intense, with the stringy skinniness of a long-distance runner and very bad teeth. She didn’t look much like a bodyguard, either.
By the time the four of us had scrambled into our clothes and got down the main staircase, the men were already outside on the gravel. They stood in a huddled group, their collective breath rising like steam from winter cattle under the floodlights.
The stars were still glittering above us. By my reckoning we were still a good two and a half hours away from sunrise. Why, I wondered bitterly, couldn’t Kirk have got himself killed on a summer course?
“Ah, so good of you to join us at last, ladies,” Todd’s voice was sneering as he jogged up in a dark blue tracksuit. “Too busy putting your make-up on, were you?”
Jan’s response was short and to the point, but I don’t think the reaction she got was the one she was hoping for. If she’d thought it through that far.
“Physically impossible, I would have thought,” Todd said mildly, then his face tightened. “Get down and give me ten press-ups.”
Jan’s face mirrored her surprise. She put her hands on her hips. “Or what?” she demanded.
“Or you can pack your bag right now and bugger off back home, love,” Todd said. He gave her a nasty smile. “Better make that fifteen press-ups.”
“You can’t order me about like that,” Jan said, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice now, underlying the belligerence.
“You didn’t read the small print when you signed up for this, did you?” Todd asked. He raised his voice, speaking to the group of us. “We need hundred per cent effort from you lot. Anyone who isn’t prepared to put the graft in and you’re straight out.” He waved an arm towards the edge of the gravel, where it faded out into the gloom in the direction of the forest track we’d come in on.
He turned back to Jan. “It’s a long walk out of here, but you can use the time to reflect on what a failure you are. On how you haven’t got the guts and the dedication to make it.” He shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. So, what’s it to be – twenty press-ups, or the next flight back home?”
They continued to stare each other out for a moment longer, then Jan dropped slowly and reluctantly to the frozen gravel.
Todd watched her complete the first three, then turned away. How many press-ups she actually managed to achieve was immaterial, I realised, it was the capitulation he’d been after.
I’d come across enough of Todd’s type – the control freaks and the macho bullshitters. First in the army, and then in the brief period I’d spent working the doors in a local nightclub. I’d found out early that I didn’t like playing the game their way. Sean had warned me to keep a low profile, but if this was their attitude, it wasn’t going to be easy. Perhaps it was a good job there was someone as bolshie as Jan to do the answering back.
“OK people, listen up,” Todd shouted. “We’re going to start out nice and easy with a straightforward little jog . . .”
His idea of a little jog, we quickly discovered, involved several klicks of rough forest tracks, at a pace he must have known hardly any of us could hope to sustain. The ground was frosted hard enough to concuss your joints with every stride. If it had been wet, the mud would have been impassable.
As it was, within the first kilometre we became widely strung out. I was thankful that I’d spent most of the previous year working at the gym, and so was fit enough to keep up with the middle of the field, at least. I didn’t have to put the brakes on in order to stick to the inconspicuous position Sean had recommended.
Two of the other instructors played sheepdog. Todd showed off his superior stamina by roaming up and down the line, goading us on. Sometimes he fell back almost to the rear and sometimes he’d sprint past to harangue those at the front.
I was surprised to see Blakemore lead off at the head of the group, despite the comments of the big German the night before. Blakemore was quick enough but he moved with a slight awkwardness, compensating for his damaged knee.
Bringing up the rear was the Belfast man, whose name I’d learned was O’Neill. I remembered his unguarded gesture last night at supper and wondered how he’d come by the hurt he was so obviously trying to mask. It surprised me that these two were the ones out running with us. If the Major didn’t even allow for injury time among his instructors, how was he going to treat the rest of us?
Without breakfast, my body had just about used up its available reserves after around five klicks. My thigh muscles were blocky and buzzing and I could feel my pace weakening with every stride. The cold air was murderous as I sucked it down into my lungs, burning my chest from the inside out.
When the man in front of me started to slow, I couldn’t have been more grateful at that point. More and more of us fell back to a walk, then tottered to a stop. I bent over, hands braced on my knees, and tried to drag air into my system through tubes that suddenly seemed totally inadequate for the job.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Todd demanded as he came pounding up from giving them hell at the back. He didn’t seem to be out of breath and was barely sweating. “Have you pathetic lot given up already?”
For a moment there was a silence that was almost fearful, then someone dragged up the courage to speak. “We’re not sure of the path, sir,” he said.
“What?” Todd roared. “Who’s that? Where’s Blakemore?”
“Erm, I’m McKenna, sir,” the same man supplied. “Mr Blakemore, he, erm, just sort of dropped back.” He spoke hesitantly, in case he was blamed for the bad news. “I think his knee might have been giving him some trouble.”
Todd swore under his breath. “Come on then,” he said sharply, and led off at a furious pace. I dragged in a final lungful of stationary air and forced my quivering limbs back into a jog. It was worse starting up again than if I’d kept running.
When we got back to the Manor, Todd and O’Neill had us doing ten minutes of star jumps and sit-ups just off the gravel, on the icy grass. We were doing full army sit-ups, which I never recommended to anyone when I was working at the gym. I didn’t think it was a point worth mentioning to these two.
It was only then that Blakemore reappeared. As he came past me I noticed he was moving the same as he had been when he set out, with no apparent increase in his limp.
O’Neill must have seen that, too, because he broke off shouting vicious encouragement and grabbed Blakemore’s arm, spinning him to a standstill. “Where the fuck have you been?” he said, keeping his voice low. “Todd’s been doing his fruit.”
“Don’t panic,” Blakemore said calmly. His mouth twisted into a derisive smile. “He’s just mad ‘cos he didn’t think of it himself. “
O’Neill skimmed his eyes over the nearest of us to see if anyone was obviously listening in. I forced a bit more effort into my latest sit-up. “You know what the old man said about us sticking together,” he went on, speaking quietly through clenched teeth. “He’s going to go ballistic if he finds out you’ve been off on your own.”
“So don’t tell him,” Blakemore said, careless now.
“Yeah, and if anyone else finds out, that makes us both look bad, doesn’t it?” O’Neill muttered.
Blakemore shrugged his arm away. “Well,” he said coldly, “I’m not the one with secrets. How about you?”
Four
After we’d showered and grabbed breakfast, they hustled us straight into the classroom. Gilby conducted the first lesson himself. He announced it, in the manner of someone expecting a round of applause, as an introduction to the art and science that was modern close protection work, and a debunking of the myths. Basically, it was an extended version of his welcome speech from the night before.
He was only mildly condescending towards the women in the industry, even admitting that they might have their areas of particular suitability. I smiled sweetly when he caught my eye, and tried not to show how much I was grinding my teeth. But, almost to my surprise, the more he spoke the more interested in the subject I became.
Annoyance and curiosity were useful emotions. They kept me awake. After the cold and the exertion of the
