Chapters (37)
- Cover
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Chris Ryan Readers’ Club?
- Letter from Author
- About the Author
Kember stared closely at him. ‘You sure that’s all it is?’
‘It’s nothing, Geordie.’
‘We’ve got a long day ahead of us. The last thing we need is you coming down with the fucking flu.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘You’d bloody better be. I really don’t want to have to bodyguard this twat by myself.’
Twenty-nine minutes later, the suite door clicked open.
Lungu swept into the corridor first, clutching a small leopard-print handbag. President Seguma followed a couple of paces behind, wearing his trademark trilby hat. In his right hand he gripped a stout rattan cane topped with a gleaming gold crown. The bodyguards brought up the rear, all three of them decked out in dark sunglasses in spite of the grey English weather.
Lungu took out her crocodile-leather-cased phone and called down to their driver. Letting him know they were on the way down. Then Okello, Bowman and Kember rode the lift down to the underground car park. Okello hopped into a black Mercedes S-Class sedan, while Bowman and Kember made for their Land Rover Discovery. They were driving the petrol model, with bulletproof glass, armour-plated sides and enhanced brakes and suspension. The Discovery also came fitted with a covert radio, allowing them to stay in touch with the other guys on the Counter-Attack Team.
They got into the wagon, Kember took the wheel and steered out of the parking space. He followed Okello in the S-Class as the latter drove up the ramp and parked in front of the hotel, two metres behind the president’s car. Which turned out to be another S-Class, but the stretch limo version, with blacked-out windows and a Karatandu national flag mounted on the front fender.
Kember pulled up directly behind Okello’s S-Class, with the presidential limo ahead. A few moments later, Jallow and Deka strolled out of the lobby. Jallow shoved aside a businessman blocking the entrance, needlessly drawing attention to the team. An amateur move. Seguma walked a few steps behind his bodyguards, swinging his gold-crowned cane. Jallow yanked open the rear passenger door and said something to the president. Bowman didn’t catch the words. But the tone wasn’t friendly. Not a polite request. More like an order. Hurry up.
Seguma and Lungu ducked into the rear of the stretch limo. Jallow slammed the door shut, then swung round to the S-Class sedan parked to the rear. Jallow crammed his enormous frame into the back seat while Deka took the front passenger seat.
Then the convoy set off. The limo departed first, steering into the mid-morning traffic. Then the bodyguards in the sedan, followed by the SAS men in the Discovery. Thirty seconds later, they were motoring south on Park Lane, leaving the hotel in the rear-view.
Heading for Westminster Abbey.
Three
Three