“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.”
“Yeah, but I need the Secret Service to check you out first. Got to confirm you’re no ‘threat,’” she said, raising her eyebrows teasingly.
“But I’m a senator’s son!” he replied, clearly not getting Alicia’s joke. He walked off in a huff, muttering, “Well, don’t take too long to decide.”
The girls regrouped around Alicia.
“I don’t believe you!” said Paige, her blue eyes wide. “Ethan asked you to the school dance and you didn’t say yes.”
“He’s got to work a bit harder than that,” replied Alicia. “The guy needs some style first. He needs to impress me. I mean, he asked me in the lunch line, for goodness’ sake!”
As the girls stood gossiping, Connor became aware of someone staring intently at Alicia through the glass pane of a door marked No Admittance. He couldn’t make out the man’s features clearly, since the glass was obscured. But the man’s eyes were magnified by it, and his attention was definitely fixed on Alicia.
Connor’s awareness shot up one level to Code Orange. As he evaluated the potential threat, the man noticed Connor looking in his direction, and suddenly disappeared.
“What’s behind that door?” Connor asked Kalila.
“Just the kitchens,” she replied, helping herself to a Caesar salad from the food bar.
“We’ll sit over there, Connor,” Alicia called, pointing to a table by the window.
“Right behind you,” Connor replied, quickly selecting a sandwich and a drink. He hurried over to ensure he got a seat beside Alicia. He allowed his alert level to drop to Code Yellow again. But for her safety he wanted the best position to view the cafeteria and the No Admittance door—just in case the watcher made a second appearance.
37
During his afternoon classes, English and earth science, Connor pondered the face at the glass. If not for his bodyguard training, he doubted he’d have noticed the man in the first place. There was no real reason to suspect anything more than a curious member of the kitchen staff. The face never reappeared and could simply have been a cook checking the length of the lunch line, or a new kitchen hand who’d had his first sighting of the president’s daughter. But something about the intensity of the man’s stare unsettled Connor. Perhaps it was the way the man’s eyes had been magnified by the rippled glass, or the fact that he’d directed his gaze at Alicia alone and nobody else.
The school bell rang, interrupting his thoughts.
“Remember, I want your assignments on my desk by Friday,” said Mr. Hulme, their earth science teacher, over the scrape of chairs and thumping of bags.
Connor wished he’d been paying more attention. He hurriedly scribbled down the assignment from the whiteboard as the students piled out of the classroom, eager to go home and enjoy what was left of the day’s sunshine. Alicia waited for Connor, and they headed for the main foyer with her friends. At the end of the corridor, he held the door open for them.
“Thank you,” said Alicia, surprised by his courteous gesture.
“Aww, English boys are so polite,” said Paige, skipping through after her with Grace and Kalila.
Before Connor could follow, Ethan barged past. “Good work, doorman.”
His friend, whose name Connor had discovered was Jimbo, also muscled his way through with no more than a grunt of acknowledgment. Connor held himself in check at their rudeness. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of any of Alicia’s friends—even the most obnoxious. At the same time, he wasn’t going to be pushed around.
“Next time leave a tip!” he cried, keeping his voice light and humorous.
Neither Ethan nor Jimbo bothered to reply.
Letting the door swing shut behind him, Connor instinctively checked over his shoulder. He noticed a man with black hair, glasses and a dark complexion standing at the far end of the corridor. He was staring intently in Alicia’s direction. Could this be the face behind the glass? But the man wasn’t dressed in kitchen-work clothes. He wore light-colored chinos, a shirt and a striped blue tie.
“Who’s that?” asked Connor.
Alicia glanced back down the corridor. “Oh, that’s Mr. Hayek, the new IT teacher. He must be on hall duty.”
Connor let his guard down. He realized he was being too paranoid. If he continued to suspect everyone and anyone who merely looked at the president’s daughter, he’d be a nervous wreck by the end of the week. He made a mental note to study the photos of the teachers and school staff that Ling had compiled in his operations folder. That way he need only be suspicious of strangers and any staff doing something out of the ordinary.
They congregated in the foyer to say good-bye.
“So who’s up for the National Mall this weekend?” asked Alicia.
Grace smiled. “Sorry, seeing my grandparents.”
“Catch you later for shopping maybe,” said Paige.
“You always want to go shopping,” Alicia said, laughing.
“Hey, it’s my favorite hobby. And I’m already meeting a friend for lunch.”
“A friend or a friend?” Grace asked.
“A friend named Carl,” Paige replied with a mischievous smile.
“You go, girl!” said Grace, high-fiving her. “See you all tomorrow.”
She waved good-bye, and Paige followed before Alicia had a chance to question her any more about her lunch date.
“What about you, Kalila?” asked Alicia.
“I’ll have to ask my father first,” she replied with a timid smile.
“Of course,” said Alicia. “I understand. I have to get my father’s permission to do anything!”
Kalila glanced toward a sleek silver Mercedes-Benz in the parking lot. “Sorry, I’d better go—my brother’s waiting for me.”
