Bodyguard (Bodyguard 5)

by Chris Bradford

  Returning to the snowmobile, Feliks tied his ‘trophy’ on the back and Connor took the opportunity to look at his phone. It had been the middle of the night in the UK when he’d called Buddyguard HQ and left an urgent message for the colonel to contact him. He’d also emailed a mission update, detailing the killing of Dmitry and his fears about Mr Grey. Even if the colonel had responded, though, Connor wouldn’t receive his message. There was no signal at all in the remote forest.

  ‘Let’s bag some bigger game,’ said Viktor, as Feliks returned and reloaded his rifle. ‘Like a deer or a boar!’

  They spread out again, this time Viktor heading in a southerly direction and Feliks going north. Mr Grey and three security guards stayed with the billionaire, while the fourth guard joined their party – Feliks, Jason and the guard out front, Anastasia trailing behind with Connor.

  Aware of each other’s reluctance to join in the hunt, Connor shared a disconsolate smile with Anastasia. While tinged with sadness, her smile was still radiant and Connor was struck again by how beautiful she was. Yet he was conscious of a deep well of grief in her ice-blue eyes. He recalled her scarred back and wished he could somehow get her to talk about it. But this wasn’t the time or the place. Maybe if she did decide to join Buddyguard, they’d have a moment to talk and he could help ease her hidden sorrow. So Connor just walked in silence by her side, hoping that was comfort enough.

  The forest was magical at this time in the morning – branches frosted like icing, crisp snow as white as cotton, the light pure and clear. A crystalline winter paradise … into which they, as hunters, were intruding.

  Connor prayed any deer or other animal would steer clear. But they hadn’t gone far when he spied movement among the trees. A fleeting glimpse of white.

  He didn’t alert Feliks or Jason, hoping they had missed a second kill.

  Then Connor caught sight of a branch twitching on a young sapling, the snow dislodged from its pine needles – a sure sign an animal had recently passed by.

  Anastasia noticed it too. Feliks and Jason were still scouting up ahead with the guard, oblivious to this potential prey. Anastasia quickened her pace and caught up with Jason. They’d been warned of wolves and even bears in the forest, and Connor didn’t blame her for wanting to be with the main group.

  Connor spotted more movement, this time on a low rocky outcrop. Then he froze in his tracks. To his left the dark barrel of a gun poked out from behind a nearby tree, its sights targeted on his chest.

  Peering through the scope was none other than Mr Grey.

  How convenient for the assassin, thought Connor, his pulse quickening. A hunting accident.

  He could run, dive behind a tree, even rush the assassin. But he was caught in the open and all Mr Grey had to do was pull the trigger. Connor braced himself for the inevitable shot –

  Mr Grey lowered his gun. ‘Luckily for you, we’re on the same side.’

  His eyes flicked round the forest, appearing to search for new prey.

  Connor breathed again. His heart still thudding in his chest, he stared defiantly back at the assassin. ‘Are we?’ he challenged.

  Mr Grey slung his rifle and strode over, the air seeming to drop several degrees at his approach. He leant in close to Connor’s ear. ‘At the moment we are.’

  A soft whistle like birdsong caused them both to turn round. At the top of a small rise, Viktor was waving them over, signing for them to keep low. Joined by the others, they crept up the slope and hunkered down behind a large fallen log. Without saying a word, Viktor pointed into a clearing on the other side. A lone grey wolf was feeding on the carcass of a baby deer.

  ‘My prize,’ Viktor whispered, shouldering his rifle. Flicking off the safety catch, the billionaire lined up the animal in his sights.

  The wolf’s ears pricked up. His head turned, all his senses attuned to danger. But the wolf wasn’t looking in their direction.

  As Viktor went to take his shot, the forest erupted with gunfire.

  Mr Grey was already in motion, diving on top of Viktor as a bullet ricocheted off the log. Splinters flew like arrows and Connor shoved Feliks to the ground, shielding him with his body. Jason tried to cover Feliks and Anastasia, but his bulletproof jacket wasn’t large enough to protect them both. A splinter of wood struck Anastasia in the face, gouging a bloody line across her cheek.

  The four security guards drew their compact MP7 sub-machine guns and began firing back.

