The Hokobus were not just paralysed; they were also confused because they could see that the hypodermic syringe was empty. Gil carefully tapped the side of Samuel Etundi’s neck and found his carotid artery. She carefully inserted the needle and injected air into the artery that carried blood directly to the brain.

The Chameleon repeated the procedure with Victoria Hokobu, whose face had hardened with resolve. Good for you, Gil thought; you have chosen not to die in fear, but sadly your death is inevitable.

Before the paralysis caused by the redweed solution wore off, the two Africans were dead from the predicted pulmonary embolisms. The Chameleon had used this methodology many times before when a stroke or heart attack needed to be induced. The air bubble she injected into each victim would be trapped in an artery in the brain or elsewhere, where it would cause a blockage and an embolism. Injecting into the main carotid artery is usually most effective, as it tends to shut off the oxygen supply to the brain very quickly.

Less than ten minutes had passed since she had sprayed the bodyguard. Gil reset her watch and wiped her mind of all regret as she walked the few yards back to her hire car.

Chapter 1 7

The London Eye, Southbank, London, Wednesday 11am.

Geordie was sitting in the back of the ambulance when Dee arrived at the scene. There were sightseers, policemen, yellow tape and news reporters everywhere. The policeman protecting the cordon would not let Dee past the tape without permission from a detective and, whilst he was radioing for that permission, Dee saw Detective Sergeant Scott and waved.

Last year DS Scott had been involved in the case where Dee had been shot and, whilst they were not particularly close friends, they did get along well. DS Scott came to the tape and lifted it for Dee to enter. He was not smiling, but he nodded briefly by way of greeting. He touched her arm gently.

“Dee, it’s good to see you again, but I wish it hadn’t been in such unhappy circumstances. Geordie tells me that you were both becoming close to the victims.”

Dee nodded. “Paul, they were such lovely people. I don’t normally get attached to clients but with these two you just couldn’t help yourself.” She recognised that she needed to control her emotions.

“Come on, I’ll take you to your man, but I have to warn you that for a tough Geordie and former soldier, he is pretty upset.” Scott led Dee to the ambulance, where she could see Geordie sitting on a bed with an oxygen mask over his face. He looked pale and totally forlorn. DS Scott invited Dee to come and find him when she was finished talking to her partner, and he walked away towards the parking lot.

The scene was somewhat surreal; just a couple of hours ago she had been laughing and joking with Geordie and the Hokobus and now two were dead and the other didn’t look as though he wanted to go on living.

Dee climbed into the ambulance alongside Geordie and the paramedic. The paramedic carried out some checks, ensured the monitors were working and spoke to Dee.

“His blood oxygenation levels are really low, not dangerous but it wouldn’t take much of a drop to cause a problem. So, please make him keep the mask on as much as possible.” With that he picked up a clipboard and stepped outside to write up his notes.

Dee took Geordie’s hand in both of hers and stroked it. For the first time since she had known him he looked vulnerable, mortal even. Geordie was a man’s man; he was athletic, strong, loved sport and had an inner compunction that drove him to protect the weak. As she looked at the strong, rather hirsute, hand in hers, she thought of his wife and children and how much they would have lost if the assassin had taken him as well.

“It was my fault, Dee.” Geordie used his other hand to pull down the oxygen mask that was secured to his face by two white elastic straps. “All I had to do was to keep them safe for another twenty four hours.” He fell silent and his eyes glazed over as he receded into his shell, lost in his thoughts of self-recrimination.

“Look, Pete, you can never keep a client one hundred per cent safe unless you lock them up somewhere and never let them out. Armies of armed protectors surrounded the Pope, Reagan, the Kennedys and Martin Luther King and they still got shot. We do all we can and I’m sure that the Hokobus, wherever they are now, will know that.”

Geordie, otherwise known as Pete Lowden to the world, looked at Dee and spoke from the heart.

“Dee, I don’t want to sound cruel but these people had a mission, a purpose; they could have saved thousands of Africans from poverty and starvation, whereas most of our clients are self important nobodies who are only afraid for themselves.”

“Pete, I’ve been thinking about how we can pay a tribute to them and get their work done in their absence. I’ll talk to you about it later. Now, get some rest and get that oxygen level back up.” The young woman gently placed the mask back on her colleague’s face before kissing him on the forehead.

***

“Miss Conrad. Oh, sorry, I mean Mrs Hammond. I didn’t think we’d ever meet again, at least not in our professional capacities.” Detective Chief Inspector Coombes and Dee had endured an uncomfortable start to their relationship when he arrested her in connection with a murder enquiry where she had initially been a suspect. Since then, however, they had established a good working relationship that was based on mutual respect.

“Terry, I just don’t know what to say. We’re devastated. We were protecting this couple.”

“Dee, if it helps at all you had no chance. This was a contract hit by one of the best. If this attempt had failed there would have been another and so on until we reached this point.” He paused and looked at Dee. “I know that Geordie feels bad about this, but the best thing we can all do is find the killer. The reason that is particularly important is because, in my view, when we find the killer we’ll find someone who has a number of other murders to their name.”

The DCI and the Vastrick Vice President walked over to the car where the bodies were still being examined in place. The Scene of Crimes Officer walked over to them. The SOCO was in his early forties, short but slightly underweight. His hair had receded long ago and was wispy and red where the colour still remained amongst the grey.

“DCI Coombes. Oh, and who is this beautiful lady? She’s a definite improvement on Scott.”

“This is Dee Hammond, Warren. She isn’t on the force. She heads up Vastrick Security.”

“Well, my dear,” the SOCO continued, “you are privileged indeed. Terry here normally wouldn’t let a civilian near the crime scene. But then, you are Dee Conrad. We almost met once before. I was the SOCO at the Tottenham Press shootout, although you were obviously injured at the time so I’m not surprised that you don’t remember me. I’m pleased to meet you properly at last and to see that you appear to be totally recovered.”

Dee shook Warren’s hand and explained why she was there. The older man shook his head mournfully as if wondering to himself why people had to hurt one another, especially the caring ones who could do so much good.

His report was succinct but full of surprises.

“The couple were disabled by a gas or gaseous liquid that contained either a strong muscle relaxant or a paralytic. We won’t know the exact details until we have the tox screen done. Then, like some kind of spy movie, they are not shot, stabbed or strangled but are injected with air, directly into the carotid artery, here.” The examiner pointed to his own carotid artery. “This is a very tricky procedure and it’s not guaranteed to work at all, let alone kill. Often it will cause brain damage or result in a recoverable stroke or coronary. Here it killed, and quite quickly too.