Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2)
Page 1
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
As an author, Chris Bradford employs a technique he terms ‘method writing’. For his award-winning Young Samurai series, he trained in samurai swordsmanship, karate, ninjutsu and earned his black belt in Zen Kyu Shin Taijutsu.
For his new BODYGUARD series, Chris embarked on an intensive close-protection course to become a qualified professional bodyguard. During his training, he acquired skills in unarmed combat, defensive driving, tactical firearms, threat assessments, surveillance, and even anti-ambush exercises.
His bestselling books are published in over twenty languages and have garnered more than twenty-five children’s book award nominations.
Before becoming a full-time author, he was a professional musician (who once performed for HRH Queen Elizabeth II), songwriter and music teacher.
Chris lives in England with his wife and two sons.
Discover more about Chris at www.chrisbradford.co.uk
Books by Chris Bradford
The Bodyguard series (in reading order)
HOSTAGE
RANSOM
The Young Samurai series (in reading order)
THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR
THE WAY OF THE SWORD
THE WAY OF THE DRAGON
THE RING OF EARTH
THE RING OF WATER
THE RING OF FIRE
THE RING OF WIND
THE RING OF SKY
Available as ebook
THE WAY OF FIRE
For my godparents, Ann and Andrew,
Thanks for looking out for me all my life
PUFFIN BOOKS
Praise for Bodyguard: Hostage
‘Bone-crunching action adventure’
Financial Times
‘Breathtaking action … as real as it gets’
Eoin Colfer, author of the bestselling Artemis Fowl series
‘Bradford has combined Jack Bauer, James Bond and Alex Rider to bring us the action-packed thriller’
Goodreads
‘Wholly authentic … the action and pace are spot on. Anyone working in the protection industry at a top level will recognize that the author knows what he’s writing about’
Simon, ex-SO14 Royalty Close Protection
‘A gripping page-turner that children won’t be able to put down’
Red House
‘Will wrestle you to the ground and leave you breathless. 5 Stars’
Flipside magazine
‘A gripping, heart-pounding novel’
Bookaholic
Winner of the Brilliant Book Award 2014
Diagram of the Orchid
‘The best bodyguard is the one nobody notices.’
With the rise of teen stars, the intense media focus on celebrity families and a new wave of millionaires and billionaires, adults are no longer the only target for hostage-taking, blackmail and assassination – kids are too.
That’s why they need specialized protection …
BUDDYGUARD is a secret close-protection organization that differs from all other security outfits by training and supplying only young bodyguards.
Known as ‘buddyguards’, these highly skilled teenagers are more effective than the typical adult bodyguard, who can easily draw unwanted attention. Operating invisibly as a child’s constant companion, a buddyguard provides the greatest possible protection for any high-profile or vulnerable young person.
In a life-threatening situation, a buddyguard is the final ring of defence …
The girl felt the cold hard barrel of a gun thrust against the back of her head.
‘Kneel,’ ordered the man, his voice as dry and cruel as the desert wind.
With no choice but to obey, the girl blindly sought the floor. The dusty rag round her eyes let in only glimpses of light, its fraying cloth reeking of stale sweat. She winced as the dirt floor grazed her bare knees and drew blood. Then, hearing the ominous click of a round entering the gun’s chamber, her body instinctively stiffened.
Her captor leant in close. His breath, a bitter mix of coffee and nicotine, was warm and familiar in her ear. ‘Farewell, my little sparrow.’
So this is it, she thought with a numbness born out of exhaustion. After weeks of uncertainty and too many sleepless nights to count, she was beyond caring. Beyond even fear. In truth, her heart almost welcomed the end to her ordeal.
But, as she waited for the inevitable bullet, a small voice of fury rose within her.
Why have I been abandoned like this? Why hasn’t the ransom been paid? What’s gone wrong?
Despite all the promises and hopes she’d clung to, she was going to die. A bullet through the head. Her body dumped in the desert.
Will a
nyone find me? Will they recognize who I am after a few days in the blistering sun? And will they even care?
‘Get it over with,’ she muttered, willing her executioner to pull the trigger and end her suffering.
Silence.
No click. No bang. Not even a reply. Only the buzz of flies circling in the stifling heat.
What’s taking him so long? Is this another one of his mind games?
A bead of sweat rolled from beneath her blindfold and down her grime-covered cheek.
‘Lost your nerve, have you?’ she croaked, her voice quavering as her impatience turned to frustrated anger. Still no answer.
With a trembling hand, she removed the rag. Blinking away the dust, she discovered she was alone … abandoned in the centre of a single-roomed mud-brick building. A makeshift wooden door barred the only entrance through which beams of sunlight speared the darkness.
Should I try to escape? But she had no idea what lay beyond the doorway. Her captor? The barrel of a gun? Most likely miles of unbroken desert –
Suddenly the door burst open and she was dazzled by the glaring African sun. A shadow passed across her face as a huge man filled the doorway. Dressed in khaki army fatigues and his finger primed on the trigger of an assault rifle, he swiftly scanned the room for threats before his gaze targeted her.
