Hostage (38 page)

A bucket in the corner, replaced
infrequently, was their sole means of a toilet. Connor used the mattress to offer Alicia
some privacy at these times. There were no washing facilities provided either and this
added to their discomfort, Alicia suffering more than Connor with this indignity.

Early on, Connor had noticed a small camera
lens above the door, so they knew they were being watched. And probably overheard too.
With that in mind, the two of them had taken the precaution of whispering everything
into each other’s ears, with their backs to the camera or a hand cupped over their
mouths to avoid any possibility of lip-reading.

‘Don’t you think we should try
to escape?’ Alicia suggested, looking to the door in the vain hope that one of
their guards had forgotten to lock it.

‘Only as a last resort,’ Connor
replied, heeding Colonel Black’s advice. The chances of success had to be high or
the situation so desperate that it demanded an escape attempt. Otherwise such a move was
potentially suicidal. Moreover, escape was merely the beginning. The ability to evade
the enemy and survive in a foreign country was the
real
challenge. And, since
they didn’t know where they were, this would be a leap into the unknown. They
could be high in the mountains, in a remote hostile village or in the middle of an
endless desert.

‘Why haven’t they found us
yet?’ Alicia asked, her tone almost pleading.

‘Your father’s probably still
negotiating, while also playing for time.’

‘But what if that fails? Even I
realize the terrorists’ terms are impossible to meet. Nobody’s worth that
sacrifice … not even me.’

‘You mustn’t think like
that,’ said Connor, conscious he had to keep Alicia’s mind occupied with
positive thoughts. Lack of sleep and enforced captivity were making them both
over-anxious. But she was starting to show signs of self-pity and he couldn’t
allow her to drift into despair.

‘Listen, when the rescue occurs, drop
to the floor immediately,’ he advised. ‘There’ll probably be a lot of
gunfire and smoke from stun grenades. Cover your head with your hands and arms to
protect yourself. Let the rescuers know who you are by yelling out your name. And
don’t make any false moves in case you’re mistaken for a terrorist. You
don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.’

Alicia nodded, gazing at him with
admiration.

‘I’m sorry,’ she
whispered.

‘For what?’ asked Connor.

‘For not appreciating you …’
Alicia seemed to be hunting for the right words. ‘At the time I was so upset that
you weren’t who you said you were. Now I’m glad you
are
who you
are. My buddyguard.’

She nestled closer to him, seeking the
safety of his embrace.

‘There’s no need to
apologize,’ said Connor.

Alicia buried her head in his chest and
Connor felt his T-shirt moisten with her tears.

‘You might be released soon,’ she
said, keeping her voice light and joyous. ‘That’ll be good news.’

But Connor sensed the tight knot of terror
in her heart at being left to cope on her own.

‘I won’t leave you,’ he
said.

‘But you might not have a
choice.’

Connor held Alicia close. ‘I made a
promise to your father that I’d protect you, just like my father protected yours.
And I will … on my life.’

Malik angrily hurled the remote control at
the television in the corner of the sparsely furnished front room. It barely missed,
shattering against the wall behind. On the screen ran a CNN newsfeed of a blonde-haired
woman reporting on the aftermath of the bomb attack on Washington DC. But there was no
coverage of the mass pardon for terrorist prisoners that Malik had demanded.

‘
Why haven’t they released
any of our brothers yet?
’ he shouted.

Bahir and Kedar exchanged uneasy glances
over their leader’s unexpected outburst of rage.

‘This is the game they play,’
Bahir replied softly, putting down the smartphone he’d been tinkering with.
‘They say “no negotiation”. But they will. Eventually.’

‘I wish I had your patience,’
remarked Malik, shoving a handful of khat leaves into his mouth and chewing manically.
‘First, the US Government tried to stall for time by asking for specific names,
which is why I had the list already prepared,’ he said smugly, tapping a
forefinger to his temple. ‘Then the infidels tried offering us money.
A typical American solution to everything, although they didn’t
have the
respect
to present it to us directly!’

‘And now they’ll wait until the
final hour before contacting us again,’ Bahir pointed out.

‘That’s when our brothers will
be freed, right?’ said Kedar, trying to back up Bahir and reassure their
leader.

Malik shook his head, dark thunder swirling
in his eyes. ‘No, I bet they’ll plead for an
extension
of the
deadline.’ Fuming at the idea, he spat a gob of green spit on to the floor, just
missing Hazim as he entered the room with a tray of food. ‘But we won’t give
it to them!’

With a troubled look at his irate uncle,
Hazim timidly approached. ‘Do you still want your dinner?’ he asked.

‘Of course!’ snapped Malik,
slumping down on a cushion to eat.

As Malik tore off some flatbread and dunked
it in a bowl of hummus, Bahir said, ‘The Americans’ push for delay is
understandable, from
their
point of view. They’ll be desperate for more
time to allow their agencies to pinpoint our location.’

