‘No,’ admitted Connor. ‘That was the first time I’d seen her.’
‘They’re the same person,’ revealed his surveillance tutor with a grin. ‘Just a reversible coat and sunglasses. It’s amazing how a simple disguise can be enough to fool the untrained observer. And a word of warning: women are far better chameleons than men in that regard.’
Charley and the rest of Alpha team appeared from behind the van.
‘So how did Connor fare at anti-surveillance?’ Bugsy asked them.
‘Pretty good. For a first attempt,’ said Amir, punching Connor lightly on the arm.
‘He kept his techniques covert,’ observed Marc. ‘Nice use of windows and natural looking around.’
Connor smiled, pleased by his friends’ compliments.
‘Until he stared right at his tail in the main street, that is,’ Jason was keen to point out. ‘That was overt. The guy knew he was on to him then.’
Connor hadn’t expected praise from Jason – and didn’t get any. Their relationship was still pretty frosty after their unarmed combat tussle the week before.
‘But loads of people looked,’ argued Ling. ‘That idiot almost got himself killed.’
‘I think Connor was clever to use the alley as a “choke point”,’ noted Charley.
‘Agreed,’ said Bugsy. ‘If any tail had followed him through, their surveillance would have been exposed. But he still failed to spot the woman.’
He pointed to a blue estate car two rows behind Connor. The blonde-haired lady was behind the wheel. She gave Connor a teasing wave. Beside her sat the square-jawed man with the gold stud.
‘You must remember that experienced operatives work in teams. There won’t be just one person following you or your Principal. And they’ll take it in turns to avoid detection.’
Connor nodded, his lesson learnt. Bugsy had been training Alpha team in anti-surveillance techniques for the past week. He’d explained that any coordinated attack was always preceded by a period of surveillance. If that surveillance was detected early enough, the attack might be abandoned. The problem was spotting the operatives in the first place. And if the enemy was an organized terrorist group, then they would be highly trained and virtually impossible to detect.
‘Criminals, terrorists and kidnappers look the same as everyone else,’ reminded Bugsy. ‘Men, women, young and old, any could be monitoring your Principal. Children – just like you – are also used as information gatherers. A skilled operative will be the “grey” person, the one who blends into a crowd – so you have to suspect everyone.’
He popped another stick of chewing gum into his mouth before offering the packet round.
‘The key to identifying surveillance is to force multiple sightings and unnatural behaviour,’ he explained, chewing voraciously. ‘Drop a piece of paper and see whether anyone picks it up to examine it. Frequently change direction – although try to have a reason for doing this, otherwise the technique is quite obvious. Get on a bus and jump off at the next stop.’
‘You could use your mobile phone to scan the area for Bluetooth devices,’ suggested Amir. ‘If the same username pops up in two or more locations, then you’ve got a ping!’
Bugsy grinned as he chewed. ‘Now that’s a new trick!’ he remarked, nodding appreciatively at his student. ‘In terms of unnatural behaviour, look for people peering round corners, over stands or through doors and windows. Check for “mirroring” – if you cross the road, who else crosses the road? They’ll have some means of communication, so watch out for a clenched fist or mic switch. A vacant expression on a person can be a dead giveaway – they’re concentrating on a radio transmission. Fidgeting, talking to themselves or the avoidance of eye contact are all possible signs. Also be vigilant for handovers. If you suspect an individual, watch them closely but covertly. They may identify another operative by hand signals, eye contact or using a mobile phone.’
Connor now realized that the square-jawed man’s stare at the blonde-haired lady had been a blatant signal – and he’d missed it.
‘Anti-surveillance is sometimes the only way to meet a threat and deter – or even survive – an attack,’ Bugsy emphasized. ‘So stay in Code Yellow and keep your eyes peeled for repeated sightings. Remember: Once is happenstance. Twice is circumstance. Three times means enemy action.’
Hazim kept the sub-machine gun tucked into his shoulder as he crouched behind the rusting oil barrel. A soldier with a rifle emerged from behind a building to his left. Hazim squeezed the trigger. His weapon let loose a deafening barrage. The soldier was hit in quick succession by four body shots.
Almost immediately two more soldiers appeared. Kedar, who stood in the shelter of a nearby doorway, raked them with gunfire. Then a woman darted across from the opposite building. Hazim targeted her, but his initial burst of bullets missed. Hurriedly re-aiming, he fired again. The woman was winged twice in the hip before going down.
More enemy popped up. Hazim sprayed them in a deadly hail of gunfire, the sub-machine jarring against his shoulder like a jackhammer. His palms became sticky with sweat and a red haze seized him as the gun thundered in his grip. He spun on a girl standing in a doorway. His bullets ripped through her too. Only too late did he realize his mistake as the teddy bear clasped in her arms was shredded into tatters.
‘Cease fire!’ barked Kedar.
Hazim took a trembling finger off the trigger. His breathing was rapid and the air was tainted with the smell of burnt gunpowder and hot metal.
‘Good shooting,’ commended Kedar, slapping Hazim on the back.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the girl,’ replied Hazim. ‘I lost control.’
Kedar grinned. ‘It’s easily done. With one of those guns in your hand, you can feel invincible. But you must remain focused.’
Kedar reset the cardboard targets on the private shooting range and turned to the other men in the group.
‘The Secret Service agents will be well armed and highly trained,’ he warned them. ‘That’s why we must be capable of holding our own in a gun battle.’
He raised his compact sub-machine gun aloft. ‘But don’t worry, we’ll possess equal firepower and meet force with force.’
Kedar aimed at the furthest target on the range and planted a bullet straight between the figure’s eyes, before obliterating the target’s head entirely.
The crack of a gunshot shattered the peace of the valley, sending a flock of startled birds into the sky.
‘RUN!’ bawled Amir into Connor’s ear.
Roughly seized by the shoulder, Connor was spun round and shoved in the opposite direction to the shooter. Amir was directly behind him, holding his body close to shield Connor from the threat. Like some mad three-legged race, they sprinted across the field for the safety of a stone wall.
‘Keep going,’ ordered Amir, gripping him tight.
As they neared the wall, Connor spotted a burning fuse amid the grass.
‘Grenade!’ he cried.
Amir’s eyes widened in panic and he attempted to alter their course. But their feet became tangled up by the sudden change in direction. They both tumbled to the ground, landing face first in the dirt. The grenade exploded inches from their heads. There was a blinding flash. An ear-splitting blast. Then a shower of red sparks rained down on them.
‘That was close,’ remarked Amir, laughing nervously as the firecracker burnt out.
Connor dislodged Amir from his back and glared at him. ‘Not as close as this sheep muck!’
Amir stifled a snigger as Connor wiped off a dark brown smear of dung from his face with his sleeve.
‘Gross,’ said Amir, but his amusement was brought to a swift end when he heard the angry shouts of their instructor.
‘A-C-E,’ said Jody despairingly, as the two of them rejoined Alpha team on the school’s front lawn. ‘Amir, have you forgotten what that means?’