Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (26 page)

Blaze smirked at their horrified expressions
as they were forced to retreat to the very lip of the precipitous drop. Connor thrust
the AK47’s barrel at the rebel. ‘Stay back!’

Blaze held up his hands in mock surrender.
‘Whatever you say, chief.’

‘What have you done with Henri?’
demanded Amber.

Blaze’s eyes raked over her.
‘That little red-headed kid? I’m afraid a hyena got its teeth into him. He
was screaming like a stuck pig so I put the boy out of his misery.’ The rebel
patted the machete, its metal blade smeared
with fresh blood.

‘NO!’ gasped Amber, her legs
giving way beneath her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Blaze
with false sincerity as he edged closer. ‘I can understand how upsetting this
m–’

‘This is your last warning,’ cut
in Connor. ‘One more step and you’re a dead man.’

Blaze cocked his head to one side and
studied Connor’s face intently. ‘Unlike No Mercy here –’ his eyes
flicked to the boy soldier – ‘you’re no killer.’

‘You want to test that theory?’
said Connor, his finger primed on the trigger. But deep down he too questioned his
ability to shoot a man at point-blank range.

Blaze shrugged indifferently. ‘Well,
if you had the killer instinct, you’d have let Dredd die.
I
certainly
would have.’

The rebel took another brazen step
forward.

Connor pulled the trigger.

There was just a dry
click
. He
squeezed again. Nothing. The AK47 had jammed.

Laughing, Blaze unsheathed his machete and
pointed its tip at Connor. ‘Nowhere to run now, chief!’

Connor hurled the useless rifle at the
rebel. Then, grabbing hold of Amber, he jumped off the ledge.

‘Connor is probably enjoying himself
too much to reply,’ said Jason, his feet propped up on the desk in Alpha
team’s operations room as Charley attempted to call Connor’s mobile for the
third time that morning. ‘If I were him, I’d be relaxing in a private plunge
pool with that French girl.’

Charley bristled at the suggestion and Ling
flung a pen at Jason’s head.

‘I was only joking!’ cried
Jason, ducking just in time. ‘I wouldn’t cheat on you, Ling.’

Ling shot him a furious glare, then turned
to Charley. ‘Remember, communication’s pretty non-existent within the park.
He possibly doesn’t have a signal.’

‘I know, but it’s not like
Connor to miss an evening
and
a morning report-in. I can’t contact him on
his phone or get through to the lodge. I can’t even locate his mobile using the
GPS app,’ she explained, pointing to the digital map of Burundi displayed on her
computer screen. ‘That’s over twelve hours without official contact.
It’s time we raised the alert.’

‘Aren’t you being a little
hasty?’ said Richie, munching on a bowl of cornflakes. ‘He’ll have
been asleep most of
that time. And
it’s not as if they’re in the middle of a war zone. He’s on a safari
holiday, for heaven’s sake!’

Jason nodded in agreement. ‘Connor
would use the SOS app if he was in real trouble.’

‘If he’s in
real
trouble, he might not be able to use the SOS app,’ Charley argued.

‘Try the lodge one more time,’
suggested Ling. ‘Then we’ll go to the colonel.’

Charley picked up the phone and dialled. The
connection failed as before. She tried again. There was a distant echoing ring. Her hand
clasped the receiver tighter. After eight rings, the call was picked up.

‘
Bonjour, Ruvubu Safari Lodge.
C’est Yasmina qui parle. Comment puis-je vous aider?
’

The line was poor, but the voice clear
enough to make out.

‘
Parlez-vous anglais?
’
asked Charley, switching to speakerphone so the others could hear.

After a slight delay, the voice answered,
‘Of course. How can I help?’

‘I’m wanting to speak to one of
your guests. Connor Reeves? He’s staying with the Barbier family.’

There was a longer pause. ‘I’m
sorry. They’re currently on a bush safari. Would you like to leave a
message?’

‘Yes, please tell him his sister
Charley called and to get in touch as soon as possible.’

‘Certainly. Have a good day.’
The line went dead.

‘See!’ said Jason, leaning back
in his chair, his hands behind his head. ‘Told you there was nothing to worry
about.’

The lodge receptionist put down the telephone
with a trembling hand.

‘Well done, Yasmina,’ said
General Pascal, stroking the young lady’s cheek with the barrel of his Glock 17.
She shuddered as he then traced a line down her slender neck. ‘Now get me a
drink,’ he ordered, waving the pistol towards the lounge area. ‘Whisky. The
finest.’

The receptionist hurried to the bar as the
general strolled in after her.

‘My apologies for keeping you
waiting,’ he said. ‘But we need to keep up appearances to the outside world.
At least for the time being.’

Mr Grey turned from studying the
leopard-skin shield and spears on the wall to face the general. ‘By all accounts
you’re ahead of schedule. I must confess even I was surprised at the swiftness of
your coup.’

‘You have to seize life before it
seizes you!’ General Pascal told him, laughing. ‘But there’s more work
to be done. The head may have been cut off the chicken, but the body still runs
around.’