‘What!’ exclaimed Hazim, his
hands now trembling as he poured his uncle a cup of coffee. ‘You mean they could
find us here?’

‘Don’t look so worried,
Hazim,’ laughed Malik, offering a green-stained grin. ‘They’ll
never
find us. Isn’t that right, Bahir?’

Bahir nodded confidently. ‘As I told
you before, Hazim, all the jammers are operational and the ghost server relays are fully
functional. So we should
all
just try to relax. There are still six hours to go
to the deadline.’

‘But what happens when they don’t
comply with our demands?’ asked Hazim.

Malik unsheathed the
jambiya
from
his belt and held the fearsome blade in front of Hazim’s face.

‘Then we prove our
commitment
to our cause.’

‘Please tell me that’s the
last
press conference I have today,’ said President Mendez, rubbing a
hand across his haggard face. ‘I don’t think I can hide my loss much
longer.’

‘Yes, it can be,’ replied Lara,
the Press Secretary, checking her schedule. ‘I’ll ask the Vice-President to
cover the remaining two.’

‘Thank you,’ he sighed. He was
worn out, the worry for his daughter leaving a hollow inside so great he felt
paper-thin. With trepidation, he made his way down to the ground floor of the West Wing.
So far there’d been no success in locating her, or Connor, and he was beginning to
despair. But, as he entered the Situation Room, Dirk strode over to him, a victorious
gleam in his eye.

‘Mr President, I’ve some good
news. We’ve found them!’

President Mendez was suddenly alert, all
tiredness blasted away. ‘Where?’

‘Yemen,’ replied Karen, calling
up a satellite map of the Middle Eastern country on the central monitor. ‘A
private plane flew out of Stafford Airport just two hours after the attacks. The
official documentation stated the destination
as Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
But a trace of its flight path shows the plane
actually
landing in neighbouring
Yemen.’

‘The digital trail also ends
there,’ stated Dirk. ‘There were multiple relay servers and spoofed
identities, but the email appears to have originated from the capital city of
Sana’a. This was confirmed by Colonel Black’s surveillance
operative.’

Colonel Black now stepped forward. Even
though Bugsy had been the first to trace the email, he let this fact pass. There were
far more important matters than point scoring against the Secret Service Director.
‘My team also scrubbed the video’s audio track and identified a “Call
to Prayer” sounding in the background.’ The colonel replayed the short piece
of enhanced recording over the Situation Room’s speakers and an echoing chant,
barely audible above the hiss and general noise of the video, filled the room.
‘This particular one is quite distinctive to the region.’

President Mendez nodded. ‘So where
exactly do you suspect my daughter is being held?’

‘CIA have eyes on the ground
there,’ explained Karen. ‘They report there’s been increased activity
at a location on the outskirts of the city.’

An aerial view of an arid plain and
mud-brick city zoomed in to a large building surrounded by a walled compound. The
real-time satellite feed revealed four figures patrolling the perimeter.

‘I’ve a Navy SEAL unit stationed
just off the coast of Yemen,’ announced General Shaw. ‘They can be at the
target within twenty minutes by attack helicopter.’

‘How certain are you my daughter’s
there?’ asked President Mendez, studying the aerial shot of the building intently,
not daring to let hope enter his heart just yet.

‘We can’t be one hundred per
cent,’ admitted Dirk, ‘but all the indications are strong. An infra-red
satellite scan indicated people inside and there were a few suspicious cold spots within
the building too.’

George interrupted. ‘Shouldn’t
we allow time for a negotiated release? We’ve still five hours left. That’s
surely our best chance of recovering your daughter unharmed.’

‘The secretary of state made our
position crystal clear on that,’ reminded Karen. ‘The US Government cannot
be seen to negotiate with terrorists. Besides, there’s no guarantee they’ll
honour their side of a deal anyway.’

‘More hostages are killed during
rescue attempts than from execution by their captors,’ George noted. ‘We
should wait this out.’

‘Mr President, if we don’t move
now, we may never get another opportunity,’ urged General Shaw.

President Mendez held up his hand, asking
for silence. ‘What’s the mission’s probability of success?’

General Shaw swallowed uncomfortably.
‘I won’t lie to you. Intelligence estimates a fifty–fifty chance. But this
is our
best
hope of rescuing her.’

President Mendez closed his eyes, feeling
weighed down by an almost impossible decision – he was literally gambling with his
daughter’s life.

‘The odds are improved by
Connor’s presence, though,’
stated Colonel Black.
‘He’ll stand by her side and do all that’s necessary to protect
her.’

President Mendez considered this, recalling
how his own life had been saved by Connor’s father. Opening his eyes, he finally
declared, ‘It’s a high-risk strategy, but it’s a measure of my
desperation. General Shaw, you have my GO for the mission.’

The two Black Hawk helicopters swooped low
over the desert ridges, phantoms against the moonless sky. The six-man Navy SEAL unit,
split equally between the two choppers, remained silent and focused, checking their
equipment for a final time.