Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]
extent, to Josh too; although he was older, our son still lived with us when not on duty with his regiment at Woolwich Barracks in London.One thing was clear; the security contractor thing hardly fitted into any sensible plans. But then again, I wasn’t sure I even had plans, let alone sensible ones. I did already know, however, that a bodyguard's life was incompatible with children and childcare, and with normality itself. There were the odd and unpredictable hours to consider, stints away from home, the poor communications and occasionally dodgy Wi-Fi—hardly a good thing when trying to discuss a school report with a teacher—and then, of course, there was the danger. Those were only some of the reasons it couldn’t work out, and my children now had to come first. Even if I’d taken work in the U.K., the nature of the job and its schedule were still demanding, volatile and thankless. Nobody would let you knock off early if the kids had a crisis. So that was that.
And so, against all better judgment, I went ahead anyway. Old habits, and all that. I decided to contact the company to satisfy a curiosity, to see exactly what type of contractors they were looking for. Well, what else was I going to do? I only knew one thing; how to be a bloody good soldier. So, I emailed my CV to a contact Dan had given me at Orion Security. A day later, their phone call came in, inviting me to go in for a ‘meeting' as they put it. And the very next day, they phoned me again and asked me to attend another. And so it went.
It was at that second meeting that I was offered a position. But it was not as a bodyguard, and no one could have been more surprised than I was.
Sea Breeze again wafts into my ears and I quickly lean over and, this time, swipe cancel. So much for Emily making sure we were up on time! Swinging my legs out of bed, I get up and go and throw open the curtains. The sun bursts into my bedroom, making my eyes squint momentarily.
Looking out over the suburbs, it looks like it’s going to be a gloriously sunny day, thankfully. We have had a few of these lately as the summer draws to an end. In the distance is the city, and even the Shard—the tallest building in London—looks minuscule from here.
Closer, and just to the right of the skyscrapers, something catches my eye. Something burning? A tall smoke plume rises into the sky, billowing, the sky directly overhead turning grey in apparent relentless anger. Surely, this can't be where the sound of the sirens is coming from? It’s too far away to pick up from here, yet the size of the plume tells me it must be a pretty big blaze. Maybe I'll see more of it, up closer, on the way to the office. Ha, that’s if it’s not the office that's on fire! I grin, knowing I shouldn’t—but doing it anyway. Turning away from the window, I head for a shower.
A hot shower is one of life's luxuries—privileges, even. Believe me, when you have been without one for sometimes weeks or even months on end, these are things you will always appreciate. The bathroom door opens, and I can just about make out a smallish figure through the steamed-up, frosted glass. It’s moving towards the toilet.
"Morning, sweetie," I call out and just about hear Emily’s tired low grunt of a reply. “Make sure you brush your teeth and wash your face," I call, again hearing just a low huff of a response. It’s fair to say my Emily is not much of a morning person.
A morning shower to wake her would take far too long for Emily, what with drying her long blonde curls; that is always a job for the evening before she goes to bed. Still just a child, I marvel at how she already takes care of her hair as only a woman could. I think of how pretty she looks perched on the edge of the bed, loosening the errant strands as she eases them through her fingertips with one hand, the hairdryer clutched in the other.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I go back into my bedroom to check the time and glance out the window at the smoke as I go. There is now a second plume, the first looking like it’s increased in size. And the second—well, the second seems too far away from the first to even be the same fire. My mind contorts, trying to work it out.
Reaching for the television remote, I press 1, for BBC Breakfast News, where a panicked, perhaps over-zealous reporter covers the fire live, while a rolling on-screen ticker-tape provides the breaking news. The man stands immediately in front of a police cordon, while there in the background, the smoke rises and gathers an eerie momentum. It looks to be a major incident, whatever it is, but coming from my own background, I still think the reporter’s hoarsely-elevated voice and panic are overkill. I leave the report to play in the background, dropping the volume somewhat. The good old BBC will be sure to run this same piece all day, over and over, ad infinitum. They sure know how to do a story to death. The two renditions of Sea Breeze were quite enough repetition for one day.
After throwing the TV remote on the bed, I go into Emily's room to get her school uniform ready for her and see if she needs any help. Her bedroom door is still slightly ajar and I softly push it open wider; she is already nearly dressed, not needing her dad at all.
"Is that the clean uniform I ironed last night?" I ask her.
"Yeeesss, Dad," she says turning towards me, her face suddenly scrunching up. "Dad, can't you put a top on, I don't like to