Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3)

by Chris Bradford

  No Mercy nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said Henri, free at last of his tormentor.

  Connor snapped back to his senses. Blaze might be dead, but there were at least half a dozen more rebels led by the Black Mamba that weren’t. Getting to his feet, Connor rushed over to Gunner. The ranger was still breathing.

  Judging that the boy soldier was now on their side, Connor said, ‘No Mercy, help me.’

  ‘My name is Deo,’ said the boy soldier softly. ‘That’s my real name.’

  ‘Well, Deo, I’m Connor, and I need your help to carry the man you shot.’

  Zuzu let her brother go and between them they lifted the ranger off the floor. Gunner came round with a gasp of pain. Manhandling him out of the lounge, they staggered into the kitchen. Halfway across, straining under his dead weight, they were forced to put him down and rest a moment.

  ‘Leave … me,’ moaned Gunner.

  ‘No,’ said Connor, putting the ranger’s arm over his shoulder to try again. ‘You came back for us. We’re taking you with us.’

  Gunner grimaced. ‘I … won’t … make it.’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ said Amber firmly, grabbing a first-aid kit from a shelf. Rifling through the box, she pulled out a dressing and bandage and worked fast to staunch the bleeding.

  ‘Hurry,’ urged Henri, peering back into the lounge. ‘I can hear someone coming.’

  Amber wrapped the bandage several times round Gunner’s chest, then tied it off. Connor and Deo picked up the ranger and lurched towards the staff exit. Zuzu opened the door, first checking the way was clear before giving them the thumbs up and hurrying out into the bright sunshine. Using as much natural cover as they could to stay out of sight, they stumbled from building to building. Deo warned them that the main gate was guarded by rebel soldiers. More were congregated beside a bunch of jeeps parked outside the lodge. Henri even spotted two boy soldiers smoking cigarettes, their feet dangling in the private plunge pool of one of the guest suites.

  Panting heavily from the exertion of carrying the ranger, Connor and Deo eventually reached Gunner’s jeep. Between them, they lifted him into the rear passenger seat. Amber clambered in beside him, keeping the ranger upright. The others crammed themselves into any remaining space. Connor jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. The engine kicked into life, sounding ferociously loud amid the silence.

  ‘Here goes nothing,’ he said, engaging first gear and shooting off with a spin of the tyres.

  As he headed for the lodge’s rear entrance, there was a shout. One of the rebels in the plunge pool had heard the jeep start and raised the alarm. Gunfire raked the ground on either side, some of the bullets ricocheting off the jeep’s metalwork. Ducking down, Connor floored the accelerator and drove straight at the closed gates. With a tremendous crash, the metal gates flew apart as the jeep careered on through. Hurtling on at high speed, the vehicle thumped and bumped along the dirt track as Connor zigzagged their way down the ridge towards the savannah plain.

  ‘They’re following us!’ cried Amber, who was desperately trying to keep pressure on Gunner’s chest wound.

  Connor glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw a convoy of rebel jeeps racing after them.

  ‘There’s the plane!’ shouted Henri, pointing to a private jet making its approach towards the airstrip in the distance.

  As they reached the base of the ridge, Connor checked his mirror again. The rebels were close on their tail and gaining fast. If they made it to the plane at all, Connor knew they’d be cutting it fine. He tried to recall the route their driver had taken on their arrival but there was no obvious road in sight. So he decided to head directly for the airstrip.

  ‘Hang on!’ he warned. ‘This could get a little hairy.’

  His passengers clinging on for dear life, Connor drove even harder, weaving between rocks and bushes. The rutted terrain punished the jeep’s suspension, threatening to shake the vehicle to pieces. Behind, the sound of gunfire pursued them, several bullets finding their mark in the rear panel, but Connor didn’t dare look again for fear of colliding with a half-buried rock or dropping into a hidden gully.

  Less than a mile away now, the jet plane had landed and was turning round at the end of the runway in preparation for take-off. More bullets whizzed past. The jeep’s windscreen shattered and glass showered down on Connor and the others. Deo knelt up in his seat, shouldered his AK47 and returned fire, trying to slow their pursuers down.

