Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3)

by Chris Bradford

  Connor tapped at his earpiece. The translation app seemed to be struggling with the multiple conversations happening around the Boma. The microphone kept honing in on different people. He fiddled with the settings on the app, switching the mic’s sensitivity from omnidirectional to ‘shotgun’, enabling him to isolate a single conversation. As he adjusted his smartphone’s position on the table to listen to Amber’s increasingly heated debate with Minister Feruzi, Connor caught a line of untranslated language through his earpiece. His phone flashed a message and the app automatically switched from French to Kurundi.

  ‘… do you believe Black Mamba’s back?’

  Connor glanced up and saw Minister Rawasa whispering to the grey-haired Minister Mossi on the opposite side of the Boma.

  ‘Of course not,’ snorted Minister Mossi. ‘I have it on good authority he died in the Congo.’

  ‘But what if he didn’t? He’s the devil incarnate. More poisonous to our countrymen than a real black mamba! His return could trigger another civil war –’

  ‘I tell you, he is dead.’

  ‘I’ve heard it said, no one can kill the Black Mamba –’

  Out of the darkness a thunderous beat of drums burst forth, drowning out any further conversation. A line of men clad in white, red and green robes marched into the Boma, balancing large drums on their heads. Chanting, they set their instruments down in a semi-circle round one central player. Then, to the heavy tribal rhythm, the lead drummer came forward and leapt impossibly high into the air. Whooping and waving his sticks, the man danced as if possessed.

  The earth-shuddering beat of multiple drums thrummed in Connor’s gut. He’d never experienced such a wall of sound. Another drummer entered the arena and took over the dance. He backflipped into the air, landing with perfect precision and timing. The performance was utterly awe-inspiring as each drummer took their turn in the centre. Then, lifting their drums back on to their heads, the procession disappeared into the night, the pounding of drums fading like a receding thunderstorm.

  President Bagaza stood and clapped the performers, everyone else following his lead. When the applause had faded, he said, ‘Those were the Royal Drummers of Burundi. What distinguishes their music from other African music is that the movement of the dancers dictates the rhythm of the drummers, rather than the other way round. This is another example, Ambassador Barbier, of what makes Burundi unique among African nations. And we will beat to a different drum.’ He raised his glass in a toast: ‘May Burundi prosper!’

  ‘May Burundi prosper!’ repeated everyone, raising their glasses.

  With the performance over, the conversations returned to the previous topics.

  ‘So can we go and see this new village you built?’ Amber asked Minister Feruzi.

  The minister frowned as if irritated, then smiled. ‘Of course,’ he replied, ‘but it’ll have to be on another visit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think you’ve interrogated the minister enough, Amber,’ her father interrupted, laying a pacifying hand over hers as he noticed Minister Feruzi’s frown return.

  Amber pulled her hand away. ‘But I want to meet the people that this park displaced.’

  ‘Amber, I realize you’re idealistic,’ said her father under his breath. ‘But you can’t conserve nature without a certain amount of sacrifice.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Enough,’ warned her father. ‘I think it’s time you went back to your room.’

  Amber’s jaw tightened but she held her tongue. Rising from her seat, she strode out of the Boma.

  ‘Can I stay a bit longer?’ asked Henri.

  ‘Of course,’ replied his mother with a smile as Connor got to his feet.

  ‘I’ll just make sure Amber gets back to her room safely,’ he explained.

  Leaving Henri with his parents, Connor stepped from the flickering orange glow of the Boma into the almost pitch-black of the night. Only a trail of candles lit the path back to the lodge.

  Halfway along, he caught up with Amber. She stopped and stared at him. ‘Why are you following me?’

  ‘I’m escorting you back to your room,’ replied Connor.

  Amber fixed him with a look that said otherwise. ‘I realize you’re here to protect us, but I can look after myself, thank you. And I’m not scared of snakes.’

  Connor felt that remark bite. ‘Listen, I’ve trained for over a year in unarmed combat, defensive driving, anti-surveillance, body cover drills –’

  ‘Body cover?’

  ‘Yes, using my body to shield you in an attack.’

