Alicia’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, tutted, then turned it off.
A second later, Connor’s phone rang too. Pulling it from his jeans pocket, he saw caller ID withheld but knew exactly who it would be—Kyle. As his thumb hovered over the Answer button, Alicia snatched the phone from his grasp.
“Give that back!” said Connor.
“Later,” she said, offering him a playful wink.
Connor made a grab for the phone, but she danced away. “I should at least reply, so they know we’re okay.”
“What are you so worried about? Let them sweat a bit.”
Alicia switched off his phone before dropping it into her bag. Then she trotted off down the street.
Connor sighed in frustration. He didn’t want to make a scene. That could draw unwanted attention to the president’s daughter, so he resigned himself to letting her have her own way—for the time being.
Quickening his pace, he caught up with Alicia. Every so often he glanced behind them, checking for trouble but also secretly hoping to spot an agent in pursuit.
“Relax,” insisted Alicia, taking his arm. “Just let me enjoy myself for once. I’m the one who’ll get into trouble later.”
That’s what you think, mused Connor. Then it dawned on him that this was exactly what he’d been hired for. To protect Alicia in moments when the Secret Service couldn’t. Colonel Black had specifically instructed him “to stick to her like glue.” He wasn’t supposed to keep Alicia from living her life—just protect her.
With that thought in mind, he allowed himself to relax a little. But he kept his awareness at Code Yellow.
They turned off the main street and headed north on Thirteenth. Upscale apartments gave way to run-down row-house blocks, which alternated randomly with fancy condos recently built as part of the city’s redevelopment effort. The strange blend of new and old, rich and poor made Connor uneasy. The mix of people walking the streets became more diverse and unpredictable. There was a palpable tension in the air, magnified by the summer’s heat radiating off the sidewalk.
“Are you certain this area’s safe?” Connor asked.
“Of course,” replied Alicia, casually strolling along. “During the day, definitely.”
That statement didn’t reassure Connor. Although he could handle himself in a situation, there were places in the East End of London that he wouldn’t wander into—day or night. And this area possessed a similar undercurrent of menace.
46
The phone emitted a short buzz, and Bahir snatched it up from the table in the front room. He waited an impatient second for the message to decrypt. Then his eyes widened in astonishment.
“You won’t believe this, Malik,” he said, holding up the phone to his leader. “Eagle Chick has flown the nest!”
Malik stopped sharpening his jambiya and smirked to himself. “It’s almost as if she wants to be taken hostage.”
The phone buzzed again, and Bahir read the message out loud. “It’s from Hazim—Sparrows in a panic. It appears the Secret Service agents are having trouble locating her!” He laughed. Bahir turned excitedly to his leader. “This could be our chance.”
Malik laid the curved dagger in his lap. His right hand trembled slightly, and he reached out to a small bundle of khat. As he chewed the leaves, he mulled over the new turn of events.
“Yes, it’s an opening,” he agreed. “But an unplanned one. Not all the preparations are in place.”
“But this seems too good an opportunity to miss,” insisted Bahir.
“The situation isn’t in my direct control,” pointed out Malik. “And we have the added complication that the Secret Service agents are actively looking for her at this time. That greatly reduces our chances of an undetected escape.”
“True, but if we took her now, alone, we wouldn’t risk our lives in a gun battle.”
Malik pondered his words. “Do either Gamekeeper or Birdspotter have the target in sight?”
Bahir rapidly typed a message and pressed Send. Almost a minute passed before his cell phone vibrated twice in response. He read both messages, then grimaced in disappointment. “Not yet, but Gamekeeper and Birdspotter are on the hunt.”
Malik rested the tip of his knife on his bearded chin, reconsidering his options. Then a sly grin slid across his face, revealing his arc of yellowing teeth. “Bahir, I have an idea.”
He explained his plan, then asked, “Is such a thing possible?”
“Yes,” replied Bahir. “I could do it in my sleep.”
“Then get to it,” ordered Malik.
As Bahir hurried out of the room, Malik returned to honing his jambiya, the curved steel blade turning razor sharp.
47
With every step, Connor was becoming more and more anxious. He was about to suggest that they turn back, when Alicia swung right onto U Street and the neighborhood suddenly improved. Restaurants, bars, music clubs and the occasional church lined the busy road. Connor was reassured when he spotted several groups of tourists wandering the route too, but he didn’t allow his alert level to drop.
Alicia stopped outside a red-and-white building with a neon sign flashing Open in the window. Above the door, a billboard proclaimed:
DON’S DOGS—
THE BEST CHILI DOGS IN DC
Connor noticed Alicia staring intently at the flashing sign as if mesmerized.
“Are you all right?” he asked, recalling her history of epilepsy from his Guardian briefing.
Alicia blinked and refocused her gaze on Connor. “Yes, of course. Why?”
“I thought . . . you might be about to have a seizure,” he replied, nodding toward the flashing light.
“How do you know about my epilepsy?” demanded Alicia, suddenly defensive.
