His Reluctant Bodyguard

by Loucinda McGary

  “Holy moly!” she exclaimed as the jeep screeched to a halt.

  A pair of men on horses detached from the group and charged toward them. Waving his arms, Roussellot stood and practically tumbled out of the vehicle. “Gaston!”

  “Claude!” One of the horsemen did a fast dismount and ran up to the jeep. Rapid babbling in patois commenced, while loud murmurs ran through the crowd behind them.

  “Are they all from St. Namadie?” Avery asked, but before Rip could answer, more noises came from the direction of the waterfront – the sounds of people crying out and running. And far in the distance, she heard the thin wail of a siren. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

  Rip’s lips were pressed into a tight line. “Really bad.”

  The loud rumble of an approaching truck stopped Luc, Roussellot, and Gaston’s conversation. As a troop carrier rounded the corner, a dozen mounted men advanced, rifles at the ready and Luc’s phone went off. After a word, Gaston called to the men, who lowered their weapons.

  “Thierry!” Luc shouted.

  While Avery and Rip waited in the jeep, a brief conference went on in the middle of the street among Luc, Roussellot, Gaston, and the truck driver, Thierry. Within moments Luc motioned for them to join him. She had a pretty good idea why Rip eyed the truck with open distaste.

  “I’m not riding in the back of that thing,” he informed Luc. “Not after last time.”

  Luc nodded knowingly. “The three of us can ride in the cab. A dozen of Gaston’s men will ride in the back. Thierry and Roussellot will follow in the jeep.”

  Before he even finished speaking, a group of men hustled past, headed for the truck. Several of them stared openly at Avery, no doubt surprised to see a woman in their midst.

  “Let’s go!” Luc shouted.

  He didn’t need to tell her twice. If she’d been scared before, she was flat out terrified now. Within seconds, she found herself wedged between Rip and Luc in the front seat. But as Luc restarted the vehicle, a boom ten times louder than the previous ones rent the air and shook the ground like an earthquake. In fact, for a split second, Avery thought it was an earthquake. All of them cringed and reflexively covered their heads. For a moment everything went utterly quiet, then horses snorted and neighed, and people shouted.

  “What the hell?” Rip sputtered. “That wasn’t cannon fire!”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Luc answered, throwing the truck into gear and stomping on the gas. “We have to breach those walls to stop the cannons.”

  As the carrier lurched forward, Avery had to brace her hand on the dash. She heard several of the men in the back cry out as they lost their balance. Luc didn’t slow but kept the vehicle barreling down the street.

  Rip braced himself against the door window. “Where’d you get those kinds of explosives?”

  “You and Williams weren’t the only things Thierry and I pulled out of that compound.”

  Avery’s mouth flew open in surprise, but any further conversation was impossible because a half dozen golf carts suddenly appeared heading right for them. Luc blasted the horn and motioned out the window for the other vehicles to pull over. Nevertheless, Luc had to down shift and slow, though he was obviously not pleased about it. Then, she heard a chorus of sirens drawing closer to them.

  Moments later, Luc slowed even further when groups of panicked people ran toward them. With visions of hitting pedestrians flashing in front of her eyes, Avery gasped in fright, while Luc laid on the horn and shouted out the window. Somehow they managed to miss the wild-eyed runners, and keep the truck moving. But Avery was sure the horsemen and foot soldiers behind them would have to halt.

  Luc cursed under his breath as the vehicle crawled forward. “We have to get there before JB gets away!”

  Rip stuck his head out and stared behind before announcing what Avery had already guessed. “Gaston and his group are falling behind.”

  “Can’t be helped.” Luc wheeled to the right, furiously beeping the horn.

  Behind them, Avery heard the jeep also sounding its horn as Roussellot and Thierry followed them. The narrow side street was less crowded, but the truck took up most of the pavement so anyone they met had to dodge into the drainage ditch on either side of the road. However, Luc kept the truck moving, though she didn’t think his jaw could be clenched any tighter. Neither could Rip’s.

