Hostage (30 page)

Connor had been dreading this call – having
to explain to Colonel Black why the assignment was over. He knew the colonel had pinned
high hopes on him. A successful operation for the United States government would have
boosted the reputation of his organization dramatically.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed Accept and
Colonel Black’s craggy face appeared. Jack braced himself for an earful.

‘We’ve received Secret
Service’s report,’ he growled. ‘What’s your side of the
story?’

Connor related the events of the previous
evening.

Colonel Black nodded and rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. ‘The director’s comments do seem overly harsh. And we knew
we’d hit this problem sooner or later. It just came a little sooner than any of us
expected. Have you tried convincing the President’s daughter of the value of a
buddyguard? She has more freedom with you than she would ever get under adult agent
supervision.’

‘There hasn’t been the
opportunity,’ replied Connor. ‘And it’s a little more complicated than
that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Alicia …’ He sought for the
right words. ‘… took a liking to me.’

Colonel Black shook his head in despair.
‘Teenage hormones! They’ll be the downfall of this organization.’

‘But I didn’t encourage her or
–’

‘Listen, Connor, I don’t blame
you for what’s happened. And neither should you blame yourself. Being a bodyguard
is one of the toughest jobs in the world. And being a
buddy
guard is even
harder. So let’s put this assignment behind us and move on. You’re to return
to HQ for further training.’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Connor,
relieved he hadn’t been entirely chewed up and spat out by the colonel.

‘I’m going to hand you over to
Charley now. She’s made all your travel arrangements.’

Charley appeared, her expression serious and
her tone businesslike. ‘I’ve emailed your itinerary and e-ticket. Your
flight is at 1600 hours out of Dulles International. A car will pick you up at 1200
hours.’

She glanced off-screen and Connor heard a
door close. He guessed Colonel Black had left the room. When Charley looked back, her
sky-blue eyes had softened.

‘Don’t beat yourself up over
this, Connor,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘The first assignment is
often an ordeal. And I don’t need to tell you my last one was a complete
nightmare. But we
do
get decent assignments. Jason’s currently in the
Caribbean working protection on a client’s beach holiday. His updates consist
mostly of the progress of his suntan!’

Connor managed a weak laugh. ‘Lucky for
some, I guess. But I doubt the colonel is going to send me on another mission any time
soon. And I’m not sure I could face one after upsetting my Principal so
badly.’

Hearing the heartache in Connor’s
voice, Charley replied, ‘Look, your flight isn’t until this afternoon. Why
don’t you find Alicia and speak to her?’

‘She doesn’t want to talk … or
even be anywhere near me.’

‘That was yesterday. Maybe she’s
cooled off by now. You need to make amends otherwise you’ll never forgive
yourself. Explain to her what it means to be a buddyguard and why you did it. You never
know, she might change her mind. And if not, she’ll at least know your intentions
were good.’

Connor nodded, knowing Charley was right. He
needed closure. He wanted Alicia to know how much her friendship meant to him and that
it had been real – not just a part of his job description.

Ending the connection to Charley and leaving
his bags on the bed, Connor went to look for the President’s daughter. But she
wasn’t in her bedroom. Nor was she in the solarium on the third floor. Nor her
favourite getaway – the rooftop terrace. He checked the gym, music room, guest bedrooms
and even the linen cupboard. But to no avail.

Spotting a passing Secret Service agent, he
asked if he’d seen her.

The agent shook his head. ‘Sorry, not
part of my detail today.’

‘Do you happen to know if she’s
gone out?’

‘No idea,’ replied the agent.
‘But I can check for you.’

The agent radioed in his request. A minute
later, he received a response. ‘No, not according to her schedule,’ he
repeated.

‘Thanks,’ said Connor, racking
his brains to think where she might be.

He headed to the ground floor, reasoning the
library would be as good a place as any to escape unwanted company. He passed a tour
group on the stairs making
their way up from the State Floor. A few
glanced curiously in his direction, but most were gazing in awe at the grand staircase
with its glass-cut chandelier and portraits of twentieth-century presidents from Truman
to Nixon.

Alicia wasn’t in the library. But that
was no surprise to Connor now he’d discovered the White House was open to tour
groups that day. Thinking of all the other places she might be, he tried the cinema, the
dining room, then the bowling alley. He looked everywhere he was permitted to go. As the
general staff weren’t aware of his dismissal yet, none questioned his movement
through the White House.

Growing more concerned as to Alicia’s
whereabouts, Connor went outside to search the grounds. Aside from the expected roaming
patrols, the tennis and basketball courts were deserted. So too were the putting green
and children’s garden. He asked one of the sentry agents if he’d seen
Alicia.

‘Negative,’ he replied.

On Connor’s urging, he radioed the
other patrols.

‘None of the gates report that
she’s left the premises. Have you checked the swimming pool? Otherwise,
she’s probably inside the main residence.’

‘Of course, the swimming pool!’
said Connor, hurrying off.

But Alicia wasn’t there either.

Connor finally decided to call her on his
mobile. He hadn’t tried before since he doubted she’d answer when his number
came up. His assumption had been right. His call was diverted straight to voicemail:
‘
Hi, you’ve reached me!
If you’re calling
this number, you know who I am. So leave a message after the beep …
’

‘Hi, it’s Connor, I want to
apologize for …’ He hated answer machines and couldn’t think of what to say
that wouldn’t sound crass or pathetic. ‘Look, just ring me back.’ He
ended the call.

