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Authors: J Jackson Bentley

Tags: #thriller, #london, #bodyguard, #vastrick

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BOOK: Chameleon - A City of London Thriller
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Still stunned
by the morning’s events, she had lunch with Doug Mc Keown, who
explained that the Labour government had decided that they wanted
to pursue a more ethical approach to security and so the new
Director, a Labour government appointee, had directed that all of
those involved in the
disposal
side of the business would have to go.


However,
Gil,” Doug added in a conspiratorial whisper, “our services are
still needed all around the world, and as you are the second best
in the business, I would like you to join me as my partner. The pay
is much better.”


How much
better?” Gil asked.


The
Chameleon charges one million US dollars per hit, and as no one
knows who the Chameleon is, we can share the workload.” He held his
right hand out and Gillian shook it.

As Doug had
predicted, the partnership was a great success until May 2009 when
an unstable supply of detonators exploded a briefcase full of
Semtex prematurely, leaving only fragments of Doug left to bury. So
now, once again, the Chameleon was a sole practitioner.

Chapter
1
5

The Hokobu
Apartment, London, Wednesday 7am. 2011.

Geordie awoke
to the aroma of bacon grilling and coffee brewing. Victoria Hokobu
was obviously up early and in the mood for food. He wiped the sleep
from his eyes and yawned widely before sitting up and swinging his
legs off the bed.

The young man
lay flat on his back on the floor and went through his gruelling
daily regime of stomach crunches before swinging, lifting and
bending his body into a comfortable fluidity. A splash of water on
his bristled face and a ruffle of his close cropped hair and he was
ready to head towards the tempting breakfast aromas.

The cook was
actually Samuel Etundi. Geordie had marvelled at how easily Samuel
accepted being introduced as Mr Hokobu, even though that was his
wife’s maiden name. His mind slipped back to his days as a young
administrator where a male colleague was continually teased because
his wife, a GP, signed their Christmas cards from Dr and Phillip
Peterson. Nonetheless, Samuel was a good cook and the breakfast was
as good as any fry up Geordie had experienced in the North East,
where fry-ups were almost an art form.

Geordie was
amazed that he felt such affection for this couple, having known
these two central Africans for so short a time. The fact was that
they had immediately accepted him as one of the family, and
Victoria called him her ‘little Mussi’ which he pretended to
dislike. They treated him like a brother and at night when they
kneeled down to pray they included him. Geordie hadn’t prayed since
school and so he was very embarrassed, especially when they kneeled
down in a little circle and held hands as they took turns
praying.

The North
Easterner had felt a lump in his throat as the two visitors spoke
to God as if he was standing there, as if he was a close friend of
theirs. They told God all about their day, the new friends they had
met and they asked him to keep Geordie safe and well. When they had
both finished, they looked at him and he realised that he was
expected to pray, too. Geordie did not specifically believe that
there was no God, he had just not been acquainted with him for so
long that he wondered whether he was still there, or if he ever had
been. Geordie followed the formula they had used in his first
spoken prayer in twenty years. Introduce yourself to Heavenly
Father, calling him respectfully by that name, thank him for all of
the good things in your life, ask him for what you need and close
the prayer by invoking Jesus Christ, Amen.

It was the
most uplifted he had felt for a long time. He had thought about his
wife, his children and how much he loved them. He offered grateful
thanks for his parents and suddenly he found himself appreciating
life much more than he had done an hour before. He had slept the
sleep of the righteous.

This morning,
Geordie gathered up the items they needed for the day and talked
over their security routine one more time. The danger, he pointed
out, was at its zenith whilst they were on foot between the car and
the London Eye. With that warning they headed out, the Hokobus
looking forward to seeing London from the skies on a beautiful
cold, clear day.

Chapter
1
6

The London
Eye, Southbank, London, Wednesday 10am.

The Chameleon
had spent the evening refining and reducing a batch of Redweed to a
clear concentrated gel. Given her past experience, she knew that
the degree to which she diluted the gel with liquid propellants
would also determine its potency. On her first attempts as a
student she had killed a lab rabbit with it whilst experimenting,
but since then her detailed records had ensured that the solution
was mixed and delivered in the proper proportions.

When she was
satisfied that the mixture was disabling, but not fatal, she
dispensed the clear liquid into a small perfume bottle with a
vaporiser top so that it could be dispensed as a spray.

Now, as she
sat and waited outside the London Eye, she hoped that she had
guessed correctly and that this morning the Hokobus would take
advantage of the beautiful clear skies to overlook a glistening but
freezing cold London skyline from one of the London Eye’s
capsules.

Gil had
decided that she needed to travel by car today and so she hired a
‘Smart Car Fortwo’ from
Quick Cars
at Waterloo. The Chameleon had taken a risk
carrying a rifle through the streets of London yesterday and she
wasn’t about to risk carrying another firearm today. The chances of
being stopped and searched in terrorist threatened London were too
great. Assassins operating in London had to be more
inventive.

Dressed in
black tights, sensible shoes, black skirt and white blouse with a
black chequered scarf, she could easily be mistaken for a
policewoman. The look would be complete when she attached a large
blue Police Community Support Officer logo to the back of her
padded winter jacket and a Metropolitan Police badge onto the
front. The jacket and the logos were perfect copies of the real
thing, as was the policewoman’s hat she carried in her bag. The
Chameleon had purchased the uniform, a variety of badges, warrant
cards, fake radios and police equipment from the night security man
at a London television studio costume department. Just in time,
too, because now that
The Bill
had come to an end the Metropolitan Police were
securing all of the cast uniforms to prevent their auction to the
public. The last thing they needed was to have individuals passing
themselves off as police officers.

