Alpha team split off to run through the drill, but everyone was far more cautious now they were training with a live blade.
‘Let’s hope none of us ever does this for real!’ said Richie, inspecting the razor-edged knife he held. ‘Especially you, Charley.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Charley sharply.
‘Well … you can’t … exactly …’ Richie fumbled for the right words.
‘Attack me,’ Charley dared him. A steely glint entered her sky-blue eyes and Connor knew that Richie was in for it. So did Richie. But there could be no backing down. Nothing riled Charley more than people’s low expectations of her abilities, especially for one-on-one combat.
‘Are you … sure?’ Richie said, glancing between the knife and Charley, clearly wondering which was the more dangerous.
Charley gave a single nod. ‘Don’t hold back … just cos I’m in this chair.’
Connor gave Richie a pitying smile as the Irish boy raised the knife and reluctantly launched himself at her. He brought the knife arcing down towards Charley’s upper shoulder. Charley spun so fast with her chair that it looked like a fairground ride. Evading the initial attack, she wrenched one of the metal arms from her chair. It sprung out with engineered ease. Now she wielded a lethal tonfa-style baton. Before Richie could swing his arm round for a second attack, Charley smashed him across the wrist. He cried out and dropped the knife. The next moment he doubled over as the metal bar caught him full force in the gut. Then Charley hooked the baton behind his left ankle and whipped him off his feet. Richie landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.
‘That’s how I’d deal with a knife attack,’ explained Charley, calmly slotting the metal arm back into her chair as the rest of Alpha team stared at her, open-mouthed and stunned into silence.
‘Another assignment? But after the last time you promised no more.’
Connor winced as he heard the sense of betrayal in his gran’s voice and saw the distinct tightening of her lips as she tried to control her anger.
‘I know … and I’d made a request for a break,’ he pleaded into the tablet’s webcam. ‘But the colonel insisted. Besides, I won’t be the only buddyguard on this mission. Jason’s joining me.’
‘So now there are two child targets for the terrorists!’ said his gran scornfully. ‘How can they miss?’
‘It means there’s double the protection,’ Connor argued.
‘For the person being protected, yes, but not you. You’re in the line of fire. Risking everything. And for what?’
‘You know what,’ said Connor, trying not to get angry. ‘For you and Mum. What I do pays for her care. I have to –’
‘You don’t have to do anything. We will find a way to cope. We always have,’ said his gran firmly. ‘You shouldn’t have to risk your life for ours. If your mum only knew the truth –’
‘She can’t know. Please don’t tell her,’ Connor interrupted. ‘Gran, we’ve been through this. Part of my agreement with Colonel Black is to keep Buddyguard and my role within it confidential. The organization’s effectiveness relies on the fact that few people know it exists. That’s how I can be an invisible shield. The best bodyguard is the one nobody notices, remember?’
‘But you told me about Buddyguard.’
‘Of course I did. There’s no way I could pull the wool over your eyes. But Mum has to think I’m at a private boarding school on a sports scholarship programme. If she found out the truth she’d put a stop to it and I wouldn’t be able to work as a buddyguard any more.’
While Connor didn’t like to deceive his mum, she was suffering from the advanced stages of multiple sclerosis and his protection work paid for a full-time carer and all the private medical treatment she needed. Without it, his mum and gran might be sent to separate care homes and he’d be placed with a foster family. So, despite what his gran said about coping, there wasn’t really any choice. He had to do this.
‘Listen, it’s only one more mission –’
‘You’re just like your father!’ his gran snapped. ‘Always one more mission!’
For all their arguing, Connor found himself smiling. As much as he hated upsetting his gran, he was pleased to be like his late father. With only fading memories to comfort him, any connection to his father was a blessing that kept his spirit alive. It was one of the reasons Connor had agreed to become a bodyguard in the first place – and the reason Colonel Black had singled him out for recruitment. His father had been an elite soldier in the SAS Special Projects Team, responsible for counter-terrorism and VIP close protection. And Connor was determined to live up to his achievements.