‘Emily Sterling?’ the soldier grunted.
Her throat too dry to reply, Emily managed a weak nod.
The soldier thumbed his radio mic. ‘Yankee Four to X-ray, hostage found alive, I repeat, ALIVE.’
Scooping Emily up in his arms like a fragile doll, the soldier carried her to the door.
As the realization of her rescue hit her, Emily began to sob uncontrollably.
‘It’s over,’ promised the soldier. ‘You’re safe now.’
No, thought Emily as her tears dripped on to the man’s shirt. I’ll never be safe again.
‘Keep your head down!’ Connor shouted as a barrage of bullets raked the brick wall.
His Principal had gone into shock and kept trying to bolt from their hiding place. But that was the worst possible reaction the boy could have. A casual stroll down the street had turned into a bodyguard’s nightmare and now they were pinned down in a well-planned ambush.
Connor knew his next move would be crucial. In his head, he ran through the A-C-E procedure …
Assess the threat. Two shooters. One in an alley. Another behind a tree. Intention to kill, not capture.
Counter the danger. His first priority was to find cover and secure the Principal. But the low brick wall they had hidden behind provided only temporary protection. As soon as the shooters repositioned themselves, he and his Principal would be exposed again.
Escape the kill zone. Easier said than done!
Connor tapped his mic. ‘Alpha One to Control. Request Emergency EVAC.’
His earpiece burst into life and he heard Charley, Alpha team’s operations leader, respond, ‘Alpha One, this is Control. Back-up on its way. Three minutes out.’
Three minutes? thought Connor. They’d be dead meat in that time. And, without any firepower of their own, they were defenceless. Connor needed an exit strategy … and fast.
Covering the Principal with his body, Connor peeked over the wall and scanned the immediate area. A clump of bushes off to their right gave some visual cover for an escape, but no physical protection from gunfire. A car parked further down the street provided little hope either; he was fourteen years old and had no idea how to drive, let alone how to hot-wire a car! He looked at the building behind them – a small warehouse with offices attached. The back entrance was only ten metres away, but it was across open ground. Checking on the enemy’s progress, Connor saw that the shooter behind the tree was advancing to get a clear shot. He had no choice but to risk it.
‘Move!’ he growled, seizing his Principal by the arm and sprinting towards the warehouse.
Keeping his body close, Connor shielded the boy as the enemy opened fire. Bullets whizzed past. One almost clipped his ear. Their feet pounded across the tarmac and, whether through speed or pure luck, they made it to the entrance unharmed.
Connor yanked on the handle.
‘NO!’ he cried, tugging furiously at the locked doors.
He spun round. They were now sitting ducks. Connor shoved his Principal into the shelter of a large wheeled refuse bin. The boy tried to run on, crying, ‘I don’t want to die!’
‘Stay down,’ Connor ordered, forcibly pushing him to the ground. Then through clenched teeth he added, ‘Amir, you’re not making this any easier for me.’
‘Sorry,’ replied his friend, offering a flash of a grin from behind his safety goggles. ‘But I’m supposed to be a panicking Principal.’
‘Well, panic less,’ Connor pleaded as several bullets thudded into the metal bin.
Amir flinched and covered his head with his arms. ‘A bit difficult under the circumstances, don’t you think?’
Richie, who was playing the part of the first shooter in the training scenario, had left his position in the alley and was unleashing a hail of paintballs from his assault rifle. So too was Ling, the other shooter, who by now had reached the far end of the low wall. If either of them managed to hit Amir with even a single paintball, Connor would instantly fail the exercise.
Ever since his successful assignment protecting the American President’s daughter the month before, the rest of Alpha team had been impressed but also a little envious of his newly acquired status. The only other person on the team to have earned a gold Buddyguard badge was Charley – and she truly deserved it – whereas he was just a first-time rookie.
That’s why certain fellow buddyguards had made it their mission to test him to the limit – in Ling’s words, ‘to make sure Connor doesn’t get too big for his boots’. While Connor had no problem with a bit of good-natured ribbing, deep down he questioned whether his first assignment had just been beginner’s luck. It was true his father had been in the SAS and one of the best bodyguards on the circuit. But that didn’t mean Connor was made of the same stuff. For his own peace of mind, he needed to prove himself … beyond a doubt.
Connor clicked his mic again. ‘Alpha One to Control. Where’s my pickup?’
‘Alpha One. Thirty seconds out. Maintain position.’
As more paintballs thudded into the bin and splattered the paving at their feet, Connor wondered, Do I have any other choice?
Richie closed in, setting his sights on Amir. Connor pressed Amir further down behind the wheelie bin. Paintballs rattled off it like hailstones. A black 4x4 Range Rover roared down the road, its tyres screeching as the driver braked hard and spun the armoured vehicle to form a shield against Richie’s attack. The paintballs now pinged harmlessly off the bodywork.