Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (2 page)

Connor was violently woken by a bag being
thrust over his head. As he gasped for breath, the thick black fabric smothering all
light, strong hands pinned his arms and legs behind his back. He fought to free himself.
But plastic zip-ties were quickly fastened round his wrists and ankles, binding him
tight.

‘Let me go!’ he cried, thrashing
wildly in a desperate bid to escape. Wrenched from a deep sleep, his mind was a whirl of
confusion and blind panic. Lashing out, his heel struck one of his captors and he heard
a grunt of pain.

More hands seized Connor, yanking him
upright. As he was hauled from the room, his trainers dragging across the carpet, he
screamed, ‘HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!’

But no one answered his call, his cries
muffled by the bag.

All of a sudden Connor was hit by a blast of
ice-cold air as his captors bundled him outside. Heart pounding and body trembling from
the shock of the attack, Connor knew that if he was to survive this ordeal he had to get
a grip on himself. During his bodyguard training in hostage survival,
he’d learnt that the first thirty minutes of any
abduction were the most dangerous. The kidnappers were on edge and highly volatile.

Although it goes against every human
instinct
, his instructor Jody had explained,
this is the time to stay calm
and stay sharp.
Be aware of anything that could provide a clue to your whereabouts or your
kidnappers’ identity.

Feet crunched on gravel.
Three
sets
, Connor noted, trying in some small way to take control of the situation. He
heard the boot of a car being opened. A moment later he was dumped in the back and it
was slammed shut with an ominous
thunk
.

No, it isn’t a car
, Connor
corrected himself. He’d been
lifted
not dropped into the luggage
compartment. The deep throaty rumble of a powerful diesel engine confirmed his
suspicions.
It’s a 4x4
.

Wheels spun on gravel as the vehicle roared
away. His body flung around, Connor’s head struck the rear panel with a crunch.
Stars burst before his eyes and pain flared in his skull. Any last vestiges of
grogginess were wiped out in an instant.

Someone must have seen me being
taken
, thought Connor, his mind now sharp.
Someone will raise the
alert.

The wheels hit tarmac. The vehicle banked
left, before accelerating away fast. With the bag still over his head, Connor attempted
to visualize the route his abductors were taking. He carefully counted off the seconds
before the next turn.

Sixty-seven … sixty-eight … sixty-nine
…
The 4x4
took a hard right. Connor
began counting again, building up a crude map in his head. He felt the vehicle rise and
fall as they passed over a small bridge. He continued his count …
twenty-four …
twenty-five … twenty-six …

Connor was totally baffled by his abduction.
Usually it was the Principal, the person he was assigned to protect, who was the target
for a kidnapping. Surely his captors had made a mistake? Got the wrong person? Besides,
he wasn’t even on an official mission. Then an uncomfortable truth struck Connor:
perhaps his kidnappers had indeed snatched the
right
person.

Crumpled in a heap against the rear panel,
Connor shifted position to create a space for his hands. The ties round his wrists and
ankles were digging painfully into his flesh, cutting off the circulation. He tried to
pull a hand free, but the zip-ties were heavy-duty and the plastic just cut deeper into
his skin. However hard he strained, they simply wouldn’t break.

At a count of forty-seven, the vehicle swung
right. Then barely ten seconds later bore left. And soon after that left again. By the
sixth turn, Connor’s mental map had become a confused mess. It seemed like the 4x4
was going in circles, as if his captors were purposefully trying to disorientate him.
Connor now tried to listen above the noise of the road for any conversation in the
vehicle. He hoped to gain some insight into his abductors’ identity:
accent,
language, gender, even a name
. But they all stayed disturbingly silent. From
this Connor deduced they were professionals. They had to be in order to break into
Buddyguard HQ undetected.

Maybe my kidnapping’s connected with a previous mission?

The best he could hope for was that his
captors intended to ransom him. That way he’d be worth more to them alive than
dead. But if they wanted to interrogate him, or use him as a pawn in some political or
religious protest, then he’d likely be killed. In that case he would risk an
escape attempt.

Whatever his abductors’ intentions, he
needed to find out as soon as possible – his life could depend upon it.

The 4x4 ground to a halt and the engine was
switched off. The back door opened and he was manhandled out. A gusting wind sent a
chill through his body, his T-shirt offering little protection against the winter
freeze. Gripped tightly on either side by his captors, Connor detected the faintest
trace of perfume through the bag. Was one of the abductors a woman?

‘Where are you taking me?’ asked
Connor, his voice now steady and calm, hoping that the woman would respond.

But his kidnappers remained tight-lipped as
they escorted him away from the 4x4. They moved briskly, not allowing Connor to find his
feet. He heard the soft swish of a door sliding open, a welcoming warmth embraced him,
and the ground changed from tarmac to cushioned carpet. As he was borne deeper into the
building, Connor caught the aroma of frying onions and the distant clatter of pots and
pans. Heading away from what he presumed was a kitchen, he was dragged several more
paces before being
shoved into a chair. Its
hard wooden slats dug painfully against his bound hands, but at least he could plant his
feet on the floor. Connor tried to sit up straight to maintain some dignity before his
anonymous enemies, at the same time readying himself to spring into action at the first
opportunity.

The place he’d been brought to was
oddly quiet, indicating that other people were there with him.

When nobody spoke, Connor demanded,
‘Who are you? What do you want with me?’