  ‘Is that your intention with me?’ she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head slightly.

  ‘Yes … no!’ protested Connor, flushing slightly as he realized her double meaning. ‘Look, I’m just trying to do my job.’

  ‘So, tell me, how many have you protected before us?’

  Connor replied, ‘This is my third assignment.’

  Amber pouted in disappointment. ‘Not many then.’

  ‘Well, they’re all still alive!’ retorted Connor. He took a breath to calm himself. ‘Listen, I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m not here to stop you doing things. I’m here to keep you safe.’

  ‘From what?’ Amber asked, indicating the tranquil night. ‘Mosquitoes? It’s a mystery to me why my father even employed you. I simply don’t need a boy looking after me. If you want to be useful, protect my brother and keep him away from me. Now, goodnight.’

  He watched her stride off into the darkness.

  ‘Women, eh?’ snorted Gunner, coming up from behind and shrugging in sympathy. ‘As wild and unpredictable as Africa –’ he winked at Connor – ‘and just as captivating.’

  ‘Those drummers were awesome!’ exclaimed Henri, beating at the night air with his fists as Connor led him up the path, the boy’s parents having joined President Bagaza and his ministers for a nightcap on the lodge’s main veranda.

  ‘I mean, how high could they leap!’ Henri jumped into the darkness.

  Connor grabbed him before he stumbled into a thorn bush. ‘Careful, Henri, remember what Gunner said. Stick to the path, there might be snakes.’

  ‘O … K,’ he wheezed.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Connor asked, hearing the slight whistle to the boy’s breath.

  ‘Fine,’ replied Henri, pulling an inhaler from his pocket and taking a puff. After ten seconds he breathed out, his lungs already sounding clearer. ‘Just a bit of asthma.’

  Connor slowed his pace up the hill. From where he was, he could see the light on in Amber’s suite. She’d drawn the curtains and her shadow flittered across them.

  Connor turned to Henri. ‘Is your sister always so …’ He tried to think of the most diplomatic word. ‘Headstrong?’

  Henri nodded, sighing in recognition. ‘And grouchy. Even more so since her boyfriend dumped her last week, for her best friend … by text message!’

  ‘That sounds harsh,’ Connor remarked.

  Henri shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, Maurice was an idiot. I think she’s most upset about her friend betraying her, though. She cried a lot about that.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ said Connor. He walked Henri to his room. ‘See you at dawn for the safari.’

  Yawning, Henri nodded. ‘I hope we spot lions tomorrow,’ he murmured before disappearing inside.

  Heading back to his own room, Connor opened the glass door to the private deck and sat in a lounger. He gazed up at the blanket of stars overhead. Never had he seen so many in his life. The night was so clear they truly sparkled like diamonds in the sky.

  He glanced over at Amber’s suite. The lights were still on, but there was no movement. At least her recent heartbreak explained her frostiness, thought Connor. She’d probably had enough of boys for the time being. And if she knew of her father’s past affair, she likely had a trust issue too – especially following the betrayal of her best friend. Connor decided to cut Amber a bit of slack. He’d give her some space. As
long as he knew where she was and she didn’t wander beyond the lodge’s grounds, he could legitimately protect her.

  Pulling out his phone, Connor dialled Buddyguard HQ to check in for the night. Charley answered within two rings.

  After going through formal call-in protocol, she asked, ‘How are the Cubs settling in?’

  Prior to any mission, call signs and code words were agreed, since it was always assumed that radio communications could be easily intercepted and no network was a hundred per cent secure. So Amber and Henri had been assigned the call signs Cub One and Cub Two.

  ‘As well as can be expected,’ Connor replied. ‘The youngest has accepted its new brother; the older one is a little more resistant.’

  ‘What about the Nest?’ enquired Charley.

  Connor delivered his assessment of the lodge’s lax security situation, being careful not to reveal anything too specific that might identify the location.

  ‘Not ideal,’ she agreed. ‘But there aren’t any storms on the horizon so you should be OK. Have you anything else to report?’

  ‘I’ve heard talk about the Black Mamba coming back. Any idea who this might be?’

