Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3)

by Chris Bradford

  His ministers nodded obediently. But President Bagaza knew it was a futile request. He trusted no one on his Cabinet to keep a secret. And if his government ministers had heard about the diamonds, then he was in no doubt that other more dangerous individuals would know too. Diamonds lured corrupt men like wasps to a jam jar.

  ‘ATTACK FRONT!’ shouted Jody as a car sped out of a side street and screeched to a halt in the middle of the road.

  Connor slammed on the brakes. Jody braced herself in the passenger seat, while Charley and Marc were flung forward, only saved by their seat belts in the back. Crunching gears, Connor battled to find reverse. He’d been driving only three weeks and the pressure of an attack was seriously testing his new skills.

  ‘Come on,’ he muttered in frustration, rattling the gear stick furiously. Finally he managed to engage reverse, looked over his shoulder and accelerated away hard. The engine whined in protest as the rev counter maxed out.

  Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Connor fought to maintain a straight line and keep on the road. Driving at speed in reverse was judged extremely dangerous – one tiny misjudgement and he could send the car into a fatal spinout.

  By now their attackers had jumped from their vehicle and begun firing at them. Connor’s car was going flat out, but reverse gear wasn’t anywhere near fast enough to escape an ambush. To do so, he had to change direction. Adrenalin pumping, he took his foot off the accelerator, wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right and applied the handbrake, all at the same time. His car went into a tyre-screeching 180-degree pivot and came to a tight stop. Releasing the handbrake, he floored the accelerator pedal and they shot off again, speeding away from the kill zone.

  Behind him, Connor heard Marc whistle in relief and Charley whisper, ‘That’s one hell of a roller-coaster ride!’

  ‘Well done, Connor. Aside from the poor gear change, that was a textbook J-turn,’ Jody commended, ticking off another box on her clipboard.

  Connor eased off the accelerator, pleased to have passed the first stage. As he continued down the road, he routinely checked his rear-view mirror in case the ambushers decided to pursue them. After three weeks of intensive lessons, he and the rest of Alpha team had completed their basic driving test and were on to advanced evasive driving skills. They’d been taught how to execute a bootlegger’s turn, drive safely at high speed, control a skid, push an immobilized vehicle out of the kill zone, and even force another car off the road in a pursuit. Now it was time to put their newly acquired skills to the test.

  Jody had explained that car travel was inherently dangerous. Compared to the security in place at a VIP’s home or a school, a vehicle was a mobile target. At these times, the Principal was at their most vulnerable to attack or kidnap attempts. This was why each member of Alpha team had to be able to drive with confidence and at high speeds. One never knew when they might have to take charge of a vehicle in an emergency.

  ‘Watch out!’ cried Marc, just as Connor turned a corner.

  Up ahead two cars were parked nose-to-nose across the street. There wasn’t enough distance to execute a handbrake turn. So, this time, Connor didn’t stop. He drove straight at the roadblock. He knew his aim would be critical. It had to be the front wheels of the blockading cars, otherwise it would be impossible to ram them out of the way. The cars’ front-wheel arches were solid and would give him the resistance he needed, as well as the angle of force to pivot the vehicles aside.

  When he was twenty metres away Connor purposefully slowed down, dropped into first gear, then accelerated hard. He had to hit the roadblock at just the right speed. Too slow and he’d get stuck. Too fast and he’d damage his own car.

  ‘Brace yourselves!’ he warned.

  There was a gut-wrenching crunch as they struck the blockade. The impact was jarring, but not devastating enough to disable his own vehicle. In preparation for the training exercise, the car’s airbags had been disarmed so the collision didn’t trigger their inflation and cut the engine.

  As he pushed on through the blockade, Connor heard another horrible scrunching sound and went to brake.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ urged Charley.

  Connor kept his foot firmly on the accelerator, but the scraping between the cars was like fingernails being clawed down a chalkboard. Then, with a final screech, they were beyond the roadblock.

  Charley looked back out of the rear windscreen. ‘Don’t worry, it was just your front bumper,’ she said, keeping her voice light and breezy.

