Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(12)
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!’
He pointed to an open door on their left. ‘That’s my room, by the way.’
Connor glimpsed an unmade bed with clothes strewn everywhere and a small desk upon which sat a gutted laptop. ‘What happened to your computer?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. Just updating the hard drive and installing a new multi-core processor,’ Amir replied, as if such a task was as easy as replacing a light bulb.
He stopped by a door marked with a number seven.
‘This is your room,’ he announced, inviting Connor to go in first.
The bedroom was small and basic, comprising of a desk, chair, lamp, single bed, washbasin and an old wooden wardrobe. Connor dumped his bags on the bed. ‘I thought Jody said the school had been modernized.’
Amir laughed. ‘It’s what you don’t see that’s impressive.’ He flicked open a panel on the desk to reveal an internet port. ‘The whole place is wired with fibre-optic broadband. It’s a closed system so no one can access it externally.’ He pointed to the window. ‘The glass has shock detectors in case someone tries to break in. Outside, there’s covert CCTV, thermal-imaging cameras and pressure pads at every entry and exit. And beyond that there are perimeter alarms surrounding the school grounds.’