Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (40 page)

‘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 the
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.