Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (6 page)

‘I’m not sure I
understand,’ said Connor.

His mum sighed softly and her gaze drifted
to the kitchen and Charley in her wheelchair. ‘You’ve got enough on your
plate with me and Gran. Should you really be taking on Charley’s needs as
well?’

In the kitchen, Connor saw his gran fumble
with a teacup and Charley catch it in mid-air, her reflexes as sharp as ever.

Connor smiled to himself. ‘Charley
doesn’t need
me
to look after her,’ he assured his mum. ‘She
can more than handle herself, in any situation.’

‘Well,
that
I can
believe,’ said his mum, giving him a final inquisitive look but taking it no
further. ‘I was only thinking of you. Forget I ever mentioned it. If the truth be
told, I should take my inspiration from Charley’s attitude to life’s daily
challenges …’

Connor became aware that his mum’s
tremors were getting worse. But it wasn’t her MS this time. He could see she was
on the verge of tears. At that very moment Charley and his gran re-entered the living
room with a large chocolate birthday cake decorated with fifteen candles. His mum
immediately rallied and joined in singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as the cake was
placed before him on the table.

‘Don’t forget to make a
wish,’ urged Charley when he leant forward to blow out the candles.

Closing his eyes, Connor had only one wish
in the world.

‘Is this where you found the
diamond?’ demanded General Pascal, surveying the hidden valley. Thick vegetation
cloaked the steep sides and a primeval mist hung ghost-like in the dawn air, seemingly
undisturbed for millennia. A wide shallow river snaked its way over rocks and through
gullies, twisting downhill towards a waterfall that joined the Ruvubu River in the
distance. To the west was a craggy peak atop which stood a single acacia tree.

No Mercy recognized the peak from his former
life, a life erased since his abduction and forced conscription into the ANL, Armée
Nationale de la Liberté. The peak was called Dead Man’s Hill. An ancient
sacrificial site. No one from the villages ventured near for fear of evil spirits and
man-eating leopards. It was little wonder this valley had lain undisturbed for so long –
until now. No Mercy kicked at the mud and stones with his bare feet. Who would have
imagined there were diamonds here? They all looked like worthless rocks to him.

General Pascal turned impatiently to a thin
gaunt-faced man at his side. Tongue-tied, the prisoner stared up at him with round
fearful eyes.

‘Answer the
general!’ ordered Blaze, striking the man so hard across the jaw that the prisoner
dropped to his knees, spitting blood.

A tooth fell from the poor man’s mouth
and he reached with a trembling hand to pick it back up. Blaze stepped on the
man’s fingers, crushing them against the rocks.

‘Another for my collection,’
Blaze remarked, taking the tooth for himself. The general’s right-hand man had a
reputation for cruelty. Never seen without his mirrored aviator sunglasses or the
fearsome machete that hung from his hip, he wore an army-green T-shirt, black combat
trousers and matching boots. He kept his head shaved and round his neck hung a beaded
necklace, which on closer inspection was comprised of human teeth.

Beaten into submission, the prisoner pointed
to a sandy bank on the bend of the river. ‘Right here,’ he spluttered
through a mouthful of blood. ‘I found the diamond right here.’

General Pascal pulled a brand-new Glock 17
from his hip holster and pressed the barrel against the man’s temple. ‘You
wouldn’t lie to me, would you?’

The man shook his head, his whole body
trembling in terror. ‘No, General! I swear!’

‘Good,’ said General Pascal,
smiling at him as he squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot echoed round the valley,
startling birds from treetops and sending monkeys into a shrieking panic. The man
flopped lifeless into the river, his blood mixing with the water and turning it pale
pink. Pink as a rare diamond.

A child soldier,
wearing combat fatigues and a black bandana with
DREDD
emblazoned across the brow, prodded the bleeding corpse with a toe.

‘Why you kill him?’ he
questioned the general, more bemused than shocked.

General Pascal sneered at the boy as if the
answer was obvious. ‘He tried to steal
my
diamonds. This land belongs to
me now.’ He planted a foot on the dead man’s back and declared,
‘We’ll start digging here.’

No Mercy jerked the barrel of his gleaming
AK47 at the group of prisoners they’d rounded up from a distant village. Without
needing to be told twice, the men picked up their shovels and sieves and set to work
panning for diamonds. No Mercy smirked at their dog-like obedience.

‘I don’t want anyone else
knowing where this diamond field is,’ announced the general. He pointed to a
number of potential access points around the secluded valley. ‘Blaze, set up
guards there, there and there. Kill anyone who attempts to enter or leave this
valley.’

Connor stifled a yawn as he tapped away on
the keyboard in the operations room at Buddyguard HQ. Equipped with state-of-the-art
computers, satellite phones and HD flatscreen displays streaming live news feeds and the
latest world security updates, the operations room was the hub of Alpha team’s
activities. Every piece of intelligence, every threat assessment and every mission
profile was stored here. All security decisions and operational orders were issued from
this room.

Connor was at the end of his shift and
completing the daily occurrence log. Dull but essential work. Each shift leader had to
record everything that occurred during an assignment, whether routine or out of the
ordinary. That meant every phone call, every communication, every incident, every change
in plan.
Any
occurrence no matter how seemingly insignificant – from the
driver’s name of a delivery company, to the scheduled maintenance of an
air-conditioning unit, to the details of a vehicle parked outside a Principal’s
house. Such mundane information, as Bugsy their surveillance tutor had repeatedly
stressed, could
become crucial later in an
operation – when the driver of the delivery company became a suspect, or a bugging
device was detected in a vent, or the same vehicle was spotted in another location.

