‘I can do that,’ she said, neatly flipping it on to the back of her wheelchair.
‘Sorry, of course you can,’ replied Connor, feeling awkward at his presumption. He followed her into the corridor.
‘Something on your mind?’ she asked.
Not knowing how to broach the subject directly, Connor said, ‘What made you decide to become a buddyguard?’
Charley laughed. ‘Colonel Black.’
Connor gave her a puzzled look.
‘You’ve experienced his recruitment methods,’ she explained. ‘He’s not a man who expects no for an answer.’
‘But you still had a choice.’
Charley nodded. ‘And I jumped at the chance.’
‘But why?’
Charley sighed. ‘A friend of mine was kidnapped. She was never seen again. I’ve always thought that if I’d known how to protect her, I could have saved her.’
‘But what do your parents think about you doing this?’
‘They died in a plane crash three years ago.’
Connor felt his heart go out to her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘It’s all right,’ she replied, her voice flat and unemotional. ‘I’ve kinda come to terms with it now.’
But Connor recognized the brave face she put on as the same one he used when someone asked about his dad. She couldn’t conceal the deeper grain of sadness in her eyes.
They passed through the entrance hall in silence. As they neared the bay window, a shaft of sunlight glinted off the badge on Charley’s top. In an attempt to change the topic, Connor asked, ‘Tell me, why’s your shield gold?’
Charley glanced down at the badge. ‘These are awarded for outstanding bravery in the line of duty.’
Intrigued, Connor asked, ‘What did you do?’
Charley rolled to a stop by the window and looked out at the mountains in the distance.
‘As buddyguards, we hope for the best, but plan for the worst,’ she said softly. ‘Sometimes, the worst happens.’
She chewed her lower lip pensively and went silent on him.
Wishing he’d kept his mouth shut, Connor decided not to push the subject any further. Charley seemed to appreciate this. She forced a smile and her face brightened. ‘But don’t worry, Connor. As ops leader, I’ll make certain that never happens to you.’
Descending the darkened staircase to the basement level, Hazim walked along a short corridor, lit only by a bare bulb, and looked inside an empty windowless white-walled cell. In the room opposite, Bahir glanced up from a circuit board that he was soldering.
‘Malik’s asked me to check on progress of the holding cell,’ explained Hazim. ‘He wants to know if it’ll be one hundred per cent secure?’
‘When I’m finished,’ Bahir stated, the glowing tip of the soldering iron reflecting in his metal-rimmed glasses, ‘a spider won’t be able to get in or out!’
He pointed to the narrow door Hazim had just peered through. ‘That’s the only access and it has a reinforced lock.’
‘What about electronic communications?’
Bahir indicated a mobile phone on his desk. ‘See for yourself, no signal whatsoever.’
Hazim glanced at the display – the aerial icon flashed searching.
‘I’ve installed a wide range of electronic jammers,’ Bahir quietly boasted, indicating his spaghetti junction of wires and boxes on the table. ‘All operating on different bandwidths. Each jammer has a back-up in case of failure. The system will block against every cellular network – even the newer phones which hop between different frequencies.’
Hazim nodded, as if understanding the complex array of technical equipment before him. ‘What about bugs and transmitters?’
Bahir snorted in disdain. ‘Useless. All radio signals are disrupted.’ He gave an oily smile. ‘I’ve employed subtle jamming too. No distortion or erratic tones – that would be too easy to detect. Instead any listener will just hear silence, although everything will seem superficially normal with their equipment.’
‘That’s pretty impressive,’ said Hazim.
‘Of course it is,’ said Bahir, returning to his work with a grin.
Hazim coughed politely for Bahir’s attention. ‘Malik’s also concerned about thermal-imaging scanners. What should I tell him?’
Without looking up, Bahir pointed to the ceiling and walls. ‘A combination of aluminium layers and Plexiglas in the construction will foil any attempts to scan this room for body heat – even if there was a full-blown fire, they couldn’t detect it.’
‘Right,’ said Hazim. ‘And what about our communications?’
Putting down the soldering iron, Bahir took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly irritated at being interrupted yet again. ‘The reach of the jammers is about nine metres, so we’ll still be able to operate outside this zone. For internet access, I’ve piggy-backed the neighbouring property’s telephone line and installed a re-router.’
‘Isn’t that risky?’ gasped Hazim. ‘Won’t it reveal our location?’
Bahir gave him a hard stare as if insulted by the mere suggestion. ‘Not at all. The connection is bounced between a dozen random servers worldwide, plus it’s protected by a few tricks of my own. There’ll be no way they can trace the signal back here.’
‘And you’re absolutely certain this room is soundproof?’ Hazim asked.
‘On my life. Now let me get on with my work,’ replied Bahir, replacing his glasses and picking up the soldering iron. ‘For all intents and purposes, this room is invisible to the eyes and ears of the US government. In essence, it does not exist.’
Marc had been right. After a couple of weeks, Connor’s brain was turning to mush. He had never envisaged the need to know so much to become a bodyguard. There had been lectures on the law – Common, Civil and Criminal. How to produce a threat assessment. The basics of operational planning. Conflict management. Etiquette at formal functions. And even how to get safely in and out of a car: the technique being to sit backside first, instead of stepping in with one foot. Then if the car sped away in an emergency you simply lifted your legs – rather than being dumped unceremoniously on the pavement as the vehicle shot off without you.
And this was just the start. He still had ten weeks of basic training ahead. On top of that, they were expected to attend normal lessons too! Maths, history, English and all the other subjects Connor had hoped to escape by joining Buddyguard. But Colonel Black took all aspects of his recruits’ training seriously. ‘In all but the most extreme circumstances, a professional bodyguard uses brain over brawn,’ he explained. ‘And that means being educated and informed.’
After another marathon day of non-stop lessons and fitness training, Connor collapsed on the sofa in Alpha team’s common room. ‘When will we get some time off?’ he asked.
Ling, helping herself to a Diet Coke from the fridge, merely laughed. ‘You mean, for good behaviour? We might have a trip to Cardiff every so often. But don’t get your hopes up. This course is full on.’
She pointed to the next week’s timetable pinned on the noticeboard.
‘Read it and weep!’
Dragging himself from the sofa, Connor passed Amir, who was busily tapping away on his keyboard. ‘Don’t you ever stop working?’
‘This isn’t work, it’s programming,’ explained Amir, his eyes fixated on the screen. ‘I’m creating a bodyguard app.’
‘What will it do?’ asked Connor, trying to get a look.
Amir tapped the side of his nose with a finger to indicate a secret. ‘I’ll tell you when it works.’
‘Sounds intriguing.’
‘Don’t get too excited,’ smirked Ling. ‘Amir’s last app fried his phone!’
Amir shot her evils. ‘The phone just couldn’t handle the sheer awesomeness of my programming, that’s all.’
‘Whatever,’ said Ling, sipping her can of Coke and strolling out.