Bodyguard (Bodyguard 5)

by Chris Bradford

  Viktor looked from Connor to the accused and back again, then laughed. The billionaire stood and joined the bomber by the fire.

  ‘Mr Grey is an associate of mine,’ said Viktor, resting a hand briefly on the man’s shoulder. ‘Our dealings go way back. In fact, he’s the one that’s been protecting me.’

  Connor’s jaw went slack, his accusation coming back at him like a punch to the gut.

  ‘Mr Grey prevented an assassination attempt at the rally,’ explained the billionaire. ‘He’s also responsible for getting me released from jail so quickly. And he’s been watching over Feliks.’

  ‘Watching over Feliks?’ exclaimed Connor.

  ‘In case other security measures failed,’ said Mr Grey pointedly.

  ‘Which they didn’t, thanks to Connor and Jason,’ acknowledged Viktor. ‘I’ve been telling Mr Grey all about your Buddyguard organization. He’s very interested in how you work.’

  Connor was shocked. ‘B-but, Mr Malkov, you’re not meant to disclose our organization to anyone who hasn’t been approved!’

  ‘Don’t worry. Mr Grey is very circumspect,’ replied the billionaire. ‘Besides, now Lazar and Timur are no longer with us, Mr Grey is taking responsibility for security and will be my personal bodyguard.’

  Connor felt deceived by Viktor. ‘If he knew about me and Jason, then why didn’t you tell us about him?’ he demanded, pointing a finger at Mr Grey.

  Viktor’s expression hardened. ‘Just as my adviser Dmitry doesn’t know about your role here, certain facts are kept from you too,’ he said sharply.

  ‘Like the fact that Feliks’s previous bodyguard was shot in a carjacking?’ Connor snapped, annoyed that another crucial piece of security information had been withheld.

  Viktor frowned. ‘What are you talking about? Colonel Black is well aware of that incident. I told him about it in our first meeting.’

  Now Connor was confused. Which one of them – Viktor or the colonel – was telling the truth?

  ‘It appears our friend is suffering from concussion,’ said Mr Grey. ‘Perhaps he should go and lie down.’

  His icy tone more an order than a suggestion, Mr Grey guided Connor over to the door. Bewildered, Connor allowed himself to be shown out. But, as he glanced up into the man’s pale face, he experienced another shiver of recognition. ‘I’m sure we’ve met before.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Mr Grey curtly, firmly closing the door on him.

  Tugging on his boots, Connor stepped out into the brittle cold. He clapped his gloved hands together and rubbed them for warmth. Frozen crystal-white, the garden and surrounding forest were utterly still and silent, the sounds of the world muffled beneath a thick blanket of snow.

  A waft of cigarette smoke alerted Connor to the two security guards stationed either side of the front door. One stomped his feet in an effort to keep warm, while the other drew hard on the stub of a cigarette, a scattering of blackened butts in the snow evidence of his chain-smoking.

  Connor gave them both a brief nod as he passed through, but they ignored him – either too cold, too bored or too rude to respond.

  As he trudged down to the lake, his feet crunching in the thick snow and his breath fogging out before him, the fresh air helped clear his mind. Connor didn’t trust the new head of security – even if Viktor Malkov did. There was something dangerous about the man. Besides the persistent yet infuriatingly vague recollection of him, Mr Grey’s manner gave the impression that he harmed people more than he protected them.

  Connor resolved to keep a close eye on the so-called Mr Grey.

  Coming across a wooden summer-house tucked behind a clump of trees, Connor spotted Feliks alone on a bench. Shoulders hunched over his phone, and head bent, he appeared to be playing a zombie horror game.

  ‘Hey, Feliks, you OK?’ Connor asked, heading over.

  Barely bothering to look up, Feliks shrugged.

  ‘Glad to see you’re in one piece,’ said Connor. ‘I honestly thought that bomb would be the end of us.’

  Feliks grunted, monosyllabic as ever. While Connor hadn’t expected a lively conversation, he’d hoped for a simple thank-you for saving the boy’s life. Operation Snowstorm had become a lethal thunderstorm. Kidnap attempts, snipers, assassinations, riots, car bombs … there seemed no limit to the lengths Viktor’s enemies would go to, to destroy him and his family. Charley’s fears about the mission were proving well founded. Connor wondered how long they’d be staying at the dacha. While it was arguably more secure than Moscow, the Bratva would no doubt know its location. Meaning nowhere was safe.