‘It’s not about what we
want,’ a man’s voice replied. ‘It’s about what
you
want.’

The bag was whipped off Connor’s head.
Squinting from the glare of an overhead spotlight, Connor discovered that he was sitting
at a long glass table laid for dinner. Disorientated by the unexpected surroundings, it
took him a moment to register the people with him.

‘
Surprise! Happy
birthday!
’ chorused Alpha team.

Connor stared open-mouthed at his fellow
buddyguards. Charley, Amir, Ling, Jason, Marc and Richie were seated either side of the
table. At the opposite end were Colonel Black and his close-protection instructors,
Jody, Steve and Bugsy.

‘What the …?’ Connor exclaimed.
He didn’t know whether to feel relieved, overjoyed or downright furious.

Colonel Black’s craggy face broke into
a rare grin. ‘Glad you could join us.’

Connor was now lost for words. He’d
honestly believed he was doomed to some terrorist prison cell or, worse, a torturous
death. Not a fancy restaurant on the borders of the Brecon Beacons in Wales.

Beaming a smile at
him, Charley passed across a menu. ‘So what do you want?’ she asked.

Connor barely glanced at the menu, still
reeling from the shock of their deception.

‘You almost wet yourself with
fright!’ laughed Ling.

This remark snapped Connor out of his daze.
‘No, I didn’t! I was still in control.’

‘Yeah, about as in control as a turkey
at Christmas,’ sniggered Jason.

‘Well, I knew I’d been taken in
a 4x4 and driven no more than fifteen minutes from HQ. I also worked out there were at
least three kidnappers and one of them was a woman.’ He glanced over at Jody, who
was dressed in a black leather jacket, her dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

‘Really?’ said Jody, unfazed.
‘How so?’

‘Your perfume gave you
away.’

She raised an eyebrow in admiration.
‘Then it appears you
were
keeping a cool head. A good thing for a
bodyguard.’

‘You’re definitely one slippery
fish, Connor,’ admitted Bugsy, the bald-headed surveillance instructor, rubbing
his stubbled jaw where Connor’s heel had connected. ‘I’m just glad we
managed to restrain you first, otherwise we’d never have got you in the back of
the Range Rover.’

Connor felt some dignity return, knowing
that he’d at least proven himself in the situation, even if he hadn’t been
able to save himself. And now, with the shock fading, he began to see the funny
side.

‘Well,
it’s one birthday surprise I won’t forget in a hurry! And your little prank
has certainly taught me not to fall asleep in the common room again after a night
shift,’ he announced with a laugh. Standing, he turned and presented his bound
hands. ‘Now will someone please get me out of these zip-ties?’

Amir rose to help, but the colonel shook his
head and waved for him to sit back down.

Connor’s brow furrowed. ‘But how
am I going to open my birthday gifts?’ he asked in a mock plea.

‘With difficulty,’ stated
Colonel Black flatly. ‘
Unless
you can free yourself.’

Connor eyed the colonel, incredulous at the
suggestion. ‘You’re kidding me, right? I can’t break these zip-ties.
Believe me, I’ve already tried.’ He parted his hands to show the red weals
on his wrists as proof of his efforts.

‘Then it’s time you learnt
how,’ said the colonel. He directed a nod towards Steve, Alpha team’s
unarmed combat instructor. At six foot two and built like a tank, the ex-British Special
Forces soldier towered over everyone as he got up from his chair. Holding out his
sledgehammer hands to Jody, the muscles in his forearms rippling like black waves, he
waited while she produced a heavy-duty zip-tie and fastened his wrists together.

‘The best way to defeat any type of
restraint is to analyse how it works,’ Steve explained. ‘Zip-ties consist of
a grooved nylon strip and a ratchet with tiny teeth housed in a small open casing. The
weak point, therefore, is the ratchet. So that’s where you have to direct any
force.’

Taking the zip-tie in
his teeth, Steve adjusted the locking mechanism so that it was positioned midway between
his wrists. Then in one fluid motion he raised his hands above his head and came down
hard in an arc on to his torso, chicken-winging his arms at the same time. The zip-tie
pinged off like a rubber band. ‘There you go. It’s that easy.’

‘
C’est facile pour
vous
,’ said Marc, then switching from French to English, added,
‘You’re built like the Terminator.’

‘Yeah, and Connor’s arms are
behind his back,’ Amir pointed out.

Steve shrugged. ‘Same principle
applies. Just bend over and bring your hands down against your hips at the same time as
pulling your arms apart. Besides, it’s about technique and speed, not
strength.’

Adjusting the zip-tie’s position, then
bending over, Connor followed his instructor’s technique. A second later his hands
were free. Until that point he’d been pulling and yanking at his restraint when
all it needed was a single strike at the right angle. He shook the blood back into his
hands. ‘That’s impressive. But what about my ankles?’

Steve nodded to the dining table.
‘You’ve got a steak knife. What more do you need?’

‘But what if you don’t happen to
be in a restaurant?’ asked Jason as Connor cut himself loose.

‘Then, if you’ve replaced your
shoelaces with paracord as I’ve recommended, you can use your laces as a friction
saw.’

Ling jumped up and
presented her hands. ‘That looks like fun. Let me have a go.’

‘A sucker for punishment?’ Steve
grinned, taking a spare zip-tie from Jody and wrapping it round Ling’s wrists.