Bodyguard: Target (21 page)

‘You two clowns are about as useful
as a chocolate fire-guard!’ bellowed Big T, the tendons in his thick neck
bulging so much that he looked like he might burst a blood vessel.

Charley
stood motionless as the veteran
bodyguard vented his fury.

‘I put you in charge of the
single most important person
on this tour and you balls it up!’
he barked, wagging a gnarled finger at Vince and Rick. ‘One of you princesses
sprains an ankle, while the other can’t run a mile without having a heart
attack! The very least I expect from my security team is to be fit,
effective and
competent. Qualities neither of you seem to possess.’

The two security guards stared
shamefaced at the carpet as their boss laid into them.

Big T pointed his finger at Charley.
‘If it wasn’t for this young lady here, Ash would likely be in hospital
now or worse. You two excuses for bodyguards are on night shift for the next week!
Now get out of my sight!’

Vince and Rick scurried out of Big
T’s hotel room, their
tails between their legs, simply
grateful not to have been sacked on the spot.

‘And what are you looking so smug
about?’ snapped Big T, turning on Charley.

She stiffened and swallowed
nervously.

‘I called you
five
times!
Why the hell didn’t you answer?’

‘I-I was busy protecting
Ash,’ she explained,
stumbling over her words. ‘I didn’t see the
missed calls … until I got to the bank.’

‘You stopped at a bloody cafe for
a drink! You had more than enough opportunity to report in before the situation got
out of hand. Next time you’re solo, call in
immediately
. You’re
not some Katniss Everdeen. You may be trained as a bodyguard but you’re still
just a girl! And an inexperienced
one at that.’

Chastened by his stern words, Charley
bowed her head and fell silent. She had hoped for some praise for her actions, but
deep down she knew that Big T was right. She’d ignored one of the basic
principles of close protection: constant communication. She should have reported
their location and status.

Big T continued to glare at her, the
vein above his left
temple throbbing. Then his fierce expression eased a little and
he let out a heavy sigh. ‘That said, you made the best of a bad situation.
Holing up in a bank was smart thinking. And at the end of it all Ash is unharmed, if
a little shaken.’

Charley allowed herself to breathe
again.

‘The press, though, are going to
have a field day that Ash was out in public without
apparent security.’ Big T
ran a
hand over his wrinkled dome. ‘And Ms Gibson will
have my guts for garters over it!’

‘I’m sorry, Big T. I just
didn’t expect so many fans to turn up so quickly.’

‘Always expect the
unexpected,’ stated Big T, echoing Colonel Black’s own words of advice
during her training. ‘In future, heed the patron saint of bodyguards:
Murphy’s Law.’

Charley frowned. She noticed the same
words tattooed on his neck. ‘Murphy’s Law?’

‘Anything that can go wrong, will
go wrong,’ Big T explained. ‘Now get some rest before tonight’s
concert. I’ve a nasty feeling that Murphy might make another
appearance.’

Charley headed to her room, then stopped
at the door. ‘Talking of Murphy’s Law, there’s one thing bothering
me still.’

‘What’s that?’ asked
Big T.

‘How did Gonzo know Ash would exit
through the loading bay?’

Big T shrugged. ‘Luck, probably.
He hangs out in all the sewers.’

Charley shook her head. ‘No. He
was lying in wait. He knew.’

Big T furrowed his brow. ‘How,
Sherlock? We swept Ash’s room, remember, and it was all clear.’

Charley thought for a moment.
‘Either someone told him or … I missed a bug during the surveillance
sweep.’

Going over to the large desk in his
room, Big T picked up the bug detector. ‘Only one way to find out.’

Ash was down in the
hotel lobby, chilling with the rest of the band in the VIP lounge, so his suite was
empty. Big T let himself in with a spare key card. Charley closed the door behind
them and they began a second security sweep of the room.

Big T ran the detector over the TV,
phone, plug sockets, pictures, lights and every nook and crevice of the suite. But
the LED indicator stayed resolutely green.

He glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Did
you check the smoke detector?’

‘No,’ Charley admitted.
‘I don’t think so.’

He held the device up to the white
plastic casing. The LED indicator didn’t even flicker.

Big T looked at Charley. ‘Maybe we
do have a snitch among the team.’

Then Charley’s eyes were drawn to
the pile of flowers and gifts on the central table. ‘These weren’t here
when we did the security sweep the first time.’

Big T handed her the detector. She swept
the device over the various bouquets, boxes of
chocolates and cuddly toys. As the
sensor passed a teddy bear clutching a heart, it buzzed in her hand and the
indicator shot into the red. Big T picked up the suspect bear and examined it. He
tugged on the black bead of its left eye. The eyeball popped from its socket to
expose a camera lens attached to a transmitter. In its ear he discovered the tiny
bud of a microphone.

‘You sneaky son of a bitch,
Gonzo!’ exclaimed Big T, before ripping the bear’s ear off.

The glass-fronted Pittsburgh Consol
Center, usually the host venue for ice-hockey matches and basketball games, had been
transformed into a fifteen-thousand-seater concert hall. Ash’s unique
guitar-shaped stage had been installed the day before and the immense speaker stacks
and complex lighting rig rapidly constructed overnight. Fans who’d arrived
early were already filtering into the arena and there was a buzz of anticipation in
the air.

