asked.
Ling, helping herself to a Diet Coke from
the fridge, merely laughed. ‘You mean, for good behaviour? We might have a trip to
Cardiff every so often. But don’t get your hopes up. This course is full
on.’
She pointed to the next week’s
timetable pinned on the noticeboard.
‘Read it and weep!’
Dragging himself from the sofa, Connor
passed Amir, who was busily tapping away on his keyboard. ‘Don’t you ever
stop working?’
‘This isn’t work, it’s
programming,’ explained Amir, his eyes fixated on the screen. ‘I’m
creating a bodyguard app.’
‘What will it do?’ asked Connor,
trying to get a look.
Amir tapped the side of his nose with a
finger to indicate a secret. ‘I’ll tell you when it works.’
‘Sounds intriguing.’
‘Don’t get too excited,’
smirked Ling. ‘Amir’s last app fried his phone!’
Amir shot her evils. ‘The phone just
couldn’t handle the sheer awesomeness of my programming, that’s
all.’
‘Whatever,’ said Ling, sipping
her can of Coke and strolling out.
Connor scanned the timetable. He groaned
when he saw double maths was the opener for Monday morning. His eyes skipped over the
standard subjects to the bodyguardlessons – which, if the truth be
known, fascinated him. Even if they were demanding and pushing him to his limit, he
realized this was the sort of training his father must have done.
Foot drills. World affairs. Hostage survival. Route planning. Embus Debus. Vehicle
searches. Unarmed combat –
A relieved smile broke across Connor’s
face. At least he’d be one step ahead of the others in that class.
Connor entered the sports hall with Charley
and the rest of Alpha team. A group of kids hung around the basketball court. When they
spotted Charley, they strolled over.
‘Aren’t you that surfer
girl?’ asked a young lad with wavy brown hair. ‘Charley Hunter?’
Charley nodded.
‘Wow!’ he said, eyes widening in
star-struck glee. He turned to his friends. ‘I told you so. This girl was the
Quiksilver Junior Surfing Champion. She conquered the Banzai Pipeline in
Hawaii.’
The kids began to crowd round her
wheelchair. One of the girls produced a pen and asked for an autograph. Worried that
Charley was going to be mobbed, Connor stepped forward.
‘Hey, watch it!’ snarled a boy
dressed in combats and a death-metal T-shirt, his way blocked by Connor.
‘Sorry, mate, but you need to give her
some space.’
‘I just wanted to get her
autograph,’ mumbled the boy, moodily stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Suddenly Connor caught sight of a blade.
‘KNIFE!’ he shouted, as the boy thrust for Charley.
Relying on his jujitsu training, Connor
grabbed the boy’s wrist. He was almost too late, the tip of the blade sweeping a
hair’s breadth from Charley’s throat. The other kids scattered in panic as
the two of them fought for control over the lethal weapon. Connor twisted the
boy’s arm using
kote-gaeshi
technique to drive him to the floor. The boy
still refused to let go of the knife. Jason dived on top, pinning the attacker to the
ground, while Ling and Amir rushed Charley towards the exit.
A man clapped for them to stop.
‘Excellent reactions,’ commended
their unarmed combat instructor, Steve. Ex-British Special Forces, he was a six-foot-two
man-mountain with skin dark as ebony and the muscles of a gladiator. He’d also
been the other phoney police officer involved in Connor’s recruitment. ‘That
training exercise demonstrates how difficult it is to foresee an attack. But you handled
it well. The Principal was saved.’
He glanced at the red ink line marking
Connor’s left forearm where the rubber knife had caught him.
‘You, on the other hand, are seriously
injured.’
Connor grimaced, disappointed with himself
for not managing to cleanly disarm the attacker from Delta team.
‘Knife attacks are possibly the most
dangerous of all close-quarter combat situations. That’s why the best way to
tackle a
Ling, helping herself to a Diet Coke from
the fridge, merely laughed. ‘You mean, for good behaviour? We might have a trip to
Cardiff every so often. But don’t get your hopes up. This course is full
on.’
She pointed to the next week’s
timetable pinned on the noticeboard.
‘Read it and weep!’
Dragging himself from the sofa, Connor
passed Amir, who was busily tapping away on his keyboard. ‘Don’t you ever
stop working?’
‘This isn’t work, it’s
programming,’ explained Amir, his eyes fixated on the screen. ‘I’m
creating a bodyguard app.’
‘What will it do?’ asked Connor,
trying to get a look.
Amir tapped the side of his nose with a
finger to indicate a secret. ‘I’ll tell you when it works.’
‘Sounds intriguing.’
‘Don’t get too excited,’
smirked Ling. ‘Amir’s last app fried his phone!’
Amir shot her evils. ‘The phone just
couldn’t handle the sheer awesomeness of my programming, that’s
all.’
‘Whatever,’ said Ling, sipping
her can of Coke and strolling out.
Connor scanned the timetable. He groaned
when he saw double maths was the opener for Monday morning. His eyes skipped over the
standard subjects to the bodyguardlessons – which, if the truth be
known, fascinated him. Even if they were demanding and pushing him to his limit, he
realized this was the sort of training his father must have done.
Foot drills. World affairs. Hostage survival. Route planning. Embus Debus. Vehicle
searches. Unarmed combat –
A relieved smile broke across Connor’s
face. At least he’d be one step ahead of the others in that class.
Connor entered the sports hall with Charley
and the rest of Alpha team. A group of kids hung around the basketball court. When they
spotted Charley, they strolled over.
‘Aren’t you that surfer
girl?’ asked a young lad with wavy brown hair. ‘Charley Hunter?’
Charley nodded.
‘Wow!’ he said, eyes widening in
star-struck glee. He turned to his friends. ‘I told you so. This girl was the
Quiksilver Junior Surfing Champion. She conquered the Banzai Pipeline in
Hawaii.’
The kids began to crowd round her
wheelchair. One of the girls produced a pen and asked for an autograph. Worried that
Charley was going to be mobbed, Connor stepped forward.
‘Hey, watch it!’ snarled a boy
dressed in combats and a death-metal T-shirt, his way blocked by Connor.
‘Sorry, mate, but you need to give her
some space.’
‘I just wanted to get her
autograph,’ mumbled the boy, moodily stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Suddenly Connor caught sight of a blade.
‘KNIFE!’ he shouted, as the boy thrust for Charley.
Relying on his jujitsu training, Connor
grabbed the boy’s wrist. He was almost too late, the tip of the blade sweeping a
hair’s breadth from Charley’s throat. The other kids scattered in panic as
the two of them fought for control over the lethal weapon. Connor twisted the
boy’s arm using
kote-gaeshi
technique to drive him to the floor. The boy
still refused to let go of the knife. Jason dived on top, pinning the attacker to the
ground, while Ling and Amir rushed Charley towards the exit.
A man clapped for them to stop.
‘Excellent reactions,’ commended
their unarmed combat instructor, Steve. Ex-British Special Forces, he was a six-foot-two
man-mountain with skin dark as ebony and the muscles of a gladiator. He’d also
been the other phoney police officer involved in Connor’s recruitment. ‘That
training exercise demonstrates how difficult it is to foresee an attack. But you handled
it well. The Principal was saved.’
He glanced at the red ink line marking
Connor’s left forearm where the rubber knife had caught him.
‘You, on the other hand, are seriously
injured.’
Connor grimaced, disappointed with himself
for not managing to cleanly disarm the attacker from Delta team.
‘Knife attacks are possibly the most
dangerous of all close-quarter combat situations. That’s why the best way to
tackle a
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