UK.

‘Catch you sleeping, did we?’
she teased, seeing Connor rub the tiredness from his eyes.

‘Almost,’ he admitted,
yawning.

‘Don’t worry, your body will
adjust to the time zone in a couple of days. When I was on assignment, it took me at
least a week to get used to the new routine. How’s your Principal?’

‘Fine,’ replied Connor.
‘Alicia obviously dislikes having the Secret Service everywhere, but there’s
no sign of that impulsive streak you mentioned.’

‘Once she gets to know you, she may
open up a bit more and show her true colours,’ said Charley.

Marc leant into the camera’s view.

‘Is she as –’ he raised his
eyebrows meaningfully – ‘as she looks in the photos?’

Connor couldn’t help smiling at
Marc’s off-assignment question. If he was honest, he’d been concentrating so
much on protecting his Principal that he hadn’t considered that aspect since their
first meeting. He couldn’t deny Alicia was very pretty. And in different
circumstances he may have paid her looks a lot more attention. But that sort of thinking
could become a dangerous distraction. Colonel
Black had very clearly
stated that a buddyguard’s role was to protect. Any involvement beyond friendship
was a line
never
to be crossed when on assignment. It could cloud one’s
judgement and potentially endanger the protectee. Nonetheless, Connor grinned and nodded
in reply to Marc.

‘Well, don’t get too
cosy,’ said Charley sharply. ‘You’re there to do a job. And, judging
by the increased chatter on the internet and our communications intercepts, your role is
more vital than ever.’

‘Has a threat been made?’ asked
Connor, sitting up.

‘Not directly. But there are
indications of a number of terrorist attacks being planned against the United States.
Nothing concrete, but the CIA and Secret Service are certainly twitchy. You should ask
Dirk Moran for an update.’

Connor gave a strained smile.
‘I’ll ask, but he’s not exactly welcoming me with open
arms.’

Charley nodded, immediately grasping the
situation. ‘This often happens at the start of an operation. There’s always
someone who doubts the capability of a buddyguard. You’ll have to gain the
director’s trust. Until then, that’s what we’re here for. I’ll
ask Amir to email you an encrypted threat update.’

‘Thanks,’ said Connor. ‘At
least I’ll know what to watch out for.’

‘So, do you have anything to
report?’

Connor shook his head. ‘Not really. It
was a normal school day – or as normal as it can be for a buddyguard! At first I
suspected everyone from students to teachers. But
that can’t
last, so I’m going to study the staff list tonight. The drop-off and pick-up by
Secret Service is tight, as would be expected. Other than that, I learnt how to say
“Where’s the toilet?” in Chinese –
Cèsuŏ zài
năli?
’

‘
Hĕn hăo
,’
complimented Charley, yet again surprising Connor with her hidden talents. ‘Well,
it’s a good day when nothing happens. Let’s hope it stays that
way.’

‘Are you sure you want to join this
class?’ asked Alicia, raising a doubtful eyebrow at Connor. ‘You don’t
have to do
everything
I do, you know. Most of the boys have opted to play
baseball.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ said
Connor. ‘I’ve always wanted to learn to dance properly.’

Connor hoped he sounded convincing.
He’d never considered dance class before in his life, but he needed to stay close
by Alicia to do his job. As they entered the school gymnasium, Connor discovered, to his
dismay, he was one of only three boys in the entire class.

‘Hey, over here!’ called Grace,
beckoning them to join her and Paige on a side bench. As they approached, Grace gave him
an odd look. ‘I wouldn’t have thought this was your sort of thing,
Connor.’

‘You English boys are full of
surprises,’ giggled Paige, slipping on a pair of glittery dance shoes. ‘Have
you done salsa before?’

‘No,’ replied Connor, beginning
to feel nervous at the
prospect. ‘The closest I’ve ever
got to salsa is some sauce with a bag of tortilla chips!’

Despite the weakness of his joke, the girls
all laughed. But they stifled their amusement when an elegant elderly lady appeared and
clapped her hands for their attention. Connor recognized the woman from the staff photo
file as Miss Ashworth, a former professional ballroom dancer who had toured the world
several times.

‘Class, we’ll continue with the
Cuban-style salsa step from the previous lesson,’ she announced, her tone clipped
and precise. ‘Alicia and Oliver, would you please demonstrate?’

Alicia joined a young blond boy in front of
the theatre stage and Miss Ashworth pressed Play on a CD machine. A lively,
percussion-filled, horn-heavy dance track filled the gym hall and Oliver led Alicia
through a series of seemingly complex moves. Connor watched in growing awe as they
danced energetically to the music. Alicia was a natural mover, her hips swaying, her
arms flowing and her feet shimmying across the floor in a dazzling, twirling display.
Her ability was matched only by her enthusiasm. She literally threw herself into the
music and seemed to come alive under its influence.

Miss Ashworth paused the CD. ‘Not
bad,’ she conceded. ‘Just be careful where you put the break step. Now,
everyone, find a partner.’

Having seen what was expected, Connor stayed
sitting where he was.

‘That includes you, young man,’
said Miss Ashworth, noting his presence.

Connor smiled politely. ‘I’ll
just watch for the time being, if that’s OK.’

Miss Ashworth gave him a stern look.
‘No, it’s
not
OK. If you’re in my class, you dance. No
exceptions.’

Seeing Connor’s trepidation, Alicia
came over. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll partner you.’

‘It’s
you
who should be
worried. I don’t have much experience at this,’ he admitted, not wanting to
embarrass Alicia – or himself.

‘It’s all right, I’ll lead
you,’ she assured him.

‘Well, on your feet be it!’ he
said, throwing caution to the wind.

They stood opposite one another in line with
the other students. Alicia instructed him to take her right hand in his left and place
his right hand on her upper back, while she put hers on his shoulder.