Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3)

by Chris Bradford

  As the boy pounded him with relentless fury, the soldiers surrounding the pit began to chant, ‘Hornet! Hornet! Hornet!’

  Forced to retreat from the onslaught, Connor soon found himself up against the wall of rebels. They pushed him back into the pit. Hornet was waiting for him. He grabbed Connor, lifted him high in the air, then brought him crashing down into a large pool of muddy water. Connor crumpled like a rag doll. Hornet dropped on top of him and shoved his head beneath the surface.

  Cut off from air, Connor struggled in the boy’s merciless grip. The shouts of the crowd became distorted and his mouth flooded with marshy water. Briefly his head came up and, as he snatched a desperate breath, he heard Amber screaming his name above the baying of the crowd. Then Hornet forced him back under.

  Spluttering and blinded, Connor tried to buck his attacker off. But Hornet was simply too heavy and too strong. Feeling his own strength fading fast, Connor knew he was in a fight to the death. In a last-ditch attempt to free himself, he reached behind for Hornet’s inner thigh and pinched the yako nerve point.

  Nothing happened.

  Connor squeezed harder. But Hornet kept him pinned under the water. Perhaps the boy was tougher than Dredd, but Connor had seen Ling use the exact same nerve point on a two-hundred-pound hitman and that guy had leapt away as if electrocuted. For some unexplained reason, Hornet was immune to the technique.

  Connor clawed at the mud around him, trying to pull himself free. His hand came across a stone. He grabbed it and, in a final act of survival, smashed the rock down on to his attacker’s bare foot. Hornet let out a grunt of pain. Connor struck again. This time he heard a sickening crack of bones and Hornet released his grip, rolling away in agony.

  The crowd booed as Connor clambered back to his feet. However, by the time he turned round to confront his opponent, Hornet had limped over to the edge of the pit and picked up a shovel.

  Wielding the shovel like a weapon, he snarled, ‘Time to dig your grave!’

  Connor instinctively reached for his father’s knife on his hip, but discovered it missing. From the sidelines, No Mercy waved the knife teasingly at him.

  Hornet swung the shovel. Connor leapt back as the metal edge almost sliced him in half, then ducked as the shovel came back at him. Hornet roared in frustrated anger and brought the shovel arcing down on to Connor’s head. With nowhere left to retreat, Connor had to dive to one side. As he rolled back to his feet, Hornet took another swing and the shovel hit him square in the back. Connor went down as if he’d been hit by a bus.

  Winded and in pain, he crawled away through the mud. Hornet bore down on him, raising the shovel to land the killing blow. In that moment, Connor realized it was all over.

  Then he heard Amber scream, ‘Behind you!’

  Connor glanced over his shoulder. A metal panning sieve lay discarded at the edge of the pit. It would have been out of his reach, except that the boy soldier Dredd had casually kicked it down the slope to him. A small gesture for the life debt he owed Connor.

  Connor seized it and held it over himself as a shield. Hornet’s shovel clashed loudly against the metal pan. Infuriated, he struck again. Connor deflected the blow, then kicked out with all his might at Hornet’s knee. There was an excruciating crunch and the boy staggered backwards, screaming in pain.

  Leaping up, Connor smashed the shovel from Hornet’s grip with the pan, then caught him across the jaw with it. Discarding the pan, he locked his hands round the dazed boy’s neck and yanked him down hard on to his driving knee. Blood spurted from Hornet’s flattened nose. Connor repeated the knee strike over and over, knocking the boy senseless. When his opponent’s legs went from under him, he released his grip and let Hornet collapse in the mud. Fuelled by rage and the instinct to survive at all costs, Connor now picked up the shovel and lifted it high above his head to strike a final blow. Crippled and half-unconscious, Hornet held up a hand in a pitiful attempt to defend himself.

  ‘Kill! Kill! Kill!’ chanted the soldiers, caught up in the bloodlust.

  Connor hesitated only briefly, then brought the shovel down with all his strength, striking a rock beside Hornet’s head.

  There was a groan of disappointment from the crowd.

  ‘How could he miss?’ cried one of the soldiers.

