Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(70)

‘Over the bridge!’ shouted Connor.

They raced across. The gunmen were still among the trees. But it wouldn’t be long before they had them in their sights again. Connor realized their only hope was to get to the safe house. From what he recalled, he knew it lay somewhere east of the memorial. Searching for the quickest route, Connor spotted an underpass on the other side of the junction of 14th and 15th Streets.

‘Through that tunnel!’ he directed Alicia.

The traffic was heavy, but with no time to spare they dashed across the highway. Cars swerved round them. A truck blasted its horn as they were almost mown down beneath its wheels. Connor heard gunfire and felt a bullet catch the corner of his backpack, spinning him into the side of a passing car. From behind there was a mighty bang and the ear-splitting crunch of metal as several vehicles collided. Horns blared and tyres squealed as the traffic ground to a sudden halt.

Connor kept his grip on Alicia and they darted into the underpass.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, breathing hard.

‘To the safe house,’ said Connor, trying to reboot his phone on the run. But the screen remained blank. ‘Is your phone working?’

Alicia pulled it from her pocket. ‘No!’

Damn, thought Connor, but at  least she can’t be tracked any longer.

He tried to recall exactly where the safe house was: 6 … 8 … 6 … E Street SW.

‘How far’s E Street South-West from here?’

‘Only about four blocks away,’ replied Alicia.

‘Then let’s go.’

Behind they heard the shouts of the gunmen echoing through the tunnel.

Alicia now led the way. They crossed the road, jumping the central reservation, and headed along Maine Avenue. They were about to duck into a side street, when a blacked-out 4×4 screeched to a halt in front of them. A blonde-haired woman wearing a green Secret Service lapel badge jumped out.

‘Quick, get in,’ urged Agent Brooke from Alicia’s PES team.

They dived into the rear passenger compartment. She closed the doors behind them and leapt into the front seat. Flooring the accelerator, she drove off at high speed.

Connor looked through the back windscreen. The gunmen had disappeared from view.

‘Are we … glad to run … into you!’ Alicia panted.

‘You’re a hard one to keep track of,’ replied Agent Brooke, arching an eyebrow.

Connor turned to her. ‘I thought you were off-duty today, like Kyle.’

Agent Brooke gave him a sharp look. ‘Everyone’s called in during an emergency.’

‘Not that I’m ungrateful,’ Connor quickly added.

She turned left on to C Street.

‘Aren’t we going to the safe house?’ Connor asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Agent Brooke.

‘But isn’t E Street the other way?’

‘There’s a roadblock due to the bombings. We have to go round.’

At the traffic lights, she turned left again on to 14th Street. They headed past the junction to D Street and continued on, joining the main highway that led out of Washington. As the Jefferson Memorial came back into view, Connor began to sense something was wrong. The detour wasn’t logical.

‘How long until we get to Blue Two then?’ asked Connor.

‘About five minutes,’ replied Agent Brooke.

Connor had called her bluff. The call sign for the safe house was ‘Blue One’. It was now that he noticed the colour of Agent Brooke’s Secret Service badge. The other agents today had been wearing  red lapel badges. On his first outing with Secret Service, Kyle had told him the colour-coded badges were an important security measure. Any legitimate agents on a protection detail would be wearing matching badges.

Connor reached for Alicia’s hand and squeezed it. We have to get out of here, he mouthed to her.

Her brow knitted in confusion.  What? she mouthed back.

‘She’s NOT Secret  Service!’ he whispered.

As the traffic slowed, Connor made a grab for the door handle – but discovered it was locked. He threw his shoulder against the door. ‘Let us out!’

Agent Brooke spun round in her seat. ‘You’re brighter than I thought,’ she snarled.

Drawing her gun, she shot Connor point-blank in the chest.





‘I’ve lost contact!’ cried Amir, searching his computer screen for the green dot that represented Connor. But the bird’s-eye view of Washington DC was devoid of any tracer signal.

Charley sped over from her central workstation in the Buddyguard operations room. ‘It may be just a satellite delay.’

‘No, I’ve run diagnostic checks. The uplink is fine.’

‘What about resetting the connection?’

‘Already done that. Nothing.’

Charley frowned, a bad feeling starting to creep in. ‘So where was Connor when you lost the signal?’

‘Near the Jefferson Memorial,’ Amir replied, pointing to the location on the screen. ‘Judging by his movements, he’d made contact with Alicia and was heading to the car park. Shortly after –’ he clicked his fingers in the air – ‘gone!’

‘What about the Cell-Finity bug on her phone?’ she asked. ‘We’re mirroring the trace, aren’t we?’