  But who are they firing at? wondered Connor, his eyes darting round the forest. Evidently what he thought had been a deer moving through the undergrowth earlier had in fact been their attackers. How ironic! Feliks and his father had believed they were the hunters, when in truth they were the ones being hunted.

  The wolf long gone, the forest thundered to the roar of automatic gunfire and the zing of steel-jacketed rounds. Despite the shelter offered by the fallen tree trunk, Connor and the others were still dangerously exposed on top of the rise. One of the guards jerked forward, crying out as he was shot in the back. He slumped across the log, blood spurting out and staining the snow scarlet.

  ‘We’re surrounded!’ yelled one of the surviving guards, firing with wild abandon at the trees behind.

  Mr Grey was the only one among them seeming not to panic. With one hand planted firmly on Viktor’s shoulder to keep him down and the other gripping his gun, the assassin’s cold gaze swept the forest.

  ‘Not completely. Rolan, focus your fire on that outcrop over there,’ he ordered, his tone calm but firm. ‘Koldan, the trees behind to your left. Ivan, you come with me.’

  As bullets peppered the ground millimetres from them, Feliks yelped and curled up into a tight ball. Anastasia flinched. Mr Grey, unfazed by the close attack, turned to Connor and Jason, his eyes like shards of steel. ‘Let’s see what you two are really made of. Get Feliks to the dacha. Viktor, time to go!’

  Leaving two guards to lay down suppressing fire, Mr Grey and Ivan rushed Viktor down the slope to the snowmobiles. Connor glanced at Jason, who shrugged. They both knew it was a suicidal run, but what choice did they have? Connor yanked Feliks to his feet and sprinted after them, with Jason and Anastasia hot on their heels.

  Bullets chased them all the way, rounds searing overhead, ripping into tree trunks and tearing apart the bark. Keeping low, Connor zigzagged between the trees, hoping to make himself and Feliks less of a target. As the snowmobiles came into sight, Feliks stumbled over a root. He sprawled face first in the snow, dropping his rifle. In that moment the forest seemed to rain bullets and Connor dived on top of him.

  ‘Don’t move!’ he ordered, tensing his whole body for the brutal impacts to come.

  ‘Feliks!’ cried his father in despair as gunfire stitched the snow around them.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Connor spied Jason and Anastasia pressed flat against the trunk of a tree in a desperate attempt to shelter from the barrage –

  Then Connor was hit. Hard in the lower back.

  Pain flared outwards with such explosive force that he could no longer breathe. His vision contracted until the snow-filled forest was just a pinprick of light in the blackness. As he lost consciousness, the sounds of battle faded, the gunfire clattering like a distant train at the far end of a long tunnel …

  Then out of that tunnel the headlight of the train came hurtling back towards him, its light becoming painfully bright and the chaotic noise of its wheels on the track growing more and more ferocious … until he heard his name being called above the thunder of gunfire: ‘CONNOR!’

  Dazed and confused, Connor raised his head and opened his eyes. He still lay on top of Feliks. Jason was at his side, shaking his arm. The hail of enemy bullets had ceased momentarily as Ivan retaliated with his MP7 sub-machine gun.

  ‘GET MOVING!’ shouted Mr Grey.

  Numbly aware that his bulletproof jacket had absorbed the lethal round and he was still alive, Connor got unsteadily to his feet with Jason’s help. Then together they pulled Feliks t
o standing.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Jason.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Feliks, dusting off the snow.

  ‘I was talking to Connor!’ said Jason sharply.

  Connor nodded. ‘I’ll live,’ he groaned. But it felt like he’d been run over by a ten-ton truck.

  In a lolloping run he staggered the last twenty metres to the snowmobiles. Mr Grey and Viktor, their engines revving to the max, were already speeding out of the danger zone. Jason and Anastasia clambered on to their snowmobile.

  ‘But my rifle!’ cried Feliks, turning back for the weapon.

  ‘Leave it!’ gasped Connor, mounting the snowmobile and gunning the ignition. His back ached like hell but the adrenalin was masking much of the pain. ‘Get on!’ he yelled at Feliks just as Ivan’s gun clicked empty.

  There was a moment of stunned silence – as if the forest had taken a breath – then a blast of retaliating fire cut the guard down. With Feliks clinging to him, Connor thumbed the throttle hard and their snowmobile shot away through the trees.