  Weary and battleworn, Connor tossed the shovel aside. ‘I don’t kill,’ he said, more to himself than the rebel crowd. ‘I protect.’

  Connor stood defiant before General Pascal. ‘You promised to let Amber go.’

  The general drained his beer bottle and discarded it in the pit. ‘Only if you won.’

  Gloating at Connor’s indignant and crestfallen expression, Blaze kept holding the machete to Amber’s throat.

  ‘But I defeated your champion!’ Connor protested, pointing to the groaning Hornet being borne away by his fellow soldiers.

  ‘No, you lost,’ declared the general. He stabbed a finger in Connor’s chest. ‘Showing mercy makes you weak. Only the death of your enemy makes you a true victor. But you will learn that – in time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  General Pascal’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re my White Warrior now.’

  Connor stared at him in disbelief. ‘I’ll never fight for you.’

  The general laughed. ‘But you just did!’

  ‘No, I fought for Amber’s freedom.’

  General Pascal laughed. ‘How romantic. For that gesture, I’ll let her live. But only for as long as you remain my champion.’

  He turned his attention to Amber. Stroking a lock of her fine hair between his fingers, he mused, ‘Maybe I could take this flame-haired beauty for my wife?’

  Connor felt his blood start to boil.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, my White Warrior. I’ll take good care of her.’

  The general looked to Blaze. ‘Tie them both up. We don’t want them running away. And in the morning hunt down her baby brother. I want that little rat back in its trap.’

  Blaze sheathed his machete with a growl of disappointment and ordered No Mercy over. ‘Help me secure these two,’ he muttered.

  With a gun to his back, Connor realized any further resistance was futile. As the two of them were roughly manhandled over to a stand of trees, Connor caught a faint whiff of expensive aftershave. The scent was out of place among these unwashed rebels and he looked sharply round. Just beyond the light of the kerosene lamps, a man stood in the shadows. It was too dark to make him out, but General Pascal had walked over to talk with the mysterious stranger.

  As Blaze and No Mercy bound them, Connor strained to hear their conversation.

  ‘… keeping these children captive could draw unwanted international attention,’ the man was saying.

  ‘Why? They’ll be presumed dead in the ambush,’ replied the general. ‘Besides, the boy has great potential.’

  ‘I don’t care what you do with them,’ said the man. ‘Just make sure they never leave this valley alive.’

  Broken, beaten and bleeding, Connor bowed his head in defeat. Bound to the trunk of a tree, the prisoner of a crazed rebel tyrant and lost to the outside world, their fate was all but sealed. He knew that by now Buddyguard would be going into overdrive to locate him and his Principals. But what hope did they have of finding them in a hidden valley in a country soon to be torn apart by civil war? General Pascal could spirit them away into the jungle at a moment’s notice. Or kill and bury them at the first sign of a rescue attempt.

  No Mercy stood guard a short distance away, playfully flipping Connor’s knife in his hand. Connor watched bitterly as the blade twirled and glinted in the light of a kerosene lamp. He could hear his father’s voice ordering him to never give in, never give up. However, confronted with the harsh reality of their situation, he couldn’t even hold on to the slightest shred of hope. His spirits were at their lowest ebb, lost in a pit of despair. He’d given his all to protect Amber and Henri, but in the end it hadn’t been enough.

  ‘Are you OK?’ whispered Amber
. She was slumped in the dirt beside him, her arms lashed behind her back to the opposite tree.

  Connor raised his lolling head. ‘I’ve been better,’ he replied, attempting a smile, but even that hurt.

  Amber looked his battered body over with sad guilt-ridden eyes. ‘I’m … so sorry,’ she wept.

  ‘For what?’ he murmured.

  ‘For getting us into this mess. For the pain you’ve gone through trying to protect me.’ The tears now flowed freely down her dirt-stained cheeks. ‘You were right. We should have gone back to the lodge. Contacted help. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so desperate to get Henri back. This is all my fault –’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Connor cut in. ‘I made the decision to come here. It was my duty to protect both of you.’

  Amber gazed at him with deep affection. ‘And you did rescue my brother. For that, I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life … however long that might be,’ she added with a weak smile.

