Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  Jody leant in close to ensure she had Charley’s full attention. ‘You see, the skills required to be an effective bodyguard aren’t based on gender. Whether you’re a guy or a girl, you need common sense, good communication skills, awareness, self-discipline and confidence. And we girls do have advantages over the boys.’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Charley.

  Jody shared a conspiratorial grin. ‘For a start, women think differently from men. We can multi-task more effectively. We’re able to see and hear many separate events at once, processing them simultaneously. This means we can spot a suspect or early signs of an attack before our male counterparts do. And, if an attack does occur, your opponent certainly won’t expect you to be a weapon!’

  Charley felt a spark of hope. ‘So you’re saying we’re better at this than the boys?’

  ‘I’d like to think so.’ Jody smiled. ‘Female intuition and the element of surprise give us the upper hand. However, we can sometimes talk too much. And that’s where there can be conflict between male and female bodyguards. If I’ve learnt one thing in my career, it’s that action speaks louder than words.’

  Charley nodded, recalling Jason’s criticism of her during the first-aid test.

  ‘Remember, we’re both girls in a man’s world,’ said Jody. ‘This role isn’t for the faint-hearted. You need guts. You have to stand your ground with the boys. It’s a matter of pride for them, so they’ll do whatever’s necessary to stop a girl showing them up. But prove yourself and you’ll earn their respect.’

  The scissors cut round Ash’s head with absolute precision, each snip shearing away another piece to free the idol’s photograph from the magazine article. The blades sliced between the gaps of his perfectly coiffured brown hair, round the diamond-studded left ear and along the sleek curve of his jawline to the dimpled chin. His dark hazel eyes smouldered and his up-turned mouth revealed flawless teeth that gleamed like a toothpaste commercial, while the surrounding skin appeared tanned, smooth and blemish-free.

  Photoshopped or not, Ash was blessed with the face of a Greek god – the perfect teen heartthrob. No wonder his posters graced the walls of a billion girls’ bedrooms around the world.

  With a final snip, the blades cut across the rock star’s throat and the magazine dropped away.

  The scissors were set aside and the cut-out carefully laid on the table, making sure not to crease it. Then some glue was applied to the back and Ash’s disembodied head pasted on to a large sheet of pink paper. More glue was dabbed randomly across the collage before glitter dust and stars were sprinkled liberally over the young icon.

  In the dim light of the bedside lamp – the curtains of the room still drawn despite being mid-afternoon – the image now sparkled and glistened like a diamond. The love letter to the famous rock star was beginning to take shape. It just needed one final embellishment.

  Putting away the glue and glitter, a small bowl and paintbrush were now placed on the table. The contents of the bowl were slowly stirred with the narrow tip of the brush until the red viscous liquid evened out. It had been a grim and sticky job to collect the blood. The piglet had squealed so loudly when the butcher’s knife had sliced its carotid artery. Then its life’s blood had spurted out in bursts with each beat of its dying heart, making it difficult to direct the stream into the bowl. And there’d been so much blood for such a small creature. It had overflowed the bowl’s rim and spilled on to the floor. The resulting mess had been a nightmare to clean up.

  But the piglet hadn’t died in vain.

  Wiping the excess blood from the brush tip against the bowl’s edge, a latex-gloved hand held the letter down. With childlike concentration, three words were scrawled across Ash’s perfect face:

  ‘A crowd is one of the most risky environments you and your Principal will face on a regular basis,’ Colonel Black said, his weathered hands gripping the lectern in Buddyguard’s state-of-the-art briefing room that doubled as a classroom. On the main wall hung a giant widescreen display on to which the colonel wirelessly cast a video of a throng of people pushing against a barrier. ‘In these situations you’ll need to constantly scan the area and assess any possible threats.’

  Charley listened intently as she sat in one of the sleek high-backed lecture chairs, the furniture so new that the protective plastic film had yet to be removed from the chrome fittings. Although the outer shell remained a nineteenth-century school building, internally Buddyguard HQ was being revamped with the most advanced electronic hardware and equipment available. Charley and the rest of the team were also equipped with the latest tablet computers on which to take class notes and do their homework.

  ‘So, when vetting a crowd, first try to establish brief eye contact with any suspects.’ The colonel thumbed the remote in his hand and the bullet points to his lecture flashed up one by one on the overhead display. ‘What are their eyes saying? Are they appearing shifty? Nervous? Upset? Are they fixated on your Principal or perhaps another target?’

  Charley rapidly keyed the main points on her tablet, aware she was the only one taking detailed notes. But that didn’t bother her. Since her chat with Jody a fortnight ago, Charley had committed herself to becoming the best bodyguard in the team. She’d spent night after night rereading the first-aid manual before her team’s reassessment. And this time she hadn’t suffered a logjam of information. In fact Jody had passed her with flying colours.