Connor realized he’d made a mistake. “Um . . . your father mentioned it.”
Alicia scowled at this. “I’m over that now. I wish he’d stop bringing it up.”
“Sorry,” said Connor. “He’s probably just concerned, that’s all.”
“My father’s always worrying about me,” sighed Alicia. “Anyway, this is the place I was looking for. Supposedly, their hot dogs are seriously hot.”
Connor peered in through the smeared window. A white Formica counter stretched the short length of the fast-food joint. On the wall behind, a menu displayed its combo meals and specialties in unappealing backlit photos. Red plastic stools stood in contrast to the off-white tiled floor, some of the seats clearly straining under the weight of their well-fed customers. Opposite the counter were four booths, with only one occupied by two large men in grime-stained construction clothes.
The food better be good to make up for the decor, thought Connor.
As he held the door open for Alicia, a waft of fried meat and cooking fat assaulted Connor’s nostrils. Behind the counter and through a hatch, a sweaty cook served up piles of cheese fries and massive hot dogs slathered in mustard, chili sauce and onions. He gave a nod in their direction, indicating with a grunt for them to take a booth. Slipping into the second one, Connor made sure that he sat facing the entrance. As dictated by his training, he wanted to know exactly who was coming and going.
While Alicia studied the menu—which unsurprisingly consisted of various combinations of hot dog—he took the opportunity to check out the restaurant. It was crucial to locate any exit points in case of trouble. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a door leading to a communal restroom, which he guessed would likely be a dead end. Through a hatch behind the counter, he saw a red emergency exit sign pointing to the back of the kitchen. If anything did happen, Connor decided that would be the route he’d take with Alicia.
“What are you going to have?” asked Alicia as the waitress came over.
“Um . . . whatever you’re having,” he replied, not even looking at the menu.
“Two chili dog specials with large Cokes,” said Alicia.
With a tired smile, the waitress took their order, then went back to the hatch and handed it to the cook.
Connor glanced along the counter. An old man in a brown polo shirt sat eating a hot dog. Next to him a young man in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt was picking at a tray of fries. As he dipped several in the ketchup, he casually eyed Alicia’s Prada handbag lying on their table. Connor realized that, although Alicia might be able to disguise who she was, she couldn’t disguise her wealth or social status.
Leaning forward, Connor whispered to Alicia, “I’d keep your bag beside you.”
She took his advice without protest. And Connor relaxed a little when the young man directed his attention back to his food. The waitress returned and dumped two hot dogs drowning in mustard and chili, along with a pile of cheese fries and two bucket-sized Cokes. Connor was slightly taken aback at the size of the hot dog—it was well over a foot long.
“Enjoy!” said the waitress, almost as if it was a command rather than a wish.
The two of them started eating. After just one bite, Connor had to admit that it was the best hot dog he’d ever tasted . . . Then the roof of his mouth was almost blown off by the heat of the chili.
Alicia laughed as she saw tears streaming down his face. “I warned you they were hot!”
Spluttering, Connor grabbed his Coke and chugged down several mouthfuls.
Once he’d recovered enough to speak again, Alicia began to quiz him on his life back in England—where he lived, which school he went to, his parents, which countries he’d been to, whether he’d met the queen and so forth. Connor gave his answers as truthfully as possible without revealing his double role. He didn’t like deceiving Alicia—it wasn’t in his nature—but he understood why it was necessary.
Finishing off their meal, they both leaned back in the booth and gave a contented sigh.
“That was an awesome hot dog,” said Connor. “Even with the chili.”
Alicia nodded in agreement and wiped her lips with a napkin. “And do you know what’s even better?”
Connor shrugged.
Alicia lowered her voice. “This is the first meal I’ve had outside the White House with no one looking over my shoulder.”
At that moment, the door opened and two young Latino men entered. Dressed in baggy jeans and white sneakers, they had tattoos up their arms and red bandanas around their heads. One of them, boasting a gold front tooth, stared hard in Connor’s direction. Connor immediately averted his gaze. He didn’t want to antagonize them in any way. But as they took two stools at the counter, Connor kept them in his line of sight. The other guy, sporting a crew cut, eyed up Alicia with an appreciative sneer before turning to place his order.
Troubled by their presence, Connor suggested to Alicia, “Let’s make a move.”
“You mean go back?”
“It might be a good idea. Kyle and the others must be going crazy by now.”
Alicia groaned. “Not yet. I’m enjoying myself too much. Let’s go up to Meridian Hill Park. It has a great view of DC, and every weekend there’s a drumming circle.”
She waved to the waitress for the bill. Connor reached for his wallet.
“No, I’ll pay,” Alicia insisted, pulling a Platinum American Express card from her purse.
The waitress raised an eyebrow in surprise. “No cards,” she said, thumbing toward a scrappy sign above the register that said Cash Only.
Alicia sifted through her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.
“Don’t you have anything smaller?” asked the waitress.
Alicia shook her head. “Sorry.”