  They hit the runway at speed, Connor almost rolling their vehicle as he spun the wheel and headed towards salvation. He skidded to a halt beside the jet, its engines still turning over. The pilot lowered the automatic air-stairs, urging them from his cockpit to hurry.

  Scrambling out of the jeep, Connor yanked open the passenger door and helped drag Gunner out. They had almost reached the steps when four rebel jeeps surrounded them.

  As the dust settled, the Black Mamba stepped from his vehicle.

  ‘I gravely underestimated you, my White Warrior,’ he declared, his tone bitter yet admiring. ‘I don’t know what training you’ve had but you’re certainly no ordinary boy.’

  With the barrels of a dozen AK47s pointed at their heads, Connor and the others lowered the ranger to the ground. They’d been so close to making it out alive. In a final act of protection, Connor shielded Amber and Henri behind him and waited for the rebel leader to give the order to open fire.

  General Pascal turned his bloodshot eyes upon Deo. ‘Of all my boy warriors, you were the last I expected to betray me. After all I’ve done for you. I made you into a man. A great warrior!’ The general shook his head in dark disappointment. ‘But I am a forgiving commander. Return to your rightful family and I’ll let you live.’

  Like a benevolent father, the general opened his arms wide to welcome him back to the fold. Deo glanced at Zuzu, his sister looking up at him with eyes pleading for him to stay.

  ‘Make your decision,’ said General Pascal impatiently. ‘On which side do you stand, No Mercy? Life or Death.’

  Drawing his sister close, Deo removed his red beret and tossed it at the general’s feet. ‘Zuzu’s my real family,’ he replied. ‘I’d rather die in love than live in hate.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said the general, raising his Glock 17 and taking aim. ‘It saddens me to have to execute you but –’

  General Pascal spluttered and choked, his hand going to his heart. Suddenly he collapsed to the dirt, his eyes bulging and his body contorting. Connor glimpsed the general’s swollen-veined arm and recalled what Zuzu had said about her arrow tips. Toxique. The lethal poison had worked its way round the general’s system and was now attacking his heart.

  In the resulting confusion as his soldiers rushed to his aid, Connor and the others dragged Gunner up the steps and into the plane. Before any rebel had even noticed, the pilot was raising the air-stairs and rolling for take-off. The blast from the jet engines sent up billowing clouds of red dust, blinding the rebels. By the time the air cleared and they started to fire off rounds, the plane was already halfway down the runway and gathering speed to take-off velocity.

  Connor and the others buckled themselves into their seats as the jet lifted off the ground and soared into the air. And with it soared everyone’s hearts. Against all the odds, they had escaped. No one could stop them now.

  As the pilot banked the plane towards the country’s capital, Connor caught a glimpse through the window of the Burundian army, a full contingent of reinforcements closing in from all directions of the park. Faced by an overwhelming force, the rebels were either fleeing in panic or laying down their weapons in surrender.

  Lying back in the impossibly plush leather seat of the private jet, Zuzu muttered something to her brother and he nodded in agreement.

  ‘What did she say?’ asked Connor.

  Amber looked over, a relieved smile on her face as she held Henri tight, having just told him that she loved him.

  ‘Cut the head off the snake and th
e body dies.’

  ‘The Black Mamba poisoned! How apt,’ remarked Major-General Tabu Baratuza with a deep rumbling laugh, his French translated a second later in Connor’s new earpiece. ‘Let it not be said that justice isn’t served in Africa.’

  There was a ripple of appreciative laughter among the guests assembled by the champagne bar in the Burundian presidential palace’s ornate ballroom. The expansive hall was brimming with politicians, foreign dignitaries, well-to-do businessmen and their accompanying wives, all gathered to celebrate the inauguration of Adrien Rawasa, the former Minister for Energy and Mines, as the new president of Burundi.

  ‘So what’s Michel Feruzi’s punishment going to be?’ asked Gaspard Sibomana, the newly appointed Minister for Trade and Tourism. ‘Death by eating?’

  The guests laughed heartily.

  Ambassador Laurent Barbier and his family did not. Less than a week since their escape, the ambush and its fallout was still too raw for them.

