Hostage (6 page)

Connor’s thumb hovered over the Call
button of his mobile. The telephone number glowed steadily in the display, but he
couldn’t quite bring himself to ring it.

Was he doing the right thing?

He could hear his mum shuffling around
downstairs, making them breakfast. Connor wondered if she’d manage on her own. The
TV was on in the sitting room, the volume a notch too high for Connor’s comfort,
to compensate for his gran’s failing hearing. But no one complained; their
neighbours were just as old, and only the three of them lived in the house.

Spread out on his bed were the contents of
the envelope. A company brochure promoting high-quality live-in carers for the elderly
and chronically ill, plus a letter detailing Colonel Black’s offer. Connor knew
exactly what it said. And each time he read the letter, the more sense it made.

His mum suffered from multiple sclerosis. On
a day-to-day basis, he looked after her, helped by his gran. But when he was at school
or martial arts training he couldn’t be around. And recently there’d been a
couple of incidents
that had worried him – the dropping of a pan of
boiling water, then a painful fall down the stairs that had resulted in a broken wrist.
As his mum’s condition worsened, she’d soon need full-time care. On top of
that, he’d noticed his gran was finding it harder to cope. While her mind was
still sharp as a tack, she was getting old and less mobile. As a family, they’d
once discussed the idea of care homes. But his gran had been adamant it would be the
death of her. The little terraced house was full of happy memories of her life with his
grandad and father and she was determined to stay. For his mum’s part, she was
more worried what would happen to her son if she was forced to go into a nursing home.
Being a minor, Connor couldn’t remain in the house alone. And without any close
relatives his choices seemed limited to foster care or entering a children’s home
himself – prospects that appealed neither to him nor his mother.

Their ideal solution was a live-in carer.
But there was no way they could afford one.

Until now.

Connor had spent the past week deliberating
over the decision. He dearly loved his mum and gran and didn’t want to leave them.
Yet by joining Buddyguard he would guarantee their well-being. And he considered it his
duty to look after them, just as they’d looked after
him
when his father
had died.

He glanced over at the photo on the bedside
table of his father in Iraq. Six years had gone by, but there wasn’t a day when
Connor didn’t think of him. His memories were now like snapshots in a dusty family
album – playing football in
the park, games of hide-and-seek in Epping
Forest, sparring in their back garden. And with each passing year these snapshots faded
a little more. Connor was worried that one day he wouldn’t be able to recall his
father at all.

But Colonel Black and his father had been
friends. He could fill in the missing pieces. And Connor desperately wanted to know more
about his father’s secret life – what it was like being in the SAS and working as
a bodyguard in hostile environments. He also needed to understand why his father had
devoted himself to such a job, one that took him away from his family for such long
periods. Connor realized he could never get his father back, but by following in his
footsteps he
might
come to know him better.

Connor pressed the Call button.

It rang once before being answered in that
familiar clipped tone.

‘Glad you’ve decided to join
us,’ said the colonel. ‘One of the team will collect you Monday at 0900
hours sharp. Be ready.’

‘But … I-I still haven’t agreed
to anything yet,’ Connor stuttered.

He sensed a smile at the other end of the
line.

‘Connor, you wouldn’t be calling
unless
it was to say yes.’

The following Monday a blacked-out Range
Rover pulled up outside the house: 0900 hours sharp.

Bags packed, Connor hugged his mum goodbye.
‘I’ll be back during the holidays,’ he promised.

‘Now, don’t you worry about
me,’ she said, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. ‘You go have a good time.
I’m so proud of you.’

She squeezed his hand. To Connor, his mother
always seemed at her most energized and pain-free when she was concentrating on him.

‘And I’ll be here 24/7,’
reassured Sally, a jolly, middle-aged woman who was to be his mum’s live-in
carer.

The morning after the phone call, Sally had
dropped by their house. Over a pot of tea, she’d explained the in-care arrangement
and that the costs were being covered by Connor’s ‘scholarship
programme’. His mum had immediately warmed to the idea, proud her son’s
talents were being recognized. By the second cup of tea, the three women were swapping
stories and laughing like old friends. Reassured by this, Connor knew his mother was
in good hands and that he’d made the right decision for
her.

And it had the double benefit that his gran
would also be cared for in her own home. This news had initially pleased his gran. But,
not one to miss a trick, she had questioned him in private about the ‘scholarship
programme’. Despite Colonel Black’s warning, Connor had told her the truth –
as he always did with his gran. She’d immediately tried to dissuade him. But,
seeing the determination in his eyes, she’d resignedly shook her head and said,
‘You’re your father’s son. Always putting others before
yourself.’

So it was agreed Buddyguard was to be their
secret and Connor had no doubt that she’d keep it. As he went to say goodbye, his
gran gripped him with surprising strength.

‘Stay safe,’ she whispered, and
for a moment he didn’t think she’d let him go.

With a final hug for his mum, Connor picked
up his bags and strode over to the Range Rover. The driver got out, a slender woman with
dark brown shoulder-length hair and olive eyes that were good-natured yet watchful.

Connor smiled in wry recognition.
‘You’re not going to arrest me again, are you?’

The former policewoman laughed. ‘Only
if you don’t pay attention in class!’ She offered her hand. ‘I’m
Jody, one of your instructors. Now get in, we’ve a long drive ahead.’

