A taste of freedom: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: July 3rd

“Nat,” said Craig, pushing away from the edge of the pool, “Did you remind my dad that you have a pool and that we’d be swimming before breakfast?”

“Sure did, bud,” laughed Nat. “But maybe he’s having a lie-in or something this morning? After all, he’s not seen your mom for a couple of months…”

“Oh, yeah, right,” said Craig, blushing deeply. “Maybe I think it’s the ‘or something’ option.”

“Look on the bright side,” said Nat. “In 9 months you might have a little brother.”

“Knowing my luck,” scowled Craig, “More likely a little sister.”

“At least you don’t have an older sister,” laughed Nat. “They’re the worst.”

“I bloody do, Nat. Mandy’s taken on that role for herself. Completely uninvited. Though I guess I might just miss her a tiny a bit now she’s heading off to university this autumn.”

“I know the feeling, Craig,” said Nat. “Me and Elizabeth are always winding each other up, right up until the moment when a third party intervenes. Then they have to take on both of us. Now, race you to the far end…”

* * *

Two hours later, after a lot of water had been churned and then breakfast eaten, Craig, Nat and Craig’s dad walked down the steps in front of the mansion and made their way towards Lemon Steroids.

“I’ll jump in the back, Craig,” said Nat, “And give you more leg room up front. It’s only 30 minutes to the training centre of Safe and Secure. Maybe less, given this is a Saturday morning. Mark, I’ve already programmed the satnav, if you press ‘Destination’ and then scroll through to ‘17’, it’ll guide us right there. You’ll love driving Lemon Steroids out on the roads.”

Craig’s dad smiled as he slipped into the driving seat. “Lemon Steroids is a great name for this car, Nathan,” he laughed.

“Sure is,” said Nat. “I think it was either Craig or Travis came up with right back on the very first day I turned up at college in it. Do you remember Travis? He was in our dorm. You might have seen him wrestle when you visited on ‘Parents’ Day’ He’s from way out west, Dakota. Real country boy. Got quick promotion to corporal though.”

“I think I vaguely remember him,” said Craig’s dad. “Wasn’t he also with you on Prizegiving Day a few weeks back when I came up with General Armstrong? Part of your Recce Squad in the mock battles, then got awarded an early promotion by the General?”

“That’s him,” said Nat. “Has his own private aeroplane too, and a backyard landing strip. Real decent kid. Not the sort that would usually get a place at Allegheny though, but the Commandant decided to take a chance on him. Paid off too.”

“Dad!” giggled Craig in mock disapproval as his dad floored the accelerator, squealed the tyres and stormed off down the mile long drive towards the gatehouse, “Drive sensibly, like you’ve got an egg balanced on the bonnet. Like you always tell me if you let me drive the Land Rover on the shoot grounds...”

* * *

Just under half an hour later they were pulling up at a non-descript industrial building on the Chateau Industrial Park not far from Pittsburgh’s West End Bridge. Craig and his dad jumped out of Lemon Steroids and smiled as Nat slowly wriggled out from the back seat.

“Now you know why Noah and Shane always were slow getting out, Natters, when we went to the diner,” laughed Craig. They only had half the space you just had and went numb on the journey from college.”

Nat smiled. “Sure, but spending half an hour cramped in Lemon Steroids was way better than not getting a pass out and remaining back at college,” laughed Nat. “And surely you remember Kyle was always way more generous with pass outs than most dorm seniors. Me too, I think, when I took over. Plus Shane would even have been happy being tied to the roof or crammed in the trunk if it meant he could go and spend an hour or two with Amelia.”

Craig smiled. “Yes, Shane really does seem to like her.”

“She’s a real nice girl, Craig,” said Nat. “I got to meet her briefly a couple of times in town, and Shane brought her to my place one weekend last spring when I held a barbeque again, like the one you came to. He planned with her pop for a surprise limo to pick her up and take her home after.”

Craig smiled. “That sounds like Shane. Always so thoughtful and going out of his way to be nice to people.”

Craig’s dad smiled ruefully. “Come on, you two, less lamenting on the girls you missed out on, you’re saddled with each other now and it looks like we’re keeping out host waiting.”

At the door ahead of them was a man in his late thirties, tall, blond haired, grey eyed, with the upright bearing and toned physique of a swimmer.

“Colonel Wright, young Master Wright too, I assume. Hello again, Nathan.”

Craig’s dad stepped forward smartly, offered his hand, not actually pushing Nathan aside but clearly demonstrating his authority. Craig stepped smartly in beside his dad, relegating Nathan to the rear.

“Pleased to meet you at last, Christian, and thanks for the time you spent talking on the phone. It was useful. This is my son, Craig. Nathan, you already know.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Craig. “I’m Craig, but don’t mind being called ‘Boots’.”

Christian laughed as he shook hands with all three of them. “Boots? I’m sure there’s a story behind that. Tell me about it over a beer sometime…”

Christian led the way inside to the reception area of the building. It was, again, a non-descript reception area that could have been in any one of a thousand small industrial companies in the area. A receptionist smiled and politely asked them to sign in on a ‘Fire and Visitor Register, then handed each of them a ‘Visitor’ badge to be worn on a lanyard around their neck.

Formalities completed, Christian led them over to a doorway. “Gents, through this doorway, we’re about to enter the real working area of ‘Safe and Secure, Inc.’ It looks like an ordinary door, but incorporated into it are both a magnetic detector and a microwave scanner. It will detect firearms, knives, a pocketful of loose change and so forth. Before we go through it, are any of you carrying a firearm or ammunition? If so, you need to declare them and surrender them for safekeeping at this point.” He paused a moment and then smiled. “It’s surprising how many people say ‘No’, then look surprised when the alarm goes off and they suddenly remember they have a pistol in their waistband.”

