Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(25)
Connor studied her face, bathed in the golden sun, her bright eyes keenly following a surfer. He noticed that in her hand she clasped the gold Buddyguard badge.
She’s certainly brave, he thought, but was the sacrifice worth it?
‘Mr President, here are the files on the organization you enquired about.’
‘Thank you, George,’ said President Mendez, taking the folder marked CONFIDENTIAL from his White House Chief of Staff.
Leaning back in his leather chair in the Oval Office, he studied the winged shield on the first page, then read the opening summary. After a thoughtful pause, he glanced over to a broad-chested man dressed in full military attire.
‘You can vouch for this Colonel Black, General?’
‘One hundred per cent, Mr President,’ replied General Martin Shaw, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the highest-ranking military officer in the United States Armed Forces. ‘Colonel Black and I go back a long way. Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan. I’d trust him with my life.’
‘What about your child’s?’ remarked a tall man pointedly, who sat ramrod straight on the Oval Office’s cream upholstered couch. With premature grey hair and stress lines around his eyes, Dirk Moran, the Director of the Secret Service, was far less enthusiastic about the current issue on the agenda.
The general nodded. ‘If you met the colonel, you would too.’
‘But we’re not talking about him, are we?’ replied Dirk, pushing his objection further. ‘We’re considering a child protecting the President’s daughter.’
‘They’re teenagers actually,’ corrected the White House Chief of Staff. ‘And this Buddyguard organization has an impressive track record.’
‘So does my son on sports day, but I’m not considering him for the Olympics!’ said Dirk, standing up as he struggled to control his frustration. ‘A child bodyguard is a joke! Trained or otherwise, they’re simply not in the same league as a Secret Service agent.’
‘That’s true. They’re in an entirely different league,’ observed the general, raising an eyebrow. ‘No one would ever suspect a teenager to be a bodyguard. A buddyguard would provide an “invisible” ring of protection around the President’s daughter. He or she can go where your Secret Service agents can’t.’
Dirk turned to the President, whose dark brown eyes followed their discussion with interest.
‘Mr President, you have at your disposal the finest and most dedicated close-protection force in the world,’ he implored. ‘Are you convinced this is necessary?’
The chief of staff stepped forward and interrupted with a polite cough. ‘Dirk, you can’t deny that there have been a few holes in the Secret Service net recently.’
Dirk’s jaw tightened. ‘Granted, but they have been plugged.’
‘I have complete faith in your team, Dirk,’ assured President Mendez. ‘But, considering the severe threat level the Director of National Intelligence has advised us of, a buddyguard seems like a sensible extra precaution.’
‘I’ve read Karen Wright’s report. All the more reason to tighten security. Not to introduce a weakness. We need only double the Secret Service team,’ suggested Dirk.
‘You know my daughter won’t stand for any increased protection,’ replied the President, holding his hands up in resigned despair. ‘That was the source of the problem in the first place.’
‘We can function low profile. There’s no need to resource externally –’
‘Dirk, I understand your concerns. But I must consider every option when it comes to my family’s safety. Let me examine the profiles first. If none prove suitable, we won’t pursue the matter any further. Is that acceptable?’
Dirk reluctantly nodded his agreement and sat back down.
When it came to serious decisions, President Mendez always kept his cards close to his chest. Therefore he hadn’t disclosed the similar doubts that he shared with his Secret Service Director. It seemed unbelievable that he was considering entrusting the life of his daughter into the hands of a young teenager! The buddyguard in question would have to be truly exceptional to deserve his approval.
He studied each of the profiles in turn, his forefinger rubbing at his temple as he read. The list of potential candidates was short but impressive, their credentials and training equal to any professional close-protection officer.
Dirk watched as the President turned over each page, setting none aside. When the final profile was reached, he allowed himself a satisfied smirk. At last he could put this absurd proposal back into his filing cabinet where it belonged and get on with his job of protecting the President and his family.
‘I cannot believe this,’ uttered President Mendez under his breath.
‘I’m glad you agree, Mr President,’ said Dirk, shooting a subtle but triumphant glance at his associates. ‘However, you can be assured that my department will maintain impenetrable security round your daughter.’
But President Mendez wasn’t listening. He held up the last sheet and handed it to his chief of staff.
‘Contact Colonel Black immediately,’ he instructed. ‘Tell him that we’ll be requiring his organization’s services.’
Dirk leapt from the sofa to look at the profile in George’s grasp. As he scanned the President’s choice, his expression crumbled into one of sheer disbelief. ‘But this buddyguard hasn’t even completed a single assignment yet!’