Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(32)
A man with a trimmed white beard and glasses stepped forward. He greeted Connor with a smile. ‘It’s good to have you on the team.’
‘And this is General Martin Shaw, who originally recommended your Buddyguard organization.’
Connor shook hands. ‘Colonel Black sends his regards.’
‘Why, thank you,’ replied the general in a thick Texan accent. Big as a bear and impeccably turned out in his olive-green uniform, he displayed the same military bearing as his English counterpart. ‘It’s just a shame the colonel couldn’t join us.’
The President introduced the remaining member of the group, a thin man with grey-flecked hair and crow’s feet spreading out from his steel-blue eyes. ‘And, finally, the Director of the Secret Service, Dirk Moran.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Connor, offering his hand. ‘I’ve been told I’m reporting to you.’
‘That’s right,’ the director replied. His handshake was brief and cool, and Connor got the feeling he was being appraised right from the start.
They all sat as the chief of staff poured out the coffee. Although he didn’t actually like coffee, Connor accepted a cup out of politeness.
‘Is this your first time in the States?’ asked President Mendez, dropping a lump of sugar into his drink.
Connor nodded. ‘But I like what I’ve seen so far.’
‘And what would that be?’ asked Dirk.
‘Well, the White House. It’s certainly well protected,’ replied Connor and, wanting to impress, added, ‘Snipers, bullet-resistant glass, hidden cameras, infra-red sensors …’
The general raised a wry eyebrow in Dirk’s direction. ‘The boy’s done his research.’
‘In fact, I was surprised I wasn’t searched on arrival,’ finished Connor.
The President looked to his director for an explanation of this apparent lapse in security.
‘That’s because you were scanned discreetly as you passed through the lobby,’ explained Dirk. ‘You don’t know all our security measures, young man. No one ever does.’
‘Sometimes not even the President himself!’ laughed President Mendez, putting down his coffee cup. ‘President Eisenhower once said, “America is best described by one word: freedom.” And that is true. But Thomas Jefferson, our third President and Founding Father, also observed that “the price of freedom is eternal vigilance”. Unfortunately, in this day and age, vigilance isn’t only a byword, it’s a way of life. Especially for the President and the First Family. We need constant, round-the-clock protection from the Secret Service.’
He sighed, the weight of office momentarily seeming a burden rather than an honour.
‘This can be hard to live with, day in, day out. Which is why my daughter has taken exception to such imposing protection. And why Buddyguard’s services have been requested.’
No longer able to contain the burning question that had been on his mind ever since his selection, Connor put down his un-drunk cup of coffee and asked, ‘Why did you choose me?’
President Mendez clasped his hands almost as if in prayer. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. Your father saved my life.’
Connor’s jaw dropped. ‘When? How?’
The President sat back, surprised at his reaction. ‘Has no one ever told you this?’
‘No,’ admitted Connor. ‘I was just told my dad was killed in an ambush in Iraq and that he died a hero.’
‘That’s correct. He gave his life to rescue me.’
The President then recounted his trip to Iraq six years previously as US Ambassador. How the British and American forces were working together to secure peace and that an SAS detachment had been assigned to help protect high-profile visiting diplomats. He spoke with passion about his miraculous escape from the attack on their convoy and how Connor’s father had risked all to ensure his safety.
Connor listened rapt. This was the first time he’d heard the details of his father’s heroic act. But it now explained the Soldier’s Medal – the one embossed with the American Eagle – that was among the possessions his mother kept in the ‘memory box’. She’d always been too distraught to talk about his father’s death, and as he’d grown older he’d stopped asking about it. But, at last, he knew the whole story.
As the President came to the end, he slid a small scratched key fob across the coffee table to Connor.
‘I kept this to remind myself of the true meaning of sacrifice,’ he explained. ‘To ensure that I lived a life of sacrifice for my country as their President. Your father held this in his hand as he died. And now I return it to you.’
Connor stared down at his father’s talisman. From beneath the plastic, a picture of a familiar eight-year-old boy smiled up at him.
‘In my eyes, Justin Reeves was a very courageous, loyal and noble soldier,’ said President Mendez earnestly. ‘And you have his blood running through your veins. Which is why I’d only trust my daughter’s life with a Reeves buddyguard.’
Connor was speechless, choked with emotion and grief at the account of his father’s selfless bravery.
Seeing the impact his words had, the President said, ‘I’ll perfectly understand if you feel you can’t accept this role, Connor.’ His expression was kindly and sincere, yet at the same time hopeful. ‘But I would sleep more soundly in my bed knowing Alicia is truly safe – not only protected by the Secret Service, but by you.’