Hostage (23 page)

Connor stopped browsing the National Air and
Space Museum’s gift shop, suddenly aware Alicia was no longer with him.
‘Where’s Alicia gone?’ he asked Kalila.

‘She said she’ll be back in a
minute,’ replied Kalila, inspecting a soft toy monkey in a blue astronaut suit
from the souvenir rack. ‘I can’t believe NASA used monkeys to test the
biological effects of space travel! That’s so cruel.’

Connor’s eyes swept the gift shop as
he absently picked up a cuddly bear in a white satin space suit and helmet. ‘Looks
like they sent bears up too!’ he joked, finally locating Alicia in the checkout
queue. He also spotted Kyle near the exit of the gift shop, pretending to be a father
simply waiting for his family. Agent Brooke was posted at the entrance, another agent at
a door marked
PRIVATE
, while a fourth browsed the vast array of souvenirs
like a typical tourist. With all exits covered, there was no way Alicia could just
‘disappear’.

‘Found anything else for your
family?’ asked Alicia, returning with a small foil bag in her hand.

Connor shook his head. He’d already
bought a silk scarf
for his gran and a Navajo feather bracelet for his
mum from the American Indian museum. But with his assignment open-ended he had no idea
when he’d be able to give them the gifts personally.

Alicia handed him the bag. ‘I thought
you might like to try this.’

‘Thanks,’ said Connor, examining
the packaging. There was a picture of NASA’s space shuttle taking off, with the
words
Mission Pack: Freeze-dried Ice Cream
. He looked at Alicia. ‘Are you
serious?’

Alicia offered a wry smile.
‘Supposedly, the early
Apollo
astronauts ate it for a snack.’

Ripping open the foil, he pulled out a
multicoloured block of Neapolitan ‘ice cream’ that was bone dry and as light
as Styrofoam. With trepidation, he bit off a chunk.

‘Not bad. Tastes like … solid
candyfloss,’ he said through a mouthful of the crumbling dehydrated dessert.

Since the incident at the Lincoln Memorial,
Alicia and Kalila had taken him on a whistle-stop tour of the best sights along the
National Mall. At the Museum of American History, he’d been shown the tattered
red, white and blue flag that had inspired the US national anthem, ‘The
Star-Spangled Banner’. In the Museum of Natural History, he’d stood at the
foot of a sixty-five-million-year-old Triceratops nicknamed ‘Hatcher’ and
gazed upon the 45-carat Hope Diamond once owned by Marie Antoinette – the jewel having
even more security than Alicia. Then, passing via the Museum of the American Indian, the
three of them had finally ended up at the Air and Space Museum with its
displays of spy planes, sound-barrier-breaking fighters and historic spaceships. To
top it off, he’d had his photo taken in front of all the key landmarks, including
the Washington Monument, the Capitol Building and even, for a joke, the White House.

Connor had been the ultimate tourist, while
Alicia had tried her best to be his enthusiastic host. But the shadow cast by her
ever-present Secret Service had dampened her spirits. Although she willingly joined him
in the photos, her smile no longer quite reached her eyes.

‘How about we go shopping?’
suggested Kalila.

Although shopping wasn’t high on
Connor’s list of favourite activities, the suggestion seemed to perk Alicia
up.

‘I suppose that’s one benefit of
the Secret Service,’ she said, managing a smile. ‘We’ve always a taxi
to hand.’

Leaving the Air and Space Museum, they
jumped into the limo.

‘Take us to Dupont Circle,’ said
Alicia.

The driver nodded and headed northwest up
Pennsylvania Avenue.

‘But I thought you preferred the
fashion stores in Georgetown?’ said Kalila.

‘I do, but I’ve heard
there’s a fantastic new boutique opened up just off Connecticut Avenue,’
Alicia explained, and both girls began to get quite excited at the prospect.

Connor noticed Kyle talking rapidly into his
wrist mic, no doubt instructing his advance team to scope out the intended clothes store
before their arrival.

