He gestured to them with a sweep of his hand and Connor looked up, his mouth half-full. He now realized the meal was purely a show for the camera.
‘I’m certain, as a father and the President of your country, you wish for their safe return,’ continued their hooded captor. ‘Their fate very much lies in your hands.’
Both Connor and Alicia stopped eating, the thinly veiled threat killing all appetite. They glanced anxiously at one another, each wondering if the broadcast was going out live.
Connor thought about shouting out or signing a message, but he knew little of their location – except they were possibly somewhere in the Middle East – and he knew even less about their captors that would help Secret Service or Buddyguard rescue them. He briefly considered an escape attempt while the terrorists were distracted. But one glance towards the doorway, where the gunman stood guard in the corridor, soon dispelled any such illusions. They’d be shot down before they even planted one foot on the stairwell. He was utterly powerless.
Yet, just as he felt a cloak of despair settle over him, Connor suddenly realized that he did have two pieces of information he could communicate on camera. He just had to stay sharp and proceed with caution.
‘Our demands are simple,’ stated the hooded leader, his image filling the central flatscreen monitor in the White House Situation Room. ‘You have until midnight on the third of July to release every one of our brothers imprisoned on terrorism charges and announce the withdrawal of all American troops from the Middle East. Meet the first demand and the boy will be freed as proof of our word. Meet the second and you’ll be reunited with your daughter. These are our terms. For this year, the fourth of July will be our Independence Day.’
The picture froze on Alicia’s face. Her expression was defiant, but her complexion was pale and her eyes shone with barely restrained tears.
A deathly silence fell over the Situation Room. No one even breathed, too stunned by the inconceivable kidnapping of the President’s daughter.
Then the First Lady let out a sob and the Situation Room was motivated into frenzied action.
‘At least we know they’re both alive,’ stated Karen, the Director of National Intelligence trying to offer the First Lady some comfort. ‘The video was time-stamped just fifty-eight minutes ago.’
‘Has this gone public?’ President Mendez asked, his voice strangely fragile.
‘Not so far as we’re aware,’ replied Dirk. ‘The video link was sent direct to your secretary’s email account.’
‘That’s odd,’ remarked the press secretary. ‘Most terrorists want publicity. I’d have thought they’d plaster this across the entire internet.’
‘There’s no guarantee they won’t,’ said George, grimacing, then popping an antacid tablet into his mouth to ease his heartburn. ‘It’ll all be part of their sick propaganda war.’
‘Who are the Brotherhood of the Rising Crescent anyway?’ General Shaw demanded.
Karen’s Middle East Advisor, Omar Ahmed, opened a file on his laptop and linked it with the Situation Room’s central monitor.
‘They’re a fundamentalist group, based in Yemen,’ he explained, pointing to the information on display. ‘Unrepresentative of the majority of their faith, their stated goal is “To fight every non-believer until victory or martyrdom and to make every American regret their occupation of their lands”. The leader is believed to be Malik Hussain.’ A grainy picture of an Arab, too indistinct to make out his features, flashed up on the screen. ‘Born in Sana’a, the capital city of Yemen, to a wealthy oil family, he was educated in Saudi Arabia before heading to Afghanistan to fight with the Taliban. After that he pops up in Pakistan and Iraq until settling permanently in his homeland.’
Omar closed his laptop.
‘Is that all you have on them?’ said General Shaw.
Omar nodded regretfully. ‘Like many minority extremist outfits, they were under our radar. The CIA simply didn’t consider they had the resources to launch a viable attack.’
‘Well, they did!’ snarled Dirk. The Secret Service Director’s jaw was tense with anger.
‘Yes, we underestimated this enemy,’ admitted Omar. ‘But to coordinate bombings and a kidnapping on this scale some other organization has to be backing them.’
‘Like who?’ asked the President.
Omar shrugged. ‘These groups function as independent cells. We may never find that out.’
There was a heavy silence round the conference table as they considered the grave implications of this.
‘Our first priority must be to locate and safely retrieve the hostages,’ said General Shaw decisively. ‘Have we sourced the origin of the email yet?’
‘Our analysts are working on it as we speak,’ replied Dirk. ‘And technicians are searching for clues in the transmission itself.’
‘We’re also checking every outbound flight within the last twenty-four hours,’ added Karen. ‘Charter, private, commercial and business. That should narrow our search.’
The President thumped his fist on the table in frustration. ‘How could these people smuggle my daughter out of the country without someone knowing?’
‘My poor little girl, she must be terrified,’ said the First Lady, fresh tears running down her cheeks.
President Mendez drew his wife into his arms and she wept on his shoulder. ‘At least Alicia’s not alone in her plight. Connor’s been trained to handle hostage situations. Isn’t that right, Colonel?’
Colonel Black nodded, although he now seriously wished he’d dedicated more time to it in the Buddyguard syllabus. But he had faith in Connor’s resilience. ‘Connor will be as crucial to your daughter’s survival as your team in finding her,’ he assured them.
Dirk couldn’t help a dismissive snort. ‘Some bodyguard your boy turned out to be,’ he muttered, evidently cracking under the pressure.
Catching his comment, Colonel Black spun on him. ‘Well, if you hadn’t dismissed him so readily, he might have been able to do his job properly,’ he retorted. ‘And, thanks to Connor’s intervention, the last ring of defence hasn’t been broken yet.’
Dirk shot him an incredulous look. ‘He’s a hostage! An additional problem.’
‘Connor’s an asset,’ corrected the colonel, and asked for the video to be replayed. ‘He’s already informed us that they’re being held underground and that there are at least five gunmen.’
He paused the video and indicated the screen. ‘See here, Connor’s pointing a finger down beneath his hand. And here he forms his fingers into the shape of a gun, then opens his hand to indicate five.’
‘Are you sure of this?’ asked George, scrutinizing the video playback.
‘Yes. The movements are very subtle, but he repeats them twice.’
‘Still, that’s not much help,’ remarked Dirk.
‘It’s a start,’ stated Colonel Black. ‘And such information could be crucial for any rescue attempt.’
Connor had no idea whether anyone would spot his discreet hand signs or even recognize them as signals. But the act itself afforded him a small sense of control over their situation. And this helped fend off his feelings of powerlessness.
After the video recording, their captors escorted them back to their cell and locked the door once more. Alicia, who’d fought so hard to hold back the tears, collapsed on the threadbare mattress and sobbed her heart out. Connor sat down beside her, put his arm round her shoulders and let her cry.
During Hostage Survival class, Colonel Black had told them they would need to control their emotions, stay calm and keep a level head.
Easier said than done, thought Connor, glancing at Alicia and then around their tiny prison cell. If he didn’t have Alicia to protect and look after, he’d probably be falling apart himself.
At the time, the colonel’s advice had seemed somewhat hypothetical. Being kidnapped was a situation that would never occur – or so Connor had believed. But now he and Alicia were held hostage he had to deal with it.