‘Will he live?’
‘Unfortunately, it appears so,’ replied Kyle as he eyed the wounded terrorist with contempt.
Malik lay handcuffed to a stretcher, a drip in his arm, a mass of bloody bandages wrapped round his chest. Two medics were checking his vital signs and preparing to transfer him into the waiting ambulance.
Connor sat on the back step of a second ambulance, a medic stitching up the knife wound to his shoulder. He could feel the tug of the stitch against his flesh, but the anaesthetic was keeping the pain at bay.
When Connor had been confronted at point-blank range with Malik’s gun, he’d thought his life was over. He’d braced himself to take the bullet for Alicia. A final and fatal act of protection. And the only thing, as a bodyguard, he had left to give. But it was Malik who fell to the ground, screaming.
Immediately following the gunshot, the forest had erupted with Secret Service agents. Connor had thrown himself on top of Alicia as there was a furious exchange of gunfire. One terrorist was instantly shot down. The others were subdued in a matter of seconds. Then Connor and Alicia were encircled by an impenetrable barrier of agents, Kyle among them.
‘That’ll be some battle scar,’ Kyle remarked, nodding at Connor’s wound when the medic had finished.
Connor smiled; he supposed it would look kind of cool. A badge of honour to show Charley, Amir and the others when he got back to the UK.
As the surviving terrorists were bundled, hands bound, into a windowless armoured van, the Director of Secret Service strode over to Connor.
‘How many did you say there were?’ asked Dirk.
‘Six, that I saw.’
‘Well, we’ve accounted for five,’ stated the director, frowning.
Connor looked towards the armoured van. ‘I don’t see the terrorist with glasses.’
‘The one you scalded with coffee?’ queried Dirk. Connor nodded and the director immediately got on his radio, circulating the man’s description to his team. He turned back to Connor. ‘I’ve two units sweeping the park. With any luck, they should apprehend him. We’ve also checked out the house and found the terrorist you locked up. There was a dead one in the hall too. Did you do that?’
Connor shook his head. ‘That was the leader’s work.’
Dirk raised an enquiring eyebrow.
Connor thought of Kalila. She’d be devastated by the news of her brother’s treachery – unless he could offer her some comfort through his last-minute act of redemption. ‘The guy was Hazim, a brother of one of Alicia’s classmates. He had a change of heart and tried to save us.’
Dirk nodded and instructed Kyle to make a note of this.
‘What’s going to happen to the terrorist leader?’ asked Connor as the doors to Malik’s ambulance were slammed shut and he was driven away, sirens blaring.
‘He’ll first be taken to a secure medical facility for questioning, then charged with kidnapping, terrorism and murder,’ replied Dirk. ‘He’ll no doubt spend the rest of his life in a maximum security prison, although he deserves much worse.’
Connor looked over his shoulder into the back of his ambulance. Alicia was laid out on a stretcher, her ankle bound. A medic was tending to the laceration on her forehead and a drip had been inserted into her arm to treat for mild dehydration and shock.
The director noted his concern. ‘Don’t worry, the medic says she’ll be fine … all thanks to the great job you’ve done in protecting her.’
Connor looked up at Dirk, dumbfounded by his uncharacteristic praise.
Dirk unpinned the small Secret Service badge on the lapel of his jacket and fastened it to Connor’s top. The five-pointed star glimmered in the ambulance’s twirling red and white lights.
With a rare smile, he declared, ‘You’ve earned this, Agent Reeves.’
4 July
‘Today is Independence Day!’ declared President Mendez, standing before the microphone on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. ‘Not only for the United States, but for my daughter, Alicia.’
Connor could barely hear himself think as the crowd roared its delight. Bathed in glorious July sunshine, thousands upon thousands of people had gathered to celebrate Alicia’s freedom. American flags and pennants were being waved in joyous triumph, a rippling sea of red, white and blue that encircled the Reflecting Pool and stretched as far as the eye could see. Connor thought this was what it must have been like for Dr Martin Luther King, Jr, as he delivered his famous ‘I Have a Dream’ speech.
‘I prayed for a miracle,’ proclaimed the President as the crowd quietened down. ‘And one was delivered.’
He glanced over his shoulder at his daughter. Just offstage stood Connor in a cream-coloured shirt, baseball cap and mirrored shades. For a brief moment the President looked directly at him, his eternal gratitude apparent.
‘But I haven’t only God to thank for that,’ continued President Mendez, addressing the crowd. ‘There are certain people who work tirelessly and endlessly to protect me and my family. And they’re the ones responsible for the safe return of my precious daughter. I’m forever grateful to the Secret Service and all the security agencies. I must also thank you, the American people, for your support in my darkest hour.’
There was a wave of heartfelt applause.
Connor knew he wouldn’t be thanked publicly. Nor would his role in the operation ever be admitted, since the Buddyguard organization had to remain secret to be effective. So it had been agreed that Secret Service would receive all of the credit for Alicia’s rescue. However, Connor didn’t feel cheated by this. In fact, he had no desire for any such acknowledgement. Just seeing Alicia alive, free and happy was enough for him. He now understood why his father had been so compelled to be a bodyguard. The reward was in the knowledge that a life had been protected and saved. And each day after that was a gift.
‘Terrorism will never defeat America!’ President Mendez thumped his fist on the podium. ‘However low they sink, we will never bow to their pressure. For we are a nation of strength, of determination and of love. We are one family.’
He beckoned to his wife and daughter to join him in front of the cheering crowd. Alicia glanced at Connor, a beaming smile on her lips meant only for him. Connor returned the smile. They hadn’t had much chance to talk since their escape, Alicia being reunited with her family and Connor being debriefed by both Colonel Black and Secret Service. But he knew there was still a great deal to be said between them. And once things settled down he hoped for just such an opportunity.
Caught up in the emotion of the event, Connor felt the urge to take a photo. It was a unique moment and he wanted to share it with his friends back at Buddyguard Headquarters. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he snapped a picture of Alicia approaching the podium and the flag-waving crowd beyond.
Straight after depressing the button, an icon on the screen began to flash red. Connor thought the battery was dying, then the face-recognition software app launched and a series of thumbnail photos appeared. The first was of him and Alicia on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial; another was at Montarose School prior to entering the prom; and the third was the one he’d just taken. Each photo zoomed in on a red-highlighted face in the background.
Connor felt a cold sense of dread as he too recognized the face.
Once is happenstance. Twice is circumstance. Three times means enemy action.