The SAP team didn’t get long to do their
sweep. The car journey only took ten minutes.

As the three of them entered the boutique,
Connor recognized the watchful face of a Secret Service agent loitering near the
entrance. As soon as Kyle’s team had deployed themselves, he made a subtle exit
with the rest of the SAP agents.

The store itself was a top-end boutique with
wall-to-wall fashion from Europe, as well as unique garments from New York, LA and San
Francisco. Alicia seemed to be in her element as she browsed the racks of designer
clothes.

‘What do you think of this?’
asked Alicia, pulling out a sheer gold dress.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ gasped
Kalila. ‘Are you thinking for the prom?’

Alicia nodded. ‘For you.’

‘No,’ she protested. ‘I
couldn’t get away with wearing that. Besides, I wouldn’t be allowed to.
It’s far too short. But you could –’ Kalila’s phone beeped. She looked
at the message and sighed. Texting a reply, she explained, ‘Sorry, I have to go
home.’

Alicia tried to hide her disappointment.
‘Do you want us to drop you off?’

‘Thanks, but my brother’s
picking me up.’ Her phone beeped again. ‘Wow, he’s parked just round
the corner. I told you they’re my own Secret Service!’

Alicia laughed and the two girls hugged each
other goodbye.

‘See you on Monday, Connor,’
said Kalila.

Connor waved farewell as she hurried out of
the store.

‘Well, it looks like
you’ll
have to be my clothes judge,’ declared Alicia, selecting
a couple more glamorous dresses from the rail. ‘I’ll just try these on, then
we’ll grab a bite to eat.’

Connor watched Alicia make her way to the
changing rooms and smiled to himself in bemused amazement. Never would he have imagined
that one day he’d be shopping with the President’s daughter, let alone
giving advice on what she should wear.

‘How’s it going?’ asked
Kyle, appearing at Connor’s shoulder.

‘Fine,’ replied Connor.
‘But I think you’re doing all the work.’

Kyle shook his head. ‘There
hasn’t been one moment when you weren’t aware of your surroundings. Seems to
me, you’re a natural at this game.’

Connor smiled at the compliment – the first
he’d received from Secret Service. ‘What happened back at the Lincoln
Memorial?’

‘One of the team pinged a man on our
threat list. Rather than cause a scene or alarm Alicia, I decided to simply avoid
contact.’

Alicia popped her head out of the
changing-room cubicle and waved Connor over.

‘Good luck!’ Kyle remarked as he
wandered off, to all intents and purposes appearing the bored husband waiting for his
wife, rather than a Secret Service agent protecting the President’s daughter.

Connor headed over to Alicia and stood beside
her cubicle.

‘Fancy joining me on a little
adventure?’ whispered Alicia, a mischievous grin on her face.

‘What do you mean?’ asked
Connor.

Alicia glanced towards an emergency exit at
the back of the store.

Immediately grasping her intentions, Connor
replied, ‘I
don’t
think that’s a good idea.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a killjoy!
Even a soldier’s son must have broken the rules.’

‘Your father wouldn’t be
happy.’

‘I don’t
care
what he
thinks,’ she shot back. ‘Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?
I get recognized and asked for an autograph or photo.’

Connor could imagine a whole host of other
possibilities and none of them good.

‘Anyway, if there’s real danger,
I’ve a panic alarm in my bag,’ Alicia insisted.

‘I still think it’s too
risky,’ said Connor.

Alicia scowled. ‘Fine. Then
don’t come with me. I just thought it would be a bit of fun.’

She beckoned the shop assistant over.
‘I think that lady over there might be a shoplifter,’ she whispered,
pointing to a blonde-haired woman browsing a nearby rack. ‘I’m sure I saw
her put something in her bag.’

‘Thank you, I’ll call
security,’ replied the assistant, taking Alicia at her word.

Connor looked over his shoulder at the
shoplifter, only
to discover the accused was Agent Brooke. A few
moments later, a burly security guard approached her and asked to inspect her bag. While
the agent was distracted, Alicia made a bolt for the emergency exit.