But, as important as his work was, Connor
simply couldn’t get excited about it. After a week stationed at HQ supporting Amir
on his first mission, Connor was yearning for the challenge of an assignment himself.
Nothing compared to the ‘buzz’ and heightened perception that came from
protecting a Principal in the field. Colours seemed brighter, sounds sharper and
sensations stronger. He could now understand what his father meant when he’d
referred to the ‘combat high’ that soldiers experienced during battle.
Connor experienced a similar ‘protection high’.

Finishing the log entry, Connor leant back
in his chair and stretched his limbs. He felt his father’s knife pressing against
his hip, as if spurring him to go on another mission. He’d originally become a
bodyguard not just to provide care for his family but to follow in his father’s
footsteps and discover more about the man he’d barely known – an SAS operative in
the Special Projects Team, responsible for counter-terrorism and VIP close protection, a
man who’d not only saved a future president’s life but also that of Colonel
Black. And now, after two successful missions, Connor felt as if he was walking
side-by-side with his father. He’d come to appreciate why his father had dedicated
himself to protecting others – that sense of pride and purpose in keeping someone safe.
But it was only on an assignment that he felt so close to him. Back at HQ, his
father seemed to withdraw into the picture
Connor kept of him on his key fob.

Yet, despite the lack of thrills that came
with being stuck at HQ, Connor couldn’t deny there were some benefits. He got the
chance to hang out with Charley and the rest of Alpha team. He could keep up his
kickboxing training, critical for his forthcoming match with Ling. He even had the time
to read and watch some TV. That said, he and the others wouldn’t be getting any
free time over the coming week or so. Alpha team had been tasked with running two
assignments simultaneously – Operation Hawk-Eye, which Amir was already on, and
Operation Lionheart, which Marc was due to commence in just under twenty-four hours.

Connor glanced over to the briefing room
where Marc, Jason, Ling and Charley were finalizing the op-orders. Marc had been
assigned to protect a French ambassador’s family on safari in Africa. It sounded
like a dream assignment to Connor. Yet Marc didn’t appear too thrilled at the
prospect. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and his complexion was rather pale.
Suddenly Marc made a retching sound, clamped a hand to his mouth and ran from the
room.

Jason looked round at the others in
bewilderment. ‘I know Marc gets the jitters before a mission, but I’ve never
seen him
that
bad.’

Connor rose from his seat, intending to see
if Marc was all right, but at that moment his computer monitor flashed and an alert
sounded, notifying him of an incoming video
call. Connor clicked Accept and Amir’s face popped up
on the screen.

‘You’re not due to report in for
another hour,’ said Connor. ‘Everything OK?’

But he could tell from Amir’s
expression that things were far from right.

‘Is anyone else with you?’ Amir
asked.

Connor looked across to the briefing room,
then shook his head. ‘They’re all dealing with Marc at the moment. Seems
like he’s having a panic attack.’

‘He’s not the only one,’
replied Amir, his voice strained.

Connor leant closer to the screen, his
concern growing. ‘What’s happened?’

Amir took a deep breath. ‘I’m
not like you, Connor … I’m no kickboxing champion. I don’t have a
fighter’s natural reflexes.’

Connor could see his friend was trembling.
‘Just tell me what’s going on.’

‘We were in a crowd … there was a man.
I thought he had a grenade … I froze. I didn’t do anything to protect my
Principal, not even shout a warning …’ Amir lapsed into silence, an expression of
deep shame on his face.

‘Is the Principal OK?’ asked
Connor.

Amir nodded, but still didn’t raise
his eyes to the camera. ‘Yes, fine. The grenade turned out to be an egg!’ He
shrugged with embarrassment. ‘But what if it hadn’t been –’

‘Amir, calm down,’ interrupted
Connor. ‘It sounds to me like first-operation nerves. You’re bound not to
react
instantaneously, especially when
it’s the first
real
threat you’ve encountered. The main thing is
your Principal is alive and unharmed.’

‘Sort of,’ admitted Amir.
‘The egg ruined his clothes.’ He sighed heavily and stared glumly down at
his lap. ‘I don’t think I’m cut out for this buddyguard work.
I’m just a slum boy who got lucky. I’m a fake!’

‘Don’t you dare say that,’
replied Connor. ‘Listen, Amir, if you can survive a slum upbringing, get yourself
out and provide for your family back in India, then you’re more than capable of
protecting someone.’

Amir had once confided in him about his
past. He was the sixth son of a migrant worker from a slum on the outskirts of Delhi.
He’d been working as a rag picker, earning a few rupees a month to help stave off
his family’s hunger, when Colonel Black had discovered him through an unusual
‘hole-in-the-wall’ experiment. An Indian IT company had installed a computer
in a concrete wall facing the slum. Without any training or help, Amir and some other
slum children had taught themselves how to use the computer. Within a day, Amir was
accessing the internet and creating folders. After a week he was downloading apps, music
files and games. By the second month he was writing his own simple programs. With no
formal education, Amir had proven himself a natural with computers. He came to Colonel
Black’s attention when one day he hacked into the IT company’s server – a
server that was under the colonel’s security remit at the time. Recognizing his
natural talent for problem-solving, Colonel Black
sponsored Amir through school and recruited him as a
potential buddyguard.