  Charley also exercised longer in the gym than the others, her efforts already paying off as she began to overtake the boys on their early-morning runs, her long legs and light build allowing her to bound over the rugged landscape, leaving the more hefty recruits behind. And, taking Jody’s advice to fight smarter, not harder, she’d persuaded Steve to give her extra martial arts training during the lunch periods, concentrating on techniques suited to her build and abilities so her combat skills would match the boys’.

  This wasn’t done to earn the boys’ respect but to prove that a girl could do the job just as well – and that this girl could do it better. She owed it to her parents to be the best. And she owed it to Kerry not to give up.

  ‘Next, look at people’s hands,’ said Colonel Black, raising his own and revealing the remote. ‘What are they holding? Is one of their hands clasped around something? Or are their hands in their pockets? Or behind their back?’

  He pointed to David’s rucksack at his feet. ‘Ask yourself: what’s in the bag they’re carrying? What about the contents of their pockets? And, finally, their clothes: are they wearing anything unusual? A bulky coat on a hot day? A hat or dark glasses to conceal their identity? All these questions should go through your head subconsciously as you assess each individual in the crowd. With practice, the process should take a matter of seconds per person.’

  Blake leant across to Charley and whispered, ‘Can I borrow your notes after the lesson?’

  Charley could tell from his roguish grin he was turning on the charm, but she didn’t really mind. Blake was the only member of the team willing to fight her corner and she had no intention of isolating herself further. ‘Sure,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,’ he replied with a wink.

  ‘Pay attention, you two!’ said the colonel, snapping his fingers. ‘You mustn’t forget a crowd is a dynamic situation. Once you’ve decided an individual isn’t a threat, don’t dismiss them entirely. The attacker could be a professional assassin or simply very good at hiding their intentions.’

  Triggering the remote, he launched an old grainy video clip of a group of
men leaving a hotel and crossing the pavement to a waiting limo.

  ‘The attempted assassination of the former US President Ronald Reagan demonstrates this clearly.’ Colonel Black pointed to a suited man walking towards the camera. ‘See here! This secret service agent looks directly at the attacker who’s off-screen. The agent doesn’t consider him a threat, so ignores him and turns inwards to where Ronald Reagan is about to enter his vehicle. He now has his back to the attacker.’

  On the video footage several gunshots went off and people dived to the ground in panic. President Reagan was bundled into the limo as one brave secret service agent spread his arms and shielded him from the deadly hail of bullets. A round caught the agent in the gut and sent him tumbling to the tarmac, but by then Reagan was speeding safely away and the attacker neutralized.

  When the video clip finished, silence filled the room. For the first time the young bodyguards were confronted with the brutal reality of what it meant to stand in the line of fire to protect another.

  Charley raised a tentative hand. ‘Did the agent who was shot die?’

  Colonel Black shook his head. ‘No, he made a full recovery. But no one need have been hurt if that first agent had done his job properly and not turned his back on the crowd. Don’t make that mistake yourself.’

  He switched off the overhead display. ‘Now let’s put these skills into practice. José, you’re a famous film star.’

  ‘Naturally,’ he replied, getting to his feet with a swagger.

  ‘Yeah, a stand-in for Speedy Gonzalez!’ quipped Jason.

  ‘Ha ha, that’s very funny for someone who looks like Skippy the Kangaroo!’ José shot back.

  Colonel Black silenced the pair with a sharp look before continuing his briefing. ‘Unfortunately, José, your last film offended a few people and you’re the target for a potential attack. Jason, you’ll be his bodyguard. Blake, David and Charley, you’ll form the Personal Escort Section.’ He opened a door leading through to an adjacent classroom. ‘Now go and meet your fans!’

  Leaping from their seats, the PES team hurriedly positioned themselves into a protective arrowhead formation round their Principal, as taught by the colonel in a previous lesson. Then they entered the room to be greeted by a small crowd of the other five recruits and instructors impersonating excited fans.

  ‘Hey, José, can I have your autograph?’ asked one lad.

  ‘Absolutely, my friend,’ grinned José, play-acting his superstar role to the max. ‘Any more takers?’

  The mini-crowd surged forward and surrounded him. Charley and the rest of the team struggled to keep them at a safe distance as José signed more autographs and posed for selfies. All the while Charley’s eyes darted from each person’s face to their hands to their clothes. She hunted for signs of a would-be attacker.

  Of course, there might not be one. During their training, they’d enacted numerous different scenarios. Sometimes there was an attack. Other times nothing happened. Just as in real life.

  But on this occasion Charley noticed their surveillance tutor Bugsy hanging at the back of the crowd. He was making no effort to meet José the film star, and this unnatural behaviour set him apart from the others.

  Suddenly they heard wild shouting. Jason and the rest of the PES team spun towards the disruption. The room’s widescreen display had been switched on and was blaring out a newsreel of a riot. With the buddyguard recruits distracted, Bugsy pushed through the crowd and swung a bottle at José’s head.

  No one on the team reacted to the attack … apart from Charley.