  Connor’s thoughts went to Henri hiding alone in the dark hollow of the tree, waiting for their return. A return that would never happen. He prayed the boy would leave at first light, before the rebels began their search. Otherwise their sacrifice would have been for nothing.

  ‘How did you get caught by the way?’ Connor asked Amber.

  ‘A guard sneaked up on me from behind.’

  ‘What happened to Zuzu?’

  Amber shrugged. ‘When the soldier grabbed me, I looked round, but she was gone.’

  ‘So, do you think she betrayed us?’ said Connor, the girl’s deception leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

  ‘I guess she must have,’ sighed Amber. ‘How else would the guard have known where I was?’

  In the distance, a flash of forked lightning lit up the pitch-black sky. The lone acacia tree atop the peak was starkly visible for a brief second, appearing like a warped gallows, before plunging back into darkness. As the bleak image faded, and Connor and Amber resigned themselves to their inevitable fate, a long, low ominous rumble thundered overhead.

  Alpha team fell silent as Colonel Black marched into the operations room. The stiff measured stride and grim expression on his face told them he wasn’t delivering good news.

  ‘Take a seat, everyone,’ he instructed, his voice rough from a night of no sleep.

  Exchanging anxious looks, they hurried to their places. Charley rolled to the front, braced for the worst.

  ‘This is the situation,’ said the colonel. ‘The Burundian president has been assassinated in an ambush. The army found the remnants of his safari convoy in sector four of the park, some twenty miles from the lodge.’

  Colonel Black tapped a command on his tablet computer. Wirelessly linked to the widescreen wall monitors, a satellite image of a dried-out riverbed appeared on the display. The resolution was low but the scene was clear enough. Four immobilized vehicles, one of which was overturned and burnt out, another no more than a smoking charred shell. A bomb crater from an RPG was also visible.

  ‘What are the dark blobs?’ asked Jason, squinting at the screen.

  ‘Bodies,’ replied the colonel.

  The mood of the room dropped another notch.

  ‘Are there … any survivors?’ asked Charley.

  The colonel nodded. ‘The major-general reports that two ministers and their wives were rescued from the lodge, where they were being held prisoner by members of the Armée Nationale de la Liberté led by General Pascal, aka the Black Mamba.’

  ‘But what about Connor and the Barbier family?’ pressed Ling.

  ‘That we don’t know,’ the colonel admitted with a heavy sigh. ‘The ambush site is still being investigated by the army. If they were in one of the burnt-out vehicles, it’ll take some time to identify the bodies.’

  Choking back her rising emotion, Charley asked, ‘Don’t the survivors know what happened to them?’

  ‘Not according to the major-general. The ministers fled during the initial phase of the ambush only to be caught later. There is some hope, though. One of the Land Rovers from the safari convoy is missing.’

  ‘So you think Connor may have got away?’ questioned Richie.

  ‘That’s the scenario I’d like to believe. And the one we’re going to work to. However, forty-eight hours have passed since the ambush with no communication from Connor. From that, we can presume four possibilities: one, he’s in hiding; two, he has since been captured; three, he is lying injured somewhere; or worst-case scenario, he’s …’ The colonel didn’t need to finish the sentence for Alpha team to guess the fourth and final possibility.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Ling.

  ‘The Burundian army have taken back the lodge from the rebels,’ Colonel Black explained. ‘The major-general is sending in reinforcements, and his army have begun a sector-by-sector search of the park. If Connor or any of the Barbiers are still alive, they’ll find them.’

  Charley raised her hand. ‘I think one of the team needs to fly out there and help with the search.’

  ‘I agree,’ said the colonel.

  ‘Then I volunteer.’

  Colonel Black emphatically shook his head.

  Charley frowned at him. ‘Is it because I’m in a wheelchair you won’t send me?’

  The colonel shot her an affronted look. ‘I appreciate you’re upset, Charley, but you know me better than that. The fact is I wouldn’t send any of you to a country that’s on the verge of a civil war.’

  ‘But we need somebody on the ground, in situ,’ Charley insisted.

  ‘You’re not going and that’s an order.’

  ‘So who is going?’ asked Jason.

  ‘I am.’

