Hostage (41 page)

There were too many hits to sift through so
he tightened his parameters by inputting BOY as well. Most were still irrelevant links.
But convinced he was on to something, Bahir searched through ‘images only’.
It wasn’t until the third page that he recognized Connor’s face in a photo.
He clicked on the link, opening a website to the
East London Herald
newspaper.
The feature was headlined:
LOCAL BOY BATTLE OF BRITAIN CHAMPION!

Below the caption was a large picture of
Connor Reeves holding aloft a silver trophy.

‘
Kickboxing champion?
’
remarked Bahir. ‘There’s more to this English boy than meets the eye.’
He rose from his chair and headed for the door. ‘Kedar, stay here in case the
Americans contact us. I have to go up and speak with Malik.’

‘Is there a problem?’ Kedar
asked.

‘Possibly. Just keep watch over the
hostages.’

Kedar nodded and took his place in
Bahir’s chair. After checking the online mail server for any messages, he heard
cries for help over the cell’s speaker and glanced up at the
video monitor. The English boy was jumping up and down and waving his arms in front of
the camera. Kedar was going to ignore his desperate plea for attention when he noticed,
in the corner of the cell, the President’s daughter having convulsions.

At ten minutes to midnight, Malik began
honing his
jambiya
for the final time. With feverish intent, he ran the
whetstone along the edge of the blade, the scrape of steel and stone sounding like
fingernails down a chalkboard.

‘So you really intend
killing
them?’ said Hazim, unable to take his eyes off the glinting steel.

Chewing madly on a mouthful of khat, Malik
replied, ‘Just one for starters. Both, if the Americans don’t
comply.’

‘We will be condemned by the whole
world!’ argued Hazim.

‘But we will be exalted by our
brothers-in-arms!’ Malik countered, shooting him an irritable glare. ‘Now
get the coffee I asked for.’

Hazim could see by Malik’s dilated
pupils that he’d chewed too much khat. His uncle was becoming manic and out of
touch with reality. ‘But they’re just kids,’ he reminded him.
‘Alicia’s the same age as my sister.’

‘She’s the offspring of our
greatest
enemy,’ snarled Malik. He eyed Hazim dubiously.
‘Don’t tell me your belief in our cause is wavering, nephew!’

Hazim shook his head. ‘No, I don’t
doubt the cause. But I never thought it would come to this.’

As Bahir ran into the room, Malik gave a
thin smile. ‘It was
always
going to come to this.’

‘HELP!’ shouted Connor, waving in
desperation at the camera lens. ‘PLEASE! She’s having an epileptic
fit!’

Behind him, Alicia was thrashing wildly on
the mattress. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, only the whites showing. Her
breathing was becoming laboured and Connor could hear wet choking gasps like the sound
of a dying fish.

He screamed again at the camera, praying
that someone was watching or listening. ‘PLEASE! HELP! She could die!’

Just as he was about to give up hope, the
cell door opened.

‘Thank goodness,’ Connor cried
as the black-robed giant entered. ‘She needs a doctor. Right now. The stress of
that mock execution must have caused it.’

Whether the giant understood him or not, he
pushed Connor irritably aside and bent over to examine the writhing girl. As soon as his
attention was on Alicia, Connor grabbed the man’s head, twisted it and drove it
downwards. Taken totally off-guard, the terrorist was unable to stop Connor’s
surprise head-twist attack. His huge mass toppled
over. But, rather
than guiding the man’s head to the ground as he’d been taught in buddyguard
class, Connor used all his strength to smash the terrorist’s skull into the
concrete floor. The giant grunted and went limp.

Alicia immediately stopped fitting and sat
up. ‘I
really
should be an actress,’ she said, managing a smile
despite the circumstances.

‘You can collect your Oscar when we
get out of here,’ Connor replied, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. His
plan had worked perfectly.

As they ran for the open door, Alicia
stumbled and let out a cry. Connor turned to see the terrorist had seized her ankle.
Dazed and disorientated as he was, the man, snarling like a pit-bull, refused to let
go.

If you’re forced to fight, end it
quick
, his combat instructor had said.

Spinning round, Connor kicked the man
squarely in the jaw. Teeth flew and the terrorist lost his grip.

How’s that for Pain Assisted
Learning!
thought Connor.

But the giant still wouldn’t stay
down. Spitting blood, he made a desperate lunge for them. Connor shoved Alicia into the
corridor as the terrorist bore down on them like a charging bull, his eyes filled with
pure rage. Connor threw himself against the cell door. It banged shut and Alicia turned
the key just as the door shuddered under the terrorist’s impact.

But mercifully the reinforced lock held.

‘What now?’ she whispered,
glancing nervously along the shadowy corridor.

