Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (9 page)

‘Very good, thank you,’ replied
Laurent in French, shaking President Bagaza’s hand as they entered the welcome
shade of the stylish reception area, all dark wood and leather armchairs. On the wall
behind the reception desk hung the stuffed head of an immense African buffalo, its
curved horns polished to a bright sheen, its glass-bead eyes blindly tracking the
arrival of the new guests.

A line of smiling men and women, dressed in
colourful robes, stood waiting as a welcoming committee.

‘It’s a pleasure to return to
your beautiful country,’ continued Laurent. ‘Please allow me to introduce my
wife, Cerise.’

‘
Enchanté
,’ said the
president, kissing the back of her hand.

‘Likewise,’ Cerise replied with
a graceful nod.

Connor had formally met both the parents in
the airport and chatted with them before boarding the internal flight. They had been
extremely pleasant as well as understanding of the last-minute change in buddyguard,
much to Connor’s relief. Laurent had reiterated that he wasn’t expecting any
problems; he just wanted to guarantee his family’s safety during the formal visit.
Cerise had seemed a little perplexed at the need for such unorthodox security measures
but was reassured to know that her children would have ‘level-headed’
company while the two of them were engaged in their diplomatic duties.

‘And these are
my children, Amber and Henri,’ said Laurent.

The president beamed a sunshine of a smile.
‘Wonderful. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay, children,’ he said, his
voice deep and smooth as molasses. ‘Ask for anything you want from the staff.
You’ll be pleased to know that this safari lodge has its own swimming pool
–’

‘Will we see lions?’ interrupted
Henri, barely able to contain his excitement.

‘Why, of course! The lion is the
symbol of our nation,’ replied the president proudly. His gaze fell upon Connor.
‘And who might this fine gentleman be?’

‘Connor Reeves,’ replied the
ambassador. ‘A friend of my daughter.’

The president shook Connor’s hand. He
was a big man with a domed head and trimmed moustache. His smile was infectious and his
handshake firm and heartfelt. Connor instantly warmed to him.

‘You’re most welcome to my
country, Connor.’ The president’s eyes flicked between him and Amber before
he turned to Laurent and quietly remarked, ‘
Ah, être jeune et
amoureux!
’

Connor noticed Amber’s brow wrinkle
and Henri giggle. A moment later the translation came through on his earpiece.
‘Ah, to be young and in love!’

Connor decided to play it cool and not
correct him. It was to his advantage that the president had got the wrong impression,
for it would allow him to remain close to Amber without arousing any suspicion as to his
true role.

One by one, they were
introduced to the welcoming party.

First of all there was Michel Feruzi, the
Minister for Trade and Tourism, whose ample bulk rivalled a hippo in size. Despite being
born and bred in Burundi, the heat appeared to affect him too, for he continually mopped
his moist brow with a handkerchief. His wife was also on the large side, but she carried
herself with remarkable grace and style, her vibrant purple robes only seeming to
enhance her imposing presence.

Next was Uzair Mossi, the Finance Minister,
an older man whose tight-knit hair was peppered grey but whose eyes still sparkled with
youth. His surprisingly young wife, a tall willowy woman with eyes as black as onyx and
long braids down her back, stood in stark contrast to Mrs Feruzi.

Finally they were introduced to Adrien
Rawasa and his wife. The Minister for Energy and Mines was a softly spoken man with a
light handshake and an expensive taste in cologne, a fine French musk perfuming the air
around him. His wife, Constance, was more forthcoming, embracing the children and
presenting Cerise with a gift of a handwoven basket and a beaded necklace.

‘Now, Ambassador Barbier, please allow
me to give you and your family a tour of the lodge,’ said President Bagaza.
‘I want to show you how magnificent this project is. You’re our first guests
here!’

President Bagaza led the way into a lavishly
appointed lounge and bar area. Timber-framed and thatch-roofed, the expansive room was
furnished with plush sofas, leather-backed armchairs and a red velvet chaise longue
beside a stone fireplace. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened out on to a sun deck. In
one corner was a wooden tribal mask and in another a handcrafted ivory chessboard.
Stretching the entire length of the rear wall was a polished mahogany bar, behind which
stood a smartly attired barman putting the final touches to a round of welcoming drinks.
And laid out in the centre of the parquet floor was a zebra-skin rug, which Connor
noticed Amber sidestep while everyone else strode across with barely a second
thought.

‘This is a
five-star
luxury
lodge,’ stated President Bagaza with a proud sweep of his arm at the furnishings.
‘But I can’t lay claim to its construction. That was overseen by Minister
Feruzi here.’

The president indicated for the Minister for
Trade and Tourism to take over.

The minister coughed into his fleshy fist
before beginning
his spiel. ‘The lodge
features eight glass-fronted, air-conditioned suites, each with private plunge pool and
spectacular views over the Ruvubu Valley. In addition to this lounge, there’s a
library, a gymnasium and a smoking room, for those less inclined to exercise.’

He patted his ample stomach and a ripple of
laughter spread among the gathered party. A second later, once the translation app had
caught up, Connor joined in. As the minister continued with his speech, two waiters
handed out glasses of iced mint lemonade.

‘Along with this cocktail bar, the
lodge is blessed with a fully stocked wine cellar and the dining room offers the finest
in cordon bleu cooking from a world-class chef. Trust me on this – I’ve sampled it
myself.’