  The colonel handed out folders as he headed for the door. ‘Here are your individual tasks. I depart in one hour for Burundi and want updates from all of you by the time I leave.’

  As Alpha team digested their assignments, Charley stared at the satellite image of the burnt-out vehicles surrounded by countless dark blobs. She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Ling, putting an arm round her. ‘Connor’s a survivor.’

  Some time during the night, the first drops of rain fell on Connor’s face. Cool and refreshing, he let the drops roll down his cheeks. As the rain intensified, he opened his mouth, relishing the life-giving water. Then the shower became a torrential downpour, drumming on the tree canopy overhead and drowning out all other noise. The layers of dirt and blood were washed from his skin and clothes, his wounds cleansed and his body partly revived.

  The rebels hurried to the shelter of their tents, while the enslaved workers shivered and shook out in the open, their tarpaulin roofs having collapsed under the sheer weight of the water. The stand of trees Connor and Amber were tied under offered scant protection from the storm and, exposed to its full might, they too began shuddering from the rain-drenched cold.

  With the guards huddling in their tents and the kerosene lamps guttering in the deluge, Connor realized that this was their best, and possibly only, opportunity to escape. But, try as he might, he couldn’t free his hands. He thought the rain might help him slip out of his bindings, but the wet rope had swelled up and was now even tighter round his wrists. Connor struggled until exhaustion overwhelmed him.

  He must have drifted off because the next thing he heard was a massive explosion and the distinctive crack of gunfire. The rain still fell in sheets, but a pale pre-dawn light was now battling to push through the tail end of the storm. Throughout the camp, rebels were snatching up weapons and firing indiscriminately into the surrounding jungle. Another explosion ripped through the valley as a mortar detonated in the riverbed, sending up a shower of dirt and debris. The enslaved workers ran for cover, but many were cut down by gunfire from the bushes.

  ‘What’s happening?’ cried Amber, her wet hair matted to her face.

  ‘It must be the army,’ Connor replied. ‘Somehow they’ve found us!’

  ‘Then we’re saved?’ She seem
ed not to know whether to laugh or cry with joy at the news.

  But Connor realized this was no time to rejoice. They were stuck in the heart of the kill zone, at risk from both rebel and friendly fire. Whether rescue was coming or not, Connor knew they had to A-C-E it out of the camp as fast as possible. Assess the threat. Counter the danger. Escape the kill zone. Otherwise they’d be slaughtered like the rest of the workers.

  He renewed his effort to free his hands, the skin around his wrists scraped raw as he twisted and pulled. Amid the chaos of the surprise attack, General Pascal barked orders to his rebel army of men and boy soldiers. Despite despising the rebel leader to his very core, Connor couldn’t deny the man’s military expertise. Honed through years of guerrilla warfare in the jungle, the general quickly rallied his troops into several cohesive fighting units, then launched a counter-offensive against the enemy hidden in the forested slopes of the valley.

  As he commanded his forces, the general shouted at No Mercy to keep guard over Connor and Amber, his remit to kill them if any government soldiers entered the rebel camp.

  Connor yanked harder on his bindings, but still they wouldn’t give. Amber was struggling too.

  No Mercy sneered at their pathetic attempts and, after checking the knots were still secure, turned his attention to the firefight raging all around them. Tracer bullets zipped overhead and another mortar exploded nearby, destroying a rebel tent. Screams of wounded men filled the air. As debris and shrapnel rained down on them, No Mercy unleashed the full force of his AK47 at the first of the government troops advancing from the bushes.

  With the boy distracted, Connor drew on all his strength and tugged at his bindings with every fibre of his body. The rope didn’t give an inch. Infuriated, he yanked again and again.

  Then, when he’d given up all hope, the rope unexpectedly snapped.

  Connor jumped up and seized No Mercy in a rear chokehold, a classic jujitsu technique used to subdue an opponent. Unable to breathe and with the blood flow cut off to his brain, No Mercy struggled violently to free himself. But in less than ten seconds he fell limp in Connor’s grip. Despite the boy’s merciless nature, Connor had no desire to kill him or leave him brain damaged. So he immediately released the choke and let the boy collapse, unconscious, to the muddy ground.