Connor had never arrived at school in such style. Cushioned by soft leather seats and comforted in air-conditioned luxury, he and Alicia were driven through the Washington downtown traffic right up to the steps of Montarose School’s main building. After a brief surveillance sweep by Secret Service, the limo doors unlocked and he and Alicia were ushered from the car like movie stars.
‘We’ll collect you at 1500 hours,’ said the broad-shouldered agent with a courteous smile.
‘As always, Kyle,’ Alicia replied, waving him goodbye.
Kyle, as Connor had discovered, was the primary bodyguard in the First Daughter’s protection team. He was also one of the few select agents to be aware of Connor’s role – and, surprisingly, the most receptive to it. Upon being introduced, Kyle had taken the time to explain the team’s key security procedures and action-on drills. He’d even covered details such as the small hexagonal lapel badges all Secret Service agents wore. These were a security measure; their colour routinely changed to reduce the likelihood of infiltration by an outsider.
As Connor stepped from the limo, Kyle gave him a subtle nod as if to say, Over to you now.
Connor knew he wasn’t being left entirely alone in his close-protection duties. The grounds of the private school were security-patrolled and cordoned off with high fences. Also the Secret Service agents would be stationed just a short distance away throughout the day. But, that said, Alicia’s immediate safety was now in his hands.
Connor followed Alicia up the steps into the main foyer. The corridors were packed with students.
‘Alicia!’ cried a voice and three girls came running over, just as Connor finished signing in at reception.
They all embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks.
An African American girl with a bundle of frizzy hair and a diamond-white smile glanced over Alicia’s shoulder. ‘Is that the English boy you were talking about last night?’
Alicia nodded.
‘Cute,’ she whispered to her friends and they giggled.
Connor offered an embarrassed smile. ‘Hi there.’
‘Oooh,’ sighed a girl with cheerleader looks and long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. ‘Say something else.’
Connor frowned in puzzlement. ‘Like what?’
‘Anything.’
Connor shrugged. ‘It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?’
The girl clapped her hands in delight. ‘I just love that English accent,’ she cooed. ‘I’m Paige. You can talk to me like that all day.’
‘And I’m Grace,’ said the black girl, dazzling him with her smile.
Alicia urged her other friend forward. ‘This is Kalila,’ she said, introducing an Arab girl with olive skin and almond eyes, who wore a light purple hijab headscarf.
‘Hello,’ she said, her voice soft as a breeze.
‘Hi,’ replied Connor. ‘Are you all in Alicia’s class?’
The girls nodded.
‘Connor’s joining our class for the rest of term,’ explained Alicia.
‘Cool!’ said Grace. ‘You can sit next to me.’
Alicia’s eyes flashed her friend a good-natured warning. ‘Connor can sit where he wants.’
‘But there’s a spare seat right beside me,’ replied Grace innocently.
Connor looked to Alicia. ‘Erm, where will you be sitting?’
‘I’d be right in front of you.’
‘Well, that sounds fine,’ he replied casually. In fact, the positioning was perfect. From the perspective of a bodyguard, he could protect her back if necessary, observe any threat approaching from the front and easily grab her to provide body cover or escape in the event of an emergency.
Alicia’s school bag buzzed and she pulled out her mobile to read the text message.
‘Hey, that’s a neat phone cover!’ said Paige.
Alicia grinned, pleased that one of her friends had noticed. ‘It’s a present from Connor.’
‘Lucky you, that’s a limited edition Armani!’ Grace exclaimed, admiring the red butterfly logo.
The girls crowded round to have a better look.
‘Just a thank-you gift,’ explained Connor, worried they’d read too much into it. But the girls were more interested in comparing phone covers and lucky charms.
The school bell rang for class.
‘Come on,’ said Alicia, grabbing her bag and looking at Connor. ‘First lesson’s history. If you can survive this, you can survive anything!’
History wasn’t one of Connor’s favourite topics, but the lesson was made even more challenging by the double life he was leading. Protecting the President’s daughter meant he had to be on constant alert – Code Yellow. But that was hard to maintain when a teacher was asking questions and there was class work to be done. It was only his first day and Connor already felt like he was performing a constant juggling act with his attention.
The open window. The teacher. The other students. Alicia. The unanswered workbook on his desk. The person passing in the corridor …
As the bell went for lunch, after the first three periods of history, Mandarin Chinese and maths, Connor was glad to be able to concentrate on just one role – that of being a buddyguard.
Alicia and her friends collected their bags and headed for the refectory with Connor in tow. As they wandered down the corridor, Connor kept a careful eye out for potential threats. Although it was tempting to relax – since they were within the relatively safe confines of a private school – Colonel Black had reinforced in him during training that ‘assumption is the mother of all screw-ups’. A bodyguard could never assume that an area was totally safe or an individual not a threat. Vigilance was required at all times. This meant that while the Secret Service would have vetted any people in direct contact with Alicia there was always a chance one shark could slip through the net. This could be a teacher, an office clerk, one of the catering staff, the cleaners, the groundsmen, a delivery driver or even a fellow student. Everyone was a suspect.
But the threat need not be an assassination. As Alicia’s buddyguard, Connor was to protect her from all forms of harm – from everyday bullying to a simple accident. So although he didn’t expect there’d be any potential assassins among the students, if Montarose School was anything like his own in East London, there’d certainly be a bonehead or two.
As if on cue, two lads strolled up to their group as they waited in line for food. One was well-built with dark wavy hair, a square jaw and a confident swagger. He looked like a young Clark Kent who’d forgotten to put on his glasses and was still Superman. His friend was bigger – a bulldozer of a boy with a short crew cut and size twelve Converse trainers.
‘Hey, Alicia!’ drawled Superman. ‘What’s up?’
‘Hi, Ethan,’ she replied, smiling coyly as her friends gathered to one side to give them space.
‘Ethan, this is Connor from England,’ introduced Alicia.
The boy gave a brief nod in Connor’s direction. ‘Right!’
Then he turned his attention back to Alicia before Connor had a chance to reply.
‘So, what you doing at the weekend?’ he asked.
Alicia glanced sideways at her giggling schoolmates. ‘My father’s asked me to take Connor to the National Mall on Saturday. Fancy joining us?’
‘Nah, it’s just a bunch of old museums and monuments,’ snorted Ethan. ‘Anyway, I’ve got baseball practice.’
‘Ethan’s the top hitter for the school team,’ Grace whispered to Connor, handing him a dinner tray. ‘He’s also the school star quarterback.’
Connor nodded. Judging by the boy’s attitude, he certainly thought himself a star.
‘Are you going to the Summer Prom?’ Ethan asked casually.
‘Maybe,’ replied Alicia, twirling a lock of her dark hair round her finger. ‘Depends who’s asking.’
‘I am.’
Alicia pursed her lips. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Think about it?’ exclaimed Ethan, his stunned expression suggesting he never expected ‘no’ from a girl – even the President’s daughter. ‘It’s only two weeks away.’