  After many agonizing minutes, they finally reached the main road ringing the harbor. To Avery’s surprise, the thoroughfare was relatively empty. Apparently most people had already fled or were avoiding a main road. She didn’t blame them. A gray haze hung over everything and the acrid smell of smoke covered the scent of the nearby sea. The few civilians she did see were scurrying furtively between buildings. But she also saw some armed men in camo striding purposefully on the sidewalks.

  “I hope those guys are on our side,” Rip muttered with undisguised sarcasm.

  “Don’t worry,” Luc replied. “If they weren’t, we’d know it.”

  An ambulance came screaming up from behind and zipped around them.

  Avery was so far past the point of being stressed out that she blurted out the question she’d been suppressing for hours. “I thought you said this was all about free elections. So what’s all this warfare got to do with elections?”

  Luc’s expression remained inscrutable. “Sometimes force is the only thing that achieves a goal. You must trust me that this situation is both necessary and temporary.”

  “Spoken just like a politician.” Avery didn’t care how snarky she sounded.

  Two jeeps came toward them, flashing their lights.

  “Who are they?” Rip’s voice was an equal mix of suspicion and concern.

  “Guess we’ll find out.” Luc pulled the truck over and set the handbrake, but didn’t turn off the engine. “Stay inside.”

  As Luc climbed out of the cab, Avery felt the movement in the back of the carrier. Glancing out the side window, she saw two men poised with their rifles at the ready, covering Luc’s movements.

  “Now what?” she groaned. “A fire fight?”

  She and Rip watched Luc stop in the middle of the street, while one of the passengers, a man in a white police uniform, got out and met him. After a tense moment, the two men shook hands. Avery’s breath whooshed out in relief as she watched the men gesturing. Though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, they must have agreed, for Luc turned and loped back to the truck, signaling Roussellot who was parked behind them. Meanwhile, the riflemen climbed back inside.

  “Don’t worry, they’re on our side,” Luc informed them, as he took off the brake and put the truck into gear.

  “So we gathered,” Rip replied drily.

  Lights still flashing, the two jeeps swung around and led the way back from where they’d just come.

  “They were actually sent out to look for us,” Luc went on. “They’re impressed that you’re with us, Rip.”

  Luc’s words should have been encouraging, but Avery didn’t feel any better. As they drove toward the fort, she felt more and more like she was suffocating.

  At the base of the hill leading up to the fortress, the jeeps pulled to a halt behind a large storage building. Judging from the number of people scurrying around, it had to be a temporary headquarters. Inside the building, a portable generator powered a large industrial fan, which at least kept the humid air moving. A throng of people crowded the interior, and a preponderance of them seemed to be on phones, walkie-talkies, or some kind communication device. Avery half-expected someone to ask to be beamed up.

  Luc steered them to a series of long tables where people were eating. The men from the back of the truck joined them while Thierry and Roussellot went with Luc to a cordoned off corner that looked to be the center of all the activity.

  A middle-aged woman brought over a box of sandwiches and the guys eagerly snatched them up. After scrutinizing
Rip and Avery, she lumbered away and returned with two fresh sandwiches.

  Pointedly ignoring Avery, she squinted at Rip and said, “You the Pollendene?”

  Jaw clenched, Rip nodded. The woman gave a dismissive snort and walked away.

  “So much for people being impressed,” Avery muttered with a roll of her eyes.

  A uniformed man with a bullhorn started shouting for all troops to assemble in the street out front. While everyone around them began to move, Luc came rushing back.

  “Was it something I did?” Rip asked facetiously.

  Luc gave him a censorious look. “We can’t wait any longer. We have to flush out Jean Jacque and Jean Baptiste before it gets dark.” Rip started to rise, but Luc put a hand on his shoulder. “You two stay here with Roussellot until you hear from me.”

  Before either of them could protest, Luc strode away. Roussellot shuffled over, his youthful face plainly showing his disappointment at being left behind.

  “We might be more comfortable over there.” He motioned with his head to the corner.

  “Sure, why not?” A bit of privacy sounded good to Avery, and the place Roussellot indicated had two wooden room dividers around it.

