Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(68)
His phone buzzed. He glanced at the secure message from Charley.
White House evacuation. Bomb scare.
Do NOT return. Head to Safe House
Blue 1.
A blue dot – numbered 686 – now pulsed on the digital map several blocks east of the Jefferson Memorial on E Street SW.
Connor was stunned by the rapid sequence of events. Like a house of cards, Washington DC seemed to be collapsing around him. He’d heard a third explosion rock the capital only a few blocks away as he’d sprinted across the National Mall. People were bunched together, gazing in stupefied awe at the billowing columns of smoke. Some were fleeing in panic; others were too shocked to know what to do.
Connor just kept running.
With three key targets hit, he knew the odds of a tourist site being next were dangerously high.
Crossing the Outlet Bridge, Connor entered the final stretch of path to the Memorial when he noticed a 4×4 vehicle with blacked-out windows speeding along the East Basin Drive. Weaving in between the traffic, it too was headed directly for the Jefferson Memorial.
Connor put on a last burst of speed, his backpack riding high on his shoulders. He fought against the flow of tourists heading the opposite way. The 4×4 disappeared from his line of sight. But Connor was convinced the driver’s objective was the same as his – the President’s daughter.
He reached the base of the Memorial.
‘ALICIA?’ he shouted, looking left and right between the countless faces of the passing people.
A head turned in his direction. Connor immediately recognized the dark flowing curls and oversized sunglasses.
‘Alicia!’ he cried in relief as he bounded up the steps two at a time.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, both baffled and upset by his unexpected appearance.
‘My job,’ he replied, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the steps.
But Alicia resisted. She tugged her hand free from his grasp. ‘Connor, you’re not my bodyguard.’
‘But I am your friend and we have to leave now!’ he insisted.
‘I’ve already alerted Secret Service,’ she explained, taking off her sunglasses and giving him a defiant stare. ‘I don’t need your help.’
‘They’ll be too late.’ Connor’s gaze swept the Memorial for approaching threats, his alert level firmly at Code Orange. There were fewer tourists now and only a couple of park rangers. The speeding car he’d seen must have pulled up behind the building.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Alicia, hearing the tension in his voice.
‘Your phone, it’s bugged. Someone is intercepting your calls and tracking you now. And it’s not Secret Service.’
A flicker of shock passed across Alicia’s face, then she snorted in disbelief. ‘Listen, if this is some trick to prove yourself –’
‘Far from it,’ Connor cut in. He pointed to the skyline. ‘See for yourself. Washington is under attack. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you I was your buddyguard before. That wasn’t my choice. But my friendship is real. You have to trust me.’
He offered his hand again.
Alicia looked him in the eyes, trying to judge his sincerity. Under his gaze, her resistance soon crumbled. ‘I do, I do,’ she replied, taking his hand.
‘Then let’s go,’ said Connor.
The two of them turned to run, but blocking their path were four men armed with sub-machine guns.
‘Alicia Mendez, come with us,’ said the lead man.
They all wore matching black jackets and mirrored sunglasses. Each carried an FN P90 sub-machine gun and a holstered SIG Sauer P229. Pinned to their jacket collars were identical red badges with the gold five-pointed star of the Secret Service.
‘You got here quickly,’ remarked Alicia.
‘We were in the vicinity,’ he explained.
‘And who exactly are you?’ asked Connor, not willing to let his guard down.
‘Agent John Walker,’ the man replied, flicking open his credentials. ‘And you?’
Satisfied with the agent’s ID, he replied, ‘Connor Reeves.’
The agent arched an eyebrow. ‘We’d been informed you’d left.’ He glanced at the ominous smoke-filled skyline. ‘Well, you’d best come with us too.’
He signalled to his men who’d been keeping a close watch on their surroundings.
‘Let’s move out.’
The four agents swiftly escorted Alicia and Connor down the steps and round the memorial. They followed a treelined path to the car park. The blacked-out 4×4 was waiting by the kerbside, its engine running. As they approached, Agent Walker keyed his palm mic.
‘Delta Four to Control. Nomad recovered. Destination update requested. Over.’
The agent listened a moment, then keyed his mic again.
‘Received and understood, Control. En route to Blue One. Delta Four out.’ He turned to Alicia. ‘We’re taking you to a safe house,’ he explained.
As he opened the rear passenger door to the 4×4, its engine died. The driver looked over at his team leader with a bewildered expression.
‘It won’t start. All the electrics have shorted out –’
Suddenly the ground erupted with a spray of bullets and the 4×4’s bodywork rattled as if caught in a hailstorm. One of the agents screamed as he was cut down by the gunfire.