Jallow stood there, eyeballing the soldiers.
‘Have you done any courses?’ Lungu asked.
‘We’ve both completed close-protection training at Hereford. We’ve got plenty of experience guarding VIPs around the world.’
‘Are you armed?’
‘Aye.’ Kember nodded. ‘Pistols and longs.’
Bowman and Kember had been authorised to carry service-issue pistols for the mission. Both men had Glock 17 semi-automatics concealed beneath their grey jackets, secured in leather pancake holsters fastened to their belts. For the heavier stuff they had a pair of Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifles stored in a lock box bolted into the boot of their Land Rover. The compact variant, with shorter barrels and suppressors attached to the muzzles. They also had plated body armour, spare ammo, and covert radio harnesses strapped to their left shoulders. The radios were connected to earpieces to allow rapid secure comms between the different members of the team.
Jallow said, ‘Where are the others? We were informed that there would be four of you.’
‘They’re at Westminster Abbey right now,’ Bowman said. ‘Liaising with the police, securing the venue. They’ll be inside throughout the ceremony. If there’s any trouble, they’ll step in.’
Alarm flashed across Lungu’s face. ‘You’re not expecting problems at the Abbey itself, surely?’
‘It’s highly unlikely. The police have thrown up a ring of steel around the area. But we don’t want to take any chances.’
Kember said, ‘We’ll also be taking an alternative route to the venue.’
‘Why can’t we take the normal route?’ asked Lungu.
‘It passes through Pall Mall and Trafalgar Square. Lots of people, obviously. We should avoid those hotspots.’
‘You could arrest the protestors instead.’
‘That’s up to the police, ma’am. But even if they did round them up, some of their friends might slip through the net. For all we know, they might already be in the crowd somewhere, waiting to cause trouble.’
Jallow snorted with contempt. ‘This would never be allowed to happen in Karatandu. We have ways of dealing with such scum.’
‘I bet you do,’ Kember murmured.
Lungu glared at him before she turned to Bowman. ‘This new route . . . you’re sure it’s safe?’
‘We’ve recced it. The police have sent in a clearance party to check the drains, lamp posts, choke points, all of that.’
Lungu looked at him sceptically.
‘Trust us,’ Bowman said. ‘This is for the best.’
Lungu looked from the SAS men to Jallow. ‘Samuel, you’re happy with this arrangement?’
The bodyguard shrugged. ‘I guess.’
Lungu said, ‘You’ll have to notify Mr Seguma’s driver, of course. Go through the changes to the route with him.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Fine.’ She nodded, brushed a rogue strand of hair back into place. ‘Now, there are a few things we must cover before you meet Mr Seguma. First, remember that you are working for a great man. You will behave appropriately at all times in his presence. That means no smoking or drinking while you are on the job.’
Bowman said, ‘We’re trained professionals, ma’am. We won’t be doing any of that shit.’
‘No swearing, either,’ Lungu replied. ‘Don’t talk to Mr Seguma unless spoken to. When you speak, you will address him as “sir” or “Mr President”. If you have any questions or concerns, you should raise them with myself or Samuel,’ she added.
‘Anything else we should know?’ asked Bowman.
‘Mr Seguma doesn’t like being touched by strangers. Anyone from outside his own tribe. He thinks it transmits bad juju. You are to keep a respectful distance from him at all times.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘You have your own transport, I presume?’
‘We’ve got wheels,’ said Kember. ‘But it’s better if one of us travels with the principal in his own vehicle. We can respond much faster if something goes wrong.’
‘Out of the question,’ Lungu said. ‘Mr Seguma doesn’t allow strangers to travel with him. He’ll never stand for it.’
‘That’s going to make our job tricky.’
‘Too bad. Even Mr Seguma’s personal bodyguards are forbidden from travelling in the same car. You will have to follow us, and that’s the end of it.’
Kember started to protest but Bowman cut him off. ‘We understand, ma’am. We’ll ride in our own wagon.’
‘Good.’ A thin smile flickered across her lips. The gatekeeper to the big man celebrating another small victory. Putting the two foreigners in their place.
‘We’ll be leaving here at ten thirty.’ She glanced at her Cartier watch. ‘Two hours from now. Mr Seguma is due to arrive at Westminster Abbey at ten forty-five. There’s a holding area a few streets away, I believe. For the bodyguards. I assume you’ll wait with Mr Seguma’s security detail?’
Bowman shook his head. ‘We’ve got clearance to enter the Abbey. Me and Dave will have eyes on the principal during the wedding.’
‘But you just said there’s no danger at the Abbey.’
‘There isn’t, in all likelihood. But it’s better to be on the safe side.’
‘What’s your boss’s schedule for the afternoon?’ asked Kember.
Lungu said, ‘Once the wedding is over, Mr Seguma will return here. Around two o’clock. Then we’ll head over to the Greybourn Hotel for the party. You’ll be joining us for that, I assume?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Bowman said.
‘The party begins at six. Mr Seguma’s driver will pick us up fifteen minutes beforehand. You can follow us to the venue.’
‘We’ll need somewhere to station ourselves close by. Keep an eye on the principal.’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem. Mr Seguma’s security team will have a table near one of the exits. I’m sure they can accommodate you.’
‘When is this big bash supposed to end?’ Kember asked.
‘Who knows? Could be midnight. Could be later. The president is a man of great energy, you know. He likes to party.’
‘Great,’ Kember muttered.
Lungu’s phone vibrated. She reached into her jacket, took out an oversized handset sheathed inside a crocodile leather case and moved away as she swiped to answer. She spoke to the person on the other end of the line in a language Bowman didn’t recognise. After half a minute she killed the call.
‘Follow me,’ she said, pacing back over to the soldiers. ‘Let’s go and meet the president.’
Two
They followed Lungu and