Tossing his bags in the boot, Connor
clambered into the passenger seat. With a last wave to his mum and gran, he heaved the
door shut and the Range Rover pulled away. As
they drove out of
London, they passed the Tiger Martial Arts Dojo. Connor felt a twinge of regret and a
nagging doubt returned. The club was almost a second home to him. He’d just made
his mark as a national kickboxing champion.
Am I throwing it all away?
His
instructor hadn’t thought so. Although dismayed to lose his most promising
student, Dan had only wanted the best for him.

‘The time to strike is when the
opportunity presents itself,’ Dan had said, giving him a friendly tap on the chin
with his fist. ‘So good luck – and remember: if you get into trouble,
hit
first, hit hard, then hit the ground running
.’

The Range Rover turned a corner and the club
disappeared from view. Burying his doubts, Connor now felt an undeniable thrill at what
lay in store for him as a bodyguard. ‘So where are we going?’ he asked
eagerly.

‘Wales,’ replied Jody.

‘Oh.’ Connor tried to hide his
disappointment. He’d been expecting somewhere a little more glamorous. ‘Why
there?’

‘You’ll find out soon
enough,’ she replied. ‘Until then, I’d advise getting some rest while
you can. The weeks ahead will be demanding.’

Leaving London, they headed west on the M4.
While Jody drove, Connor asked her about the Buddyguard organization – a search on the
internet had drawn a blank, apart from a news clipping mentioning Colonel Black as the
team leader of a high-profile hostage rescue in Afghanistan several years before. But
Jody politely evaded this line of questioning. ‘All will be answered in good
time,’ she replied. After his fifth attempt to extract information,
she flashed him a steely look and he backed off. However, Jody did
reveal that she was an ex-Met police officer of some fifteen years’ service.
Rapidly promoted up the ranks, she’d moved to CO19, the police’s specialist
armed unit, before being transferred to SO14, Royalty Close Protection.

‘So did you ever protect Prince
William and Kate?’ Connor asked.

Jody’s manner became guarded again.
‘That would break client confidentiality, I’m afraid.’

Finding it was like getting blood from a
stone, Connor decided to take her earlier advice and tried to sleep.

Three hours later, they crossed the Severn
Bridge into Wales. When they eventually came off the motorway, Jody took so many minor
roads that Connor lost his bearings completely. But judging by the craggy mountains and
endless fields they were in the middle of nowhere.

It was late afternoon by the time a pair of
iron gates came into view. Atop the black wrought-iron design was a subtle but
distinctive winged shield. Levelling with an entry port concealed in the bushes, Jody
pressed an infra-red sensor on the dashboard and the gates parted. As they drove
through, Connor spotted a discreet CCTV camera following their progress. The Range Rover
crunched up a long gravel driveway, open fields on either side. Cresting a rise, an old
granite building appeared, not visible from the road. The size of a country mansion, it
was tucked into its own valley with a small lake and dense patch of woodland. Squared
battlements and narrow windows gave the impression of a fortified castle.

‘This used to be a private school in the
1800s,’ explained Jody. ‘But the facilities have been updated for our
purposes.’

To Connor, the school still looked as if it
belonged in the nineteenth century and he struggled to see much improvement beyond a
large satellite dish on the roof.

The Range Rover drew up outside the main
entrance. Connor jumped out and retrieved his bags from the boot. When he turned round,
he almost dropped them. Standing in the arched doorway was the
last
person he
expected to see.

‘Welcome to Camp Buddyguard!’
said the Indian boy enthusiastically, helping Connor with his bags. ‘My
name’s Amir.’

‘So this is where you ran off
to,’ remarked Connor.

Amir offered a ready smile. ‘Yeah,
sorry I didn’t get a chance to thank you, but I thought Jody was about to arrest
me for late coursework.’ He shot the instructor a mischievous wink.

‘Show our new recruit to his
room,’ Jody ordered, apparently immune to his charm.

Amir performed an overzealous salute.
‘Yes, ma’am.’

Shorter than Connor and with a lean frame,
Amir bounded up the steps into the school’s entrance hall. His exuberant manner
reminded Connor of a meerkat’s – playful yet always on the alert. He was a totally
different person from the cowering victim Connor had come across in the Docklands.

‘And Amir,’ Jody called after
them, her tone stern, ‘I want that threat report on my desk by 0800
hours.’

Groaning at the deadline, Amir turned to
Connor. ‘Let’s go before she makes it any earlier.’

He led Connor through a grand entrance hall
and up a wide sweeping staircase. Old paintings in antique frames hung from the walls
and the last of the sun’s rays filtered through a bay window on to the polished
parquet flooring.

‘So you’re a buddyguard?’
said Connor as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.

Amir nodded. ‘Trainee. I’ve not
been on any assignments yet, so I haven’t earned my wings.’ He pointed to a
silver lapel badge on his jumper, the familiar shield and silhouette absent of its
guardian wings. ‘But hopefully it won’t be long. Just depends on who the
next Principal is.’

‘
Principal?
’ asked
Connor.

‘The person you’re assigned to
protect,’ explained Amir, turning right along a corridor. ‘It could be a
politician’s son, a member of a royal family, the daughter of an oil baron
…’ He nudged Connor with a conspiratorial elbow. ‘To be honest, I’m
hoping for a film star. Now that would be cool. All those red carpet events!’