His gran’s wrinkled chin now filled the screen. Connor sighed in frustration. He’d recently bought his mum and gran top-of-the-range tablets so they could keep in touch easily – especially now they were less mobile – but his gran often forgot where the webcam was.
‘Gran, move the tablet so I can see you.’
He heard a muttering, then his gran’s lined face came back into focus. Connor noticed her eyes were watery behind her glasses.
‘Where are you being sent this time?’ she asked, seemingly resigned to the decision.
‘I’d rather not say.’
His gran sniffed. ‘And I’d rather not know, to be honest. I’d only worry more.’
‘Gran, I’ll be careful.’
He saw her bony fingers reach out and touch the screen, caressing his face. ‘You were careful last time …’ Her voice cracked. ‘And you almost didn’t come back.’
‘But I did,’ he said. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair as he felt the scars on his back where the leopard had clawed him. They were healed completely now, but the skin still felt tight and the pale white lines were a reminder of just how close he’d come to death.
‘How’s Mum?’ he asked in an attempt to change the topic.
‘She’s good,’ his gran replied, her gaze wandering from the screen. ‘No worse …’
‘Can I speak with her?’
His gran gave a gentle smile. ‘She’s resting at the moment, but I’ll let her know you called. And don’t worry, I’ll tell her you’re doing well at school. Give all my best to that lovely Charley of yours. And take care, my boy, you’re very precious to us.’
She ended the call, the last image hanging a moment: her pale hand dabbing at a tear running down the lines of her cheek. Connor set aside the tablet and stared out of his bedroom window, across the windswept hills of the Brecon Beacons. It was a beautiful remote place, perfect for a secret protection agency, but Connor felt far away from his mum and gran. Too far. He swallowed hard, fighting back his own tears. He knew his gran was shielding him from the reality of his mum’s condition. But he also knew he could do more for her working as a bodyguard than he could at home as an underage carer with only her widow’s pension to support them.
‘I agree with your gran. It’s time you got out.’
Connor spun round and discovered Charley hovering in his bedroom doorway. He had no idea how long she’d been there, but he was glad to see her. He smiled. ‘But if I quit Buddyguard, I wouldn’t see you any more.’
She eased beside him at the window and took his hand. ‘That’s sweet-talking, Romeo, but you’ve given enough blood for this organization. Three strikes and you should get out … before anything permanent happens to you.’
Charley glanced down at her chair, then back at Connor, making sure he fully understood her meaning.
‘I hear what you’re saying, but I need to do this for my mum and gran,’ he explained. ‘I know my dad faced greater dangers than this and he never quit.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ Charley replied flatly. ‘And look what happened to him.’
‘Hey! Just because I’m following in my father’s footsteps doesn’t mean I’ll follow him into the grave!’ snapped Connor, pulling his hand away.
They sat in frosty silence, both staring at the distant covering of snow on the mountain peaks.
Charley reached fo
r his hand again. ‘I’m sorry I said that.’
Connor felt bad about his outburst. They’d only been going steady for the past few months and this was their first-ever row.
‘It’s just I’ve lost so much in my life already, I don’t want to lose you too,’ Charley admitted with a tender squeeze of his hand. ‘You’re the best thing to happen to me in a long, long time.’
Connor wrapped an arm round her shoulders and pulled her close. ‘And you for me.’ He moved aside a lock of her long blonde hair. ‘You won’t lose me. Ever,’ he promised, leaning in to kiss her.
But now Charley was the one to pull back. ‘Connor, I’ve got a bad feeling about this assignment …’
‘It’s no different from any other –’
‘That’s what worries me! You’ve been lucky so far, but what if you get really hurt like I did, or worse.’
Connor saw the deep well of fear in her eyes. ‘That was a tragic and unique situation,’ he said softly. ‘But, seriously, Colonel Black wouldn’t send us on a suicide mission.’
Charley held his gaze. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Connor stared down the barrel of a loaded gun. He tried to concentrate on the danger in front of him, but his mind kept replaying the words that Charley had heard Colonel Black say: The size of the contract is worth the risk of a buddyguard or two.
‘Hands behind your head!’ ordered the woman who held the pistol in his face, her olive eyes following Connor’s every move.