Craig’s dad smiled. “No, I don’t carry a firearm. I’m an alien, in Pittsburgh as well as New York. So’s my son. Nathan, we can’t vouch for.”

Christian laughed. “Nathan, I do know about. Come on through.”

The four of them filed through the door into a small holding area. No alarm sounded.

Christian smiled and said, “Thanks guys, it’s not that we don’t trust you, but simply that we won’t trust you. Safety is our primary goal here and so that means we can’t trust you. We conduct training under situations as close to reality as we possibly can, and that means we have to minimise risk and make absolutely certain we have total control of what happens in this building. Some of our drills are carried out with dummy firearms and blank ammunition, some with real firearms and live ammunition. We absolutely cannot take the risk of the two ever being mixed. That’s a possibility if we ever allowed clients to bring their own arms and ammunition into the building. Sure, if a mistake happened, an accident happened and you got shot, you could sue us but I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s not worth the risk. If an accident happened and you got killed, you can’t sue us.” Christian paused for a moment. “If you survived and only got wounded, yes, obviously, you can sue us. I’m still not sure you’d like to risk that option. So, we don’t take risks.”

Craig’s dad nodded. “We don’t plan on taking risks. The aim of this training, for Craig, is that he knows what to do if there is a threat to the safety of the Lieutenant Governor and his family, and weapons are involved. Craig isn’t expected to fight back, just to recognise a threat, identify it, alert others and remove himself from danger.”

“Exactly so, Colonel,” said Christian. “For background, I was a Gunnery Sergeant, USMC, and understand the very different views on the ownership and use of firearms in the USA and UK. I don’t have a political view of the rights and wrongs of either nation. My aim is simply to teach your son what the status is here in the USA and how to survive.”

Craig’s dad smiled. “We understand each other, Gunny. You have the deck. Carry on.”

* * *

“Craig,” said Christian as the four of them sat down in leather armchairs surrounding a low coffee table, “I’ve been told quite a lot about you. To be honest, looking at you, I would have said you were 18, maybe 19 years old. In the dim light of a bar, with your physique and confidence, possibly you could pass for 21 and buy a drink. In reality, I’m told you’re really just shy of 16. Your pop, and others, say that due to events you are more mature than that. That you can reasonably be treated as an 18-year-old adult. That’s a big step.”

Craig blushed and nodded. “I think I’d probably be treated as at least an 18-year-old in a pub in England.”

“He has been granted a shotgun certificate by our police back in England,” added Craig’s father. “That’s not common, but after interviewing him, and doing background checks, our police were satisfied regarding his maturity.”

Craig blushed again.

“Furthermore, I understand from your college, Allegheny River Military College, that you box, and that like many boxers, you have a very clear understanding about the application of violence. In the ring, violence is acceptable, but that it has clearly defined limits. Outside the ring, and unless threatened, violence is totally unacceptable. Is that right?”

“Of course it is,” said Craig, indignantly.

“Just making sure,” grinned Christian. “I certainly wouldn’t want a punch on the nose from you. Now, let’s cut to the chase. Nathan and his family are, potentially, targets for whack jobs and nutters. Skilled professional hitmen shooting from a thousand yards away, we can do nothing about. Fortunately, they won’t be aiming at you; it’ll be an accident if they shoot you by mistake. We can’t do anything about that. Clear?”

“Clear,” nodded Craig.

“So, in reality, the biggest threat is from some nut-job with a political grievance, at close range, carrying a pistol, or some totally off-radar individual with a grievance that’s hard to predict. Maybe Nathan parked in ‘their’ space. Or you, or he, looked at their girl, or these days, boyfriend, in the wrong way. You need to be able to recognise that situation, back away from it, defuse it. Apologise and retreat, no matter if you were in the right. Retreat and survive. Report it to the police later, let them look into it. Do not expose yourself to danger. Back down, walk away. In these circumstances, it’s better to live and resent it than die righteously. Got that?”

Craig nodded. “Yes, got that.”

“Now, the main thing that you’re here to learn today is what you should do if, despite everyone’s best efforts to avoid a confrontation, things go wrong and trouble does break out,” said Christian. “Mr Bauer and his family have undergone a rigorous programme of training including, in extremis, the defensive use of firearms. What I intend to teach you is what you need to do in the event that firearms have to be drawn and possibly used in your vicinity. Apparently you’ve already been told that on some public appearances, Mr Bauer will have an armed bodyguard nearby, and that there are now a number of firearms discreetly located around their property for use in an emergency.”

“Yes,” said Craig. “I don’t know where they are though.”

Christian smiled. “Now for the next few minutes, I want you to imagine that the four of us seated here around this coffee table are in a bar or hotel lounge, perhaps waiting to be shown to our table for dinner. We’re going to role-play something in slow time. Already, you have should have taken a moment or two when you entered and sat down to scope the place out, see where the entrances and exits are. Are there any windows perhaps with a clear view out onto the street? Those same windows also give anyone in the street a clear view of you in here.”

Craig grinned at his dad, then at Christian. “Dad does that all the time, wherever we go. I think I’ve kind of caught it off him.”

Christian smiled. “Then at least we’re not starting from scratch. I’ll move the syllabus along a little faster, but slow me down if there’s anything you aren’t completely sure about. Now, imagine there’s a commotion breaks out, just out of sight, over in that general direction,” Christian pointed to a corner of the room. “Raised voices, threats, that sort of thing. Sounds of pushing and shoving. Nat?”