  Connor glanced around. ‘Where are Jason and Anastasia?’

  Feliks raised his chin in the direction of the boathouse.

  ‘Why aren’t you with them?’

  ‘I got the impression they wanted to be alone,’ he muttered.

  Now Connor understood the boy’s mood. He couldn’t help feeling annoyed that Jason had left their Principal unprotected yet again. ‘Well, let’s join the party,’ he suggested.

  Feliks put aside his phone and slouched against the bench. ‘You go. I can’t be bothered.’

  ‘Come on, don’t be such a sulk. Anastasia’s with us because she wants to spend time with you.’

  ‘Really?’ snorted Feliks. ‘You could have fooled me. Besides, I thought she was here for her own safety.’

  Connor sat down next to Feliks. ‘She is. But she’s interested in you, not Jason.’

  Feliks shot him an incredulous look. ‘Jason’s her lifesaver,’ he said acidly. ‘She’s totally in love with him now he’s rescued her twice!’

  ‘Anastasia may be thankful to him, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She likes you.’

  Feliks spun on him. ‘No one likes me! You know that from being at school. I’ve got no friends. I mean, you and Jason are the closest and you’re paid to be my friends. So I don’t even know why Anastasia hangs around with me.’

  Connor seriously didn’t know why either. It would help if he wasn’t so sullen and unsociable, but Connor didn’t want to completely crush the boy’s spirit. ‘Listen, you stay here,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the others, then we’ll have a game of pool together back at the dacha.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Feliks replied, picking up his phone and resuming his game.

  Leaving Feliks to slash and kill his way through hordes of zombies, Connor set off towards the boathouse. It wasn’t far and he had a clear line of sight back to the summer-house, so he could still keep watch over his Principal.

  As he approached the boathouse, he heard Jason talking. ‘It was my father’s idea. Thought the training would give me discipline and direction. Ex-army, he was a bit of a hard man. I thought by joining I’d gain his respect.’

  Connor stopped just outside the boathouse doors. He’d never known Jason to open up about his past or his family. To Connor this was a revelation.

  ‘And did you?’ asked Anastasia.

  ‘Maybe. Who knows? The old man died from lung cancer halfway through my training. He was a drinker and a smoker. Since he didn’t have any life insurance, we were hard up for cash. And that’s when I was approached by Colonel Black –’

  Suddenly realizing Jason was about to expose the organization and their role as buddyguards, Connor strode into the boathouse. He found the two lovebirds nestled in a wooden rowing boat.

  ‘Oh! Connor, you’re up,’ said Jason, casually unwrapping his arm from Anastasia’s shoulders.

  ‘Alive and kicking,’ he replied, giving his partner a hard stare.

  Unflustered by Connor’s surprise entrance, Anastasia graced him with one of her dazzling smiles. ‘Jason was just telling me about his army cadet training. If it wasn’t for that, I guess we’d both be dead from the bomb.’

  ‘I guess you would,’ said Connor, as Jason clambered out of the boat with Anastasia.

  ‘Feliks decided to head back to the dacha,’ said Jason in answer to Connor’s stare.

  Connor nodded. ‘I bumped into him a
t the summer-house.’

  Lowering his voice, Jason said, ‘I thought he’d be fine, given the security around the place.’

  ‘Like at the mansion?’ challenged Connor. He knew he was being hard on Jason, but the bomb had shown nowhere was safe.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ said Anastasia, heading out of the door. ‘I can see Feliks waiting for us and I’m getting cold.’

  ‘I thought Russians never got cold!’ Jason called after her.

  ‘Only in winter!’ she replied.

  Picking up Feliks on their way past the summer-house, Anastasia walked ahead with him, giving Connor a chance to speak with Jason. ‘You were just about to tell her about Buddyguard!’ he accused, not wanting Jason to steal his thunder.

  Jason gave a defensive shrug. ‘She was asking loads of questions about how I knew what to do in a bomb situation. So I told her the truth about my army cadet training. I wasn’t intending to expose our role … but she’s so easy to talk to. Anyway, I don’t see what your problem is. No harm’s done – I only mentioned the colonel’s name.’

