Hijack, page 8
Connor stared out the window—first, at the sparkling waters of the harbor, then at the overlapping shell roof of the opera house, and finally at the dramatic latticework of arching girders that spanned the waterway. It certainly was an impressive sight.
“They call the bridge the Coathanger because of its arch-based design,” Mr. Sterling explained, a hint of disapproval noticeable in his tone. “But that does it a great disservice. Up close, it’s truly majestic. The arch soars so high, a ten-story building could pass beneath. And the weight of the bridge is monstrous. Over three hundred and fifty thousand tons of steel and six million rivets went into its construction.”
He glanced sideways at Connor and Ling, checking to see that they were suitably impressed.
“The bridge has a surface area larger than sixty soccer pitches, which means it needs a fifty-man team working three hundred and sixty-five days a year just to clean and repaint it. Obviously such maintenance is incredibly dangerous work. That’s why they’ve recently employed two autonomous robots for the more hazardous sections. An appropriate reduction of risk.”
Mr. Sterling pivoted back to face them. His cobalt-blue eyes fixed first on Ling, then on Connor, with an intensity that seemed to cut right through them both.
“Similarly, I’ve employed you two to reduce the risk in my family’s life.”
Connor wasn’t sure how he felt about being compared with a mindless robot, but Mr. Sterling didn’t seem to consider this an insult and carried on regardless.
“I already have a personal protection officer, who will be accompanying me on the trip. My yacht has a ship security officer, and there are other safeguards in place here and at home. But, as you know, that wasn’t enough. I have two beautiful daughters who are very precious to me. And God forbid I have a repeat of last year.”
“You can rest assured, Mr. Sterling, that my guardians will protect your daughters,” said Colonel Black. “Since this is a family vacation, their presence will appear to be relaxed and low profile. But I can guarantee they’ll be on constant alert to any threat and avert any danger.”
“Your organization comes highly recommended, Colonel Black, so I expect nothing less.”
Colonel Black didn’t flinch under Maddox’s steely gaze. And he gave no answer, none being required when his belief in his recruits was absolute.
Mr. Sterling wagged a finger in Connor’s direction. “Is this the boy who saved the US president’s daughter’s life?”
Colonel Black’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”
“I have my sources. But don’t be concerned, Colonel. Keeping your organization a secret is in my interests. So, is he?”
Colonel Black nodded.
“Then I want him protecting Emily.”
Connor glanced over at Ling. Her lips had tightened, clearly taking the role assignment as an affront to her abilities. But she stayed silent.
“Not a problem,” agreed the colonel. “Now, I understand that you—”
A knock at the door disturbed them, and Mr. Sterling’s assistant appeared. “Sorry to interrupt, but the editor in chief says this can’t wait.”
Mr. Sterling nodded his assent, and a redheaded woman in a tailored pinstripe jacket-and-skirt suit entered.
“What is it, Ruth?”
She shot a doubtful glance at the colonel and two young teenagers in his office. “This might be better in private.”
“My apologies, Colonel Black,” said Mr. Sterling with a regretful smile, “but the world rarely stops in my line of business.”
“We understand,” said Colonel Black, rising to his feet. “I can communicate any outstanding queries via your assistant.”
“Then I’ll bid you farewell and look forward to seeing these two in the Seychelles,” said Mr. Sterling, offering both Ling and Connor a courteous nod. “But before then I’ve arranged for you to meet my daughters for lunch at one of my restaurants. My assistant has the details.”
Ruth stepped aside to allow them out through the glass door. As the door slowly closed behind them, Connor overheard a familiar name.
“There’s more to Harry Gibb’s heart attack than meets the eye . . .” the editor in chief began. “. . . speculation he was murdered.”
“What evidence do you have?” asked Mr. Sterling.
“Nothing conclusive at the moment. But I may have a source.”
“Okay, look into it. If it’s true, it’ll take the heat off the Daily for allegedly causing that idiot’s death through stress. As well as help sell a bucketload more papers—”
Then the glass door slid shut.
20
“Is this a joke?” said Emily, putting down her glass of lemonade hard enough to make the ice tinkle. She stared at Connor and Ling as if waiting for the punch line.
Sitting in a rooftop restaurant overlooking the golden-sanded curve of Manly Beach, Connor removed his sunglasses and shook his head in response. “Not at all. We’ve been assigned as your guardians.”
He looked from Emily to Chloe, a mirror image of her sister, with what he hoped was a convincing and reassuring smile. Both the girls wore pale yellow summer dresses and matching designer sunglasses, flipped back on their heads to keep their straw-blond hair out of their eyes. The twins had ordered the same tuna salad and tall iced lemonades.
Chloe maintained her composure, while Emily gave an incredulous snort. “Guardians?” she said, and laughed.
When her sister didn’t join in her laughter, Emily spun on her, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Did you know about this?”
Chloe started to open her mouth, but Emily had already read her expression. “Typical!” she cried, picking up her fork and waving it at her sister. “Daddy tells you everything.”
Chloe sighed. “He didn’t want you to flip out, thinking that he was being overprotective.”