Nat was already rising to his feet. “Boots!” he barked sternly, “We’re moving. Exit rear.”

Christian smiled as Nathan responded as he’d been trained. “On your feet, Craig,” said Christian, rising too, taking hold of Craig’s left arm, placing it firmly on Nat’s shoulder. “Freeze like that a moment, while I talk you through this.” Craig’s dad remained seated, watching carefully.

“Nat’s already made a judgement, that it’s time he got out of here. No waiting to see what develops, and definitely no going to have a look. Clear so far?”

“Clear,” responded Craig.

“Nat’s already worked out that there is an alternative route out of the room, behind you – hence ‘’Exit rear’. He’s staying focused on the source of the threat, looking in that direction. Because your hand is on his shoulder, he knows exactly where you are too. For the moment, he doesn’t need to be able to see you. He’s totally focused on the threat. Now, I want you to take a good look around you, work out the best route to that exit. Ideally with clear access, nothing to fall over. People leave bags by the side of tables, there may be audio-visual cables across the floor if it’s a conference setting, all that type of thing.”

Craig nodded, a slight grin flashing across his face as he glanced briefly at his dad.

“Now,” said Christian, “It’s your turn. Give Nat a good grip on the shoulder and at the same time tell him very clearly that you’re moving. Loud and clear. ‘Moving, Nathan.’ Okay? Then start to guide him towards the exit. You look where you’re going, because Nathan’s going to be keeping a look out in the direction of the threat. Let’s practice that.”

Almost before Christian had time to step away from Nathan, Craig shouted, “MOVING!” and started to guide Nathan across their imaginary dining room, keeping the pace fast but controlled. “STEPS, Nat. TWO DOWN.” Craig’s dad smirked as both Craig and Nat tackled the imaginary stairs and made their way smartly to the door, where Craig mimed opening it and leading Nat out.

Christian smiled as both Craig and Nat grinned. “Something tells me that you’re no novice at this sort of thing, Craig.” He looked quizzically at Craig’s dad.

“Not quite, it’s pretty similar to the drills we use for room to room fighting when we go paintballing. Though in that case, we’re entering rooms in search of an enemy, covering each other all the time, co-ordinating movements. Usually with a team of four of us, rather than just two. The big difference here, and what I want to see you get over to Craig, is that this training is entirely defensive. Always backing down, moving away from a threat and seeking safety rather than actively going looking for trouble.”

Christian nodded. “Just as we discussed on the phone. Though it would have been useful to know that Craig’s not a complete novice at tactical movement.”

Craig’s dad smiled. “Yes, but then I wouldn’t have seen from absolute basics what and how you teach. I’m pretty satisfied with things so far.”

After half an hour of repeatedly practicing similar drills, each slightly differently nuanced, swapping roles between Nat and Craig back and forth, Christian called for a short break and handed out a few bottles of soda. “You’re pretty good at that, so I think we can move on a stage. We’ve just been dealing with a potential threat, identified it early, nipped it in the bud by moving away to somewhere safer. Now we’ll look at a potentially more dangerous and time sensitive threat. One where the threat is right next to you and you don’t have the luxury of spending a few seconds to plan your escape. Finish your sodas and follow me through into the next room.”

Craig, his dad and Nat followed Christian through a door and into the adjacent room. It was a little larger than the one they had just left, and furnished as if it were a small diner or fast-food restaurant with seating booths down two walls, a service counter at the far end and a small entrance lobby opposite. Several tables and chairs were scattered around the small floor area. Many of the booths and tables were occupied by mannikins simulating customers. As Craig took in the surroundings, two of the mannikins suddenly moved as if to get up. Seeing Craig tense up and start moving towards Nat, Christian smiled and said, “Easy, Craig, theses are two of my trainers. We’re not roleplaying yet. Good reaction times though.”

The two guys stepped out from their booth and introduced themselves as Andy and Dave, “Thugs, drunkards, pot-heads and general assholes, at your service.”

Christian smirked and then pointed to the tables. “You’ll see that all the cutlery is made of bright yellow rubber. The bottles and drinking ware are all sugar glass. The chairs, stools and tables are polystyrene foam. In short, the place is well stocked with potential weapons but none of them can actually hurt you. Feel free to take a look around and verify it for yourselves.”

As Craig stepped over to a table and reached for a chair, Dave picked up a soda bottle, tested it for weight, then smashed it over Andy’s head. “See? No harm done… Oh, and you’ll find the chairs don’t throw well, there isn’t much weight to them, but they’re pretty good for hitting someone with, or fending off someone you don’t want getting close to you.”

Craig grinned and put the chair down. “So I guess this is where we learn bar room brawling, Christian? Or how to run away from a brawl.”

“Got it in one, Craig. But first, tell me what you’ve already worked out. I get a feeling you might have…”

Craig smiled and looked at Nat. “Well, we’re pretty hemmed in. Only one obvious way out, the same way as we came in. If we were at the counter and trouble started, we might not have an easy escape route. Unless we can leap the counter and get out through the kitchen area.”

Christian nodded. “Think of other routes too. As you come in, there’s no reason why one of you shouldn’t go over to the washrooms, casually check those out, see if they have an emergency exit as part of fire regulations. It’ll only take you thirty seconds to wander over and rinse your hands under the tap, scope the place out. As you’re ordering food at the counter, take a glance round the kitchen beyond it if you can. Where’s the emergency exit there? Let each other know what you find.”

“Time spent in reconnaissance is never wasted, huh dad?” smirked Craig.