  ‘Not off the top of my head, sorry. I’ll look into it and get back to you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Connor. ‘It might be nothing, but a couple of the ministers here seemed concerned. How’s the birdwatching going, by the way?’ he asked, subtly referring to Amir and Operation Hawk-Eye.

  Charley lowered her voice as if she didn’t want anyone else at HQ to hear. ‘It’s having its ups and downs, but don’t worry – our friend hasn’t had his wings clipped yet. Tell me, how’s your luxury suite?’

  ‘Pretty shabby,’ Connor replied, reclining further back in his padded lounger. ‘There are only two showers, and the private plunge pool isn’t that big.’

  ‘Sounds horrible.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll survive.’

  ‘We’re counting on it,’ said Charley warmly. ‘Listen, I have to go. Stay safe.’

  She signed off. Connor sighed contentedly and returned to gazing at the stars. He always felt better after talking with Charley. More grounded. Talking through the mission helped him put it in perspective. While the security arrangements were less than perfect, the remote location reduced the risk of direct threats. He thought that he might even be able to relax enough to enjoy the safari tomorrow morning. Connor pocketed the phone and closed his eyes … A second later they flew open as a piercing scream shattered the peace of the night.

  Connor catapulted himself off the lounger and leapt from the decking. Pushing through the privacy barrier of bushes, he scrambled on to the neighbouring deck. The scream had come from within Amber’s suite. It sounded as if she was being attacked, but the curtains obscured whatever was going on inside.

  He yanked at the glass door. Locked. He heard another desperate cry. Connor sprinted round to the front. The main door was also bolted. Taking a step back, he front-kicked it with all his might. The lock gave way and he burst into the room. Amber wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Connor’s first thought was that she’d been kidnapped. Then another scream erupted from the bathroom.

  Throwing open the door, Connor found Amber standing in the middle of the tiled floor, wrapped in a towel, shaking her head furiously.

  ‘Get it off me! Get it off me!’

  ‘What?’ said Connor, looking round the room for the threat.

  ‘The spider!’

  Connor felt a surge of relief. He’d thought it was something deadly serious.

  ‘Hold still,’ he instructed, grabbing her by the shoulders and searching her damp locks of hair for the intruder. When he saw it, he jerked away. No wonder Amber was screaming – the spider’s body was the size of a golf ball. Dark brown with spindly hairy legs and two prominent fangs, it was fearsome enough to give anyone a heart attack.

  Connor grabbed Amber’s hairbrush from the shelf and batted the spider off before it could sink its fangs into her. The creature scuttled across the tiles at a horrific speed. Amber yelped again and leapt into the bath for safety.

  Gunner ran in. ‘What’s going on?’ demanded the ranger, looking between Connor and Amber, still dripping wet from her shower.

  ‘Spider,’ explained Connor, pointing to the creature now scurrying up the wall.

  Gunner eyed it, whipped off his hat and plonked it over the offending arachnid.

  ‘Just a rain spider. Nothing to worry about,’ he said, picking up a magazine and trapping it inside his hat. ‘Relatively harmless. They hunt at night and sleep during the day. They can bite, but their venom’s no more dangerous than a bee sting …’ He glanced at Amber, trembling in the bathtub. ‘Granted, though, they look bloody terrifying.’

  Amber nodded mutely, her eyes not leaving Gunner’s hat for a second.

  ‘It’s the small black-button spiders with red underbellies you need to avoid like the plague,’ warned the ranger, checking the bathroom for any other creepy-crawlies. ‘They have one of the most toxic venoms produced in nature, fifteen times stronger than a rattlesnake’s. You’ll probably know them as black widow spiders –’ He was interrupted by two soldiers from the presidential guard appearing at the door.

  Better late than never, thought Connor.

  ‘False alarm,’ said Gunner to the soldiers, and they wandered back outside, muttering to themselves.

  Gunner held up his hat cheerily. ‘Well, Amber, that’s your official welcome to Africa. All clear now.’

  He headed for the main door and spotted the damaged lock. ‘I’ll have someone fix that tomorrow. Oh, and remember to shake out your boots before putting them on in the morning. You don’t want any other nasty shocks.’