There was another ripple of polite
laughter.

‘And, rest assured, the service for
guests will be uninterrupted throughout your stay. The lodge has its own electricity
generator and I can guarantee no problems with your phones since a mobile mast has been
installed. The lodge even has wireless internet access!’

‘We might just move in here
permanently,’ commented Minister Mossi in a half-whisper to his young wife.

‘Guests will be spoilt by the highest
standards of comfort,’ went on Minister Feruzi, ‘and combined with superb
game-viewing opportunities, overseen by only the most experienced rangers, this resort
promises to deliver the safari experience of a lifetime!’

Minister Feruzi gave an affected bow to
indicate his speech was over and was rewarded with gracious applause.

‘I must say
it’s very impressive,’ remarked Laurent, eyeing the sumptuous luxury
surrounding them. ‘Has
all
of France’s aid gone into developing
this lodge?’

The minister gave a hearty laugh, his jowls
wobbling slightly. ‘No, I can assure you it hasn’t, we –’

‘Wow, are these
real
?’
exclaimed Henri, drifting away from the main group as he tired of the speech. He was
pointing to a wall display of a leopard-skin shield and two crossed spears with
broad-bladed iron tips.

‘Not only real,’ answered
Minister Mossi, joining him by the display, ‘but once used by the local chief of a
Hutu tribe to kill a lion.’

Henri stared in wonder at the fearsome
weapons.

‘Do you want to hold one?’ asked
the minister.

The ambassador’s son nodded
eagerly.

‘Do you kill everything here?’
asked Amber, looking up in dismay at the stuffed head of an antelope on the opposite
wall.

Her father shot her a warning look. But
Minister Mossi just smiled as Henri brandished the spear. ‘This is Africa. In the
past, killing a lion was a symbol of manhood. But now –’ he shrugged, taking the
spear back from Henri – ‘attitudes have changed.’

‘They most certainly have, Amber. And
for the better,’ assured President Bagaza. ‘This project is all about
conservation. The park has been revitalized, thanks to France’s aid. We’ve
reintroduced lion, elephant, rhino and many other species – all of which you’ll
spot on the game drives we have planned for you. But why not see for yourself
now?’

The president ushered
Amber and the rest of the party through a set of bay doors on to the open-air veranda.
There they were greeted by a spectacular view across the Ruvubu Valley. The African bush
was spread out like a gilded blanket in the mid-afternoon sun. A natural waterhole
nestled at the base of the slope in which a hippo wallowed. At the water’s edge,
several long-horned oryx drank their fill beside a group of fawn-coloured gazelles. A
kingfisher flitted among them, catching insects and dragonflies. Approaching the
waterhole from the south was an elephant and her calf, and beyond was an abundance of
zebra, wildebeest and buffalo. The scene was like a privileged peek into the Garden of
Eden.

Amber was left speechless.

‘This is no longer a “paper
park”, Ambassador,’ declared the president. ‘The land has been
returned to the wild. No human habitation at all.’

‘And, with your country’s
continued support, we intend to establish this as a prime tourist destination,’
asserted Minister Feruzi, ‘as well as deliver the discussed conservation and
development objectives, of course.’

‘This is truly magnificent,’
agreed the ambassador, shaking hands with the president and all the ministers.
‘The French government will be most pleased with the progress that’s been
made. Burundi will certainly take its place on the map for this.’

The breathtaking beauty of the location had
made Connor almost forget why he was there in the first place. Rather than admiring the
view, he should have been
assessing it from a
security perspective. In such a remote and unfamiliar location he needed to be vigilant
for all danger, whether from man or beast.

‘Can’t the animals just wander
in?’ Connor enquired, unable to spot any obvious protective measures in place.

Minister Feruzi shook his bowling ball of a
head. In fluent English he replied, ‘The lodge is surrounded by an unobtrusive
electric fence. It does not spoil the view, but it is effective enough to keep any
dangerous animals at bay.’ He switched back to French. ‘So you won’t
be needing that spear, Henri,’ he said with a wink at the boy.

Trying to make out the fence line, Connor
spied movement in a clump of bushes. A soldier in combat fatigues appeared, an assault
rifle over his shoulder.

‘Who’s that over there?’
asked Connor, his alert level shooting up as he instinctively moved closer to Amber and
Henri.

‘One of the presidential guard,’
replied Minister Mossi. ‘No need to be alarmed. They’ll be patrolling the
area around the lodge, day and night. You’ll barely notice them.’

President Bagaza offered his guests a
reassuring smile. ‘I’m so used to their presence that I no longer even see
them! Now please take your time to unpack and freshen up. This evening we’re
celebrating your esteemed arrival with a Boma dinner.’

Connor laid out the contents of his Go-bag on
the king-size bed of his suite. In the rush to prepare for his mission, he hadn’t
had the chance to double-check his gear. On the flight over, he’d read in the
SAS Survival Handbook
that one’s kit could make the difference
between success and failure – even life and death.

Usually Amir would set him up with all the
necessary equipment he might need for a particular operation. But Connor hadn’t
even had the opportunity to contact his friend, let alone inform him he would no longer
be providing support. He just hoped that Amir had overcome his initial bout of nerves.
Charley was acting as base contact for both of them now. Nevertheless, Connor
couldn’t help feeling he was letting his friend down by not being there for
him.