Connor slowly raised his hands. He couldn’t believe the colonel would put profit before lives. The Colonel Black he knew was a straight-talking, highly honourable man, and one he trusted. After all, the colonel and his father had been close friends – both serving together in the SAS, the colonel even owing his life to his father. Connor couldn’t imagine Colonel Black playing Russian roulette with his life.
The woman’s finger curled round the trigger. Forced to act, Connor went for the gun.
Seize. Strike. Subdue.
He just managed to wrap his fingers round her wrist when the weapon went off. Connor flinched and felt the bullet’s jarring impact. His face and jacket were splattered red and his vision went dark … then Connor heard a distinctive guttural laugh.
‘Too slow, amigo!’ said Jason.
Connor peeled off his safety goggles. The paintball had exploded all over the lenses and covered him in red blotches.
‘We’ll have to call you pizza face from now on!’ Jason teased, not letting up.
Connor narrowed his eyes at him. ‘It must be like looking in a mirror then.’
The rest of Alpha team sniggered and Jason fumed.
‘Bit difficult,’ he snarled, ‘seeing you’ve cracked all the ones in the school!’
‘Only to stop you scaring yourself –’
‘Enough!’ Jody cut in, waving the gun between them. ‘Pack it in or I’ll shoot you both where it hurts.’
Jody was their close-protection instructor, a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair who had a passing resemblance to Lara Croft. She was the real deal. As a former SO14 Royal Protection Officer, Jody was as tough as their combat instructor Steve, as knowledgeable as their surveillance tutor Bugsy and almost as experienced as Colonel Black. She wasn’t a woman to be messed with.
‘As you just saw, the odds of disarming a gunman before they pull the trigger are lethally low,’ explained Jody as Connor, silenced by her rebuke, wiped away the worst of the paint with the back of his sleeve. ‘But it’s not impossible to survive a handgun threat. People do it all the time. Your survival depends on three factors. One, the attacker’s intention. Two, the distance. Three, the training of both you and the attacker.’
Flicking on the safety catch, Jody set aside the paintball gun on the bonnet of her Range Rover and picked up her insulated coffee mug. Despite the winter chill, she’d taken Alpha team outside to one of the fields for this lesson: Defence Against a Gun. ‘Less mess to clear up,’ she’d explained.
Pausing to take a sip of coffee, Jody continued, ‘If the attacker’s intention is to kill, then you or your Principal might be hit before you even know you’re under attack. However, if their aim is to kidnap the Principal, the weapon will be used as a compliance tool. Unfortunately for you, that means the bodyguard is likely to be shot. Why?’ She looked to Alpha team for an answer.
Ling held up her hand. ‘We’re a threat to the kidnapper’s plans.’
Jody nodded. ‘Correct. Why else?’
Marc pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘By shooting us, the kidnapper shows he’s serious and the Principal will be more willing to do what he or she says.’
‘Exactly,’ said Jody. ‘That’s why you should never admit to being a bodyguard.’
‘There goes your chat-up line!’ said Richie, giving Marc a nudge with his elbow.
‘The second factor in your survival is distance,’ Jody went on, throwing Richie a warning look to be quiet. ‘How far you are from the gunman determines everything. Handguns are highly inaccurate weapons. If the distance is more than fifteen metres, run. Even a top marksman would struggle to hit a moving target at that distance with a handgun. So, shield your Principal with your body, crouch low and run in an unpredictable zigzag manner to make yourselves harder to hit.’
‘What if we’re closer than fifteen metres?’ asked Amir.
‘Then do exactly as the gunman says.’
‘But aren’t we supposed to take the bullet for our Principals so they can escape?’ said Ling.
‘That’s the last resort,’ Jody replied, her tone as grave as her expression. ‘A dead bodyguard is no good to anyone. So I wouldn’t advise it unless you’re bulletproof.’
‘I’m all right then,’ Charley remarked with a pat of her wheelchair. Connor knew that her chair had been specially designed for close-protection work and hostile environments. Aside from the armrests that turned into tonfa batons, the seat cushion, back and sides were constructed of Kevlar plates and liquid body-armour panels. The carbon-fibre off-road wheels had run-flat tyres. Under the seat was a first-aid trauma kit and three flash-bang smoke grenades. There was even a high-powered rechargeable electric motor in case a fast getaway was needed. Basically Charley sat upon the wheelchair equivalent of a weaponized Ferrari.