  Pursued by gunfire, Connor rode as fast as he dared, branches whipping at their faces. A volley of bullets strafed across the back of their snowmobile, pulverizing the dead grouse that hung off the end, feathers and blood flying. Feliks shrieked in his ear as they weaved hard right to avoid hitting a tree head-on. Connor was trying to follow in Viktor and Mr Grey’s tracks and catch them up. But he’d only ever ridden jet skis before this morning and he was pushing the snowmobile and his skills to the limit. Behind he could hear Jason and Anastasia’s snowmobile right on their tail. And in the distance the battle still raged as the two remaining guards fought for their lives.

  Ahead he spotted the tail lights of Viktor’s snowmobile. But as soon as he caught them up they rode straight into another ambush. In white ski jackets and carrying assault rifles, four gunmen began firing. Mr Grey and Viktor veered hard left. On instinct Connor turned right. He didn’t have time to see what happened to Jason and Anastasia. Bullets shredded the trees and undergrowth as he and Feliks slunk low on their snowmobile, only their speed saving them from being blasted out of their seats.

  Through a blur of vegetation and snow, Connor spotted one of the enemy blocking Mr Grey and Viktor’s escape route. Taking the offensive, Mr Grey drew his handgun and, steering one-handed, shot the man straight through the head.

  But the other three gunmen were still a threat.

  One leapt directly into Connor’s path. There was no way to avoid the man or his bullets.

  As the gunman took aim with his rifle, Connor recalled his instructor Jody’s advice for surviving an ambush: if there’s an armed attacker in front of your vehicle, you either drive into, around or over that attacker. So Connor accelerated hard and steered the snowmobile up and off a sharp rise in the track. The snowmobile cleared the air and flew like a guided missile towards their attacker. As the man instinctively ducked, he was struck by the tail end of the machine. His rifle was smashed from his grasp and he was knocked off his feet. Then the snowmobile hit the ground with a bone-shuddering thump. Wrestling with the handlebars to keep it on the track, Connor glanced back to see the gunman out cold in the snow. Connor allowed himself a brief triumphant grin – he’d pulled off the stunt of the century! Driving the throttle all the way, he tore a path through the trees, leaving the deadly ambush behind.

  The next time he looked over his shoulder, he and Feliks were on their own.

  ‘Who were those men?’ Feliks shouted above the growl of the snowmobile’s engine.

  ‘Bratva! FSB! The Russian Army! Who knows, Feliks?’ replied Connor, gritting his teeth as he concentrated on keeping the snowmobile upright while they traversed a slope. ‘Your father has many enemies.’

  He leant into a sharp turn, the rear end sliding out and clipping a tree.

  ‘Slow down!’ Feliks pleaded, gripping Connor even more tightly round the waist.

  Even though the sound of gunfire had receded into the distance, Connor had no intention of slowing down. They zoomed past a pair of dead bodies in the snow – a dacha security patrol, judging by their uniforms. Now Connor feared that the whole estate had been overrun.

  ‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Feliks demanded.

  Connor realized he didn’t. He’d just been intent on escaping the immediate threat. He took his thumb off the throttle, the snowmobile ground to a halt and he looked around. They were still deep in the forest, every direction looked the same and, with fresh snow falling and covering the ground, there were no obvious tracks. Connor knew the dacha lay east of where they’d been hunting and he tried to get his bearings from the weak sun peeking through the tree canopy.

  ‘Do you even have an escape plan?’ complained Feliks.

  Connor turned in his seat, wincing at the pain in his back, and glared at his Principal. He’d had enough of the ungrateful brat. ‘I’ve just saved your life. Again. So at least show some gratitude.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Feliks sarcastically. ‘But I could still die out here.’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ replied Connor. ‘We need to get back to the dacha, regroup with the others, then extract you and your father to a safer location. That’s the plan.’

  Feliks raised an incredulous eyebrow. ‘Well, the dacha’s that way,’ he said, pointing in a completely different direction from the way they’d been headed.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Connor with equal sarcasm. Thumbing the throttle, he turned the snowmobile round.