“What this scenario will present you with is a close-up, rapidly evolving threat. Something you say or do, or even don’t do, will upset our two resident troublemakers here. You don’t have the option of getting out before the incident kicks off. As you’ve just discovered, there’s no easy way out through the washrooms or kitchen. You’re stuck in here, and diplomacy is failing. Let’s run through it in slow time.”

Nat and Craig took up positions at the counter as if ordering food, and Andy and Dave returned to their booth.

“Hey, kid, you’re blocking my view of the tv. Yeah, you gingernut, shift.”

Nat smiled and turned to face the two guys in the booth. “Sorry gents, my apologies. Is it the Steelers’ game? Should be worth watching. I’m a big fan myself.” Craig didn’t move or say anything, but started looking around, working out options.

“Good,” said Christian, “See how Nathan’s trying to defuse things, Craig? Not antagonising them, trying to take control of the conversation, steer it onto safe ground…”

“Yah hear that, Dave? Sounds like one of them trendy college boys. All ‘my apologies, gents’. Thinks he’s better than us. What you doin’ in here kid? This ain’t your turf. It’s our place.”

“Sure looks like your place,” smiled Nathan, “Come on, Craig, let’s leave these gentlemen in peace to watch their game. We can go somewhere else. Sorry to disturb you.”

“Not so fast,” said Andy, leaping to his feet as Craig and Nathan turned towards the door. “I think you owe me and my friend a better apology than that. Don’t he, Dave?”

It only took a couple of seconds for Andy and Dave to jump out of their booth and start to move quickly towards Nat and Craig. Nat raised his left arm, moved it across his chest, his hand hovering roughly over his heart. As he started to lift his right arm towards Craig’s shoulder, Craig shouted. “MOVE RIGHT, FRONT DOOR!”

Christian stepped forward and was about to explain Nat’s stance to Craig, when Craig’s foot swept up, caught one of the nearby stools by its heel rest, hooked it up and sent it flying into Andy’s face just as he reached out to grab Nat. Craig pulled Nat away, pushed him ahead and right as Andy stumbled and struggled to regain his balance. Nat took his cue, grabbing several bottles from the tables near him as he passed them on his way to the door, closely followed by Craig, and threw the bottles back towards Andy and Dave as they exited as quickly as they could.

A couple of seconds later, Craig and Nat came back into the room. “That was close,” grinned Nat to Christian. “Not quite what you taught me, but effective…”

Christian nodded. “Yes, let’s go over that, analyse what you did. Re-run the scenario again. Tweak a few things. But yes, on the whole, it worked. You tried to defuse things, assessed it wasn’t working, tried to leave, but that didn’t work. The crucial thing then was that you reacted very promptly, taking control and getting yourselves out of trouble as fast as you could. Now let’s look at the details, step by step…”

An hour later they all returned to the small reception room and sat down in the chairs for a coffee and a deeper de-brief.

“So,” said Christian. “Let’s go over what we ‘ve done so far. In scenario one, things were relatively easy. You had good situational awareness and plenty of time. We ran the scene five times with different conditions but each time you were able to get out safely, long before a real danger crystallised.”

Craig and Nat nodded as they sipped their coffee.

“Scenario two was different. Despite your best efforts, scouting around as you entered, forming a mental plan just in case things went west, Nat being well versed in trying to defuse situations, you having fast reactions and a faster fist Craig, things didn’t always go well, did they? We ran it five times and by my reckoning, one or the other of you, perhaps both, could have died on at least two occasions. Three wins out of five doesn’t counter-act two possible losses does it guys? What went wrong? What was different?”

Craig looked at Nat, spoke first. “Time. Time and distance.”

Nat nodded in agreement.

Craig continued. “The threat went from nothing to critical in just a few seconds. And we didn‘t have much space to trade for time and safety. Everything happened right up close, really fast.”

“Good analysis. And the other thing against you was intent. Those guys had weapons available, and really didn’t have any qualms about using them. Knives, glasses. Furniture. The odds were completely stacked against you. As they were meant to be. Now imagine how much worse it would be if things hadn’t just flared up from a short-tempered argument with a couple of thugs, but you were suddenly and deliberately assaulted by someone clearly intent on doing you harm.” Christian let the point sink in for a moment or two.

“Let’s re-cap. Consolidate the learning points. Point one: it’s always better to err on the side of caution, remove yourself from a potential threat before it becomes a clear and present danger. Don’t let a threat become a real danger. Got that?”

Craig and Nat nodded.

“Point Two,” Christian continued. “If a threat becomes a danger, it’s unpredictable. You can’t be sure of regaining control. And it goes from threat to danger to potential tragedy in just a few seconds. Craig, can you honestly say that in any of those five scenarios, even those where you won out, that you were in control and knew there was a safe ending?”

“No,” said Craig. “It was always happening too fast, too unpredictable. Like when Dave picked up the knife. I didn’t spot that.”

Christian nodded. “So, what we’re saying, is that in scenario one, you had control and always won out. In scenario two, that control was taken away from you, and things went badly. Agreed?”

“That’s a fair summary,” reflected Craig. “We just didn’t have control. We were always trying to respond to events. We were behind the curve.”

“Good,” said Christian. “That’s what this morning was about. Teaching you that you need to remain in control, to stop a potential threat becoming a danger. Most times that means backing down and walking away before anyone else even realises there is threat. But you saw at first hand how quickly things can sometimes escalate and go horribly wrong, spiral out of control. That’s why you’re here, Craig. Your father wanted you to learn that lesson, and also what measures the Bauers have had to put in place to try and impose some element of control if things, God forbid, ever do go wrong.”