Connor followed her gaze and spotted a young man in the driver’s seat, looking in their direction and impatiently checking his watch.
“Bye, Connor, it’s been lovely meeting you,” said Kalila, smiling shyly at him before hurrying down the steps and over to the car.
“We should go too,” said Alicia. “Otherwise Kyle will start getting edgy.”
As Connor followed Alicia, he looked back at the silver Mercedes and remarked, “Kalila seems nice.”
“Yes, she’s one of my best friends. Her father’s a foreign diplomat, so she’s not fazed by the fact that I’m the first daughter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Connor.
Alicia considered him a moment, then seemed to decide to trust him with her thoughts. “Having a father who’s president can affect friendships. When my father was elected, some of my friends dropped away, worried they’d appear to be sucking up to me. Others, who’d never spoken to me before, tried to squeeze into my supposed ‘inner circle.’ But Kalila, she just stayed the same.”
“It’s good to have friends like that,” said Connor, thinking of Charley and Amir back in the United Kingdom. He hoped he would get a chance to speak to them during his evening report.
As they headed down the school steps, Kyle subtly appeared from behind and guided them toward the waiting limo. He opened the door for Alicia. On the other side, another agent held the door for Connor.
“I trust you had a good first day, Connor?” asked Kyle as he shut Alicia’s door.
“Tiring, but otherwise uneventful.”
“That’s exactly how it should be,” he replied with a wink.
38
The two black limos turned down a side street just as a woman with a baby stroller walked out into the middle of the road. The driver of the lead limo put on his brakes, slowing to allow her to cross.
But when the mother was halfway across, she reached into the stroller and drew out a large black gun. Aiming the muzzle at the limo’s grille, she pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened apparently.
There was no bang. No sound of a bullet or projectile hitting the limo. Just a tiny mechanical click and a frisson in the air, like just before a bolt of lightning is about to strike.
The driver floored the accelerator. But the limo failed to respond.
Unseen by the human eye, an intense electromagnetic pulse had been unleashed. Channeling through the metalwork of each car, the massive energy surge fried all the internal circuitry. Both engines died. Power-assisted steering failed. So did the headlights, along with every other electronic system that the handheld EMP weapon had knocked out—including radios and cell phones. In an instant, the two armor-plated limos were rendered useless hunks of metal. Without power or control, they simply hit the curb and juddered to a halt.
A second later, several armed men, their faces concealed by bandanas, broke from the cover of the side alleys. Keeping their weapons trained on the two immobile limos, they surrounded their targets and closed in.
Realizing they were sitting ducks, the agents jumped out of their vehicles to engage with the enemy. But snipers on the nearby roofs took each of them down before a single shot was fired in retaliation, their muffled long-range rifles sounding no louder than a whisper to ensure the ambush wasn’t heard in the adjacent streets.
In fact, the entire attack was executed in sinister silence.
Inside the front limo, the remaining occupants were cocooned within the armored box of the passenger section. No way in—but no way out for them either.
Kedar rushed forward and crouched beside the rear door. Pulling out a circular metal device from his backpack, he fixed it to the reinforced glass window.
“Keep clear!” he warned, sheltering behind the limo’s bumper. Then he pressed a button.
A high-pitched whirring quickly built in intensity. Just as the sound reached the limit of human hearing, the sonic charge shattered the bulletproof glass. Chunks, like cracked ice, fell to the ground. As soon as the security of the limo was breached, Kedar was at the window with his gun.
“Out!” he growled.
Malik’s face appeared, a crooked smile on his lips. He checked his watch.
“Not bad, Kedar,” he said. “The technology works. But your team needs to shave off another eight seconds.”
He opened the limo door and looked around the disused industrial estate. The downed “agents” were getting to their feet, rubbing their chests where their bulletproof vests had taken the impact of the snipers’ “simunition” rounds.
“Drill your men again,” Malik ordered. “This ambush has only a sixty-second window of opportunity. I intend to seize it.”
39
Connor collapsed on his bed in the White House guest room. His head aching, he closed his eyes for a moment while he waited for his laptop to boot up. Maybe it was jet lag or the strain of his first day on protection detail, or a combination of both, but he felt utterly drained. Colonel Black had insisted that Code Yellow became easier with practice. Connor seriously hoped that was the case; otherwise he’d likely burn out from exhaustion in the coming weeks.
He picked up his father’s key fob from the bedside table. He’d overlaid the photo of himself with his father’s, cut from the picture Colonel Black had given him. Squeezing the talisman in his hand, he wondered how his father could have done this job day in, day out. Although the training had been tough, Connor had never expected actual close protection to be so demanding—and nothing had really happened apart from going to school. But there was always an underlying pressure that came with the responsibility of protecting someone. He might have been the last ring in the Secret Service’s defense, but if any attacker did get through, he would be the one held accountable for Alicia’s life . . . or death. And that weighed heavily on his mind.
His laptop buzzed, and the Guardian logo flashed on the screen. Unlocking the device with his fingerprint, he clicked the Answer button. Charley’s smiling face appeared. She looked fresh and vibrant, despite it being 1:00 a.m. in the United Kingdom.