Jody smiled at Charley, then turned to the others. ‘Well, if you don’t have a bulletproof wheelchair at your disposal, you should hide behind a wall, a car or anything else that might stop a bullet. Of course, you’re all supplied with ballistic T-shirts and clothes for your assignments. But remember these are only effective against handguns. For anything more powerful like an assault rifle, you’ll need mission-grade jackets. Even then you can suffer blunt trauma from the bullet’s impact and, of course, your head’s still exposed and vulnerable.’
Jason frowned. ‘So are you saying we have to surrender at anything less than fifteen metres?’
Jody gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Unless the attacker hasn’t yet drawn their weapon or you’re close enough to grab it, you’ve no choice but to surrender.’
‘But I saw Jason Statham easily disarm a gunman at that distance.’
Jody tried hard to suppress a grin. ‘You need to watch fewer movies! Forget the fiction of the hero shooting a villain in the hand at a hundred metres or disarming him before a shot is fired. The reality is that if someone has a gun to your head and you try something, then you’re likely to get it blown off – as Connor demonstrated.’
Connor gave a little bow. ‘My pleasure,’ he said, trying to make light of it, though he knew that on a mission he’d have been scraping his brains off the floor.
‘But your chances of survival can be improved with training – the third factor,’ said Jody, distributing a set of paintball guns among the team. ‘Connor’s mistake was to grab my wrist rather than the gun. Unlike a knife, a gun needs only to be pointed in the right direction to be deadly. So it’s crucial to gain control of the weapon first.’
Jody beckoned Ling forward and
instructed her to raise her gun.
‘Applying the Seize-Strike-Subdue technique, move your body out of the way at the same time as grabbing the weapon,’ she explained, fluidly stepping to the side and clasping the barrel. ‘Focus your attention on the muzzle and where it’s pointing. You don’t want yourself or the Principal shot during the struggle. Your aim is to rip the weapon from the gunman’s hand, causing as much pain as possible. Ideally breaking their fingers in the process.’
Jody wrenched the gun from Ling’s grasp, stopping short of snapping Ling’s trigger finger.
‘You see how I rotated the barrel towards the attacker? Their grip is weak compared to the leverage you have. Then once you’ve got the gun, club them with it hard to subdue them, take control of the situation and make your escape.’
Now Jody pointed the gun at Ling. ‘Let’s practise that. And it goes without saying that once you get hold you must never let go. Your life literally depends on it.’
‘I feel like I’ve been pelted with marbles!’ moaned Amir, inspecting the collection of red welts that covered his face, neck and chest. At close range the paintballs might not have killed them, but they left their mark and hurt like hell.
‘Let’s hope you don’t have to disarm anyone on your next mission,’ smirked Richie, ‘otherwise you’ll end up looking like Swiss cheese!’
‘Charley, I think you dislocated my finger,’ complained Marc, wincing as he tried to wiggle it.
‘Yeah, Charley’s good at that sort of thing,’ said Jason, arching an eyebrow in her direction. By now they’d all heard how Charley had put Jason’s little finger out of joint during one of their combat instructor’s infamous Gauntlet tests. Although Jason had forgiven her, he never let her forget it.
Charley gave Marc an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, Marc, I got a little over-enthusiastic …’
Jody beeped the horn and waved as she drove past in her Range Rover. She’d not wanted the vehicle’s leather interior to become smeared with paint so, despite the drizzling sleet, they were now trudging across the field behind her. The squared battlements and narrow windows of the old Victorian school building loomed in the distance. Sheltered in its own valley and hidden from the road, it was the ideal location for the covert training of young bodyguard recruits. From the outside, Buddyguard HQ appeared an old-fashioned private school but, inside, the building was fitted with the latest surveillance equipment, high-tech gadgets and state-of-the-art computers.
Bodyguard (Bodyguard 5) Page 3