  Grimacing, Connor prayed Jody wouldn’t penalize him for such an error. He’d been warned about the danger of getting tangled up with another vehicle. Driving on, he tried to sneak a glance at Jody’s test sheet just as a masked man leapt into the road. On instinct, Connor braked, stopping a couple of metres short of hitting him. Unfazed, the attacker raised his gun and fired. A red paintball exploded on the windshield, directly in line with Connor’s head.

  ‘Test over,’ declared Jody.

  The gunman walked up to the driver’s side and tapped on the glass. Connor wound down the window. Bending down, the gunman removed his mask.

  ‘Better luck next time,’ said Bugsy as Jody put a cross through the last box on her clipboard. ‘Consider us even for kicking me in the jaw!’

  With a sinking heart, Connor flicked on the windscreen wipers and washed off the splodge of dripping paint. Turning the car round, he headed back to the starting point – the forecourt of the abandoned business park commandeered for the exercise. He stopped beside Amir, Ling, Jason and Richie, huddled in a group, all wrapped up in thick puffer jackets against the winter chill.

  Stepping out of the car, Connor noticed Marc clasping his right side as if in pain. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine,’ replied Marc, waving him away. ‘The seat belt must have caught me when you did the emergency stop. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘How did the test go?’ asked Amir, his breath puffing out in small white clouds in the cold air.

  Connor responded with a half-hearted smile.

  ‘Not good by the looks of it,’ remarked Richie, examining the crumpled wing. ‘He’s trashed our car!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Connor mumbled. ‘I must have got caught up.’

  Jody inspected the damage herself. ‘It’s mostly cosmetic. The good thing was you didn’t stop and the car wasn’t disabled.’ She stood and addressed all of Alpha team. ‘The number-one rule in an ambush situation is to always keep moving.’ Making another mark on her clipboard, she glanced over at Connor. ‘Shame you didn’t do that on the final stage of the exercise.’

  ‘But I’d have run Bugsy over,’ protested Connor.

  ‘It was only Bugsy,’ she replied, the corner of her mouth curling up in a wry smile. ‘Seriously, in such a situation you shouldn’t hesitate to use your vehicle as a weapon to attack a threat head on.’

  ‘But you could kill someone!’ said Amir.

  ‘That’s their decision. If there’s an armed attacker in front of your car, you either drive into, around or over that attacker. No hesitation. And, when you drive directly at the enemy, their self-preservation instincts kick in. This affects their ability to shoot straight, as well as shifting their focus from killing you to not getting hit themselves. Either way, the threat is neutralized or escape achieved.’

  ‘So I’ve failed the test then?’ said Connor, glumly looking at the smear of red paint still visible on the windscreen.

  ‘You’re technically dead,’ Jody admitted. Then she gave him an encouraging wink. ‘However, your overall score was seventy-eight per cent. A solid pass.’

  Ling punched Connor on the arm. ‘Slick driving, hotshot! Almost as good as Mad Max here.’ She nodded at Jason. ‘In his test, he nearly mowed Bugsy down.’

  ‘At least I didn’t get shot,’ stated Jason defensively.

  ‘But you almost lost control of the car,’ cautioned Jody. ‘That’s why a vehicle is probably the deadliest weapon you’ll have at your disposal. And, like
any other weapon, if handled incorrectly you can kill yourself, and your friends, with it. But handled correctly you can save lives.’

  ‘Connor, you’re home!’ his mum called out brightly as he and Charley were dropped off by the taxi. She came down the path to greet them. But, as she approached the rickety gate of their East London terraced house, she suddenly lost her footing. Her walking stick went from under her and she toppled over. Only Connor’s fast reactions saved his mum from a nasty fall. He leapt forward, catching her in his arms.

  ‘Whoops,’ said his mum with an embarrassed glance up at him. ‘Must have slipped on some ice.’