  Connor shook his head in dismay. ‘By the end of this mission, the whole world’s going to know about us!’

  Jason frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Forget it,’ said Connor, deciding to keep his concerns about Mr Grey to himself. ‘Anyway, Anastasia will know about Buddyguard soon enough. I’ve suggested to the colonel that we recruit her.’

  Jason looked at Connor in surprise. ‘Recruit Ana?’

  ‘Why not? She’s got all the skills.’

  Jason suddenly looked flustered. ‘Yeah, but … I don’t think that’s a good idea … Ling wouldn’t … I mean, shouldn’t the colonel –’

  ‘What do you care what Ling thinks?’ cut in Connor. ‘I thought you said you two had broken up. Unless you’re thinking of getting back together? Whatever – your flirting with Anastasia is upsetting the Principal. And it’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed. You have to stop.’

  Jason halted in his tracks. ‘Just who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?’ he snarled. ‘I mean, you’re a fine one to talk. On your first mission you snogged the President’s daughter, for heaven’s sake! That’s crossing a line.’ With a final angry glare at Connor, he stomped off.

  Connor let out a heavy sigh. Perhaps Jason had a point. Who was he to lecture his partner? His personal record wasn’t exactly blemish-free.

  As they approached the dacha, the two security guards opened the front doors and let them in. Kicking the snow from their boots, they stepped inside the entrance hall just as Viktor came out of the drawing room.

  ‘Ah! There you all are,’ he said. ‘Just to let you know, we’ve got an early start tomorrow morning. We’re going on a hunt!’

  ‘Cool,’ said Feliks, the glimmer of a grin breaking through his sullen mood.

  ‘I thought you’d like that,’ said his father, ruffling his son’s hair. He turned to Anastasia. ‘My security guard informs me you’ve brought your violin. Is that right?’

  Anastasia nodded. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I need to practise, even if we are suspended from school.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Viktor, looking kindly upon her. ‘In fact, I’d love to hear you play. My late wife was a concert violinist. Ever since she … well, you know … I’ve missed the sound of it in our household.’

  Connor noticed Anastasia shifting a little uncomfortably on her feet.

  ‘I can’t promise to live up to your wife,’ she said, looking down as if checking for snow on her boots. ‘I’m honestly not that good.’

  ‘Don’t be so modest,’ chided the billionaire. ‘I’m sure your performance will knock me dead.’

  Anastasia offered him a hesitant smile. ‘I hope so.’

  Viktor clapped his hands together. ‘Then it’s agreed. You’ll play for us tomorrow after the hunt.’ He headed off towards his study, then paused at the threshold. ‘Oh, by the way, Anastasia, I’ve tried to get in contact with your parents, but haven’t had any luck. The number you gave me keeps going to answerphone.’

  Anastasia sighed. ‘Yep, sounds like my parents. They’re probably somewhere in the Arctic with no signal. As ever!’

  Viktor gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Well, I’m sure they’ll be in touch as soon as they get my message.’

  The face loomed out of the darkness. A skull with skin stretched tight over the bone. Ice-grey eyes that promised death. Wreathed in black smoke and flames from a blazing tanker, the figure hissed poisonous words: ‘You crop up in all the wrong places and at all the wrong times –’

  Connor woke in a cold sweat, the nightmare clinging to him like a monstrous spiderweb … with Mr Grey at its centre.

  Connor tried to shake away the horrific images in his head. He sat up, switched on the bedside light and rubbed his eyes. But still the unsettling vision of Mr Grey remained.

  The nightmare had felt real, and Connor realized he’d been reliving his traumatic mission in the Indian Ocean against Somali pirates. But what was Mr Grey doing there? Connor knew that hadn’t really happened. Or had it? His mind must still be feeling the effects of his concussion after the car bomb.

  Connor dry-swallowed. His throat was sore and his mouth tasted like sawdust. Sliding out of bed, he pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs for the kitchen. A glass of milk would sort him out. As he passed through the dacha’s darkened entrance hall, Connor noticed a wedge of light escaping from the drawing room, the door partly ajar. Low voices could be heard, one of them Viktor’s.