At this point he was on the verge of giving
up. Then Connor remembered the tracking device that was planted in Alicia’s phone
cover.
For emergency use only
, Amir had said. Connor judged that
‘Principal missing’ qualified as an emergency. Unlocking his mobile, he
pressed the green target icon. The phone froze and he had to reboot. But on the second
attempt the Tracker app popped up on the screen.

The map zeroed in on Washington DC and his
green locator flashed steadily beside the swimming pool. Almost immediately a reassuring
red dot appeared within the White House. He zoomed in closer.

Alicia was in the Lincoln Bedroom.

He must have just missed her in his earlier
search. The Tracker app outlined the quickest route. Connor hurried back inside and
upstairs to the second floor.

Entering the plushly furnished room, he
called out, ‘Alicia?’

There was no answer.

‘Alicia! Are you there?’ said
Connor as he wandered round the room. He checked the adjoining bathroom, opened the
walk-in wardrobe, and even looked under the bed. But she was nowhere to be found.

Connor rechecked the Tracker app. It had
frozen again. He tapped the screen, but the phone was obviously malfunctioning.

‘So much for Amir’s
“showpiece”,’ he muttered, rebooting and dialling his friend’s
mobile number.

After four long-distance rings, Amir
answered. ‘Connor! Are you all right? I heard the assignment’s
nosedived.’

‘Yeah,’ replied Connor.
‘It’s not good. But I can’t find Alicia to apologize and your super
smartphone keeps glitching. The Tracker app won’t work.’

‘Really?’ said Amir, surprised.
‘It’s probably an I-D-eight user problem.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll translate – an i-d-iot
user problem.’

‘Ha ha,’ said Connor, ‘but
I’m not in the mood for jokes.’

‘Sorry, bud, I’ll get Bugsy to
take a look,’ he replied. ‘We can remote access it from here. It may take a
while to fix, though. I’ll give you a call when it’s finished. Just
don’t switch off your phone.’

‘Thanks,’ said Connor.
‘I’d really like to say goodbye to her before I leave.’

Connor slipped the mobile into his pocket
and wandered over to the window. He looked out across the south lawn towards the soaring
needle of the Washington Monument.

Where are you, Alicia?

As he turned away, his foot knocked
something. Glancing down, he saw the red Armani case with its butterfly logo on the
floor. It had been snapped in two and now lay in pieces partly concealed beneath the
drapes.
Connor guessed Alicia must have thrown it across the room in a
fit of anger.

But then another possibility occurred to him
and he felt a knot of dread tighten in his gut. Without wasting a further second, Connor
headed straight to the West Wing and down to the in-house Secret Service office.

Dirk Moran was there briefing an agent.

Connor knocked on the open door. ‘I
can’t find Alicia.’

‘The President’s daughter is no
longer your concern,’ Dirk replied, dismissing him irritably with a wave of the
hand. He returned to briefing his agent.

Connor stepped inside. ‘No, I mean,
I’ve looked throughout the White House and she’s
nowhere
.’

The Director snorted. ‘That’s
probably because she doesn’t want to see you. And nor do I.’

‘But what if she’s run away
again? Or worse – been kidnapped?’ pressed Connor, unable to believe the director
wasn’t taking his claim seriously.

Dirk glared at him. ‘The White House
is one of the most secure buildings in the world. No one gets in or out without Secret
Service knowing.
We
are professionals. Now go and play
buddy
guards
elsewhere and stop wasting my time.’

With that, he pushed Connor out and slammed
the door in his face.

Connor stood outside the north portico of the
White House, his suitcase beside him and his backpack slung over one shoulder. His
departure was definitely less grand than his arrival. Aside from the obligatory Secret
Service agent posted at the door, he waited alone for the car to turn up and take him to
the airport. No one had come to say goodbye, the President and chief of staff having
done so at the meeting the night before and the Director of the Secret Service wanting
nothing more to do with him. He hadn’t expected to see Kyle as he was off-duty
today with the rest of his shift team. But he had hoped that Alicia might appear.

Connor couldn’t stop worrying about
her. Whatever Dirk Moran believed, he was convinced that she was no longer in the White
House. And, like a storm brewing on the horizon, he sensed something wasn’t quite
right.

The President’s daughter is no longer your concern.

Despite the truth of the director’s
words, Connor still felt responsible for her. And he really didn’t want to leave
without confirming she was safe.

But he’d run out of time. In little less
than four hours he’d be on a flight back to England.

His phone rang. He snatched it from his
pocket, hoping that it would be Alicia.

‘We sourced the problem,’ said
Amir on the other end of the line. ‘Your phone was infected with a
virus.’

‘But I thought you said it had an
impenetrable firewall.’

‘Yeah, but this virus is
cutting-edge,’ Amir replied, his tone implying admiration as well as concern.
‘A “Cell-Finity” bug drilled through our firewall code. Fortunately,
Bugsy had installed a secondary spyware program that blocked it from spreading. The
glitching you experienced was the attempt by the virus to break through.’

‘What was it trying to do?’
asked Connor.