  They rode on in silence. Connor seriously questioned why he was bothering to protect this boy who had no respect for him or his efforts to keep them both alive. Bodyguarding was hard enough when you liked the Principal; it was virtually impossible when you didn’t. But Connor, bound by a sense of duty, had no intention of abandoning his role. Besides, if they were to survive this ordeal, they would have to stick together.

  With no tracks to follow, Connor found the going tough and his arms started to ache from wrestling with the steering column. Every so often they’d hear an ominous exchange of gunfire. He hoped that Jason and Anastasia had managed to escape the second ambush. They’d been right behind them when they’d split. But there’d still been two gunmen and the chances of Jason and Anastasia evading being shot were slim.

  Then, just as they were emerging from the forest, Connor heard the growl of another snowmobile. He slowed down to wait for them to catch up. As the noise drew closer, the one engine became two and Feliks turned to Connor with a hopeful grin. ‘Must be my father and Mr Grey!’

  But Feliks’s relieved smile fell from his face when the snowmobiles crested the rise. Sat astride the machines – stolen from the security guards left behind at the first ambush – were two ski-jacketed gunmen.

  ‘Over there!’ shouted one, pointing his assault rifle in their direction.

  As they started firing, Connor revved the engine and raced off towards the sanctuary of the dacha. The two men gave chase. Connor drove the throttle fully home. But in his rush to escape he hadn’t checked the route ahead. They were speeding at over forty miles an hour when the snowmobile struck the half-buried tree stump.

  Connor flipped head first through the air. In the brief seconds that followed the crash, he registered the crumpled shell of the snowmobile; the dark underbelly of the clouds; the icy whip of the wind on his cheeks; Feliks somersaulting, his arms flailing like a broken-winged bird; and then … the impact of the frozen snow. Hard and punishing as concrete. He tumbled over and over, finally coming to rest in a crumpled heap.

  Feliks lay a little way off, writhing and moaning … but alive.

  The guttural sound of two snowmobiles grew louder. Then the engines cut out and a strange unsettling silence descended. Stunned to his core, Connor could only lie in the compacted snow, his body failing to respond as he listened to the approaching crunch of footsteps.

  A shadow fell over him.

  ‘They’re just kids!’ said a voice so gruff the man had to be a thirty-a-day smoker.

  ‘Yeah,
’ replied the other, his tone lazy and slurred as if he drank too much. ‘But this one here is Malkov’s son.’

  ‘Does that mean we get a bonus payment?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘So what about this one? Is he worth anything?’

  A boot was applied to Connor’s side and he was rolled painfully on to his back, allowing Connor to get his first close-up look at their attackers. The man who’d turned him over was bull-necked with a heavy brow and flared nostrils. His knuckles were calloused and his ears cauliflowered like he spent every weekend cage-fighting. The other man – the apparent leader of the two – was taller with a shaven head and a brick-like jaw disfigured by a long white scar. On the back of his right hand was a crude tattoo of a black skull.

  He walked over and bent close to Connor. ‘I reckon he’s one of them young bodyguards the Pakhan warned us about.’

  The cage-fighter snorted. ‘Some bodyguard! He looks half-dead.’

  ‘Well, let’s finish the job for him,’ replied Skull-man, drawing a handgun from his holster. ‘After all, the Pakhan did say he was expendable.’

  At the prospect of imminent death his body finally responded. With lightning speed, Connor seized the gun’s muzzle.

  ‘What the –?’ cried Skull-man as Connor’s seemingly dead body came to life and fought to disarm him.

  Exactly as he’d been taught in training, Connor twisted the weapon away from himself. The gun discharged and a bullet blasted the ground, sending up a plume of snow. Yet again Jody’s words of wisdom sounded loud in his head: once you get hold, you must never let go. Your life literally depends upon it.

  Connor was in no doubt about that. He kicked hard at Skull-man’s right knee. The man buckled and Connor rotated the gun sharply towards his attacker. There was a sickening crack as the man’s finger snapped in the trigger guard. Skull-man shrieked in agony. But as Connor wrestled to take full control of the weapon the other man lumbered in with a punch like a rockfall. He caught Connor across the jaw so hard that stars burst before his eyes. All his strength sapped by the hammer blow, Connor went limp, dropped the gun and crumpled to the ground.