Hostage (35 page)

A splitting headache was the first sensation
Connor was aware of. Then a deep throbbing ache in his muscles. Followed by an
unsettling queasiness in his stomach. As he regained full consciousness, he attempted to
swallow, but his mouth was dry as a desert and his throat sore and swollen.

Cracking open his eyes, the light hurt like
fire and indistinct shapes swirled before his vision. When it eventually settled, Connor
discovered he was lying on a hard concrete floor. In front of him was a battered plastic
bottle of water and a featureless wall. Fighting the heaviness in his limbs, he tried to
sit up but was instantly hit by a wave of nausea. He lay still until the feeling
passed.

With an immense effort, he managed to prop
himself up against the wall. His head swam and the sickness returned. Reaching for the
water bottle, Connor undid the cap and took a swig. It was warm and slightly bitter, but
revived him enough to regain his senses. He had no idea how long he’d been
unconscious. It could have been hours or days. But judging by the hunger cramps in his
stomach, he’d missed a meal or two.

Looking around, he discovered he was in a
small windowless room, a single bare bulb for light. There was a door to his left, flush
to the frame and without a handle. To his right lay Alicia, her body discarded like a
rag doll on a thin mattress in the corner.

‘Alicia!’ he croaked.

She didn’t respond. Fighting the
nausea and pain in his muscles, he dragged himself over to her. Alicia was so still that
he thought she was dead. Then Connor noticed a strand of hair across her mouth quivering
as she exhaled a shallow breath.

Connor gently shook her shoulder and she
groaned, still deep in a drug-induced sleep.

‘Alicia, wake up!’ urged
Connor.

Her eyes wearily blinked open.
‘Huh?’

‘Drink this,’ he said, pressing
the bottle to her lips.

Alicia managed a sip.

‘I think I’m going to be
sick,’ she rasped.

‘It’s just the effects of the
tranquillizer, or whatever drug they’ve given us,’ explained Connor.

He gave her time to recover, then helped her
into a sitting position.

‘What’s going on?’ she
murmured, holding her head in her hands.

‘We’ve been kidnapped,’
said Connor, keeping his voice low. There was no one else in the room, but he
didn’t want their conversation overheard by whoever had taken them. ‘What do
you remember?’

Alicia tried to think, disorientated by the
strange
environment. ‘Umm … you getting shot … by Agent Brooke.
Then she turned the gun on me and it all went dark.’ She looked up at Connor, her
eyes wide, panic bubbling just beneath the surface. ‘I thought I was …
you
were dead.’

Connor took her hand, trying to calm her.
‘No, we were just sedated.’

‘How long have we been out
for?’

Connor glanced at his wrist, but found his
watch had been taken. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

Alicia looked fearfully round the bare
windowless cell. ‘Do you know where we are?’

‘No idea,’ replied Connor,
forcing himself to his feet. But he feared they were a long way from home.

Swaying slightly, he made the five short
steps across the room to the door. He tried to push it open. Then he tried to get his
fingers round the edges and pull the other way. But it wouldn’t budge. Pressing
his ear to the door, Connor listened for any noise that might give away their
location.

He heard nothing. Just deafening silence. It
was as if they were cut off from the entire world.

The atmosphere in the White House Situation
Room was tense and frantic as Colonel Black was shown his seat at the conference table.
Already gathered round the long mahogany desk were the key members of the National
Security Council and the head of every relevant security and intelligence agency, all
pooling their resources to solve the case in hand. National Security staff worked
feverishly in the background, analysing incoming data and delivering constant
updates.

‘Good of you to come,’ said
President Mendez, acknowledging Colonel Black’s arrival with a firm handshake.

To the colonel’s eyes, the President
had aged dramatically, his renowned youthful vigour weighed down by a terrible
burden.

‘It’s my honour and duty,’
replied Colonel Black. ‘Don’t worry, we will find your daughter.’

And Connor
, he promised himself.
He’d never lost a buddyguard yet and he didn’t intend to now.

The White House Chief of Staff appeared and
handed
the colonel a folder. ‘This contains a summary of all the
information we hold at present, including your organization’s report.’

‘Thank you,’ acknowledged the
colonel, immediately scanning the files.

‘Is there
any
word
yet?’ asked the First Lady, who sat beside her husband, pulling at a frayed
hankie. Exhausted from her transatlantic flight home, her usual glamorous appearance had
all but disappeared under the strain, her make-up streaked with anguished tears.

‘I’m afraid not, Mrs
Mendez,’ replied George. ‘But, I can assure you, we’re doing
everything in our power.’

‘Well, it’s not enough!’
she snapped. ‘It’s been twelve hours. Alicia could be
anywhere
in
the world by now.’

‘That’s why we’ve brought
the CIA in on this,’ informed Karen, offering the First Lady a glass of water that
she took in one trembling hand. ‘They’ve put out a worldwide alert to every
agent. If they get a sniff of anything, we’ll be the first to hear about
it.’

‘That’s reassuring to
know,’ said Mrs Mendez, sipping at the water and trying to regain her
composure.

A blonde-haired woman with frameless glasses
leant forward and raised her hand.

‘What shall we do about the
press?’ asked Lara Johnson, the White House Press Secretary.

‘Keep a lid on it for as long as you
can,’ replied George.

‘But we could use them to promote a
search for the President’s daughter,’ she suggested.

