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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!’
    ‘Why not? It’s in your
blood.’
    Connor gave Colonel Black a baffled look.
Then the colonel said something that completely threw him.
    ‘You’ll be following in your
father’s footsteps.’
    ‘What are you talking about?’
shot back Connor, suddenly going on the defensive. ‘My dad’s
dead.’
    The colonel nodded solemnly.
‘I’m aware of that. And I was very much grieved when I heard the news. Your
father and I were close friends. We fought together.’
    Connor studied the man before him, wondering
if he was telling the truth. ‘But my dad never mentioned you.’
    ‘That’s understandable. In the
SAS, we try to keep our personal and professional lives separate.’
    ‘SAS? My dad was in the army, Royal
Signals,’ Connor corrected him.
    ‘That was his cover job. Your father
was actually in the SAS Special Projects Team, responsible for counter-terrorism and VIP
close protection,’ the colonel revealed. ‘One of the best.’
    This new knowledge unsettled Connor, who
thought he’d known his father pretty well. ‘Then why did he never tell me
that?’
    ‘As a member of Special Projects, your
father had to keep his identity secret. To protect himself, you and the rest of your
family.’
    ‘I don’t believe you,’
said Connor, gripping the arm of his chair for support. His whole world seemed to be
shifting sideways as the long-held memory of his father was brought into question.
    The colonel removed a photo from his breast
pocket and handed it to Connor.
    ‘Iraq, 2004.’
    Five soldiers in combat fatigues and
carrying sub-machine guns stood before a barren patch of desert scrub. In the middle was
a younger Colonel Black, his distinctive scar visible just above the neckline of his
body armour. Next to him was a tall tanned man with dark brown hair and familiar
green-blue eyes – Justin Reeves.
    Connor was speechless. Gripping the photograph
with a trembling hand, he fought back the tears at seeing his father’s face so
unexpectedly.
    ‘You can keep that if you want,’
said the colonel. ‘Now, on to your recruitment into Buddyguard.’
    ‘What?’ Connor exclaimed, events
moving too fast for him. ‘But I haven’t agreed to anything.’
    ‘True. But hear me out and you
will.’
    Connor tentatively put his father’s
photo down on the desk, reluctant to let it out of his sight.
    ‘First, your school will be informed
of your transfer to a private school.’
    ‘
Private
school?’
queried Connor. ‘My family doesn’t have that sort of money.’
    ‘You’ll be funded by a special
scholarship scheme. Besides, we need an official cover for your relocation to the
Buddyguard training camp. We must maintain the secrecy of our operation. No one can
ever
know.’
    ‘Relocation?’ challenged Connor.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t leave my mum. You’ll have to find
someone else.’
    ‘We’re aware of your
situation,’ said the policewoman with a reassuring smile as she placed an envelope
on the table for him. ‘We’ve made all the necessary arrangements to ensure
she’s well looked after. And all the costs are covered.’
    Connor stared at the mysterious envelope,
then at Colonel Black. ‘What if I don’t want to become a
bodyguard?’
    ‘It’s entirely your decision.
You’re free to go home, but I think you’ll regret it.’
    A truth suddenly dawned on Connor. ‘So
I’m not under arrest?’
    ‘Whoever said you were?’ replied
the colonel, arching an eyebrow.
    Connor turned to the two police officers,
then realized neither