‘You gutless coward! You scumbag!’ he roared.
He wanted to pound the terrorist leader to a pulp. He was no longer scared. He was angry.
Anger is only one letter away from danger. His unarmed combat instructor’s words repeated in his head. Control your anger, otherwise anger will control you and you’ll lose focus. As a buddyguard, you want to fight smarter not harder.
Giving the steel door one last kick, Connor checked his temper. He knew he had to think clearly and focus on the situation at hand. But their cruel toying with Alicia’s life had boiled his blood. In that split-second moment when the masked leader had pulled the trigger, a crushing grief had overwhelmed him, compounded by the realization that he’d failed to protect her. But no thundering blast of gunfire had followed and Alicia had opened her eyes, stunned to discover that she was still alive. At first Connor only felt relief. Then he became concerned for her as she just knelt in a zombie-like trance until the end of the video, before allowing herself to be dragged back to their cell.
Having vented his fury on the locked door, Connor turned to see Alicia slide down the wall and slump to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared vacantly at the opposite wall.
‘Alicia, are you all right?’ he asked.
She didn’t reply, just continued gazing into the distance.
Bending down, he touched her shoulder gently, worried the mock execution had broken her spirit.
‘Alicia? It’s OK. I’m with you.’
Alicia mumbled something.
‘What was that?’
A single tear rolled down her cheek. ‘We’re going to die.’
‘No, we’re not,’ countered Connor, although his words seemed to ring hollow. With time fast running out, any hopes of rescue were rapidly dwindling. And the terrorists seemed determined to follow through on their threats. If there was ever a situation for a last resort, this was it. They had to escape. Connor looked round the tiny windowless cell. He’d already inspected every inch of it for a weakness and had found none. As he racked his brains for a plan, he noticed Alicia trembling from the effects of trauma-induced shock.
‘Stay with me,’ he pleaded, trying to get her to focus on his face. ‘We’ll find a way to escape, somehow. I promise you.’
‘All hell’s broken loose,’ said Lara, the Press Secretary dashing in and switching on the TV in the President’s private study of the West Wing. ‘The story’s running on every news channel, worldwide.’
Turning his gaze to the TV screen, President Mendez sank back into his leather chair and braced himself for the media storm. He was joined in his study by the core members of the National Security Council: the White House Chief of Staff, the Secretary of State, the Director of National Intelligence, the Director of Secret Service and General Shaw. Together they watched as a series of news bulletins flashed across the screen.
PRESIDENT’S DAUGHTER TAKEN HOSTAGE!
A clip from the terrorists’ video showed Alicia with a gun to her head. Even though he’d already seen it once, President Mendez clenched his fists and shuddered with a combination of cold horror and burning rage. He was one of the most powerful men in the world yet felt utterly powerless to help his own daughter.
The image was replaced with a soundbite of the President addressing a press conference the previous year. ‘America stands strong against the threat of terrorism,’ he was saying. ‘We don’t negotiate with terrorists and never will …’
The strapline running along the bottom of the screen read: WHAT WILL THE PRESIDENT DO NOW?
The segment came to an end and the monitor filled with scenes of outraged crowds in Times Square calling for Alicia’s release. Some were weeping, others were angry, while a growing number were baying for blood.
Finally, the bulletin switched to a view of a dusty compound outside Sana’a. Eight bodies were laid out, surrounded by wailing families. The headline ran: ATTACK ON FARMERS’ COMPOUND – AN ‘INNOCENT’ MISTAKE?
The newsreel ended on images of spontaneous protests and the burning of American flags in the capital cities of the Yemen, Pakistan and Afghanistan.
‘Those men weren’t innocent,’ growled General Shaw, pounding a fist into his palm. ‘They were drug dealers. The SEAL unit uncovered a mass shipment of opium in the compound. That’s why it was so heavily guarded.’
‘The Yemeni people won’t see it that way,’ replied Jennifer. The secretary of state stood by the door, her arms crossed, a frown on her face. ‘And their government are viewing it as an invasion of sovereign territory. We’ve got a full-blown international crisis on our hands.’
‘That was always going to be the case,’ argued Karen. ‘The question is how did we get it so wrong? I know the surviving gunman admitted that Malik Hussein was behind the drug-running, but the SEAL team found no evidence of Alicia or Connor ever having been at that location.’
‘Listen, we’ll have more than enough time for analysis and blame another day,’ said President Mendez, noticing with dismay that a countdown clock had been posted on the TV newsfeed. ‘We’ve less than fifty-five minutes to meet the midnight deadline. I need to hear your views on what our next move should be. You first, Karen.’
‘I think we can all agree these terrorists won’t back down. If we don’t comply, they’ll kill Alicia – or more likely Connor first to prove their point.’
‘We don’t know that for certain,’ said Jennifer. ‘They may bluff again.’
‘The bombs were no bluff,’ reminded Karen.
George held up the list of captured terrorists. ‘How about we make a concession of a handful of prisoners? The least significant ones. Then we may be able to stall them – even seek a chance of ending this crisis.’
‘It’ll make us look weak,’ argued General Shaw, taking the side of the secretary of state. ‘Release any of them and they’ll only push for more.’
‘What about just announcing our troops’ withdrawal then? We don’t have to actually withdraw from the countries.’
Jennifer shook her head. ‘George, I know you’re seeking every possible solution. But such a declaration would send a shockwave through the Middle East. The terrorists know full well that a mere announcement would be enough to create anarchy.’
‘But if we don’t offer the terrorists some consideration at midnight, Connor could die.’
‘Much as I hate to say this,’ interjected Dirk, his steel-blue eyes hardening, ‘it’s his duty to make such a sacrifice.’
‘How can you even think such a thing?’ exclaimed Karen, shocked by her colleague’s cold-heartedness.
Dirk shifted awkwardly under her accusing gaze. ‘Look, if the terrorists kill Connor and we still hold out against their demands, then they’ve lost. They’ll realize that we can’t be forced into submission, even when lives are at stake.’
‘But we’re talking here of a child’s life,’ reminded George. ‘And how will the world view America then?’
A heavy silence descended on the room and President Mendez looked to his press secretary for her opinion.
‘The fact that Alicia and Connor are still children makes this a highly emotive issue,’ explained Lara. ‘The public and media are split on the matter. Half are calling for your daughter’s release under any circumstances, while the rest consider an iron fist should be used. If she is …’ Lara was unable to meet the President’s eyes ‘… killed, there’s a danger her blood will be on both the terrorists’ and the US Government’s hands. Whatever decision you make, Mr President, we must be seen to have done everything possible to save her and Connor.’
‘But we are, aren’t we?’ queried the President, looking round at his staff.
‘Yes,’ replied Karen quickly, ‘but I agree with Lara on this – perception is everything.’