Karen shook her head vehemently. ‘Then
we’ll have
every Tom, Dick and Harry phoning in. And any
possible lead will disappear under a pile of misguided calls. No, concentrate on the
containment of the bombings until we have more concrete information.’

‘About the bombings,’
interrupted General Martin Shaw, walking over and saluting Colonel Black. ‘I think
we must assume a connection.’

‘Why’s that?’ asked the
President.

‘The timing for one. The last contact
with Delta team and Alicia’s disappearance were just minutes after they detonated.
I believe these attacks were merely a
distraction
for the main
event.’

‘A distraction!’ exclaimed
George. ‘The three bombs almost crippled Washington.’

‘Exactly. Their targets were designed
to disrupt communications and impede the workings of Secret Service. With their
attention focused elsewhere, the kidnappers had all the time they needed to escape with
the President’s daughter.’

‘I concur with the general,’
said Colonel Black. ‘It would certainly explain the planting of the Cell-Finity
bug and the coordinated ambush on your Secret Service team. Has any terrorist group
claimed responsibility yet?’

‘Still nothing,’ Karen replied.
‘But we’re doing an analysis of the most likely candidates –’

‘We’ve got a lead!’ Dirk
interrupted, coming off the phone.

The Situation Room went silent as he pressed
a remote and a live-link flashed up on the central monitor. An
auburn-haired man with a rounded pockmarked face appeared.

‘Mr President, my name is Agent
Cooper,’ he declared. ‘I’m in situ at a disused aircraft hangar near
Stafford Airport. My team have discovered one of our off-duty Secret Service agents,
Lauren Brooke, shot dead, execution-style.’

The camera panned to show a body sprawled
across the concrete floor, a pool of dried blood surrounding it. The First Lady gasped
at the gruesome sight and averted her eyes.

‘How does this connect with
Alicia’s disappearance?’ asked President Mendez, a cold sensation creeping
into the pit of his stomach.

‘My team found the remains of a
cellphone that bear her fingerprints.’ The camera was angled to display the
shattered phone. Then an empty 4×4 came into view, surrounded by three agents analysing
the vehicle for further clues. ‘They’ve also just confirmed that hairs on
the back seat of Agent Brooke’s vehicle match your daughter’s.’

‘But is there any sign of my little
girl?’ asked the First Lady, almost dreading the answer.

‘No, ma’am,’ replied Agent
Cooper. ‘But that can only be seen as good news. It indicates she’s still
alive. We also found this at the scene.’ He directed the camera to a backpack
lying in the footwell of the 4×4.

‘That belongs to Connor,’
volunteered Colonel Black, recognizing both the design and Justin Reeves’ face in
the attached key fob.

‘Connor, sir?’ questioned the
agent.

‘He’s a boy secretly assigned to
protect Alicia,’ Dirk explained. ‘Part of the Buddyguard
organization.’

Agent Cooper raised an eyebrow at this
revelation but made no direct comment. ‘That explains the backpack’s unusual
construction then. The rear panel’s liquid body armour, it shows signs of recent
combat usage. But there’s no blood, so it appears to have been
effective.’

‘That means Connor’s still with
her,’ said Colonel Black, feeling relieved that his charge was most probably alive
and, at the same time, more optimistic about the survival prospects of the
President’s daughter. He just prayed that Connor’s basic training would be
enough to see him through the crisis.

‘Looks that way,’ replied the
agent.

‘Then there’s hope,’ said
the President, squeezing his wife’s hand.

The First Lady returned a strained
smile.

Dirk sighed inwardly at President
Mendez’s unwavering belief in the boy. ‘But, Mr President, it could also
mean our problem’s doubled … if they’ve
both
been
kidnapped.’

‘This is all my fault,’ sobbed
Alicia, her entire body trembling with shock. ‘I should have listened to Secret
Service … if I had, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Now I’ve put you in danger
too, Connor. What have I done? I’m sorry … I’m so sorry.’

Connor knelt before her. He was as scared as
she was, but he couldn’t allow his own fears to spiral out of control. He had to
remain strong – for both their sakes.

‘This
isn’t
your
fault,’ he assured her. ‘The blame lies with our kidnappers. What we need to
do is stay calm and focused. Your father, Secret Service, Buddyguard,
everyone
will be looking for us.’

Alicia stared at Connor, her eyes wide and
swimming with tears. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘I know so. We just have to hold out
until they come.’

‘But what if they can’t find
us?’

Connor was aware that was a distinct
possibility, but replied, ‘With all the government’s resources,
they’re bound to sooner or later. We must have faith.’

Alicia fell silent and gazed doubtfully
around their tiny
cell. Connor could see she was battling to keep her
panic in check. But she bravely wiped away her tears and managed to stop shaking.

‘So who do you think has taken
us?’ she eventually asked.

‘Agent Brooke must have been working
for those gunmen,’ Connor replied. ‘And with all the bombings I can only
guess that they’re terrorists of some sort.’

‘So they’re going to … kill
us?’ said Alicia, her voice fragile and desperate.

Connor gently shook his head. ‘If they
wanted us dead, that would’ve happened already.’

‘Then what
do
they
want?’

Connor heard a bolt unlock and he spun
round. ‘I think we’re about to find out.’

His nerves taut as a wire, Connor stood
protectively in front of Alicia as the door swung open. A colossal man in black robes
stepped inside, his bulk almost filling the tiny cell. The man’s face was obscured
by an all-enveloping coal-black headscarf that left only his dark eyes blazing through
at them.