Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(72)

‘Well, he’s not invited to our party,’ said Kedar, drawing his handgun and aiming at Connor’s head.

‘Hold your fire!’ ordered Malik.

‘But I thought we agreed no prisoners, apart from the girl.’

Malik pushed Kedar’s gun away.

‘No, don’t kill him …’ He tugged the tranquillizer dart from Connor’s chest. ‘Not yet anyway. Having another child hostage might prove a useful bargaining chip.’





‘The White House is all clear, Mr President,’ announced George. ‘The bomb disposal team have swept the residence, three times now, and that particular threat appears to have been a hoax.’

‘A hoax? The others certainly weren’t,’ replied President Mendez, seated at the head of the conference table aboard Air Force One. The past few hours had been some of the worst the nation had known since 9/11 and he was in no mood for practical jokes.

‘This was most likely a prank call, inspired by but unconnected to the bombings,’ explained Karen Wright. ‘We couldn’t take that risk, though.’

‘It was the right decision, Karen. But I need to get back into the Oval Office and make a statement to reassure the nation. What’s the situation at the other locations in Washington?’

The Director of National Intelligence swiped her finger across her touchscreen computer. An updated situation report appeared on the screen.

‘All targeted areas have been cordoned off. Official reports indicate structural damage to Secret Service and FBI Headquarters. The US Capitol building has escaped unscathed. There were one hundred and fifty-four casualties at the last count, but mercifully few confirmed deaths. We can thank the swift response of our emergency services for that.’

Karen scanned down the page to the ERT report.

‘The Environmental Response Teams have completed initial atmospheric analysis. Apart from the anticipated smoke and fumes, no chemical, biological or nuclear compounds were found in any of the attacks.’

President Mendez breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘A dirty bomb would have been our worst nightmare. So, can we assume the immediate threat is over?’

‘It appears that way,’ replied Karen. ‘But as a standard precaution we’ve closed all public buildings, diverted traffic out of the downtown area and a block-by-block search for any suspicious vehicles or packages is under way. So far, no further danger has been reported.’

‘Then we can inform the public that we are in control of the situation.’

‘Yes, Mr President.’

‘Excellent. It’s important that we display a show of strength against these terrorists.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not all good news, Mr President,’ said Dirk, entering the airborne conference room, his face drawn and haggard following a high-priority call from the Joint Operations Centre. ‘As you know, we received confirmation from Delta Four that your daughter was picked up and being taken to a safe house. But –’

‘But what?’ demanded President Mendez.

‘The team never reached the safe house.’

President Mendez blinked, unwilling to believe what he’d just heard. ‘And you’ve only learnt about this now?’ He glanced at the clock on the cabin wall. ‘It’s been over  five hours. Where is she then?’

Dirk’s solemn expression said it all. ‘The Secret Service team has just been found dead in the Jefferson Memorial car park. There’d been a gun battle.’

‘Alicia too?’ he asked, his hands beginning to tremble. As President he was more than capable of handling a national crisis, but as a father the thought of losing his daughter was too much to bear.

Dirk shook his head. ‘There was no sign of her.’

‘So she’s still alive?’

‘Yes, in all probability,’ replied Dirk. ‘I’ve also been informed Connor was with her at the time.’

President Mendez frowned. ‘I thought he’d left?’

‘So did I. But Buddyguard uncovered last-minute evidence that your daughter’s phone was tapped and being tracked.’

‘Then why haven’t you found her yet?’ asked President Mendez, anguish gripping his heart like a vice.

‘Her panic alarm malfunctioned. We lifted the block on mobile calls, but her cellphone’s dead too,’ explained Dirk. ‘With Secret Service headquarters crippled by the bomb blast and the current state of emergency, our teams have been stretched to the limit. If we’d only been allowed to put a tracker on her –’

‘Dirk, I don’t want excuses. I need results,’ President Mendez barked, pounding the table with his fist. ‘Land this plane right now. Get me back to Washington. Divert every resource available to finding my daughter!’





A splitting headache was the first sensation Connor was aware of. Then a deep throbbing ache in his muscles. Followed by an unsettling queasiness in his stomach. As he regained full consciousness, he attempted to swallow, but his mouth was dry as a desert and his throat sore and swollen.

Cracking open his eyes, the light hurt like fire and indistinct shapes swirled before his vision. When it eventually settled, Connor discovered he was lying on a hard concrete floor. In front of him was a battered plastic bottle of water and a featureless wall. Fighting the heaviness in his limbs, he tried to sit up but was instantly hit by a wave of nausea. He lay still until the feeling passed.