  Rip just shrugged, but followed all the same. In addition to several canvas camp chairs, the command area boasted its own battery operated fan and an ice chest full of cold drinks. Avery sighed with weary appreciation as she sank into one of the chairs and propped her feet on a small table. While Roussellot passed around cold cans of soda, she studied the diagrams and maps taped on the back of the dividers. She recognized the drawing of the compound where she’d rescued Rip because Luc had made her memorize a smaller version.

  “What will happen to your uncle and cousin once they’re caught?” She asked, visions of a lynch mob flashing through her brain.

  “They’ll probably be put under house arrest until after the elections.” Rip seemed to guess her thoughts. “Which Luc tells me will happen within a few days.”

  “Then what?” Avery persisted, unable to shake her feelings of unease.

  “Then, as the new president, Monsieur Rip will decide their fate.” Roussellot chimed in, raising his can of soda in salute.

  “But only if he wins the election,” Avery corrected, not even liking the idea that Rip would be a candidate.

  The young man gave a dismissive shrug. “None will oppose him.”

  Roussellot’s easy assumption and Rip’s failure to protest made Avery squirm with discomfort. Was this really what everyone wanted? What Rip wanted? She tried to envision what her life might be like as the companion of someone with that kind of power. Nothing good came to mind.

  ***

  Rip watched as Avery gave a small, involuntary shudder. He wasn’t surprised that her nerves were shot, because he too had been running on nothing but adrenaline for hours. Wearily, he rested his head in his hands.

  “Can I get something for you, Monsieur Rip?” The over-eager Roussellot queried. When Rip answered in the negative, the kid persisted, “What about you, Mademoiselle?”

  “Which way is the ladies room?”

  As Avery walked away in the direction Roussellot had directed, Rip couldn’t help but admire the sexy sway of her hips, even in a pair of baggy fatigues. Obviously the kid shared his opinion, for his gaze remained riveted to Avery’s retreating figure.

  Rip noisily cleared his throat, and Roussellot’s head jerked in his direction. “So why don’t you show me on these maps what the plan is?”

  As the younger guy pointed out the place where the explosion had breached the wall and the proposed troop movements, Rip wondered if he’d ever been so young and idealistic. “How old are you, Roussellot?”

  “Nineteen,” the kid replied, squaring his shoulders.

  Suppressing a wry smile, Rip asked, “Ever been off Benezet?”

  Looking skeptical Roussellot shrugged. “Non, why would I? I can watch television.”

  Rip couldn’t think of any comeback for that.

  Avery returned, a strained smile on her freshly pinkened lips. As Roussellot stood with his mouth gaping, his cell phone went off. The kid answered and Rip watched his youthful face go from dazed to ecstatic while he made a few excited exclamations. Rip and Avery exchanged startled looks before Roussellot snapped his phone closed.

  “They have captured Jean Jacques!” He exclaimed, literally bouncing with his elation. “Luc wants me to bring you, Monsieur Rip, so the old Pollendene can surrender to you.”

  “What about my cousin JB?” Rip asked, shaking off Roussellot’s well meaning back slaps.

  “Fled with a handful of men down the side of the cliff to the sea.” The youth used his fingers to mimic someone repelling down a mountainside.

  “But how could he survive?“Avery insisted. “After this storm, the ocean must be wild.”

  Rip knew she was right, and a stab of guilt pierced his mind. Even though he realized it was ridiculous, the image of his cousin as a young child danced in front of his eyes. He scrubbed his hand over his face to erase it.

  “Let’s go,” he ordered Roussellot.

  A chorus of phones and walkie talkies echoed in their wake as the three of them rushed out of the building. Ever solicitous, Roussellot helped Avery into the back seat of the jeep. Several others ran out but they were already tearing out of the parking lot and heading up the steep hill to the fort as others started their vehicles. Rip saw very few civilians on the road, which made a sliver of relief edge across his anxious mind.

  Roussellot beeped the horn incessantly as they made their way through the fading light. The odor of smoke and sulfur grew more distinct, and when they came within sight of the walls, Rip quickly saw why. The gaping hole blown into the solid stone blocks was literally wide enough to accommodate a truck. However, armed guards blocked the way, forcing them to stop.