Craig exchanged glances with his dad but could read nothing on his father’s face.

“So,” said Christian seriously, ”What we’re now going to do is learn the measures the Bauers have put in place to try and give them back that edge, and how you need to respond if necessary.” He paused, then added, “It isn’t difficult. It’s much more like scenario one, but the risks and consequences are a whole lot higher.” He glanced over to Craig’s dad. “Happy for me to continue the training, Colonel?”

Craig’s dad nodded.

“Okay Craig, the measure the Bauers have put in place involve the potential use of firearms for their defence. Either on their behalf, by an armed guard or police officer depending on the circumstance or, in some cases, by themselves. I am sure I don’t need to explain just how serious a step that is. Quite literally, a life-or-death situation.”

Craig nodded. “I know that.”

Christian reached out and lifted what appeared to be a box of tissues from the table, revealing that it was in fact just a cover providing concealment for a small handgun. Christian picked the gun up, a revolver, kept the muzzle pointed at the ground, swung out the cylinder.

“Gun unloaded and safe, Colonel.”

Craig’s dad reached over, took the revolver, kept it pointing down, inspected it and repeated, “Gun unloaded and safe,” before placing it back on the table. “Craig is used to gun safety, he wouldn’t pick one up he saw lying around without permission, and if he was allowed to handle it, he knows how to control the muzzle direction and ensure it’s safe at all times.”

Christian smiled. “I understand that, Colonel. I don’t plan to go into detail about showing you how to pick up and use a gun safely, Craig, that’s not what we are here for. The aim is to ensure that if the Bauers or their guards are required to use a firearm, you recognise that it’s about to happen and, most importantly, know how to get out of the way and move to safety.”

Craig nodded. “I understand.”

“Now,” said Christian, “I can see what you are probably thinking now you’ve seen the gun. I’ll try and clear a few technical points up so we can get them out of the way and move on to what really matters. Your first question is ‘Why a revolver when almost the whole world has now moved on to smaller, more easily concealable automatic pistols?’ and secondly, you’re wondering ‘Why a relatively low powered .38 Special cartridge rather than something with way more stopping power?’ Am I close?”

Craig nodded and said, “Well, yes, that’s kind of what I was thinking.”

“Short answer, Craig, is that it’s because a snubby .38 Special revolver is what I recommend and I don’t care that the whole internet world knows better. I guess I’m just not fashionable.”

Craig was grinning.

“The real answer is more complex,” said Christian. “Yes, a modern auto designed for concealed carry is smaller, slimmer and carries more ammunition. Probably lighter in weight too, even with the extra ammo. Let’s look at those factors in turn. Being small, light and easily concealed is a big plus when you may be carrying it for hours at a time and don’t want anyone to know. Downside is when it’s required for use, small auto pistols are prone to malfunction. Not on the days on the range when you are practicing. They are reliable as heck then. Every internet and magazine reviewer will tell you how reliable modern auto pistols are. I agree, I can’t fault them on the range. We aren’t talking about range use though. If you have to draw a pistol in a split second, when the situation is confusing, your adrenaline is pumping, it’s all too easy not to get a good grip on it. It snags on your pocket or belt as you draw it. You get your fingers caught on the slide so it won’t cycle even if you do get it drawn and aimed. You forget the safety catch so nothing happens when you pull the trigger. Or you remember the safety catch and the gun goes off unexpectedly as you slip with your finger on the trigger. Trust me, it happens. We see it every training session when we put people under real pressure.”

Craig nodded and looked at his dad, then back to Christian. “Yeah, I’ve read those arguments.”

“Conversely, though the good old fashioned, heavy, obsolete revolver is a little harder to carry and conceal, it has the benefits of simplicity and reliability. In a dire emergency, you can shoot it without taking it out of your pocket and it will work, and keep on working. Automatics don’t: their slide snags and they are useless until you draw them, clear the jam and start over again. Most assailants won’t politely wait for you to carry out your mis-fire drills. The revolver usually has a much heavier trigger pull and is far less likely to go off accidentally. You really do need to think and physically pull the trigger hard to get it to go off. That means you can carry it most of the time with no safety catch engaged. In fact, a lot of revolvers don’t even have a safety. No safety, no forgetting to take it off. Brain says shoot, finger squeezes, gun goes bang and not click. Keep things simple.”

Craig nodded.

“Accuracy and round count, both favour the auto. The auto has a longer barrel in general, and a smoother trigger pull. Probably at least seven rounds in the magazine versus five or possibly six in a small revolver. On paper, the auto wins again. Except that most shootings, according to very thorough and extensive FBI research, take place at arm’s length or less, and involve three shots or less. The revolver is good enough, and from what we discussed a moment ago, more likely to let you be the one to fire first and hit first. We’re not talking a one-inch diameter, Olympic Gold medal standard group, just the need to put three rounds into the bad guy’s body before he does it to you.”

Craig nodded again and Christian continued. “So that takes care of your first query. Now, the cartridge, .38 Special. The whole internet knows it’s obsolete, low powered and couldn’t put down an ant let alone knock down a drug crazed, axe wielding psychopath. Right? We all know we should be using high velocity hollow points in at least 9mm calibre and preferably big heavy .45 ACP soft nosed lead bullets.”

Craig looked at Christian but didn’t have time to say anything before Christian continued. “Again, on paper, the .38 Special loses out. Except that the lower recoil of the .38 means you are far more likely to hit your target with it. Hitting the bad guy with a moderate punch is way better than missing him with a round that could have taken his head off, if only it had hit. And oddly enough, not a single one of those magazine or internet experts that has sneered at the low power of a .38 Special has ever offered to be shot by one to prove his point regarding how inadequate it is.”