Connor realized he had to alert Kyle. It was
his duty. But, if he did, Alicia would know and she’d no longer confide in him as
a friend. He’d lose that essential connection that enabled him to be an effective
and covert buddyguard.

Caught between a rock and a hard place,
Connor had no choice but to follow her.

Bursting out of the back door into an alley,
Alicia was off like a shot. Connor was on her tail, but he was left for dust as she
sprinted past some dump bins and disappeared round a corner.

‘Wait!’ cried Connor, realizing
now why Alicia was the captain of her school team.

He pursued her down a deserted side street.
But Alicia was still pulling away.

‘Keep up!’ she called, giggling
at the thrill of her escape.

Glad of all his fitness training, Connor put
on a burst of speed. His trainers pounded the tarmac as he followed her left on to the
main road. Then lost her …

The sidewalk was thronged with shoppers and
there was no sign of Alicia. Connor threw his hands up in despair. He was her sole
bodyguard now and he’d already lost track of her within the first minute. Just as
he was about to shout her name, a hand grabbed him from behind and pulled him into a
shop doorway.

‘Careful, they might spot you!’
Alicia whispered, her eyes full of rebellious delight.

Connor realized Charley had been right. Only
now was Alicia showing her true colours. And the President’s daughter had never
looked happier. Like a bird freed from its cage, she was all aflutter with
excitement.

Alicia snatched a quick peek up and down the
street.

‘Not a Secret Service agent in
sight!’ she laughed.

And she thinks that’s good
news
, thought Connor. The real pressure of protection was now on his shoulders
– and his alone.

Oblivious to Connor’s worries, Alicia
opened up her bag and pulled out a short platinum-blonde wig and a large pair of dark
sunglasses. Pinning up her hair, she popped on the wig, then slipped on the Jackie
Onassis-style glasses. In an instant she was transformed from President’s daughter
to … anybody.

‘How do I look?’ Alicia
asked.

‘You planned this!’ Connor
exclaimed.

‘Yes,’ she admitted with a
half-guilty smile. ‘President Johnson’s daughter used to wear a disguise to
dodge the media. I thought I could do the same to escape the Secret Service.’

Connor was astonished at the lengths Alicia
was willing to go to for some personal space.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ said
Alicia, joining the stream of pedestrians.

‘Where to?’ asked Connor.

‘U Street. It has some hip places to
shop and eat.’

Connor stayed close by Alicia’s side.
If anything did happen, he wanted to be within arm’s reach and able to
react fast. From behind his mirrored sunglasses, he scanned their
surroundings just as Bugsy his surveillance instructor had taught him. His eyes flicked
between the faces of approaching people, making snap decisions on their intentions. He
watched the passing traffic for any suspicious vehicles, while noting any nearby
alleyways in case someone was concealed there. In the highest state of Code Yellow, he
had to be alert to
anything
that could materialize into a threat. The good
thing was that Alicia was no longer identifiable as the President’s daughter. That
reduced the risks, but didn’t eliminate them entirely. Every city had its fair
share of crime, violence and accidents – and Washington DC was no exception.

Alicia’s mobile phone rang. She
glanced at the screen, tutted, then turned it off.

A second later, Connor’s phone buzzed
with equal urgency. Pulling it from his jeans pocket, he saw
CALLER ID
WITHHELD
but knew exactly who it would be – Kyle. As his thumb hovered over
the Answer button, Alicia snatched the phone from his grasp.

‘Give that back!’ said
Connor.

‘Later,’ she said, offering him
a playful wink.

Connor made a grab for the phone, but she
danced away. ‘I should at least reply, so they know we’re OK.’

‘What are you so worried about? Let
them sweat a bit.’

Alicia switched off his phone before
dropping it in her bag. Then she trotted off down the street.

Connor sighed in frustration. He
didn’t wish to make a scene. That could draw unwanted attention to the
President’s daughter, so he resigned himself to letting her
have her own way – for the time being.