Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (36 page)

‘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
seemed 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.

Recovering his father’s knife, Connor
raced over to Amber and cut her bonds. It took several slices and Connor was amazed that
he’d managed to snap his own bindings. As soon as she was free, Amber grabbed hold
of him in relief, her body trembling like a sparrow’s. Then she suddenly stiffened
and Connor turned his head to see General Pascal standing over them, his Glock 17
handgun aimed squarely at his back.

‘You certainly live up to your name,
White Warrior,’ declared the general, glancing down at the inert body of the boy
soldier. ‘And you will die by it too.’

An arrow flew out of nowhere, piercing
General Pascal’s forearm and knocking his aim. He screamed in agony and fury as
the round missed its target and obliterated the bark beside Connor’s head. His gun
slipping from his grip, the general clasped his injured arm, blood spurting from the
wound as he yelled to his soldiers for assistance.

Before reinforcements could come to the
general’s aid, Connor pulled Amber to her feet and they both fled. Only now did
Connor catch a glimpse of what had actually broken his own bindings. A second arrow was
embedded in the trunk of his tree, the sharpened tip having severed the rope in two.

On the other side of the riverbed, concealed
among the bushes, Zuzu urgently beckoned Connor and Amber across. As she loosed another
arrow at a rebel trying to stop them, Connor rebuked himself for having thought the girl
had betrayed them. He vowed to buy her a whole wardrobe of clothes if they ever got out
of this valley alive!

Behind them, the Black Mamba was bellowing
his rage
above the noise of the firefight
and relentless rain. ‘
Stop them!
’

Glancing back over his shoulder, Connor
spotted several soldiers sprinting after them with the machete-wielding Blaze, his
murderous intent clear in the bloodlust set of his eyes. Pushing Amber ahead, Connor
followed her down the slippery bank. The storm had turned the riverbed into a quagmire
and they found themselves knee-deep in mud and water. As they waded across the boggy
terrain, the rebels rapidly closed in.