first place. Rather than admiring the
view, he should have beenassessing 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.
It had fallen to Bugsy to supply Connor with
his gear and, by the looks of it, his surveillance instructor had done a thorough job.
He was equipped with a comprehensive first-aid kit, including emergency antibiotics,
syringes and sterile needles – vital in a country with almost non-existentmedical facilities. There were spare malaria
tablets, sun lotion and DEET insect repellent. He had his sunglasses from his previous
assignment – essential for daytime, but equally useful at night due to the layer of
nano-photonic film that converted infra-red light to visible, enabling him to see in the
dark. He also had a Maglite with spare batteries, a portable solar charger for his
smartphone and a pair of high-powered compact binoculars. Among his clothes, Bugsy had
supplied a stab-proof short-sleeved shirt, cargo trousers and a baseball cap with
integrated neck shade. But the standard-issue bulletproof jacket would simply be too hot
to wear in this climate. He’d have to rely on the Go-bag’s internal
body-armour panel for protection against any gun attack.
The most intriguing item of kit was a slim
blue tube with a drinking nozzle at one end. A ‘Lifestraw’ Bugsy had called
it. The device instantly turned muddy puddles into clean drinking water simply by
sucking through the tube. With a distinct lack of sanitation in Burundi, the last thing
Connor needed as a bodyguard was to come down with diarrhoea. Small enough to fit in his
pocket, the Lifestraw, Bugsy had assured him, removed 99.9 per cent of waterborne
bacteria and could filter a thousand litres, enough for one person for an entire
year.
‘Unusual kit for a holiday,’
said a gravelly accented voice in English.
Connor spun to