  Connor nodded, accepting her excuse without argument. However, as cold as the winter weather was, he couldn’t see any ice. As he helped her to stand, he noticed a distinct tremor in his mum’s body. While it might have been the shock of the fall, he suspected it was another symptom of her multiple sclerosis. His mum looked more fragile than ever, as if the slightest breeze might blow her away like a leaf. Her cheeks were more sunken and the constant pain she suffered seemed to have etched permanent wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Connor felt tears welling up in his own and fought against them. It was tragically apparent to him that the disease had strengthened its grip on his mum and was slowly yet surely squeezing the mobility from her frail body.

  But his mum’s smile remained defiant and her embrace was powerful with love. As he returned her hug, glad for the chance to blink away his tears, she seemed to take strength from his presence; when he pulled away, her face had visibly brightened as if a shadow had been lifted.

  ‘It’s so good to see you,’ she said, kissing his cheek. Then she looked past him to Charley, only a flicker of surprise passing across her face before she offered a heartfelt greeting. ‘You must be Charley. Welcome! Sorry about the dramatic reception.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Reeves,’ replied Charley, entering the front yard. ‘I’m just pleased to meet you. Connor’s talked about you a lot.’

  ‘Really?’ said his mum, taking her walking stick from her son but declining his offer of support. ‘Well, I hope it was all good. Now, you both must be tired from your journey. Come in before we all freeze to death.’

  They followed her through the front door, where Connor noticed a newly installed ramp and a folded-up wheelchair in the hallway. His mum’s deteriorating condition was worse than he’d feared.

  In the living room his gran was waiting by the fireside. The coals in the grate glowed red, giving off a steady warmth and flickering light that Connor always associated with being home.

  ‘How’s my big man?’ asked his gran, rising slowly from her armchair, as old and worn as she was.

  ‘Fine, Gran. And you?’

  ‘As fit as a fiddle and …’

  ‘… as right as rain,’ Connor finished for her.

  ‘Hey, you cheeky scamp! That’s my line.’ She laughed, pulling him into a hug. ‘Now, who’s the beauty behind you?’

  Stepping aside, Connor introduced Charley, who handed his gran a gift box of fine teas.

  ‘Connor told me you like Earl Grey,’ she explained.

  ‘Why, that’s very thoughtful of you,’ his gran replied, admiring the fancy label on the box. Connor could tell his gran instantly warmed to Charley by the way she gently patted her hand in thanks. ‘Make yourself at home, Charley, while me and Connor get some tea and biscuits.’

  Connor dutifully followed his gran into the kitchen, leaving Charley with his mum. He briefly looked back to check that Charley was all right but they were already chatting happily.

  ‘Where’s Sally?’ Connor asked, referring to the live-in carer that the Buddyguard organization provided in return for his services as a teenage bodyguard.

  ‘Oh, we’ve given her the afternoon off since you’re here,’ explained his gran, flicking on the kettle and taking out her best china from a cupboard.

  ‘Is that wise?’ asked Connor, his eyes drawn to the wheelchair in the hall. ‘Mum seems rather … weak.’

  His gran paused in making the tea. With a heavy sigh, she answered, ‘Your mum’s having a relapse. She won’t admit how much she’s suffering. That’s why she insisted on greeting you at the door, despite my protests. She wanted to prove to you she’s doing well. Didn’t want you worrying at school.’

  Connor glanced into the living room, where his mum now sat by the fire, the tremor in her hands still visible. Despite everything he was doing to provide their live-in care, he still felt powerless to help her where it mattered most. He wished he could somehow protect his mum from the disease, rather than merely help ease her suffering.

  His gran saw the anguish in his face. ‘Don’t worry, my love. Your mum’s keeping up her spirits. And Sally’s a godsend. I honestly don’t know how we’d cope without her help. Anyway, your Charley seems a lovely girl,’ his gran remarked, changing topics as she popped three Earl Grey teabags into the pot and poured in hot water. ‘So what’s the story with you two?’

  ‘We’re just friends,’ replied Connor, realizing where this was leading.

  Gran gave him a look.

  ‘No, really,’ insisted Connor.

  ‘I believe you,’ she said with a knowing smile as she arranged some biscuits on a plate. ‘But I hope you don’t mind me saying, she seems an unusual choice of student to be in a “school” like yours.’