“Caught you sleeping, did we?” she teased, seeing Connor rub the tiredness from his eyes.
“Almost,” he admitted, yawning.
“Don’t worry, your body will adjust to the time zone in a couple of days. When I was on assignment, it took me at least a week to get used to the new routine. How’s your Principal?”
“Fine,” replied Connor. “Alicia obviously dislikes having the Secret Service everywhere, but there’s no sign of that impulsive streak you mentioned.”
“Once she gets to know you, she may open up a bit more and show her true colors,” said Charley.
Marc leaned into the camera’s view.
“Is she as”—he raised his eyebrows meaningfully—“as she looks in the photos?”
Connor couldn’t help smiling at Marc’s off-assignment question. To tell the truth, he’d been concentrating so much on protecting his Principal that he hadn’t considered that aspect since their first meeting. He couldn’t deny that Alicia was very pretty. And in different circumstances he might have paid her looks a lot more attention. But that sort of thinking could become a dangerous distraction. Colonel Black had very clearly said that a guardian’s role was to protect. Any involvement beyond friendship was a line never to be crossed when on assignment. It could cloud one’s judgment and potentially endanger the protectee. Nonetheless, Connor grinned and nodded in reply to Marc.
“Well, don’t get too cozy,” said Charley sharply. “You’re there to do a job. And, judging by the increased chatter on the Internet and our communications intercepts, your role is more vital than ever.”
“Has a threat been made?” asked Connor, sitting up.
“Not directly. But there are indications of a number of terrorist attacks being planned against the United States. Nothing concrete, but the CIA and Secret Service are certainly twitchy. You should ask Dirk Moran for an update.”
Connor gave a strained smile. “I’ll ask, but he’s not exactly welcoming me with open arms.”
Charley nodded, immediately grasping the situation. “This often happens at the start of an operation. There’s always someone who doubts the capability of a guardian. You’ll have to gain the director’s trust. Until then, that’s what we’re here for. I’ll ask Amir to e-mail you an encrypted threat update.”
“Thanks,” said Connor. “At least I’ll know what to watch out for.”
“So, do you have anything to report?”
Connor shook his head. “Not really. It was a normal school day—or as normal as it can be for a guardian. At first I suspected everyone from students to teachers. But that can’t last, so I’m going to study the staff list tonight. The drop-off and pickup by Secret Service is tight, as would be expected. Other than that, I learned how to say, ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ in Chinese—Cèsuŏ zài năli?”
“Hĕn hăo,” complimented Charley, yet again surprising Connor with her hidden talents. “Well, it’s a good day when nothing happens. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
40
“Are you sure you want to join this class?” asked Alicia, raising a doubtful eyebrow at Connor. “You don’t have to do everything I do, you know. Most of the boys have opted to play baseball.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Connor. “I’ve always wanted to learn to dance properly.”
Connor hoped he sounded convincing. He’d never considered dance class before in his life, but he needed to stay close by Alicia to do his job. As they entered the school gymnasium, Connor discovered, to his dismay, that he was one of only three boys in the entire class.
“Hey, over here!” called Grace, beckoning them to join her and Paige on a side bench. As they approached, Grace gave him an odd
look. “I wouldn’t have thought this was your sort of thing, Connor.”
“You English boys are full of surprises,” Paige said, giggling as she slipped on a pair of glittery dance shoes. “Have you done salsa before?”
“No,” replied Connor, beginning to feel nervous at the prospect. “The closest I’ve ever gotten to salsa is some sauce with a bag of tortilla chips.”
Despite the weakness of his joke, the girls all laughed. But they stifled their amusement when an elegant elderly lady appeared and clapped her hands for their attention. Connor recognized the woman from the staff photo file as Miss Ashworth, a former professional ballroom dancer who had toured the world several times.
“Class, we’ll continue with the Cuban-style salsa step from the previous lesson,” she announced, her tone clipped and precise. “Alicia and Oliver, would you please demonstrate?”
Alicia joined a young blond boy in front of the theater stage, and Miss Ashworth pressed Play on a CD player. A lively, percussion-filled, horn-heavy dance track filled the gym, and Oliver led Alicia through a series of seemingly complex moves. Connor watched in growing awe as they danced energetically to the music. Alicia was a natural mover, her hips swaying, her arms flowing and her feet shimmying across the floor in a dazzling, twirling display. Her ability was matched only by her enthusiasm. She literally threw herself into the music and seemed to come alive under its influence.
Miss Ashworth paused the CD. “Not bad,” she conceded. “Just be careful where you put the break step. Now, everyone, find a partner.”
Having seen what was expected, Connor stayed sitting where he was.
“That includes you, young man,” said Miss Ashworth, noting his presence.
Connor smiled politely. “I’ll just watch for the time being, if that’s okay.”
Miss Ashworth gave him a stern look. “No, it’s not okay. If you’re in my class, you dance. No exceptions.”
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