Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(50)
The mobile phone emitted a short buzz and Bahir snatched it up from the table in the front room. He waited an impatient second for the message to decrypt. Then his eyes widened in astonishment.
‘You won’t believe this, Malik,’ he said, holding up the phone to his leader. ‘Eagle Chick has flown the nest!’
Malik stopped sharpening his jambiya and smirked to himself. ‘It’s almost as if she wants to be taken hostage.’
The phone buzzed again and Bahir read the message out loud. ‘It’s from Hazim – Sparrows in a panic. It appears Secret Service are having trouble locating her!’ he laughed. Bahir turned excitedly to his leader. ‘This could be our chance.’
Malik laid the curved dagger in his lap. His right hand trembled slightly and he reached out to a small bundle of khat. As he chewed the intoxicating leaves, he mulled over the new turn of events.
‘Yes, it’s an opening,’ he agreed. ‘But an unplanned one. Not all the preparations are in place.’
‘But this seems too good an opportunity to miss,’ insisted Bahir.
‘The situation isn’t in my direct control,’ pointed out Malik. ‘And we’ve the added complication that Secret Service are actively looking for her at this time. That greatly reduces our chances of an undetected escape.’
‘True, but if we took her now, alone, we wouldn’t risk our lives in a gun battle.’
Malik pondered this. ‘Do either Gamekeeper or Birdspotter have the target in sight?’
Bahir rapidly typed a message and pressed Send. Almost a minute passed before his mobile vibrated twice in response. He read both messages, then grimaced in disappointment. ‘Not yet, but Gamekeeper is on the hunt.’
Malik rested the tip of his knife on his bearded chin, reconsidering his options. Then a sly grin slid across his face, revealing his arc of yellowing teeth. ‘Bahir, I have an idea.’
He explained his plan, then asked, ‘Is such a thing possible?’
‘Yes,’ replied Bahir. ‘I could do it in my sleep!’
‘Then get to it,’ ordered Malik.
As Bahir hurried out of the room, Malik returned to honing his jambiya, the curved steel blade gleaming razor-sharp.
With every step, Connor was becoming more and more anxious. He was about to suggest that they turn back, when Alicia swung right on to U Street and the neighbourhood suddenly improved. Ethnic restaurants, bars, music clubs and the occasional church lined the busy road. Connor was reassured to spot several groups of tourists wandering the route too, but he didn’t allow his alert level to drop.
Alicia stopped outside a red and white building with a neon sign flashing OPEN in the window. Above the door, a billboard proclaimed: DON’S DOGS – THE BEST CHILLI DOGS IN DC.
Connor noticed Alicia was staring intently at the flashing sign as if mesmerized.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, recalling her history of epilepsy from his Buddyguard briefing.
Alicia blinked and refocused her gaze on Connor. ‘Yes, of course. Why?’
‘I thought … you might be about to have a seizure,’ he replied, indicating the flashing light.
‘How do you know about my epilepsy?’ demanded Alicia, suddenly defensive.
Connor realized he’d made a mistake. ‘Erm … your father mentioned it.’
Alicia scowled at this. ‘I’m over that now. I wish he’d stop bringing it up.’
‘Sorry,’ said Connor. ‘He’s probably just concerned, that’s all.’
‘My father’s always worrying about me,’ sighed Alicia. ‘Anyway, this is the place I was looking for. Supposedly, their hot dogs are seriously hot.’
Connor peered in through the smeared window. A white formica counter stretched the short length of the fast-food joint. On the wall behind, a menu displayed its combo meals and specialities in unappealing backlit photos. Red plastic stools stood in contrast to the off-white tiled floor, some of the seats clearly straining under the weight of their well-fed customers. Opposite the counter were four booths, with only one occupied by two large men in cement-stained construction clothes.
The food had better be good to make up for the decor, thought Connor.
Holding the door open for Alicia, a waft of fried meat and cooking fat assaulted Connor’s nostrils. Behind the counter and through a hatch, a sweaty, African American cook served up piles of cheese fries and massive hot dogs slathered in mustard, chilli sauce and onions. He gave a nod in their direction, indicating with a grunt for them to take a booth. Slipping into the second one along, Connor made sure that he sat facing the entrance. As dictated by his training, he wanted to know exactly who was coming and going.
While Alicia studied the menu – which unsurprisingly consisted of various combinations of hot dog – he took the opportunity to check out the restaurant. It was crucial to locate any exit points in case of trouble. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a door leading to a communal toilet, which he guessed would likely be a dead end. Through a hatch behind the counter, he saw a red emergency exit sign pointing to the back of the kitchen. If anything did happen, Connor decided that would be the route he’d take with Alicia.
‘What are you going to have?’ asked Alicia as the waitress came over.