Craig and his dad both laughed gently as Christian grinned and then carried on. “Just as importantly, a .38 Special round will go into the guy who gets shot with it, but struggle to come out the other side. The bigger, better, more powerful cartridges will often go right through him. Sure they are doing more damage, but that’s part of the problem. Who do they hit next when they exit the perp? We’re talking about lots of innocent bystanders in the kind of scenarios we’re anticipating. It’s not much consolation to the Governor if he shoots the assailant but the bullet carries on through and kills his wife, or daughter. Or even Nat.”

“I’m not sure I’d be happy about that either,” added Nat.

“So, Craig,” concluded Christian, “Can we consider the technical trivia dealt with? I use and recommend old fashioned, obsolete revolvers with second rate cartridges for what I believe are good reasons. If you disagree, you’ll find no end of experts willing to back you up. Tough, they’re not training you. I am. We do things my way. And in any case, it doesn’t matter to you. You won’t be carrying a gun, or shooting it. You’ll just be keeping out of the way.”

Craig looked serious. “I understand. And I actually think you made some good points. I mean, war hammers and maces are obsolete, but you still end up dead if somebody smacks you over the head with one.”

Christian smiled. “Okay, good analogy. Now let’s go through in slow time what I want you two to do before we head next door to practice. Nat, are you ready?”

Nat nodded.

“Okay, Craig, the Bauers have a codeword. When you hear it, you need to respond instantly and automatically. We’re going to drill that into you. Clear?”

“Clear,” said Craig.

“If we get a feeling something is going wrong, seriously wrong, Craig,” said Nat, “We’ll shout ‘ORANGES’. We’ll shout it loud and clear.”

Seeing the look of bewilderment on Craig’s face, Christian smiled and said, “See, it’s working already. If they shouted, ‘Danger’ or ‘Run’ or ‘Duck’, it wouldn’t have the same effect. Some people might actually start to panic or run. That would add confusion to the problem. If they shout something short, clear and ridiculous, those in the know will react, everyone else will just be bewildered. Except the potential attacker, who will be focussed on getting close and will just ignore the shout. While everyone else is standing around looking bemused, the attacker will likely stand out by being one of the very few people still carrying on as before and moving. So, we end up in a situation with the Bauers on high alert and getting ready to move to safety, the bodyguard alerted and the potential threat probably easier to make out.”

Craig looked at his dad. “That makes sense.”

Christian looked hard at Craig. “Now comes the important bit. When you hear the alert word, you have to move fast and predictably. Using the alert word means the Bauers or their bodyguard believes there is a real and imminent danger to their life and have resorted to the possible use of lethal force if necessary to protect themselves. You have to get out of the danger zone. Bear in mind that to you, the Bauers or their bodyguard are part of that danger too. In any confusion, you might just as easily get shot by them as by the assailant. Do you understand that?”

Craig nodded.

“When you hear the alert word, if you are close to a Bauer, you are to do pretty much the same thing as you did in scenario one this morning. Latch onto them, move away with them, keep behind them wherever possible so if they have drawn a gun you are out of its arc of fire. Understand?”

“I understand,” said Craig, quietly.

“If you are not close to the Bauers, don’t attempt to get close to them and escape with them. Remember, you won’t be the assailant’s target. Let the Bauers go their way, you are to go away from them. Get away and get safe. If you try and get to them, you could be running into the path of their assailant or into the way of a bullet fired by a Bauer or their bodyguard. Stay clear, stay safe. You might get separated, but you’re safe. You can re-unite later. Got that?”

Craig nodded.

“Okay,” said Christian, “Let’s walk through that in slow time. “Assume we’re in the lounge again waiting for a table at dinner. Nat spots somebody coming towards you carrying a knife and thinks they are a threat. When he shouts the alert word, you need to be on your feet, hand on his shoulder so he knows exactly where you are and, just as importantly, so I know where you are. I’m roleplaying the bodyguard. Your dad will roleplay the attacker. Remember, this is in slow time.”

Craig’s dad smiled and produced, seemingly from nowhere, one of the yellow rubber knives that had been in the training room next door. As Mark rose to his feet and stepped towards him, Nat yelled “ORANGES” and leapt up. Craig, with just a moment’s hesitation, jumped up too and placed his hand on Nat’s shoulder.

“BACKWARDS, Boots,” yelled Nat.

Nat and Craig had barely taken two steps backwards when Christian snatched up the revolver from beneath the tissue box, levelled it at Craig’s dad and shouted “Bang! Bang! Bang!”

“Don’t stop and watch,” shouted Christian to Craig, “Keep backing off, get away, get safe. You don’t know if the perp is alone or with a team. Get out of here! Let the bodyguard do the thinking. You just get clear.”

Craig and Nat continued to retreat as Craig’s dad ‘died’ dramatically and then Christian smiled and called them back over.

“Not bad,” said Christian. “You know what to do. Now we just need to go into another of our training rooms and drill it into you until it becomes an automatic reflex action. You good with that?”

“I’m good,” said Craig.

Christian led them through a second door and into the next training room.

“Welcome to the theatre.”

Craig looked around. The room was clearly occupying at least half of the building. It was about 30 yards long, and cavernously nigh on empty. A couple of cars were parked haphazardly within it. There were a few low walls, a few dumpsters, a couple of streetlights. At the far end was a roller shutter door, presumably the way in which the cars had got inside. The two sidewalls were of white painted brick.

Craig’s dad smiled. “Looks like the CQB Killing Room.”

