He started to sweat. He’d never been in trouble with the police before. What could they possibly have on him?
The officer carefully undid the folder’s string fastening and began to inspect the file. The towering policeman took up position next to his colleague and stared unflinchingly at Connor. The tension became almost unbearable.
After what seemed an age, the policewoman declared, ‘If that girl files a charge against you – for assault – it would be a matter for the courts.’
Connor felt the ground beneath him give way. This was turning out to be far more serious than he could have ever imagined.
‘So we need to take a full statement from you,’ she explained.
‘Shouldn’t I call a lawyer or something?’ Connor asked, knowing that’s what was always said in the movies.
‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ replied the officer. ‘Just tell us why you did it?’
Connor shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘Because … there was a boy being mugged.’
The police officer made a note. ‘Did you know this boy?’
‘No,’ replied Connor. ‘And I never will. The ungrateful kid ran away.’
‘So why decide to get involved in the first place?’
‘They were calling him names and about to beat him up!’
‘But other people walked on by. Why didn’t you?’
Connor shrugged. ‘It was the right thing to do. He couldn’t stand up for himself. It was four against one.’
‘Four?’ repeated the police officer, jotting down more notes. ‘Yet you took them on alone.’
Connor nodded, conceding, ‘I know a bit of martial arts.’
The officer flicked through the files. ‘It says here you’re a black belt in kickboxing and jujitsu. I don’t call that just “a bit”.’
Connor’s breath caught in his throat. How come the officer has this information to hand? What else do they know?
‘That’s … right,’ he admitted, wondering if this would count against him. His instructors had always warned him to be careful using his skills outside of the dojo.
‘So let’s get the story straight,’ said the policewoman, putting down her pen and looking Connor squarely in the eye. ‘You’re saying you put your life at risk for a complete stranger.’
Connor hesitated. Am I about to plead guilty to an offence?
‘Well … yes,’ he confessed.
A hint of a smile passed across the policewoman’s lips. ‘That takes guts,’ she said approvingly.
Connor stared in astonishment at the policewoman’s unexpected praise. The officer closed her file, then looked up at the policeman and nodded.
He turned to Connor. ‘Well done, you’ve passed.’
Connor’s brow furrowed in bewilderment. ‘Passed what?’
‘The Test.’
‘You mean … like a school exam or something?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘Real-life combat.’
Connor was now even more confused. ‘Are you saying that gang were a test for me?’
The policeman nodded. ‘You displayed instinctive protection skills.’
‘Of course I did!’ he exclaimed, feeling his frustration rise. ‘The gang attacked me –’
‘That’s not what we mean,’ interrupted the policewoman. ‘You showed a natural willingness to defend another person.’
Connor got up from his seat. ‘What’s going on here? I want to call home.’
‘There’s no need,’ she said, offering a friendly smile. ‘We’ve already informed your mother you may be running a little late.’
Connor’s mouth fell open in disbelief. What on earth are the police up to?
‘We’ve had our eye on you for some time,’ revealed the policewoman, rising from her chair and perching on the side of the desk, her manner becoming more relaxed and informal. ‘The attack was set up to test your moral code and combat skills. It had to be authentic, which meant we couldn’t warn you. That’s why we used trained operatives for the assignment.’
Trained operatives? thought Connor, nursing his split lip. No wonder they were so skilled at fighting.
‘But why?’ he demanded.
‘We needed to assess your potential to be a CPO in the real world.’
Connor blinked in surprise, wondering if he’d heard right. ‘A what?’
‘A Close Protection Officer,’ explained the policeman. ‘By placing yourself in harm’s way to protect another, you proved you have the natural instinct of a bodyguard. You can’t teach that. It has to be part of who you are.’
Connor laughed at the idea. ‘You can’t be serious! I’m too young to be a bodyguard.’
‘That’s exactly the point,’ replied a voice from behind in a clipped military tone.
Connor spun round and was shocked to find the silver-haired man from the tournament standing right behind him.
‘With training, you’ll make the perfect bodyguard.’
‘My name is Colonel Black,’ the man said, introducing himself with a curt nod of the head. Dressed in pristine chinos, polished black boots and a khaki shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his appearance conveyed a life spent in the forces. Up close, Connor could see the man had craggy features and a strong chiselled jaw. His demeanour was at once disciplined and authoritative, his flint-grey eyes never wavering from Connor’s face. And although he looked to be in his late forties he possessed the physique of a man ten years younger – broad-chested with tanned, muscular forearms. Only a ragged white scar cutting a line across his throat detracted from this flawless image, no doubt the result of active service.
‘I was most impressed with your performance today, both in and out of the ring,’ he stated. ‘You displayed true grit. Even when the odds were stacked against you, you didn’t give up. I like that in a recruit.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Connor, too bewildered to say anything else. Then the colonel’s words hit home. ‘What do you mean, recruit?’
‘Take a seat and I’ll explain.’
His invitation wasn’t quite an order, but Connor felt compelled to sit down anyway. The colonel walked round to the other side of the desk and took over the proceedings from the two police officers.
‘I head up a close protection organization known as Buddyguard.’
‘Buddy-guard?’ Connor shrugged. ‘Never heard of it.’
‘Few people have. It’s a highly secretive operation,’ the colonel admitted. ‘So, before I continue, I must stress this information is classified in the interests of national security and not to be repeated – to anyone.’
The stern expression on the colonel’s face left Connor no room for doubt that there’d be grave repercussions if he ever did. ‘I understand,’ he replied.
The colonel took him at his word and continued. ‘In today’s world, there’s a demand for a new breed of bodyguard. The constant threat of terrorism, the growth of criminal gangs and the surge in pirate attacks, all mean an increased risk of hostage-taking, blackmail and assassination. And, with the overt media coverage of politicians’ families, the rise of teen pop stars and the new wave of billionaires, adults are not the only target – children are too.’
‘You mean like that French movie star’s son?’ interrupted Connor. The story of the boy’s kidnapping while on a sailing holiday had been splashed all over the news.
‘Yes, they ended up paying a million dollars for his safe return. But it needn’t have happened in the first place – if the family had employed a close-protection team. And my organization provides just such a service. Yet it differs from all other security outfits by training and supplying only young bodyguards.’ Colonel Black looked directly at Connor as he said this. ‘These highly skilled individuals are often more effective than the typical adult bodyguard, who can easily draw unwanted attention. Operating invisibly as the child’s constant companion, a buddyguard provides the greatest possible protection for any vulnerable or high-profile target.’
The colonel paused to allow everything he’d said to sink in.
‘And you want me to become a buddyguard?’ said Connor, dubious at the idea.
‘You’ve got it in one.’
Connor laughed uneasily and held up his hands in objection. ‘You’ve made a mistake. You must have the wrong person.’
The colonel shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘But I’m still at school. I can’t be a bodyguard!’