Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(45)
‘Listen, I don’t want any trouble,’ said Connor, holding up his hands in peace.
‘Who said anything about trouble,’ sneered Ethan as Jimbo closed in.
Deciding it was time for a touch of Pain Assisted Learning, Connor targeted the middle of the boy’s chest with his fingertips.
‘Oww!’ cried Jimbo, stopping his advance.
Ethan glared at his friend. ‘What’s the problem? You’re an offensive guard in the football team. Steamroller him!’
Almost half his size, Connor judged the massive American football player would flatten him if he didn’t put in first strike. Snaking his arm with a hefty flick, Connor one-inch-pushed Jimbo in the chest. It was like trying to shove an elephant, but the self-defence technique was still powerful enough to send the boy staggering backwards. Jimbo struck the wall behind and crumpled against it, gasping for breath.
‘What on earth did you do?’ exclaimed Ethan, stunned by the ease with which Connor had downed his friend.
‘I only pushed him,’ declared Connor innocently.
Ethan wound up to let loose a punch. Connor dropped into a fighting guard.
‘Hey! What’s going on?’
Ethan stopped mid-swing as Alicia and Kalila emerged from the restroom. His scowl transformed into a beaming smile and his punching arm wrapped round Connor in a friendly hug.
‘Just … err … explaining to my friend here how to throw long in football as a quarterback,’ he replied.
Alicia gave them both a doubtful look. ‘What’s the matter with Jimbo?’
‘I think … he’s suffering an asthma attack,’ replied Connor breezily.
‘Well, aren’t you going to help him up?’ asked Kalila with concern.
‘Of course,’ said Ethan. He patted Connor on the shoulder, rather too heartily. ‘Now bear in mind my advice for the prom and you should have a great night,’ he said, before walking off with Jimbo in tow, the boy wheezing like a steam engine.
Connor doubted that very much. Having made enemies of them both, the prom was going to be a nightmare. He’d already anticipated there’d be a tricky balance securing Alicia’s safety while allowing her the freedom to enjoy herself. Now somehow he’d have to find a way to protect Alicia … without getting himself into a fight.
‘This is the spot, on August twenty-eighth, 1963, where Dr Martin Luther King Jr, the black civil rights leader, delivered his famous “I Have a Dream” speech,’ the tour guide explained to the group gathered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Behind them stood the awe-inspiring monument itself, a white-marble cenotaph with towering Greek columns built in honour of America’s 16th President. ‘The political march that day and Dr King’s speech helped facilitate the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964, which outlawed discrimination throughout America.’
Connor, Alicia and Kalila sat on the steps nearby, listening to the tour guide’s talk.
Kalila leant close to Alicia. ‘I bet Dr King never dreamt that less than fifty years later there’d have been an African American president.’
‘Or a Latino one,’ replied Alicia, smiling at her friend. ‘America’s truly the Land of the Free. Anyone can be President – even my father!’
‘Over a quarter of a million people attended the event,’ continued the tour guide. ‘With crowds stretching down the mall as far as the eye could see, thus making it, at that time, the largest gathering of protesters in Washington DC’s illustrious history.’
‘Talk about one massive rock concert!’ Connor remarked as he gazed east across the impressive treelined expanse of the National Mall and tried to imagine such a number. There were no protests today, just flocks of tourists enjoying the sunshine beside the Reflecting Pool. In the distance, the Washington Monument speared the sky like a giant rocket ready to take off. The huge marble obelisk, the symbol of America’s capital, shimmered in the pool’s sky-blue waters and gave the illusion that the monument was twice its normal height.
‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ remarked Alicia.
Connor nodded in agreement, although in his mind he was actually thinking this was the worst possible place to be on a Saturday morning. Not because the view wasn’t stunning but because Alicia was so vulnerable on the open steps. She was literally a sitting target. There was no cover if some madman took a potshot at her. No place to hide if she was attacked. Hundreds of tourists milled around and any one of them could be carrying a knife or a gun.
Connor almost wished he’d never done his bodyguard training. It would be far easier to sit there in blissful ignorance of the countless hidden dangers surrounding them. At least then he could relax. But his assignment meant that he had to remain on constant alert, his nerves wound tight as a guitar string. Connor looked across at a slim blonde-haired woman wearing sunglasses and carrying a pocket tourist guide. She too seemed to be enjoying the view. But every so often she’d glance in their direction.
But Connor wasn’t alarmed. He recognized her as Agent Brooke, one of several women on Alicia’s PES team. Other agents, including Kyle, were dotted around the Lincoln Memorial steps and along the edge of the Reflecting Pool, all within sight line of the President’s daughter and each keeping a low profile so as not to draw attention to her presence. But Connor knew the strain the agents must be under because he was feeling it too – the unpredictability of the situation, the uncertainty of the environment, the constantly changing dynamics of the crowd. No wonder the Secret Service had a hard time walking the thin line between the need for protection and the need for their Principal’s privacy.