  He disappeared into the night to release the eight-legged intruder.

  Connor turned to Amber. ‘Will you be all right?’

  Quickly recovering her composure now the spider was gone, she pulled her towel closer around her and shooed him out of the bathroom. ‘Yes, absolutely.’

  There was a flush to her cheeks and she wouldn’t quite meet his eye. But, as she closed the door on him, she smiled shyly. ‘At least you’re tough enough to fight off spiders.’

  Dawn had barely broken and the sun, low on the horizon, cast a golden sheen across the wakening savannah. A few zebra glanced up from their early-morning grazing as the convoy of Land Rovers bumped their way along the dirt track, sending up clouds of dust into the warm, still air.

  In the lead vehicle Connor sat next to Henri, who was fidgeting with excitement, his head darting left and right like a meerkat’s as he searched for animals. Stifling a yawn from the impossibly early start, Amber steadied herself in the front seat beside Gunner, who was at the wheel. Although there was ample space, Laurent and Cerise had elected to go in the second vehicle to give their children the freedom to enjoy the safari alone. The other four Land Rovers transported the president, his ministers, their wives and a detachment of the presidential guard.

  Perched on the bonnet seat of Connor’s vehicle was their tracker, Buju, a quiet man with soulful eyes and a shy smile. Upon introduction, Gunner had spoken for him, explaining that Buju had grown up in the Ruvubu Valley, lived off the land by hunting and gathering, and that he knew every gully, waterway and crevice of the national park like the back of his hand. Buju would be their eyes and ears on the safari.

  From the man’s watchful gaze and calm, almost still, presence, Buju appeared very attuned to his environment and Connor realized it would be hard for any predator to sneak up on them without their tracker noticing. Yet, despite this assurance, Connor didn’t allow himself to lower his own guard. Although it was good to have another pair of eyes on the lookout for danger, his Principals’ safety ultimately lay with him.

  Buju held up his hand and the safari convoy came to a halt. Gunner killed the engine. Behind, the other five drivers did the same and the rumbling of motors ceased, to be replaced by a chorus of birdsong, buzzing insects and the occasional braying of zebra. The soundtr
ack of Africa. Then in the distance they heard a haunting whoop-whoop.

  ‘Hyenas,’ Gunner explained under his breath. ‘A long way off, probably in those hills.’ He indicated a far ridge, crowned by the rising sun.

  ‘So why have we stopped?’ asked Henri.

  Gunner put a finger to his lips to silence him as Buju pointed to a clump of thorn bushes some twenty metres ahead. Amber craned her neck to see what the tracker had spotted, her camera at the ready.

  ‘What is it?’ whispered Henri, kneeling up in his seat.

  Amber shook her head and shrugged. Then out from behind the thicket emerged a creature as grey as slate with an immense barrel body and stumpy legs, its sloping neck and low-slung head finishing in a large, pointed double horn. Like a creature straight out of Jurassic Park, the rhino appeared truly prehistoric. It tramped into the middle of the dirt track and stopped, suddenly sensing them.

  Connor, Amber and Henri stared in awestruck silence.

  Gunner kept his voice to barely above a whisper. ‘You’re very fortunate to see a black rhino in the wild. Their species have been driven to the point of extinction. Less than five thousand left in the whole of Africa.’

  The rhino stood stock-still, only its ears twitching, then it swung its head towards them, snorting at the air.

  ‘Rhinos have poor eyesight but an excellent sense of smell and hearing,’ continued Gunner as Amber began shooting away with her camera. He pointed to a small red-billed bird on the animal’s back. ‘That’s an oxpecker. It was thought they removed ticks and insects for the benefit of the rhino, as well as providing an early warning system by hissing and screaming if a predator approached. But more recent research suggests these are actually bloodthirsty bodyguards.’

  Amber looked back at Connor and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Rather than eat the ticks, the oxpeckers have been seen removing scabs and opening fresh wounds to feed on the rhino’s blood,’ explained Gunner. ‘So, while in part a mutually beneficial relationship, the oxpecker is also a parasite.’