“Overprotective? When has he been around us long enough to even be protective!” Emily stabbed at her tuna salad with the fork. “Well, it’s blindingly obvious just how much Daddy values our lives if he isn’t even hiring a real bodyguard.”
Chloe offered a rueful smile to Connor and Ling. “Sorry,” she said, then mouthed, Not a good day, and raised an eyebrow meaningfully. Connor, recalling the psychological report detailing Emily’s mood swings, nodded in understanding.
“But I do have to agree with my sister,” continued Chloe, her tone hardening. “You’re not what I expected. You don’t really look like bodyguards.”
“We’re not supposed to,” said Connor. “We act as low-profile, invisible protection. That makes you less of a target when we’re out and about.”
Chloe gave Ling the once-over, clearly unimpressed. “You aren’t exactly very big or strong. How on earth can you protect us?”
“I’m a black belt in martial arts,” Ling replied coolly. “So is Connor.”
“Really?” said Emily, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Can you catch a fly with a pair of chopsticks like the Karate Kid?”
Connor noticed Ling’s fingers clench around her glass of iced tea as she struggled to control her rising irritation with the girl. He shot her a silent warning to chill out. Taking a deep breath, Ling managed a strained smile. “No, but I do know how to bring down a fully grown man by kicking him in the—”
“They get the point,” Connor interrupted, holding up a hand and wishing now that Colonel Black hadn’t gone back to the hotel. He turned to the sisters. “Look, I realize that we’re not your stereotypical bodyguards. But we are fully trained in unarmed combat, surveillance and threat assessments.”
“I feel safer already!” muttered Emily.
“And we have experience in protecting people like you,” Connor persisted.
Chloe raised a dubious eyebrow. “Like who?”
Connor replied with a regretful shrug. “Unfortunately, we can’t tell you. It would break client confidentiality.”
“So . . .” said Chloe after a moment’s serious thought, “you’re asking us to trust you with our lives.”
“Absolutely,” Connor replied with as much confidence as he could convey.
“I don’t think so,” said Emily, wielding her fork at them like it was a weapon. “The last time I trusted someone I didn’t know, I ended up in a hellhole!”
21
An uncomfortable silence hung over the table, Chloe trying to make eye contact with her sister while Ling and Connor fidgeted with their drinks. Connor wanted to offer his sympathy, but there was little that could be said in response to Emily’s outburst without sounding trite or insensitive.
After a few minutes of pushing their salads around their plates, Chloe sighed and piped up, “Listen, Emily, Daddy’s made his decision. They’ll be with us on the yacht whether we like it or not, so we might as well try to get along. And why not take advantage of their supposed protection? Let’s go down to the beach. We haven’t been allowed that much freedom in months!”
Emily pushed her plate away and put aside her napkin. “Fine,” she said, offering Connor and Ling a civil smile. “At least my father will have someone to blame this time when things go wrong.”
Connor tried not to react to Emily’s bad attitude. Instead, he returned her smile and replied good-naturedly, “With us on board, it should all be smooth sailing.”
“Ha, ha,” said Emily without humor as she picked up her Gucci handbag and strode off.
Shouldering a matching leather handbag, Chloe joined her sister and headed for the stairs.
“Well, that was a pleasant lunch,” said Ling, turning to Connor with a forced smile. “Can’t wait for the trip!”
Connor sighed at the thought. “They just need time to get used to the idea.”
“Well, I’m sure glad Emily’s your responsibility,” said Ling, rising from her chair.
“So much for team spirit!”
“Hey, you’re the hotshot bodyguard,” she replied, punching him playfully on the arm. “You can handle her.”
Connor just hoped he could. An uncooperative Principal made the task of being an effective bodyguard almost impossible. “Then we’ll just have to convince them both that we can do the job.”
Catching up with the twins at the restaurant entrance, Connor quickened his pace to reach the glass double doors first. Stepping outside and holding the door, he did a quick scan up and down the road. Although Operation Gemini hadn’t officially started, he nonetheless assumed his bodyguard role. So did Ling, who hung back inside the café to cover their backs.
In his split-second surveillance sweep, Connor observed a couple of cars heading in their direction and a battered white pickup truck parked on the opposite side. Farther along the street a woman was pushing a stroller with a screaming baby inside, while nearby a young couple was entering a clothing store. Satisfied that none of them presented a viable threat, Connor stepped aside to allow Emily and Chloe out.
“Thank you,” said Chloe, taking Connor’s door-holding as a gesture of politeness rather than security.
“Just making sure the coast was clear,” Connor explained.
She glanced over the road at the turquoise sea and white-crested waves peeling along the shoreline. “Of course it is!” She laughed, donning her sunglasses. “It’s a glorious day.”
“You misunderstand,” said Ling. “Connor was performing a security sweep before you left the restaurant.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Manly Beach is hardly a war zone.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Connor as they crossed the road to the wide tree-lined promenade that hugged the golden stretch of beach. Passing by a bench, Connor noticed the eyes of four teenage surfers keenly following their progress. But he wasn’t overly concerned. Emily and Chloe’s twin looks naturally attracted attention—though Connor realized that at some point they were bound to draw unwanted attention.
