Murray McDonald - Kidnap

Tristan excused himself. He’d spotted some girls in the room.

“Sorry guys but I see some new talent — see ya’s.”

They were used to him, he was girl mad. In fact, neither Tom nor Ahmad could remember a conversation with Tristan, in the last year, which hadn’t made reference to one girl or another.

Tom spent the rest of the evening catching up with his old friends and getting to know the new ones. Had their respective parents been in attendance, it would have been a very impressive party indeed. In total, the wealth in the room would have exceeded $250 billion, with Tom’s father making up the largest portion. They would have had the most powerful armies in the world at their fingertips particularly with the son of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff and the daughter of the head of NATO. There were five children whose parents were the elected heads of their nations and numerous members of royalty. Technologically, they would have control of almost every major electronic corporation in the world. All in all, they (or rather their parents) were a pretty powerful bunch.

Of course, the assembling of these particular students had not been accidental. Careful planning had ensured that those who were most vulnerable to terrorist threats were concentrated in one small area. All the students in Tom and Lela’s block and the six blocks next to them had been deliberately placed there. There was one ‘special security’ block per year. Between them, they housed the children of the world’s most influential and powerful families. That part of the planning had been top secret and other than the Headmaster and the Board of Governors, only the Special Forces Base Commander was aware of the heightened security he was expected to impose on those seven blocks.

Tom and Lela played host to their neighbours all evening. They eventually said goodnight to the last of their guests at around midnight. It appeared that there were no set rules for bedtime.

“So what do you think?” Tom asked Lela.

“Very, very cool. You?”

“Unbelievably awesome!”

“They’re all so nice, especially Mia. We’ve got so much in common.”

“I know, they’re all great. Chen was nice, really laid back and I can’t believe Tristan and Ahmad are here, that’s just brilliant!”

“Anyway, I’m exhausted, I think we should get to bed. I’ve got a funny feeling that tomorrow is going to be a very busy day,” said Lela, yawning.

Tom took the hint and made his way to his room. Before going to sleep, he decided to read his briefing pack which informed him that lessons would start each morning at 8.00 a.m., Monday to Friday. There would be a mid-morning break at 10.00 a.m. and lunch was between 12.15 p.m. and 1.30 p.m.. The afternoon session would end at 4.30 p.m.. Saturday consisted of a half day sports session which started at 10.00 a.m. and finished at 2.00 p.m.. Sunday was a free day of leisure but Tom had a funny feeling that probably meant homework. The briefing pack went into detail about restaurant times, extra curricular activities and the facilities available. There was also a copy of the ‘School Rules’ which seemed surprisingly brief:

“ All students should behave as would be expected of young ladies and gentleman of their standing. Failure to do so at any time will result in instant expulsion.”

Tom couldn’t work out whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. It was surprisingly concise.

The briefing pack also informed him that he didn’t need the vast array of alarm clocks which his mother had packed for him. Tom did not wake easily and no single alarm clock could ever wake him. This had worried his mother and so Tom was equipped with four alarm clocks which, after rigorous testing and experimentation, had proved to be effective. The first alarm was subtle, tugging at his subconscious. The next was slightly louder with a gentle tone to slowly penetrate his consciousness. The next was louder and would persevere to the point of full alertness. The next could wake the dead and terrorised anyone nearby. Tom’s father said that anyone who remembered the war would run to their bomb shelter if they heard “that bloody thing” go off. Tom hated the final alarm, it really was brutal and that was the point. After hearing it twice, his brain forced him to wake-up by the third alarm to avoid the last one going off. His mother had cracked it.

However, after all the experimentation, it would all be redundant. The school operated its own alarm system to ensure the students were woken up at 7.00 a.m. Tom was relieved and didn’t bother setting his complicated series of clocks and went straight to sleep.

Ling made contact with Reaper. She had worried that she may find it difficult to maintain the charade of her new role but, to her surprise, she found it very easy. Nobody had suspected a thing. She booted up the small mobile device and sent off her encrypted report. This was going to be the easiest $1 million she had ever made.

The twins, on the other hand, were concerned. Although they had spent three weeks preparing the area for surveillance, they had hoped that their targets would not pick one of the seven super secure blocks. Their hopes were shattered and their vantage points severely restricted due to the presence of extra security which was surprisingly covert. The twins stumbled across a number of hidden and occupied security look-outs on their search for vantage points, pleading ignorance as they made their apologies. Whoever was in charge of security was not only affording this area of the school substantially more protection than the rest, but they did not want anybody to know about it.

The twins tapped into the base’s surveillance camera network and were able to call up individual cameras on every square inch of the island. Although these covered their blind-spots, including the back entrance to their targets’ block, this did not quell their concerns. Cameras were all well and good but were no substitute for human eyes. They filed their report, moved into position and began their surveillance of the building.

Reaper was ecstatic. His secure mobile mail retrieval system was pinging every few minutes as sit-reps (situation reports) flooded in. The one which excited him most was the note from Ling. She had infiltrated the school beautifully and had spent the evening with the targets. The Ling angle was perfect. Had he thought of it earlier, he could have saved time haggling with greedy soldiers and just used Ling. He then reminded himself, however, that it was always good to have a fall-back plan.

In less than four weeks, the action phase would begin. The feedback from each of the camps was excellent. The terrorists had been provided with photographs of the targets and told various false stories about them to incite their bigoted and fanatical hatred. This tactic had worked predictably well, perhaps too well. Reaper’s Team Leaders informed him that such was the terrorists’ hatred for the children, it was going to take a monumental effort to stop them from shooting the children on sight.

“Tom!” Lela shouted, banging on his door.

“Tom! Wake up! It’s 10.30!”

“What, what…what is it… what’s going on, 10.30… it can’t be.” Tom stumbled out of bed and opened the door.

Lela laughed.

“You really are useless in the morning!”

“I take it you were joking about it being 10.30, we start school at 8?”

“No, I’m not joking but didn’t you read the briefing paper?”

“Yes I did, cover to cover, before going to sleep, actually.”

“And the welcome note from the Headmaster?”

“No, didn’t bother with that usual guff, you know ‘Hi. I am glad you’re here…hope your flight was OK…look forward to meeting you all soon’ blah, blah, blah.”