‘
Shhh!
’ cautioned Connor,
putting a finger to his lips and checking the room opposite. It was empty apart from the
array of electronic gadgetry and the computer that he’d spotted before. Darting
into the room, he wondered if he could send a message. But the keyboard was in Arabic
and, besides, he still had no idea where they were. Connor glanced over at a second
monitor and saw the giant hurling himself against the cell door, his screams of outrage
crackling over the tinny speaker. Connor switched it off. If the other terrorists
didn’t know about their accomplice’s fate, it might give him and Alicia a
few more precious seconds to escape. Turning to leave the room, he was astonished to
find his smartphone lying on the desk. Grabbing it, he powered it up and pressed his
thumb to the fingerprint recognition scanner. The home screen appeared. But any hopes of
making an emergency call were quickly shattered. There was no signal.

Alicia touched his arm, urging him to hurry
up. Connor nodded and shoved the phone in his pocket. Hopefully, he’d get
reception above ground. Silently beckoning Alicia to follow him, he crept along the
corridor towards the stairwell, pausing only to check the video room was clear. It was
deserted.

There were no weapons either – just the
ominous black flag and camera on show. Connor steeled himself to climb the darkened
stairs, unarmed.

He took it one step at a time, terrified one
of the wooden treads would creak under his weight and alert the other terrorists. Alicia
stuck close behind, her breathing loud in
the darkness. Neither knew
what would await them at the top and Connor feared they’d come face to face with
someone before they managed to escape the basement. If that happened, they’d have
nowhere to run.

But they reached the top of the staircase
undetected. A solid wooden door now blocked their route. Connor grasped the handle and
slowly turned it. To his relief – and surprise – the door wasn’t locked. Pushing
it open a fraction, he put his eye to the crack. Beyond was a bright hallway with
several rooms leading off from it and what looked like the main entrance door at the far
end. He could hear voices. But otherwise the hallway was empty.

Ready?
he mouthed to Alicia.

She nodded.

They slipped out and closed the door quietly
behind them. Now dangerously exposed, Connor kept Alicia close as they tiptoed along.
They were almost to the first doorway, a kitchen coming into view, when a terrorist
stepped out.

Connor and Alicia found themselves confronted
by a young man in his early twenties. No longer in his traditional Middle Eastern robes,
the terrorist wore jeans and a blue office shirt. He was carrying a pot of steaming
coffee on a tray and stood stock-still, shocked by the hostages’ unexpected
appearance.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Alicia gasped under her breath.
‘
Hazim?
’

Suddenly aware he was unmasked, the
terrorist cast his eyes to the ground as if deeply ashamed.

‘You know him?’ Connor whispered
in astonishment.

Alicia stared incredulous at the young man
before them. ‘He’s one of Kalila’s brothers.’

Connor now vaguely recalled him collecting
Kalila from school on a few occasions. No wonder Secret Service hadn’t picked up
on any terrorist surveillance at Montarose School – Hazim would have already been
security checked. Connor reckoned Hazim must have been responsible for planting the
Cell-Finity bug too, when he gave Kalila her new phone and she forwarded the number to
Alicia, himself and all her
friends. Yet at that precise moment Connor
didn’t care
who
the terrorist was. His priority was to escape with
Alicia.

‘Hazim! What’s taking you so
long?’ barked a voice from the far room.

A conflicted look passed across
Hazim’s face as he glanced from Alicia to the room and back again. He didn’t
reply and the man in the room became impatient.

‘Bahir, go give him a kick up the
backside!’

A man with round steel-rimmed glasses
appeared out of a doorway. His eyes widened in shock at seeing their two captives
free.

‘Hazim, don’t just stand
there!’ he cried, dashing into the corridor. ‘Grab them!’

When Hazim didn’t react, Connor seized
upon the young man’s hesitation. He snatched up the coffee pot and threw the
scalding contents into the face of the approaching bespectacled man. The terrorist fell
back, screaming, his skin blistering. Connor then one-inch-pushed Hazim in the chest.
Hazim flew backwards, sprawling on to the kitchen floor. Connor grabbed Alicia’s
arm and made for the front door.

But they hadn’t gone two steps, when a
bearded man with a hooked nose leapt like a tiger into their path.

‘Not so fast!’ he growled,
unsheathing the jewelled dagger from his belt.

Confronted by the formidable blade, Connor
recalled his instructor’s words:
It’s far better to make a good run than
a bad stand
. But, with nowhere to run this time, a bad stand was the only
option Connor had.

He took the terrorist leader head on,
crescent-kicking the hand that held the dagger. But the leader was deceptively quick.
Pulling back, he slashed with the blade. Connor leapt aside, barely avoiding his stomach
being sliced open. As the dagger came in for another attack, Connor truly wished
he’d worn his stab-proof T-shirt. Pushing Alicia out of range of the knife, Connor
made a lunge forward, seized the man’s wrist and twisted it into a jujitsu lock.
The leader grimaced in pain, his bones grating, but he refused to let go. The two of
them began wrestling for dominance of the knife. They slammed against the wall. The tip
of the blade dug into Connor’s shoulder. He cried out, losing control of the
terrorist’s wrist. The leader pinned him by the throat to the wall.