“There may not be guns or bombs going off around here,” he explained, “but you’re still at risk.”
“From what?” asked Chloe, gesturing with her hand at the idyllic scene—the path thronged with laughing teenagers, sun worshippers, red-faced tourists and bronzed surfers, their boards tucked under their arms. A leisurely stream of bikes glided by in the bicycling lane, while roller skaters weaved in and out at high speed.
“You’re not only at risk from known threats, such as enemies of your father or professional kidnappers,” Ling replied, glancing meaningfully at Emily, “but also from anything that might happen on the street—muggings, pickpocketing, car accidents, trip hazards, fights—”
“You’re beginning to sound like our father. We’re only going for a walk along the beach,” said Chloe, sighing in exasperation.
“That’s when a Principal like you is most vulnerable,” Connor said. “See that woman over there?” He pointed to a woman in a red bikini spread out on a beach towel, chatting on her phone and gazing at the surf. “She’s in Code White.”
“Code what?” asked Emily, showing her first sign of interest in the conversation.
“Code White. It refers to a person’s mental state when they’re not tuned in to their environment, lost in their own bubble. Most people live their lives like that: oblivious to the potential dangers surrounding them. Even from here I can see that her bag contains her wallet, car keys and an iPad. Someone could rob her before she’s even aware that her belongings are gone.”
“Aren’t you being a bit paranoid?” Chloe suggested.
“No, just hypervigilant,” replied Ling. “As your guardians, we can’t afford to space out like that. We need to be in Code Yellow—relaxed awareness—the default mind-set of a trained bodyguard.”
“So you’re constantly on edge?” said Emily, her curiosity overcoming her mood.
“Not exactly,” replied Connor. “We’re just aware of the people around us, the environment we’re walking through and any potential dangers. For example, did either of you notice the white pickup truck parked on the other side of the road earlier?”
“No,” said Chloe, looking back over her shoulder.
“Then you wouldn’t have seen the two guys in the front seats.”
Chloe and Emily turned to stare.
“So what?” said Chloe. “They’re just hanging out.”
“If that’s the case, why do they have a pair of high-powered binoculars on the dashboard?” Connor challenged.
Chloe shrugged. “Maybe they’re checking out the waves?”
“Or they’re bird-watchers,” suggested Emily, nodding up toward the branches of the pine trees where a couple of white cockatoos squawked loudly.
“With bandanas and tinted sunglasses, they don’t strike me as the type to watch that sort of birdlife. And, with no boards in the back, they aren’t here to surf.”
“So what are they doing?” asked Chloe, an edge of excitement entering her voice.
“I’ve no proof they’re a threat,” said Connor. “They could be undercover police officers on surveillance. Or simply workmen on their lunch break. I only suspect they might be bag thieves. But since I’m alert to their presence, they can’t take me by surprise, like they would that woman.”
“Wow! I didn’t realize there was so much to this bodyguard business,” said Chloe, studying Connor and Ling in a new light.
“That’s barely scratching the surface of what we do,” replied Ling, shooting Connor a sly wink that at least Chloe was beginning to appreciate their worth. “But, if people were more aware, they’d be less likely to get into trouble. Who knows, if either of you or your father had been more tuned in last year, the kidnapping might not even have happened.”
Connor winced at Ling’s tactlessness.
“Well, it did,” said Chloe, glaring at Ling as Emily’s expression darkened and she once more fell into tight-lipped silence. “Anyway, you don’t know what happened, so you have no right to pass judgment.”
“I’m only saying . . . that it won’t happen this time because you’ve got us to watch out for you,” blurted Ling, trying to rescue the situation.
Chloe’s phone rang, a pop song ringtone interrupting the tense moment. Chloe pulled out a slim white phone and answered. “Hi, Josie . . . Yeah, okay . . . Just down on Manly . . . I know, it’s been forever . . . Yeah, I’d love to, but you know what my father’s like . . . You could come over to ours . . .”
As Chloe chatted with her friend, she slowed to a stop by the sea wall. But Emily kept going—splitting the group up. Ling hung behind, giving Chloe the space to talk, while Connor stuck with his Principal, purposefully maneuvering himself to her right-hand side. During close-protection “walking drills,” he’d learned that this position was best for a right-handed bodyguard. In an attack, he could pull the Principal away with his left hand while using his stronger right arm to fend off the attacker or draw a weapon.
As they wandered away, Ling held open her palms in a sign of sheepish apology to Connor. But he just waved the problem aside. Mistakes happened.
Now that he was on his own with Emily, Connor decided it was an opportunity to try to bond with her. “Sorry about what Ling said back there,” he began. “She can be quite . . . blunt at times.”
“Hmm,” said Emily, barely acknowledging him, her mind seemingly elsewhere.
“Perhaps it would help if you told me what did happen.”
“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
“Sure,” said Connor.
After a couple more attempts at conversation, both of which resulted in monosyllabic replies, he decided the best strategy would be to walk in silence. No point in annoying Emily further. Besides, it wasn’t his job to be her friend. He was there to protect her.