‘Is that why
you need the heavy artillery so quickly?’

The general nodded as the receptionist
gingerly stepped over the dead body of the barman, the victim’s blood still
pooling on the parquet floor, and brought over his whisky. ‘Would you like a
drink, Mr Grey?’ asked the general.

‘Sparkling water. No ice.’

General Pascal frowned. ‘I’d
have thought a man in your line of work would drink something stronger.’

‘And I’d have thought a man of
your strength wouldn’t need to drink anything stronger,’ Mr Grey replied
coolly.

Their eyes locked and the receptionist took
a nervous step back, sensing a change in atmosphere, as if two prowling lions were in
the room. Then the general broke into an affable grin at his guest’s sharp retort.
He waved the receptionist away.

‘Unfortunately, we still have the army
to fight before we can take control of this country. But I’m confident of victory.
An army of sheep –’ he glanced in the direction of a boy soldier standing guard on
the open-air veranda – ‘led by a lion can defeat an army of lions led by a sheep.
And, I can assure you, the commander-in-chief of the Burundian army is but a lamb
compared to me.’

The receptionist served the sparkling water
and Mr Grey took a measured sip. ‘Equilibrium can supply the weapons you require
at short notice,’ he said. ‘But we’ll need payment upfront.’

‘No problem,’ replied the
general, downing his whisky in one swift gulp. ‘Come with me to the mine and take
your pick of the diamonds. But first I must introduce you to the man who helped arrange
President Bagaza’s sudden demise.’

Whistling past the rock face, Connor and
Amber barely had time to contemplate the drop before they plunged into the bottom of
Dead Woman’s Fall three seconds later. Hitting the river’s surface at over
fifty miles an hour, Amber was torn from Connor’s grip and lost amid the churning
waters.

The swirling current pinned Connor beneath
its surface, where he was spun, twisted and battered against submerged rocks, knocking
the wind out of him. He kicked wildly with his legs, desperate for air, but the white
water blinded him and he was deafened by its thunderous roar. Totally disorientated,
Connor soon gave up all hope of escaping the watery clutches of Dead Woman’s Fall.
Blaze hadn’t been lying when he’d said that few people survived the Batwa
tribe’s ordeal.

With his lungs burning for oxygen, Connor
felt his body involuntarily start to suck in water. As he fought the overwhelming urge,
his feet briefly touched down on the riverbed. Calling on the last of his strength, he
thrust himself upwards. A moment later he broke the surface and snatched
a lungful of glorious air … before being
swamped by another rush of water and forced under again.

The torrent roiled and seethed around him,
but glimmers of sunlight guided him back to the surface now. Coughing and spluttering,
Connor swam with the current, struggling to get his breath back and control his panic.
The river’s rapids blasted him like fire hoses from all directions, mere seconds
before another wall of white water engulfed him. Then he was spat out again, bounced off
a rock and borne relentlessly through the next series of rapids.

Weakening with every wave and collision,
Connor was on the point of drowning when the torrent suddenly eased and the rumble of
Dead Woman’s Fall began to recede into the distance. He floated limply on his
back, slowly recovering his breath and strength. His body felt battered, bone-tired and
bruised, but he was alive.
I must be a witch
, he thought, managing a weak laugh
at his miraculous survival. Then his thoughts immediately turned to Amber.

He spun round in the murky water, looking
for her. The torrent had by now calmed into a wide river bounded by steep banks of red
earth, green bushes and tall trees. But there was no sign of her in the water or along
the banks. Connor began to despair. He’d failed to protect Henri and now Amber. He
knew his snap decision to jump off the ledge had been risky. However, faced with certain
death at the hands of the rebels or a slim chance of survival in the waterfall,
he’d chosen the latter.

And now he was paying for that decision –
with Amber’s life.

Wearily, he began to
swim for the bank, then out of the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of red hair
trailing in the water and spotted an inert body floating downstream from him.

‘Amber!’ he shouted, paddling
frantically in her direction.

There was no response. He kept going,
despite the gnawing exhaustion in his limbs. Seeing a log drifting along with the
current, several metres ahead of him, he thought about using it for a float. Then the
log swished its long scaly tail, propelling itself towards Amber’s body. With
primal horror Connor realized it was a crocodile.

‘
Amber!
’ he screamed as
another croc slid from the bank into the river’s murky waters.

She weakly lifted her head, smiling when she
saw Connor waving at her.

‘
Crocodile!
’ he cried
in warning.

Her smile evaporated as soon as she spotted
the ominous snout and pair of slit-eyes gliding towards her. With furious strokes, she
made for the bank. But the crocodile was closing in fast.

Connor swam for all he was worth. His daily
pool training with Charley, which he’d begun in preparation for his previous
assignment, was once again paying off as he cut through the water like a fish. He dug
deep, calling upon hidden reserves of energy.

Amber was only a few metres from the bank
when the crocodile shot forward with a final burst of speed. Connor plunged on,
determined to protect her however impossible the odds.