  Unlike his mum, Connor’s gran knew the truth about the ‘private boarding school’ he attended. Although Colonel Black had sworn him to secrecy as the Buddyguard organization relied on its covert status to function effectively, Connor had realized his gran was too sharp-witted to be fooled. She’d have seen straight through any lies. So, trusting his gran implicitly, he’d told her about the deal – the scholarship programme set up by Buddyguard to fund their care and his education in exchange for becoming a bodyguard. She hadn’t liked the proposal one bit, yet was a realist when it came to their family’s desperate situation. She’d also recognized his late father’s steely determination in him – a determination that had made his father the best of the best: a soldier in the SAS. So, while not giving her full blessing, she’d accepted his decision to join.

  From the living room, Connor heard Charley laugh at something his mum said and just hoped his mum wasn’t telling any embarrassing stories of him as a boy.

  ‘So what happened to Charley?’ pressed his gran, picking up the tea tray. She directed her gaze to the wheelchair Charley sat in.

  Connor barely noticed it any more. Charley had made clear, both in words and action, that her chair did not define her. ‘I don’t know exactly,’ he replied. ‘She’s never told me. It happened before I joined, on an assignment.’

  His gran almost dropped the tray, the cups clattering and the pot splashing steaming tea on to the lino floor. ‘On an assignment!’

  Unable to meet his gran’s hard stare, Connor grabbed a cloth from the sink to wipe up the mess.

  Putting the tray down on the worktop, his gran looked thoughtfully out of the kitchen window. ‘It doesn’t seem right that this colonel of yours is allowed to recruit young people for such a dangerous job. Sacrificing their futures to protect others.’ She shook her head in sad disbelief. ‘What is the world coming to when an organization like this is even needed?’

  Connor’s gran turned back to him, her expression set. ‘I’m no longer comfortable with this Buddyguard arrangement. Not any more.’

  ‘But, Gran, I can assure you, the risks are minimal,’ insisted Connor. ‘We’re very well trained and plan for all eventualities.’

  ‘Obviously not all eventualities,’ retorted his gran, directing her gaze to Charley in the living room. ‘I want you to quit. Before something terrible happens to you.’

  ‘But I can’t,’ argued Connor. ‘It pays for all the care you and mum need.’

  ‘I know … I know,’ said his gran, taking a step towards him and cupping his face between her palms, just like she used to when he was a little lad. She studied it with a pained express
ion of love and deep concern. ‘There’s so much of your father in you. And of course I realize this organization pays for our care. But at what cost exactly?’

  ‘You two took your time,’ remarked his mum, breaking away from her conversation with Charley as Connor and his gran came back into the living room. ‘We thought you must have been scoffing all the biscuits!’

  ‘No, dear, I just spilt some tea on the floor,’ Gran explained, settling into her armchair.

  ‘But it’s all cleared up now, isn’t it, Gran?’ said Connor as he placed the tray on a side table.

  In return, she offered him a tight-lipped smile. After much persuasion, he’d managed to convince her that he should continue being a bodyguard, at least for the time being. He’d assured her that he wasn’t assigned to the next mission so would be safe back at HQ. His gran had relented, albeit reluctantly, but only on the proviso they’d discuss the issue again at the Easter break. She was adamant that he shouldn’t be risking his own life to pay for their care. Connor, however, felt differently. With his father dead, he had a responsibility to provide for his family, especially when their needs were so great – even if there were risks.

  Connor certainly wasn’t blind to the dangers. He’d faced deadly situations on both his missions so far. But his training, and admittedly some luck, had helped him to survive. Besides, he didn’t want to leave Buddyguard. The intensity of the training and the pressure of being on a mission had forged an invisible bond between the members of Alpha team. They were now his closest and most trusted friends. He didn’t want to break that bond, especially with Charley.

  ‘I like your hairstyle in this photo,’ said Charley, holding up a picture of him at five years old. He was wearing just a pair of shorts and held an ice lolly in one hand. His green-blue eyes were bright with delight and his dark brown hair was shaped into a humiliating bowl cut, a far cry from the spiky modern style he now sported.