  ‘How can they joke about such things?’ said Cerise bitterly. While her husband appeared relatively unscathed as a result of the car crash, Cerise now bore a slight limp and still wore dressings on her arms where she’d been badly burnt in the vehicle fire.

  ‘Death is all too familiar in Africa,’ explained Colonel Black. ‘If they don’t laugh about it, then the only other option is to cry. And that’s not in the nature of these people.’

  ‘But who’d have believed Feruzi was a traitor?’ said Laurent with a sorrowful shake of his head. ‘After the wonderful work we’d accomplished together on the park, I considered him one of my friends. All I can say is that I’m very glad I hired your services, Colonel. If it wasn’t for Connor here, we’d be mourning today, not celebrating.’

  ‘I’d have expected nothing less of him,’ declared Colonel Black, glancing at Connor. ‘After all, he’s his father’s son to the core.’

  For Connor that was high commendation indeed and he felt a swell of pride at being compared to his father. Colonel Black didn’t need to say any more to express his deep regard for Connor’s accomplishments. The colonel was a man of action not words. He’d been first to board the plane when they’d landed in Bujumbura to check on Connor, before organizing the group’s swift transfer to a private health clinic for immediate medical treatment. And, while Connor was treated for his wounds and spent the following days recuperating, the colonel had been a constant presence on the ward.

  Cerise leant forward and kissed Connor lightly on both cheeks. ‘Merci, merci,’ she said. ‘You kept our children safe. You’ll always be welcome at our home in Paris, Connor.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Barbier, that’s very kind of you,’ he replied. ‘After all we’ve been through together, Henri, Amber and I have certainly become close friends.’

  Henri stood by his mother’s side, the red welts across his arms and body all but faded, only the memory of his beating leaving a scar on him. He smiled shyly up at Connor, then hugged him hard round the waist. ‘Can’t you protect us forever?’

  Connor ruffled his hair. ‘You’re going home, Henri. No one’s going to hurt you there.’

  ‘But I’m still scared,’ he admitted quietly. Then he rummaged in his pocket. ‘I almost forgot. Your watch.’

  He passed Connor the Rangeman, still barely a scratch on its face.

  ‘No, it’s yours,’ said Connor, pushing it back into his hand, realizing the boy needed his birthday gift more than he did. ‘Any time you feel scared, just put it on.’

  Henri gratefully clasped his gift. ‘I will,’ he said.

  Amber stepped forward and took Connor’s hand. She stared at him a moment, her green eyes as striking as ever but now more wary and worldly-wise since her ordeal with the rebels. Her lustrous red hair brushed against his face as she kissed him warmly on both cheeks, lingering a little longer than necessary. She clearly wanted to express her true feelings for him but felt restricted by the presence of her parents. ‘You’ll always have a place in my heart,’ she whispered, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go.

  As Laurent and his family were called away to meet with a contingent of reporters, Connor and Colonel Black hung back, keeping a low profile. Then a wheelchair rolled unexpectedly into the ballroom and Connor stared in astonishment.

  ‘Gunner!’ he exclaimed, hurrying over. ‘I didn’t think we’d see you out of hospital so soon.’

  ‘In Africa only the strong survive,’ replied the ranger, his chest heavily bandaged and his voice even more gravelly than before. ‘And you are definitely a lion.’

  Connor was honoured by such a comparison. ‘What does that make you then?’

  ‘At the moment, a sloth!’ He winked at the young nurse pushing his wheelchair. ‘But I’ll soon be back on my feet.’

  ‘Joseph Gunner, I assume?’ said Colonel Black, striding over to introduce himself. ‘Colonel Black, Connor’s … guardian. You were unconscious when we first met but I want to thank you for helping rescue him and the Barbier family.’

  Gunner laughed, then winced in pain. ‘It was Connor who saved me in the end! You’ve a remarkable boy there.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ replied the colonel. ‘In fact I want to talk to you about that. Connor’s spoken well of you and I’ve a proposition you may be interested in.’