  ‘Dmitry, it warms my heart to see you. I can’t believe you’ve been released so quickly.’

  ‘Nor can I,’ replied his adviser’s familiar voice. Connor smiled with relief to hear that Dmitry had survived his ordeal.

  ‘Our new lawyer is certainly worth his weight in gold,’ Viktor went on. ‘Did the police torture you at all? Threaten you?’

  ‘You know how it goes, Viktor.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m sorry, my friend, that you had to suffer …’

  Connor couldn’t help but listen in. He wanted to know more about Dmitry’s release. Praying none of the floorboards would creak, he crept over to the drawing-room door and concealed himself in the shadows. Through the gap between the door and its frame, he spied Viktor sitting in his armchair next to the fire. Opposite him was Dmitry, his face pale and drawn, dark circles under his eyes, and his beard tinged a little greyer than before.

  ‘The rally was a major success,’ Dmitry remarked with a bittersweet smile. ‘As you said, Viktor, a true turning point in Russian history. So I suppose any amount of suffering is worth the result.’

  Viktor grinned. ‘That’s the spirit, Dmitry!’

  ‘Talking of spirits, Viktor, I think we should celebrate my release with a drink, don’t you?’

  ‘Dmitry, that’s your best advice ever!’ Viktor laughed, rising from his chair.

  Dmitry waved Viktor back down and got up himself. He headed over to the mahogany drinks cabinet and selected a bottle of finest vodka. That’s when Connor spotted the third man in the room.

  Mr Grey.

  He’d been standing so still he could have been a mannequin. His ashen face shared the same lifeless waxwork-like quality. Connor shuddered, recalling his earlier nightmare.

  ‘Mr Grey, won’t you join us for a toast?’ asked Dmitry, offering up a glass. There was a slight tremble to his hand.

  Mr Grey didn’t even glance at the vodka. ‘I don’t drink.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Dmitry with a nervous smile. ‘I forget you’re a true professional.’

  ‘You’ve never drunk in all the time I’ve known you,’ Viktor remarked with a wry smile. ‘Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious as to its taste?’

  ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ Mr Grey replied.

  Connor suddenly experienced the strongest sense of déjà vu. The drawing room almost seemed to sway, as if he had motion sickness.

  Curiosity killed the cat. He’d
heard Mr Grey say that exact phrase before.

  Connor squeezed his eyes shut, pierced by a crippling headache. Mr Grey’s voice echoed in his ears: Forget my face … I never existed … You never heard my name … Equilibrium means nothing … I am just a ghost to you …

  As if floodgates had been opened in his mind, memories came surging out.

  Mr Grey had been involved in the pirate attack on the Sterlings’ yacht. He’d been with him on that blazing tanker.

  Now the vision of a ferocious jungle battle flashed before Connor’s eyes, with Mr Grey pointing a pistol at him from across a raging river. I never miss … I shot exactly who I meant to …

  His head spinning, Connor grabbed for the door frame to stop himself falling. He realized he’d encountered Mr Grey during his African assignment too. In fact, the man had been the architect of the coup and diamond smuggling in Burundi. And during that last encounter Mr Grey had hypnotized Connor to make him forget …

  But now Connor remembered. He remembered everything.

  Mr Grey was an assassin. A cold, calculating killer.

  That meant Viktor Malkov was in grave danger and Connor had to warn him.

  Now Connor’s eye caught sight of Mr Grey’s reflection in the gold-framed mirror above the drinks cabinet. The assassin’s hands were behind his back, a gun concealed in his palm.

  Connor’s heart began to race. Should he call Jason for back-up? But if he did the two of them might return to the drawing room too late – the assassin having already killed his target.

  There was no time. Connor readied himself to Seize, Strike and Subdue. Disarming a trained assassin would be almost suicidal, but he still had the element of surprise on his side.

  Dmitry passed Viktor his drink and Connor heard the clink of glasses.

  ‘To Our Russia!’ Dmitry said, raising his shot of vodka in a toast.

  The billionaire raised his own glass at the same time as Mr Grey flicked off the safety catch on his hidden gun.

  Connor burst into the room. ‘GET DOWN!’ he shouted.