‘A fire? That’s terrible,’ said his mum, after Connor and Charley had arrived unexpectedly at his family’s poky terraced house in East London. Propped up by pillows, she lay in the metal-framed bed, thin and fragile as a bird with a broken wing. Connor had been shocked by how frail and pallid his mother looked, the multiple sclerosis that she battled evidently having the upper hand that day. Her face was etched with pain and a slight yet constant tremor gripped her wasted body. But as ever his mum’s concerns were for other people rather than her own sufferings. ‘Was anyone hurt?’

Connor nodded. He felt Charley squeeze his hand for support. ‘The headmaster and two of the teachers died.’

His mum gasped in shock. ‘Any pupils?’

‘A few were injured,’ Connor admitted. ‘They’re recovering now, but the school’s been closed. Permanently.’

His mum reached out and took his other hand, her trembling grasp weak but full of love. ‘Oh, I am sorry, darling. I know how much you enjoyed it there. What a terrible thing to happen.’

‘Thank the Lord you two are safe, that’s all I can say,’ remarked his gran, shuffling into the room with a glass of water and a plastic pot of pills on a tray. She gave both him and Charley a grave but tender look, not for one minute fooled by their story of an accidental fire closing the school. Putting down the tray on a bedside table, she tapped out a couple of capsules into the palm of her wrinkled hand and passed them to Connor’s mum. ‘Sally says to take two of these. They’ll help you sleep. She’s off home now Connor’s here, but will be back in the morning.’

Seeing the state his mum was in, Connor was glad Sally had been around to take care of her, as well as his gran. And Sally would continue to do so for the foreseeable future. For Colonel Black had been true to his word when he’d said that his recruits’ welfare and safety were his number one priority. A comprehensive insurance policy had been taken out in the event of Buddyguard’s demise, ensuring that every recruit was financially secure and any contractual arrangements honoured until the recruit reached adulthood. Connor felt a further pang of grief in his heart at the loss of the colonel. He might have been gruff and stern of manner, but he wasn’t the mercenary exploiter that the Director had tried to paint him. Colonel Black had been a father figure, a mentor and, ultimately, a hero.

‘I suppose we need to think about a new school for you,’ said his mum, swallowing the capsules with a swig of water.

‘An alternative arrangement has been offered,’ Connor replied. His gran stiffened, her small pinched eyes drilling a question into him from behind her glasses. ‘But … I’m not sure if it’s right for me.’

His gran’s bony shoulders relaxed and her expression softened somewhat, although her mouth remained tight and thin. Connor anticipated that she’d be interrogating him later. But he wasn’t sure how much, if anything, he could tell his gran about the Guardian organization or his future intentions. Following Stella Sinclair’s confidential proposal, he’d initially declined her offer. He was long overdue a break and had no wish to dive headlong into another covert operation, especially when he had no idea what the Guardian role might entail. Yet he could already feel a familiar pull, a yearning for the ‘combat high’ that only came from being in the field. It was an irresistible draw that his father had experienced and often succumbed to, and that Connor craved too. But, for the moment, he was simply happy to be back home and to be with Charley.

For Charley had also declined the Deputy Director’s offer. She wanted to focus on her rehabilitation. She had a dream, a goal in mind. Equilibrium, for all its devious intentions, had implanted into her a remarkable piece of cutting-edge technology. So, rather than be controlled by it, she planned to master it. And Connor wanted to support her every step of the way.

Amir, on the other hand, had eagerly accepted the proposal to join the Guardian team. Stella had enticed him with the promise of a specialist IT role, and the prospect of becoming an intelligence agent was too much of a temptation for his computer-loving friend. His decision had led to his swift enrolment in the programme, the Deputy Director’s PA leading him away for further briefing. Their parting had been bitter-sweet, Connor happy that Amir had found his true purpose but knowing that he’d miss his friend. They promised to stay in touch.

Notwithstanding their own decisions, as both he and Charley left her office, the MI6 Deputy Director had told them in no uncertain terms that her door was always open should they change their minds.

‘Luckily, the school holidays are coming up,’ said his mum, stifling a yawn. ‘We’ve time to sort things out. I’m just glad you’re home, safe and sound, and not involved in any of this …’ She patted the newspaper on her lap. ‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to.’

On the newspaper’s front page ran a headline story about the terrorist attacks in China, referring to a recent incident at the famous Shanghai World Financial Center that had proved a significant lead on the perpetrators of the railway station shooting. Alongside this feature was another article about people-smuggling, and the disturbing evidence that children were being abducted and transported within shipping containers.

‘It’s certainly a dangerous world out there,’ agreed Connor, sharing a rueful look with Charley.

His mum yawned again, the pain etched in her face easing away like the sands in an hourglass.

‘Your mum needs her rest now,’ said his gran, ushering them out of the bedroom.

They made their way downstairs, Charley using his mother’s stairlift. Entering the front living room, Connor’s eye was caught by a photo on the mantelpiece. He took it down and settled into the comforting recesses of the sofa.

The picture was of his father. Smiling and handsome, dark brown hair clipped short, the green-blue eyes that he’d passed on to his son blazed with a sharp intensity. Connor recalled that this particular photo had been taken the month before his father had left on his fateful mission to Iraq. Bitter tears sprang at the corners of Connor’s eyes. His father’s death had gouged a huge hole in his heart, a gaping void that no other person could fill. But when he’d discovered how his father had really died, how he’d sacrificed himself to protect the American ambassador, a man who went on to become President of the United States, his heart had swelled with pride. The hole was still no smaller, but there was an understanding that his father’s death had counted for something, had somehow been of real service.

Yet there was always an unquenched fury deep within him at the injustice that his father’s killers had got away. It was partly what had driven him to excel at kickboxing, had compelled him to become a bodyguard, then had carried him through all the trials and ordeals of his assignments – a determination and crusade to protect others from the same fate.

Connor realized that the burning hole in his heart would never fully go away, but it was now more manageable. He’d uncovered those ultimately responsible for his father’s death. He’d been instrumental in bringing his father’s killers to justice. And over the coming months he’d be able to savour their destruction as Equilibrium’s empire was torn down piece by piece. It was only a matter of time before the Director herself was captured and punished for her crimes.

Then his father’s soul could finally rest. And so could he.

‘Your dad would be proud of you,’ said Charley, coming up alongside the sofa and putting an arm round his shoulders.

Connor smiled sadly at her. ‘I just wish he was around to meet you. He’d have really liked you.’

There was a knock at the front door.

‘I’ll get it,’ called his gran from the kitchen. She shuffled past through the hallway.

‘Well, if it’s any consolation,’ said Charley, ‘we’d never have met if you hadn’t had a reason to join Buddyguard. So maybe he’s the one who brought us together.’

His gran came into the living room. ‘Connor, there’s someone from your old school to see you.’

Connor looked up expectantly from his father’s photo. Then all the blood drained from his face. Charley gripped the armrests of her chair in shock.

‘Hope I’m not disturbing you two lovebirds,’ said Mr Grey, limping into the room.