  ‘Well, I’m all ears, Colonel,’ replied Gunner. ‘In my current state I’m not exactly inundated with work.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse us, Connor,’ said the colonel, inviting the ranger to join him in a side chamber off the ballroom. ‘Gunner, I’m looking for a man I can trust to teach survival skills to some other …’

  As Colonel Black pushed the ranger’s wheelchair towards the room to discuss his proposal in private, Gunner looked back over his shoulder and called to Connor. ‘Just remember: it doesn’t matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle; when the sun comes up, you’d better be running.’

  Connor laughed. He’d had quite enough of running for a while and was looking forward to the relatively quiet life of overseeing an operation from the safety of Buddyguard HQ. He helped himself to a fancy chicken skewer from a passing waiter and was wondering where Amber had got to when a finger gently tapped him on the shoulder. He turned round to find himself face-to-face with the new president.

  ‘I just wished to personally express my appreciation for ensuring the safe return of the Barbier children,’ said President Rawasa, his tone surprisingly soft and delicate for a man now in charge of a whole country. ‘It would have been a tragic outcome with serious international repercussions for our nation if they had not survived. In fact I don’t know how you made it out of that valley alive.’

  ‘We were very fortunate,’ replied Connor, ‘and were helped by Zuzu, the girl from a local Batwa tribe.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I must not forget her either.’

  As President Rawasa lightly shook his hand, Connor caught a strong scent of fine French musk cologne emanating from him. The distinctive smell instantly transported Connor back to the hidden valley and the mysterious stranger who’d stood just beyond the light of the kerosene lamps. Connor had assumed it had been the white man from the burning tanker. But he’d smelt the exact same aroma the first time he’d been introduced to Adrien Rawasa at the safari lodge. And how many other men in this third-world country wore such an expensive and particular cologne?

  ‘Anything wrong?’ asked President Rawasa with an enquiring smile.

  Connor shook his head. ‘No, not at all. I just remembered I have to tell the colonel something.’

  Forcing himself to walk slowly so as not to arouse the president’s suspicion, Connor headed for the side chamber that the colonel and Gunner had disappeared into. Finding the room empty, he passed through a set of double doors leading to a long hallway. The corridor was deserted but Connor could hear voices in a room further down. Quickly and quietly, he hurried along the polished wooden floor, the sounds of revelry fading behind him with every step.

  As he approa
ched the door to the room, he noticed it was slightly ajar and through the gap saw Laurent Barbier. Connor judged the ambassador needed to know about his suspicions just as much as the colonel. He was about to knock on the door and go in when he spied the man Laurent was talking to and froze in his tracks.

  The ghost from his past had materialized once more.

  The ashen-faced stranger stood opposite the ambassador. Unremarkable in height or appearance, he nonetheless exuded a sinister and baleful presence that seemed to contaminate the room like a virus. Just looking at him made Connor’s skin crawl as if he was covered with driver ants all over again. Connor flattened himself against the wall and, with a growing disquiet, eavesdropped on their conversation.

  ‘You never told me my children would be in danger!’ snapped Laurent.

  ‘Such risks go with the territory,’ replied the man, indifferent to the ambassador’s fury.

  ‘But why wasn’t I informed about the ambush in advance? We could all have been killed!’

  The man replied with a barely perceptible shrug of the shoulders. ‘Sometimes, the less you know, the better. You hired protection – of an unorthodox sort, granted – so your children are alive. Besides, you’re going to be one very rich man.’

  ‘Mr Grey, when it comes to life, there’s nothing more important than family.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he replied with a scornful smirk. ‘So that’s why you had an affair?’

  The ambassador was embarrassed into silence.

  Mr Grey evidently enjoyed putting the man to shame as he pressed the point. ‘Now you don’t want Mrs Barbier knowing about your other little liaisons, do you?’ His eyes flicked towards the door and Connor sharply pulled back.

  His breath catching in his throat, Connor prayed the ghost hadn’t spotted him.

  ‘So let’s proceed with our business,’ continued Mr Grey, returning his attention to the ambassador. ‘Tell me, is the new president fully on board?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Laurent tersely. ‘The Ruvubu National Park will only be a park in name. We’ll keep up the appearance of a functioning safari destination but there’ll be no tourists. The park’s to be closed off for diamond mining.’