Christian turned to him and nodded. “Got it in one, Colonel, though with a technological update.”

Turning to Craig, Christian said, “Those walls are two feet thick, totally bullet proof, though today we won’t be using live ammunition. If you step up close, you’ll see a number of tiny cameras embedded in the wall, filming us in real time. Their imagery is being projected onto the other side of the wall so that people in there can see and hear everything happening on this side. They are being filmed too. On our side, there are a number of projectors that can display stock footage or images on this wall and blend it with the images of my guys behind the wall.”

Craig’s eyes lit up. “So what you’re saying, is we can react to people behind the wall, and them to us, and the whole thing blended into a scenario?”

Craig’s dad smiled at Christian. “Told you he can be a real smart-ass at times.”

Christian laughed. “Seems so, Colonel. We normally have to explain that concept half a dozen times and run a demonstration before most people grasp it.”

As Craig was about to say something snarky to his dad, Christian looked at him and said, “Craig, I want you to go back out into the waiting room, wait for a minute and then come back in. Okay?”

Craig nodded, looked at his dad and Nat, then did as instructed. When he returned, all three of them were waiting for him just inside the door.

“Okay,” said Christian, “First scenario is to be done in slow time. It’s a teaching point. We go through it slowly, I explain, ask you questions. Okay?”

Craig nodded.

Christian clicked his fingers and suddenly a set of projectors, previously unseen high at the roofline, switched on and beamed an image onto the wall facing them.

“This is some stock footage, filmed a year or two back when Nat’s dad was out on a campaign visit in Harrisburg supporting the Governor. Just walking down the street, meeting people, shaking hands, routine every-day politician stuff. We’re blending into it some imagery of my trainers from the other side of the wall. Tell me what you see. Call out ‘Stop’ at any instant and we’ll freeze the view so we can discuss what’s happening. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Craig as the image began to roll.

“Not much happening,” said Craig as everyone looked at him. “Just ordinary stuff. Nat’s dad walking along. Smiling. Shaking hands. People waving flags. Most of them look happy.”

Nat smiled. “Politicians tend to make sure they go where they are welcome,” smirked Nat. “It looks better on the tv news if they don’t get heckled.”

As the film rolled, Craig continued to try and analyse what was happening, giving a commentary. Then he yelled, “Stop!”

The image froze and Christian looked hard at Craig. “So?”

Craig looked hard at the imagery. “It’s difficult to be sure now it’s stopped, but that bit of the crowd looked wrong. There’s somebody pushing through it, real determined to get to the front.”

“Okay,” said Christian, “let’s carry on running it, tell me what you see.”

The image began to move again and after only a second or two Craig yelled “Stop!” again.

“See that guy there? In the blue jacket? He’s pushed straight to the front. Now he’s reached into his jacket, grabbed something.”

Christian smiled and said “Good skills, well spotted. Controller, re-run the last few seconds.”

After a brief delay, the image flickered and then the previous few seconds were replayed, clearly showing a man determinedly pushing through the crowd, clearly intent on getting close to Nat’s dad. As he got to within about three feet, he reached quickly inside his jacket and stared at Nat’s dad, began to pull his hand out of his jacket. In his hand something metallic glinted as he raised it and thrust it towards Nat’s dad’s face.

“He’s going to shoot him,” said Craig.

“ORANGES!” yelled Nat.

Again, Craig hesitated for a split second to process what was happening and then, gathering his wits, stepped smartly towards Nat, placed his hand on Nat’s shoulder.

“Car,” yelled Nat, pointing towards one of the cars parked nearby, “Move!” Still with Craig’s hand on his shoulder, Nat moved quickly towards the car, shoved Craig round to the passenger side as they neared, jumped in.

“Okay guys, not bad,” said Christian. “Now come here and we’ll debrief.”

Nat and Craig walked back and stood to listen. Craig looked a little shaken.

“Scary and confusing wasn’t it?” said Christian. “Went from peaceful to Nat’s dad about to get his head blown off in a couple of seconds. Sadly, that’s the real world. Worst case scenario, but potentially real. You reacted well though. That’ll get better and faster as we practice it. Just one thing. Remember, you’re in America now. Head for the correct side of the car, you’re a passenger, not the driver.” Christian paused, “But if you do fuck it up, don’t try and swap places in the middle of a gunfight. I’m told you know how to drive. Just drive a few hundred yards to safety, then you can swap over. Okay?”

Craig nodded.

“Right,” said Christian, “Lets review the film again. See what really happened.”

As the film re-ran, Christian gave a commentary. “Here we see Nat’s pop working the crowd line, shaking hands, swapping pleasantries. Now we see ‘Blue Jacket’ pushing to the front, fixated on Nat’s pop. Reaching into his jacket. Pulling out a gun.”

Craig nodded.

“Except,” said Christian, “It wasn’t a gun. Watch the film for the next few seconds.”

The film progressed and Blue Jacket, who Craig now recognised as Dave blended into the stock footage, stepped forward, pushed a small digital recorder towards Nat’s dad’s face, and spoke. “Mr Bauer, Pietor Wilenskji, Philadelphia Herald, can I ask you a question about your statement yesterday in the chamber seeming to support the proposed strike action by firefighters in Lancaster County…?”

Craig looked at Christian and then his dad. “So, it wasn’t an attack?”

“It was hard to tell,” said Christian, “Which is why, point one, armed response should be left wherever possible to trained professionals, and point two, Nat can’t be blamed for getting you out of there instantly. Better safe than sorry.”

Craig thought for a second then agreed. “Nat did the right thing.”