Gil would
attach the necessary Metropolitan Police idents with Velcro later;
she did not want to be caught posing as a police officer and so she
would limit her time in the public eye whilst in full
uniform.

Parking the
car in the Shell Centre close to the London Eye, the only parking
anywhere near to the attraction, Gil paid the fee and attached the
ticket to her car windscreen. She had parked in one of the small
bays reserved for city cars where two such cars could use one
normal space. It also meant that she would be at ground level in
the multi-storey car park underneath the great tower block, and
away from the security cameras.

Leaving her
disguise and equipment in the car for the moment, she repeatedly
walked a short circular route that would allow her to see the
Hokobus, should they board the London Eye.

***

Boredom and
the seeping cold were fast becoming her enemy when at last the
Chameleon noticed the customised silver Mercedes turn into the
Shell Centre car park. The driver chatted to the attendant as if
they were friends, and the driver handed the man a twenty-pound
note surreptitiously. It appeared that the bribe worked, because
the silver Mercedes drove straight into a large parking space
reserved by a brass plate for Mr Jochen Friede, who presumably
wasn’t expected in today.

As the
occupants alighted from the car the driver, a well built and
powerful looking man in an unaccountably lightweight jacket, looked
around, seeing everything. He was clearly a professional. That
might make her job a little harder, but that was why she charged a
million dollars per hit, although she had reluctantly agreed a
discounted rate for two assassinations in one day.

Gil completed
her final circuit of the area, by which time she had observed the
Hokobus taking their place in one of the London Eye’s capsules. She
set her watch on the thirty minute timer and headed back to her
car.

Unless there
is a technical problem, the London Eye will usually rotate at the
speed of a running tortoise, taking thirty minutes to complete a
rotation. This ensures that passengers can mount and disembark
without the wheel having to come to a complete stop.

***

Geordie was
regretting his bravado of earlier in the day when he had decided on
the lighter weight jacket. He was spending as much time keeping
warm as watching the clients; not that they were in any danger on
the Eye.

They had
almost completed the revolution, which meant that in a few minutes
they would be back in the Mercedes, heater blazing in an effort to
reproduce the tropical temperatures the Hokobus
favoured.

As a
distraction he let his gaze wander to a pretty Community Support
Officer whose hair was bunched up under her hat. The brown-eyed
officer was quite stunning and almost make-up free, or at least it
appeared so.

As she
approached he stood up from the bench.


Excuse me
sir, could you look at this photo and read the description and tell
me if you have seen this young girl today?” The policewoman handed
him a sheet of A4 paper containing a photograph and a description
of a young girl aged around thirteen.

When Geordie
looked up to confirm that he had not seen her, the policewoman had
a handkerchief pressed to her nose and mouth and a perfume spray
pointing at his face. A fine mist was sprayed into his mouth and
nostrils; he breathed it in, puzzled at first as to what was going
on. Was he suspected of something? Was this pepper
spray?

Then it hit
him. His mouth was dry, he had no saliva, he couldn’t swallow and
he couldn’t breathe. He panicked and started to flap around before
his limbs were paralysed too. The policewoman took hold of him
gently and sat him on the bench, and then she made him lie
flat.


This is
temporary. It only lasts ten minutes or so. I am going to push in
your diaphragm. Concentrate on breathing from there. Your thorax is
paralysed but you can still breathe.”

Geordie was
desperate for breath but as soon as the woman expelled air using
his diaphragm he could breathe again, though with difficulty. He
lay on the bench, paralysed by fear as much as by the drug, as the
policewoman stroked his cheek and smiled, her deep brown eyes
belying her intent.


You’re doing
fine. You’ll be fully recovered before you know it.”

Geordie saw
the Hokobus in the distance, hurrying toward them and looking
concerned as the policewoman called for the urgent attendance of
paramedics, using her non-working radio.

***

Gil had
watched as the bodyguard began to ready himself for departure and
she had picked that moment to approach him with her most radiant
smile. He went down as predicted, and luckily the mixture had been
about right. He would start to regain use of his internal organs in
around ten minutes, and his motor functions and speech would be
fully restored around five minutes after that.

She had to
work fast. She approached the Hokobus, who looked very worried at
the sight of their temporarily disabled bodyguard.


Mr and Mrs
Hokobu?”


My husband
is actually Samuel Etundi, but yes, that is us,” Victoria replied,
her worried eyes flicking quickly from the policewoman to the
bodyguard beyond.


Your
bodyguard here fears that he has been poisoned in an attempt on
your lives,” Gil explained, and Victoria’s eyes and attention
refocused on her quickly as she continued speaking in her best
calming, authoritative voice. “He asked me to get you to the safety
of your armoured car as soon as possible. Does that sound right to
you?”


Yes. We have
such a car.” Etundi spoke this time, looking around in the hope of
spotting it.


OK, let’s
go. The paramedics and my colleagues are seconds away. They will be
here at any moment to take care of him, but I need to get you to
safety.”

Reluctantly
they followed the Chameleon as she held up the keys she had taken
from the bodyguard’s pocket.


Please be
well, little Mussi,” Victoria said affectionately as she kissed the
paralysed man on the forehead.

Geordie was
desperately trying to speak, to warn them, but his body would not
respond. Tears of frustration formed in his eyes.

***

Gil pressed
the remote control and the doors opened.


Quickly,
please. Every moment you are in the open you are in
danger.”

BOOK: Chameleon - A City of London Thriller
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