Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(64)

‘Thanks,’ said Connor. ‘I’d really like to say goodbye to her before I leave.’

Connor slipped the mobile into his pocket and wandered over to the window. He looked out across the south lawn towards the soaring needle of the Washington Monument.

Where are you, Alicia?

As he turned away, his foot knocked something. Glancing down, he saw the red Armani case with its butterfly logo on the floor. It had been snapped in two and now lay in pieces partly concealed beneath the drapes. Connor guessed Alicia must have thrown it across the room in a fit of anger.

But then another possibility occurred to him and he felt a knot of dread tighten in his gut. Without wasting a further second, Connor headed straight to the West Wing and down to the in-house Secret Service office.

Dirk Moran was there briefing an agent.

Connor knocked on the open door. ‘I can’t find Alicia.’

‘The President’s daughter is no longer your concern,’ Dirk replied, dismissing him irritably with a wave of the hand. He returned to briefing his agent.

Connor stepped inside. ‘No, I mean, I’ve looked throughout the White House and she’s nowhere.’

The Director snorted. ‘That’s probably because she doesn’t want to see you. And nor do I.’

‘But what if she’s run away again? Or worse – been kidnapped?’ pressed Connor, unable to believe the director wasn’t taking his claim seriously.

Dirk glared at him. ‘The White House is one of the most secure buildings in the world. No one gets in or out without Secret Service knowing. We are professionals. Now go and play buddyguards elsewhere and stop wasting my time.’

With that, he pushed Connor out and slammed the door in his face.





Connor stood outside the north portico of the White House, his suitcase beside him and his backpack slung over one shoulder. His departure was definitely less grand than his arrival. Aside from the obligatory Secret Service agent posted at the door, he waited alone for the car to turn up and take him to the airport. No one had come to say goodbye, the President and chief of staff having done so at the meeting the night before and the Director of the Secret Service wanting nothing more to do with him. He hadn’t expected to see Kyle as he was off-duty today with the rest of his shift team. But he had hoped that Alicia might appear.

Connor couldn’t stop worrying about her. Whatever Dirk Moran believed, he was convinced that she was no longer in the White House. And, like a storm brewing on the horizon, he sensed something wasn’t quite right.

The President’s daughter is no longer your concern.

Despite the truth of the director’s words, Connor still felt responsible for her. And he really didn’t want to leave without confirming she was safe.

But he’d run out of time. In little less than four hours he’d be on a flight back to England.

His phone rang. He snatched it from his pocket, hoping that it would be Alicia.

‘We sourced the problem,’ said Amir on the other end of the line. ‘Your phone was infected with a virus.’

‘But I thought you said it had an impenetrable firewall.’

‘Yeah, but this virus is cutting-edge,’ Amir replied, his tone implying admiration as well as concern. ‘A “Cell-Finity” bug drilled through our firewall code. Fortunately, Bugsy had installed a secondary spyware program that blocked it from spreading. The glitching you experienced was the attempt by the virus to break through.’

‘What was it trying to do?’ asked Connor.

‘Bugsy says it allows a hacker – using a secret access code – to connect to the infected phone without the user knowing. The hacker can then monitor all calls, intercept and block texts, and even switch on the mobile’s microphone to eavesdrop on private conversations. The phone essentially becomes a silent spy.’

The storm Connor had sensed on the horizon suddenly felt a whole lot closer. ‘Who would have planted it? Secret Service?’

‘Possibly, but the unusual coding suggests a foreign source. And that’s not the worst of it,’ continued Amir. ‘This particular bug sends out a tracer signal. As long as the phone is on, the hacker can track the movements of the user.’

‘So you’re saying someone’s been following me, reading my texts and listening to everything I’ve said?’

‘No,’ replied Amir. ‘The virus didn’t take hold.’

‘So my phone’s OK now?’

‘Yeah, we’ve reinstalled the entire OS from scratch, but a virus like this is easily transferred via the internet, through an app or even by a simple text message. Our guess is you weren’t the intended target and your phone contracted the bug from the person who is.’

‘Alicia!’ gasped Connor. ‘I still haven’t been able to find her.’

‘Well, you can now the Tracker app is working,’ reminded Amir.

‘No, I can’t. I found the phone case smashed to bits. So, while I can’t find her, someone else can.’

‘That’s not good.’

Connor waited while Amir related the bad news to Bugsy.

‘We might have a solution,’ said Amir, coming back on the line. ‘Bugsy’s going to try to hack into the Cell-Finity program. If he can reconfigure the coding, break the access code and “mirror” the signal, then theoretically we can track the target phone too.’