Christian nodded. “Yes, he did. It could easily have been an attack. If so, he got himself and you to safety and alerted the bodyguard. Let the professional respond. That’s what we’re here to instil in you. Now, let’s re-run the scenario, practice your responses. Get you slick and knock a second or two off your response time. Try and get you to the right side of the car.”

“Got to be slicker than that greased weasel, Boots,” laughed Nat.

* * *

“Okay, here we go again,” said Christian. “This time. We’re using footage of Mrs Bauer and Elizabeth attending a film preview in Pittsburgh. As before, we’re going to blend our trainers on the other side of the wall into the action. For the purpose of this training exercise, you have to imagine that you and Nat are also present, following on behind them as they get out of the car, wave to the crowd, shake hands with the waiting celebs and then enter the movie theatre.”

Craig and Nat smiled at each other. “Remember when we went to the Art Gallery, Boots, and you berated me for not escorting mom and allowing you to escort Elizabeth?”

Craig grinned back. “I’d put my money on Elizabeth packing a Colt 45 and beating any ninja assassin to the draw. She kicked my ass at clay shooting.”

“Pay attention, this is serious. Deadly serious,” said Christian. “Roll the cameras.”

Craig blushed and then stepped to Nat’s side as they followed the action, walking side by side down the room as they mimicked following Angela and Elizabeth Bauer from their car and towards the movie theatre.

“Wave and smile,” grinned Nat. “We’re performing poodles…”

They were almost at the door to the theatre when Elizabeth, presumably by the magic of CGI, looked towards the crowd in horror and screamed “ORANGES.”

Craig’s world went into slow motion.

A woman stepped forward from the crowd.

Nat pushed in front of Craig.

Craig reached out and placed his hand on Nat’s shoulder.

Craig waited for an instruction from Nat. Looked over his shoulder to see if their car was still waiting. If its doors were still open. Was there an obstacle to hide behind? An escape route?

“I’m here, Nat,” he yelled.

“BANG!”

“MOVE, BOOTS, MOVE! BACK TO THE CAR.”

Craig’s ears reverberated to the sound of gunfire, was vaguely aware of moving backwards, guiding Nat towards the car as Nat lowered a revolver, swung out the cylinder, punched onto the ejector rod sending empty cases scattering to the floor, reloaded from a speed loader, raised the revolver again, swept it along the crowd line, followed Craig back to the car.

“Craig?”

“Sorry, dad.”

“No problem, Craig. Just take a second.”

“Well done, Boots,” said Christian. “You did well. Guided Nat out of there and back to safety. Let him concentrate on the threat and deal with it. Let’s have a break and then de-brief.”

* * *

Somewhere in the house a clock chimed as Nat, Craig and his dad sat by the side of the pool and sipped their drinks. Nat and Craig’s dad each had a tumbler of whisky and crushed ice but Craig stuck with lemonade. On the table in front of them were three of Milly’s hand made burgers and a bowl of fries.

“I’ve spoken to your dad, Nat,” said Craig’s dad, “And told him that I’m happy with the training programme today. As far as I am concerned, the threat to you and Craig is minimal in any case, and even if there is a threat, I’m happy that the two of you are mature enough, sensible enough, well trained enough, to deal with it. We’ve agreed that after tomorrow, the two of you should be allowed to slip away and enjoy yourselves. If you don’t do anything stupid, nobody will realise who you are. When you came and visited us in England, Nat, you were anonymous and had a good time. There’s no reason why you and Craig shouldn’t be able to do that again over here.”

“I hope so, Sir,” said Nat.

“Craig?”

Craig looked up.

“Sorry dad. Nat, will you always be carrying a gun?”

Nat looked at Craig. “No, Boots. It depends upon the risk assessment. Technically, nobody is allowed to carry a concealed handgun in Pennsylvania until they are 21, and then they have to meet a long list of qualifying criteria. If they do, the Governor can issue a permit to carry a firearm for self-defense. My pop spoke to the Governor a week or two back and let him know he planned to stand against him in the upcoming election. They understand each other. The Governor agreed that it was sensible to allow some of us Bauers to carry firearms in certain circumstances, and to have bodyguards or police protection.”

“That change in Lemon Steroids, Nat,” said Craig. “Where the coffee cup holders on the drive train tunnel used to be.”

“It’s now a gun safe, Boots. There is a finger print sensor, if I put my finger on it, it pops up and I can get my revolver out of it. Only my finger works on it.”

Craig’s dad looked hard at both Craig and Nat. “You’ve had a tough time today, been faced to confront a worst case scenario. In reality, the likelihood of that ever becoming reality is almost nil. That notwithstanding, Nathan’s dad has, quite sensibly, prepared you for that one in a million in chance that things do go wrong. As far as the two of us are concerned, after tomorrow, we are agreed that you two should be allowed to climb into Lemon Steroids and take a road trip around Pennsylvania. We’re going to set conditions, but if you work with us, all of us should be happy with the outcome. You are only young once, and you should be allowed to enjoy that freedom. Now, tomorrow is going to be a busy day. After breakfast we are going to drive up to Pittsburgh centre and join both your mothers on the yacht. Nat, your dad is going to fly in from Harrisburg in the helicopter after lunch and then in the evening there is going to be a series of speeches and then the July 4th firework display.”

“That’s when pop will announce he’s running for Governor, Boots,” said Nat. “Me and Elizabeth will play and sing, show we’re the ‘All American family’, start gathering in the votes.”

Crag looked at his dad, then at Nat. Placed his hand on Nat’s shoulder.

“I’m right behind you, Nat.”