With poorly concealed irritation, the waitress took the money. While they waited for their change, the two tough-looking guys at the counter sipped on their Cokes but didn’t order any food. Connor’s sense of unease grew.
The waitress returned and managed her first genuine smile when Alicia left a hefty tip.
“Come back soon,” she called.
Unlikely, thought Connor as they stepped onto U Street.
Turning right, Alicia headed north again on Thirteenth. But they’d only gone one block when Connor had the distinct feeling they were being followed. Pretending to watch a car pass by, his eyes swept the road and sidewalk. Among the scattering of pedestrians, he instantly recognized the guy with the gold tooth walking several paces behind them, nonchalantly slurping on his Coke. Connor told himself it could be pure coincidence. The man probably lived nearby. But, to leave no doubt, Connor decided to employ some anti-surveillance techniques.
“Let’s cross the road,” he suggested to Alicia. “Stay out of the sun.”
“Sure,” said Alicia.
At the next junction, they switched to the other side. Connor snatched a look over his shoulder.
Gold Tooth had crossed the road too. Connor felt his heart rate increase. “Mirroring” was one of the key signs. But this could still be an innocent matter of circumstance.
“Hold on, Alicia, my shoelace is untied,” said Connor, bending down.
As he pretended to retie his lace, he glanced behind. Gold Tooth had also stopped, appearing suspicious as he hung around a parked car. But then he finished his Coke and dumped it in a trash can.
“Not far now,” said Alicia, oblivious to their tail. “It’s left here. Then just two blocks down on the right.”
They stopped at a crosswalk on the junction of Thirteenth and W Streets. For Connor, this was the moment of truth. If Gold Tooth followed them toward the park, he knew they were in serious trouble.
48
“I really appreciate you doing this,” Kalila said to her brother as they drove in ever-widening circles around the clothing store.
“No problem,” he replied.
“I just can’t believe she actually ran off. Alicia always threatens to do so, but I thought she was joking.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
“But Kyle was really panicking,” said Kalila, recalling the strained look on the agent’s face as he’d come sprinting out of the boutique and over to their car. Kyle had clearly hoped that as her friend she’d know where Alicia was or at least what she’d been planning. But Alicia’s disappearance was as much a mystery and surprise to her as it was to the agent.
Kalila took out her phone and tried dialing Alicia for a third time.
Her brother glanced at the cracked screen. “I need to get you a new phone,” he said.
“Oh, it’s all right,” she replied, putting the phone to her ear. “This one works fine . . . Alicia?” Kalila let out a sigh and lowered the phone to her lap.
“Any luck?” asked her brother.
“No, just goes to voice mail,” she replied, and resumed her search out the window. “I hope she’s okay.”
Kalila’s gaze swept over the stream of pedestrians as they cruised along W Street. Her eyes flicked from face to face, praying she’d spot her friend. But it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Then just as they passed through the crossroads on Thirteenth Street, Kalila caught a glimpse of someone she recognized.
“Hey, that’s Alicia!” she cried, her head whipping around to get another look.
“Are you sure?” said her brother, applying the brakes hard.
A car honked behind in annoyance.
Kalila nodded. “She’s wearing a blond wig and sunglasses, but I’d recognize her Prada bag anywhere. It’s limited edition. Besides, I saw her friend Connor too.”
Another angry blast of car horns.
Her brother slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “It’s a one-way street,” he muttered, driving on. “We’ll have to loop back at the next junction.”
“Shouldn’t we call Kyle?” said Kalila. “You have his card.”
“Let’s pick Alicia
up first,” her brother replied with a smile. “Just so we make sure it’s her.”
As a red light forced him to wait at the next junction, Hazim slipped out his phone and secretly texted his uncle:
Eagle Chick located. Junction 13th and W Street.
In disguise. Blond wig & sunglasses.
Need to swoop fast.
49
The seconds counted down with excruciating slowness as Connor waited with Alicia for the pedestrian signal to turn green. A few yards behind, Gold Tooth loitered on the corner, jabbering into his phone. Connor’s alert level had rocketed to Code Orange, and he was ready to react at the slightest threatening move from the gang member.
The signal turned from red to green, and Connor followed Alicia across the road, ensuring he was between her and Gold Tooth at all times. On the far side they bore left and made for the park. There were no pedestrians on the sidewalk ahead, so Connor risked a glance back. Gold Tooth still had his ear clamped to his phone and was walking on past the junction.
“Have you listened to anything I’ve just said?” asked Alicia.
“Sorry,” said Connor, allowing his awareness to return to Code Yellow.
“The Meridian Hill Park is nicknamed Malcolm X Park. It has a thirteen-step waterfall—”
Alicia came to a sudden halt as a young guy stepped out from behind a van and blocked their path. Connor cursed himself for letting his guard down. He’d been so focused on Gold Tooth, he’d forgotten about the one with the crew cut. Crew Cut was a good foot taller than Connor, and his arms boasted not only tattoos, but vicious scars from numerous knife fights. These guys had all the marks of being in a gang.
Bodyguard--Recruit (Book 1) Page 16