  Having kept one eye on her suspect, she was ready for the surprise assault. She leapt to José’s defence, shoving him aside and shielding him with her body, only for the bottle to strike her instead. It smashed to pieces over her head and she staggered under the impact.

  Everyone in the room froze.

  ‘Was that a real bottle?’ asked Jason, more in awe at the idea than any concern for Charley.

  ‘No. It’s just sugar glass,’ replied Bugsy in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Well, it hurt like one!’ cried Charley. She took her hands away. There was no blood, but she could feel a mighty bruise forming. ‘Couldn’t you have used a plastic one?’

  ‘Wouldn’t be realistic enough,’ Bugsy explained. ‘You have to be able to take a hit as a bodyguard – and still function.’ He eyed the other members of the team. ‘Which is the reason I’m wondering why the rest of you haven’t evacuated your Principal yet!’

  Snapped from their daze, Jason and the others grabbed José and rushed him out. Charley, still reeling from the blow, stumbled after them back into the briefing room.

  With the exercise over, José stopped acting the film star as Blake helped Charley to a chair. ‘Thanks for taking the hit for me,’ said José.

  ‘My pleasure,’ Charley groaned, cradling her head in her hands.

  ‘That looked like it really hurt!’ remarked Blake as he knelt down beside her.

  Charley gave another groan in reply.

  Jason grinned. ‘She should have blocked it properly.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t see you react,’ the colonel pointed out. ‘And you were José’s bodyguard!’

  The smug grin fell from Jason’s face as he was shamed into silence.

  The colonel nodded at Charley. ‘At least someone was paying attention in my class. You might be hurting, Charley, but you’ve learnt a valuable lesson – always expect the unexpected.’

  ‘Colonel, have you got a minute?’ asked Charley, racing after him as he headed for his Range Rover. She’d tried to pin the colonel down on numerous occasions, but, apart from his specialist classes, he was rarely around, always rushing off on urgent business-related matters.

  The colonel stopped, his highly polished boots scrunching on the gravel of the school forecourt. ‘Of course, Charley. How’s your head?’

  ‘OK, I guess,’ she replied, tenderly testing the growing bruise with a finger.

  ‘It’s a hard lesson. But one you won’t forget.’

  Charley nodded and winced as her skull gave a throb. ‘Colonel, you said to expect the unexpected, but I didn’t expect to be the only girl at Buddyguard. If you believe girls make good bodyguards, why haven’t you recruited more?’

  The colonel’s expression remained impassive. ‘You were the first I’ve found up to the task … and the only one since to say yes.’

  Charley was taken aback to discover this. ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Would it have made a difference to your decision?’

  Charley shrugged. ‘Probably not. But it’d be nice to have the company. I feel a bit outnumbered by the boys.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m working on it,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Just takes time to find suitable recruits.’

  ‘So, how do you find recruits?’ she asked. The question had been bugging her for a while.

  ‘They usually make themselves known to us – through their actions.’

  ‘Like when I saved that boy from the shark?’

  The colonel nodded. ‘I was actually on holiday,’ he admitted. ‘But your heroics caught my eye. And after our little chat in the dunes and subsequent research I saw real potential in you.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. ‘Listen, I know from Jody you’ve been questioning your abilities. Don’t. You’re doing well. Just keep your chin up.’

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then pulled out his car keys. The Range Rover beeped, its indicators flashin
g. He opened the driver’s door and got in. ‘And my advice for handling the boys: give as good as you get.’

  Gunning the engine, Colonel Black saluted a goodbye, then sped off down the long driveway, the Range Rover’s heavy-duty tyres kicking up gravel as they went.

  Charley stood in the forecourt, mulling over his words, until the car had crested the hill. Colonel Black clearly believed in her. Her efforts were being recognized – if not by the team, then at least by those who counted.

  With a more confident spring in her step, Charley headed back inside the school building. She found Blake sitting at the bottom of the staircase in the entrance hall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Waiting for you,’ he replied with a warm smile.

  Charley blinked in shock. Then she remembered. ‘Ah, yes. You wanted my class notes,’ she said, pulling out her tablet from her bag. ‘I could’ve just emailed them to you.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, his eyes lingering on her. ‘But it’s nicer to do things personally.’

  Charley felt a warmth in her cheeks. Before Blake could notice the effect his gaze was having on her, she busied herself transferring the notes to his tablet. ‘There you go,’ she said.

  Blake smiled again. ‘Thanks. I really appreciate it. I tend to miss things – I’m not as fast as you at typing.’

  ‘No problem. Any time,’ she replied breezily, returning the tablet to her bag.

  Blake stood up, closer to her than she expected, and was about to say something else when they were interrupted.

  ‘Hey, Blake!’ called David, appearing in the hallway. ‘Are you coming to play football or not?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied, then turned back to Charley. ‘Catch you later?’

  Charley nodded and watched him run off to join the others. Perhaps there were advantages to being the only girl.