  After Roussellot shouted out his name and mission, one of the guards made a phone call, then waved them on. Driving over the rubble of the breached wall, they emerged into an eerily empty compound. If the rebels were holding prisoners, they weren’t out in the open. All the activity appeared to be centered at an ornate building in a far corner. “The palace” he remembered his mother calling it with a sneer. A persistent feeling of déjà vu hovered on the fringes of his consciousness. But he couldn’t recall his uncle or his father living there, just like he had no clear recollection of ever going there.

  They had to park the jeep and make their way on foot through the crowd of men in camo. Rip purposely kept Avery tightly wedged between himself and Roussellot, but in spite of their presence and her baggy fatigues, she got more than a few lingering looks. He felt a muscle in his tightly clenched jaw twitch.

  Luc met them at the door of the mansion, which was actually part of the building where the ceremonial parliament met once a year. After the election, that parliament should be fully functioning.

  The expression on Luc’s face did nothing to alleviate Rip’s growing unease. As they made their way across the ornate marble entry, Rip noticed the dirt and scuff marks on the floor. Armed guards stood at both ends of the dual curved staircase. When they reached the foot of the left stairs, Luc ordered Roussellot to take Avery into the dining room. Surprisingly, Avery didn’t argue, so Rip didn’t either. But he had a hard time taking his eyes off her as she and the youth walked away.

  “I guess you have a reason for me to see my uncle alone,” Rip mused as they ascended the wide steps.

  Giving a brief nod, Luc explained, “I’m afraid your uncle is not himself, either physically or mentally.”

  More armed guards in white police uniforms stood at the top of the staircase, and Rip saw more posted in front of several doors in the hallway. They all stood mutely and let Luc and him pass.

  The strong smell of urine hit Rip like a physical blow. Heaps of clothes and papers littered the expansive room, and Rip saw draperies and blinds also on the floor. A shrunke
n old man in a satin bathrobe stood at the far window. Or at least that’s how the figure appeared to Rip. For a moment he thought this couldn’t possibly be his uncle, who was the younger of the Pollendene brothers, only sixty-five years old. But then, the man turned, and he saw it really was his Uncle Jean Jacques, though the man looked much older, his expression blank and uncomprehending. Then a grin split his face and he rushed toward Rip.

  “Phillippe!” He cried, throwing his arms around Rip. “I knew you weren’t dead, knew you wouldn’t leave me. You were wise to send your sons away, Phillippe, both of them. My boy, little JB, I’m afraid of him. I don’t think we can trust him.” He pulled away, tears in his otherwise vacant eyes and asked, “What are we going to do, Phillipe?”

  Pity and revulsion knotting his stomach, Rip patted the much smaller man on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll be all right.”

  Luc finished muttering into his phone and dropped it into his jacket pocket before he turned to address Jean Jacques. “You must give the people what they want, sir, a free election.”

  The older man stared at Luc in confusion. “Who did you say you are, Monsieur? Do we know him, Phillippe?”

  Fighting a growing feeling of nausea, Rip nodded and tried to sound reassuring. “He’s Luc, Uncle Jean Jacques, a friend who will keep you safe from JB.”

  Being addressed as uncle seemed to pass right over the emotionally disturbed man. “Can we trust him?” he persisted. Then as Rip nodded again, Jean Jacques turned back to Luc. “Will this election keep me safe?”

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you, sir.” Luc replied, urging him toward the bed. “Let’s get you dressed so you can announce the election.”

  “Will you be safe, Phillippe?” Jean Jacques asked, reaching for Rip’s arm.

  “I’ll be fine.” Rip rifled through a pile of clothes and pulled out a pair of dark slacks and a white shirt. Though they were wrinkled, they didn’t smell, so he tossed them on a chair.

  While he helped his uncle keep his balance, Luc took off Jean Jacques bathrobe and put the shirt and pants on him. Rip searched for shoes while Luc finished buttoning the shirt. One of the guards rapped on the door and passed Luc a bullhorn.