‘Ling, I need you to check the CCTV camera footage around the Jefferson Memorial – before, during and after the ambush. We might pick up some clues – a face or a vehicle reg. Marc, Colonel Black says they found the dead Secret Service agent in a disused hangar near Stafford Airport. Execute a digital sweep of the surveillance satellites we have access to and find out if any were over the vicinity at the time. Amir, I’ll need your help analysing the ransom video. Scan its audio track for background noise, accents, anything that might indicate the location of the terrorist’s hideout.’
Amir sat down at the terminal next to her and logged on. ‘But won’t Secret Service be doing all of this anyway?’ he questioned.
‘Of course, but locating Connor and Alicia will be like hunting for a needle in a haystack,’ replied Charley, expanding the video to fullscreen and searching for visual leads. ‘There’s every chance they might miss a vital clue. So the more eyes, the better.’
At least two days had passed … or so Connor thought. It was difficult to judge the time, trapped in a windowless cell where the light was never switched off. He and Alicia slept fitfully, a razor edge of fear and uncertainty making it impossible to rest for long. Every so often the door to their cell would be flung open and they’d tense in anticipation of what was to come: humiliation … torture … death … or possibly freedom?
But any such thoughts of release were quashed each time the shrouded face of one of their captors appeared. Armed with a gun, he’d bring in a small tray of food: some flatbread, a thin stew and more water, but no cutlery, nothing that could be used as a weapon. Connor would make an attempt at conversation, hoping to find out what was going on. He recalled Colonel Black saying it was important to build a rapport with any hostage-taker – by winning their respect, this reduces their inclination to hurt their victims. But their captor would say nothing and answer no questions. Just set down the plate and leave. Whether he didn’t understand English or purposefully ignored him, the lack of information was almost as torturous as their confinement.
A bucket in the corner, replaced infrequently, was their sole means of a toilet. Connor used the mattress to offer Alicia some privacy at these times. There were no washing facilities provided either and this added to their discomfort, Alicia suffering more than Connor with this indignity.
Early on, Connor had noticed a small camera lens above the door, so they knew they were being watched. And probably overheard too. With that in mind, the two of them had taken the precaution of whispering everything into each other’s ears, with their backs to the camera or a hand cupped over their mouths to avoid any possibility of lip-reading.
‘Don’t you think we should try to escape?’ Alicia suggested, looking to the door in the vain hope that one of their guards had forgotten to lock it.
‘Only as a last resort,’ Connor replied, heeding Colonel Black’s advice. The chances of success had to be high or the situation so desperate that it demanded an escape attempt. Otherwise such a move was potentially suicidal. Moreover, escape was merely the beginning. The ability to evade the enemy and survive in a foreign country was the real challenge. And, since they didn’t know where they were, this would be a leap into the unknown. They could be high in the mountains, in a remote hostile village or in the middle of an endless desert.
‘Why haven’t they found us yet?’ Alicia asked, her tone almost pleading.
‘Your father’s probably still negotiating, while also playing for time.’
‘But what if that fails? Even I realize the terrorists’ terms are impossible to meet. Nobody’s worth that sacrifice … not even me.’
‘You mustn’t think like that,’ said Connor, conscious he had to keep Alicia’s mind occupied with positive thoughts. Lack of sleep and enforced captivity were making them both over-anxious. But she was starting to show signs of self-pity and he couldn’t allow her to drift into despair.
‘Listen, when the rescue occurs, drop to the floor immediately,’ he advised. ‘There’ll probably be a lot of gunfire and smoke from stun grenades. Cover your head with your hands and arms to protect yourself. Let the rescuers know who you are by yelling out your name. And don’t make any false moves in case you’re mistaken for a terrorist. You don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.’
Alicia nodded, gazing at him with admiration.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
‘For what?’ asked Connor.
‘For not appreciating you …’ Alicia seemed to be hunting for the right words. ‘At the time I was so upset that you weren’t who you said you were. Now I’m glad you are who you are. My buddyguard.’
She nestled closer to him, seeking the safety of his embrace.
‘There’s no need to apologize,’ said Connor.
Alicia buried her head in his chest and Connor felt his T-shirt moisten with her tears.
‘You might be released soon,’ she said, keeping her voice light and joyous. ‘That’ll be good news.’
But Connor sensed the tight knot of terror in her heart at being left to cope on her own.
‘I won’t leave you,’ he said.
‘But you might not have a choice.’
Connor held Alicia close. ‘I made a promise to your father that I’d protect you, just like my father protected yours. And I will … on my life.’
Malik angrily hurled the remote control at the television in the corner of the sparsely furnished front room. It barely missed, shattering against the wall behind. On the screen ran a CNN newsfeed of a blonde-haired woman reporting on the aftermath of the bomb attack on Washington DC. But there was no coverage of the mass pardon for terrorist prisoners that Malik had demanded.
‘Why haven’t they released any of our brothers yet?’ he shouted.
Bahir and Kedar exchanged uneasy glances over their leader’s unexpected outburst of rage.
‘This is the game they play,’ Bahir replied softly, putting down the smartphone he’d been tinkering with. ‘They say “no negotiation”. But they will. Eventually.’
‘I wish I had your patience,’ remarked Malik, shoving a handful of khat leaves into his mouth and chewing manically. ‘First, the US Government tried to stall for time by asking for specific names, which is why I had the list already prepared,’ he said smugly, tapping a forefinger to his temple. ‘Then the infidels tried offering us money. A typical American solution to everything, although they didn’t have the respect to present it to us directly!’
‘And now they’ll wait until the final hour before contacting us again,’ Bahir pointed out.
‘That’s when our brothers will be freed, right?’ said Kedar, trying to back up Bahir and reassure their leader.
Malik shook his head, dark thunder swirling in his eyes. ‘No, I bet they’ll plead for an extension of the deadline.’ Fuming at the idea, he spat a gob of green spit on to the floor, just missing Hazim as he entered the room with a tray of food. ‘But we won’t give it to them!’
With a troubled look at his irate uncle, Hazim timidly approached. ‘Do you still want your dinner?’ he asked.
‘Of course!’ snapped Malik, slumping down on a cushion to eat.
As Malik tore off some flatbread and dunked it in a bowl of hummus, Bahir said, ‘The Americans’ push for delay is understandable, from their point of view. They’ll be desperate for more time to allow their agencies to pinpoint our location.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Hazim, his hands now trembling as he poured his uncle a cup of coffee. ‘You mean they could find us here?’
‘Don’t look so worried, Hazim,’ laughed Malik, offering a green-stained grin. ‘They’ll never find us. Isn’t that right, Bahir?’
Bahir nodded confidently. ‘As I told you before, Hazim, all the jammers are operational and the ghost server relays are fully functional. So we should all just try to relax. There are still six hours to go to the deadline.’
‘But what happens when they don’t comply with our demands?’ asked Hazim.
Malik unsheathed the jambiya from his belt and held the fearsome blade in front of Hazim’s face.
‘Then we prove our commitment to our cause.’
‘Please tell me that’s the last press conference I have today,’ said President Mendez, rubbing a hand across his haggard face. ‘I don’t think I can hide my loss much longer.’