‘I don’t know the details. And Charley prefers not to talk about it.’
That evening Connor didn’t feel like unpacking. He lay on his bed, listening to the wind whistling outside. His thoughts turned to Charley and the shock of seeing her confined to a wheelchair. The reality of what he’d agreed to hit home. Being a bodyguard was no game. The risks were real. Dangerously real.
‘Do you understand what I’ve tasked you with?’ questioned Malik, sitting cross-legged beneath the shade of an olive tree in his courtyard garden on the outskirts of Sana’a. Laid out on a cloth before the leader was a large bowl of saltah stew, a plate of aseed dried fish with cheese, boiled rice, malooga flatbread and a pot of black tea.
Hazim nodded. ‘I’m honoured to be entrusted so.’
Malik smiled the thin grin of a snake. ‘You’ve been chosen, Hazim, because of your rather unique position. No one among the Brotherhood can get as close to the President’s daughter as you. But nothing can be left to chance. Our planning must be meticulous and our methods discreet.’
‘I understand.’
‘You must tell no one of your true purpose. Especially your family.’
‘I won’t,’ assured Hazim, ‘although you’re family, Uncle.’
Malik barked a desert-dry laugh. ‘And that’s why I trust you, Hazim. You’re like a son to me.’
Hazim beamed with pride. ‘You’ve always shown me favour, Uncle. It was you who encouraged my studies at the mosque in the first place. And that’s why I won’t let you down.’
‘I trust not,’ said Malik, all traces of humour vanishing from his face. ‘The role you play will be vital. And you’ll be provided with all the surveillance resources and back-up you need. Bahir is to be responsible for communications and technology, and Kedar for managing our defensive requirements. Now, do you have any questions?’
Malik paused to take a sip of black tea from a small china cup, giving Hazim the opportunity to speak.
‘You say money’s no object,’ began Hazim, ‘yet how can the Brotherhood fund an operation like this?’
‘You need not concern yourself with that,’ said Malik, his tone hardening. ‘It doesn’t matter what it costs when the prize is so great.’
Selecting a piece of flatbread from the plate, Malik scooped up a helping of saltah and shovelled the meat stew into his mouth. He chewed slowly as he studied Hazim. ‘All that’s important is you’re willing to do what’s necessary for the purpose of achieving our goal.’
His coal-black eyes bored into Hazim’s as he searched for the slightest evidence of doubt, any flicker of cowardice.
Hazim held Malik’s stare. ‘I’m well aware of the dangers, Uncle. And I’m resolved to my calling.’
Malik grinned in satisfaction, licking the stew from his yellow-stained teeth. ‘Excellent.’
‘Bodyguards are the modern-day samurai warriors,’ declared Colonel Black, clicking up an image of a Japanese swordsman on the overhead projector. ‘Like these ancient warriors, the bodyguard’s duty is to protect their Principal above all else.’
Connor sat with Alpha team in the briefing room, a windowless chamber at the heart of the school building. Kitted out with HD flatscreen projectors, state-of-the-art computers and ergonomic high-backed lecture chairs, it was unlike any classroom Connor had ever been in.
‘These warriors followed the code of bushido – a set of virtues that shaped the samurai’s training and attitude to life. Today, a professional bodyguard adheres to the same principles of Loyalty, Honour and Courage.’
‘You’re making us sound like heroes!’ jested Marc.
‘You are,’ replied the colonel, his gaze briefly falling on Charley sitting in her chair at the front. ‘But you’ll be unsung heroes. Connor, you must forget the Hollywood image of the muscle-bound bouncer in a suit barging a path for some starlet through a screaming crowd. Or a secret service 007-type in dark shades, talking into his sleeve, hand inside his jacket ready to draw a gun at the slightest threat. The best bodyguards are the ones that nobody notices.’
The next image on the screen showed a restaurant scene. A family of four sat at a table surrounded by other diners.
‘So where are the bodyguards in this picture, Connor?’
Connor searched the image for clues. ‘The obvious one is the big man in the suit standing by the window, but you just said it can’t be him.’
‘Correct. He’s the restaurant’s doorman. The actual protection team is here.’ The colonel shone a laser pointer at a couple having a seemingly romantic meal. ‘And also here.’ The red beam now shone on the young girl at the family table. ‘She’s one of our buddyguards. And that’s why you’ve all been chosen. To blend into the background. To become the unassuming friend. By not drawing attention to your Principal, you reduce the risk of making them a target.’
‘So why do celebrities always use the Hollywood type?’ asked Connor.
‘As a deterrent,’ replied the colonel, picking up a coffee mug and taking a sip. ‘If the Principal is a film star, for example, high-profile protection will keep any fanatical followers at bay. And, in these cases, generally the bigger and uglier the bodyguard appears, the easier it is for them to do their job.’
‘Makes Jason perfect for the role!’ remarked Ling out of the corner of her mouth.
Jason flicked his pen lid at her. ‘Careful I don’t step on you, mini-mouse!’
She caught the lid in mid-air without looking. ‘You’ll have to be quicker than that to get me.’
‘Ling!’ barked the colonel, bringing a swift end to the frivolity. ‘I realize Alpha team knows much of this already, but this session is designed to bring Connor up to speed and the revision is beneficial for you too. So tell me, what’s the key to effective security as a bodyguard?’
‘Constant awareness,’ Ling replied, her expression turning studious.
The colonel slammed his palm on the lectern. Amir almost leapt from his chair in fright at the sudden noise.
‘What did Ling just say, Amir?’
‘Erm … constant … awareness,’ he replied, stifling a yawn. The combination of working late and rising early had clearly taken its toll.
‘And you’d do well to remember that,’ warned the colonel. ‘If you’re aware, you’re less likely to be taken by surprise. And that could mean the difference between life and death for both you and your Principal.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Amir, sitting up straight.
‘Now explain the relevance of the Cooper Colour Code.’
Amir swivelled in his chair to face Connor. ‘According to Marine Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Cooper, the most important means of surviving a lethal confrontation isn’t a weapon or martial arts skills but the correct combat mindset. He identified four levels of awareness – White, Yellow, Orange and Red. Code White means being totally switched off. This is where ninety-five per cent of people spend ninety-five per cent of their time – living in their own bubble. Like when you’re on a mobile phone and you cross the road without looking.’
Connor nodded, having been guilty of this himself many a time and once almost getting run over.
‘Code White is no place for a bodyguard to be,’ emphasized the colonel. ‘If you’re suddenly attacked, you’ll get a massive surge of adrenalin that your body won’t be able to cope with. It’ll trigger a state of fight, flight or freeze. This sensory overload will hinder you from protecting your Principal, who’s probably in the same state of shock. You need to be thinking straight, making lightning-fast decisions and taking the appropriate actions to get your Principal out of danger.’
The colonel’s steely grey eyes fixed on Marc. ‘So, what state of mind should a bodyguard always be in?’
‘Code Yellow – relaxed alertness,’ replied Marc. ‘There’s no specific threat, but you’re aware that the world’s a dangerous place and you’re prepared to defend yourself and your Principal, if necessary. You use all your senses to scan the surroundings in a relaxed yet alert manner.’