Charley hung backstage. Ash was secure
in his dressing room, preparing himself for the gig. Big T had instructed Charley
not to tell him about the teddy-bear spycam they’d found. ‘It
doesn’t represent a threat, merely an irritation,’ he’d explained.
After her conversation with Ash at the cafe, though, Charley wondered if it was
right to withhold that information from the target himself. She found Big T by the
coffee machine in the artists’ lounge and questioned this decision.

‘There’s no
point worrying
Ash unnecessarily,’ said Big T, pouring himself a double espresso. ‘He
needs to focus on performing. It’s
our
job to worry on his
behalf.’

‘But
I’ve only just started building his trust. I don’t want to break
it.’

Big T took a sip of coffee and grimaced
at its bitter taste. ‘Hey, imagine if the President of the United States was
told about every
threat to his life. The poor guy would be a gibbering wreck by the
end of the week. Ash is on a need-to-know basis. For his own good.’

‘What if our assumption is
wrong?’ pressed Charley. ‘What if the teddy bear wasn’t planted by
Gonzo?’

‘Who else could it be? Motive and
circumstance point to Gonzo. Granted, the girl who gave Ash the bear might be an
infatuated fan wanting
to spy on her idol, but those devices cost a fair whack.
We’re not talking pocket money here.’

‘How about the maniac who’s
been sending Ash the death threats?’ suggested Charley. ‘He could have
bribed, persuaded or even
threatened
the girl to do it.’

‘You assume the maniac’s a
guy,’ said Big T, raising a world-weary eyebrow. ‘Unless we see that
girl again, we won’t
know one way or the other. Whoever’s to blame, our
response is the same. We tighten security around Ash. Which reminds me, I need to
check in with the venue manager about the corporate boxes. Murphy’s Law and
all that.’

He drained his espresso and headed out
of the lounge. Charley followed Big T into the corridor. One of the security team
was stationed outside Ash’s dressing-room
door. With her Principal secure,
Charley took a walk backstage to familiarize herself with the new venue. She
noted the fire exits and quickest routes to each. Passing
various road crew and sound technicians, her eyes flicked to their photo passes,
checking everyone had one. As she approached the main stage, Charley’s
attention was caught by a shadowy figure dropping down from
one of the lighting
rig’s wire-rope ladders next to the backstage curtains. This behaviour seemed
odd and out of place compared to the rest of the crew and she immediately went on
the alert. Heading over to where the person had disappeared, she pulled back the
drape to discover Jessie crouching in the darkness behind the drum riser.

Jessie flinched and looked shocked.
‘You
startled me!’ she exclaimed, resting a hand on her heart.

‘What are you doing?’ asked
Charley.

She responded with a guilty smile.
‘I can’t resist peeking out on the stage before a concert. It’s
fabulous! This is exactly what Ash sees each night.’ Jessie stepped aside and
invited her to climb the ladder. ‘Go on, take a look yourself.’

Clambering up a few rungs, Charley
peered over the top of the riser. The stage rolled out before her, its catwalk
guitar neck protruding deep into the audience. With the venue lights on, she could
see thousands upon thousands of fans gathering in the stalls, their excited chatter
echoing round the vast arena. She glanced up at the mega-video screens running
pre-concert footage, then at the lighting rig high above
where she spied the tiny
figure of a spotlight operator moving among the struts.

‘Cool, isn’t it?’ said
Jessie.

Charley nodded and dropped back down.
‘I don’t know
how Ash has the courage to step out
and perform in front of a huge crowd like that.’

‘It’s because he’s a
god,’ replied Jessie reverentially. She crept through the curtain.
‘I’ll catch you later.
The concert’s going to start
soon.’

‘Don’t forget your
bag,’ said Charley, noticing a small backpack on the floor, partly hidden by
the curtain’s black fabric.

‘That’s not mine. But thanks
anyway.’

Jessie disappeared round the corner.

Charley bent down to pick it up. Then
stopped herself. Something about it made her think twice.

She spotted a guitar technician
nearby.
‘Is this yours?’ she asked, pointing to the suspect bag. The long-haired
technician shook his head and went back to fine-tuning the row of electric guitars.
Charley asked another crew member, but it wasn’t his either.

Charley reminded herself of the rule of
the Four Cs:
confirm
,
clear
,
cordon
,
control
.

She had to confirm her suspicions
first.

A bearded
roadie, whom Charley vaguely
recognized from rehearsals, came down the ladder. She asked if he knew who the
backpack belonged to. He grunted a no and carried on. Charley asked several more
people, but no one laid claim.

If you can’t find the owner,
then the item must be considered a threat
, Bugsy had said.

Charley bent down and gave the bag a
sniff. There was the faintest
aroma of almonds. Charley decided it was time
to alert Big T. She was about to call him on her radio, when
Bugsy’s voice sounded in her head again:
Radio waves are often used to
trigger remote-control bombs!

Charley immediately switched off her
mobile and comms unit, then dashed away to find Big T.

‘We should clear the area, at the
very least,’ Charley insisted as she stood with Big T and the tour manager at
a wary distance from the suspect backpack.

‘How can you be certain it’s
a bomb?’ asked Terry, peering at it in the dim light of backstage.

‘I can’t,’ replied
Charley. ‘But so far no one’s claimed it and I smelt almonds which could
mean plastic explosives.’

Terry spoke into his radio.
‘Attention, all crew. Has anyone lost a backpack?’

Charley instinctively flinched. But the
bag didn’t explode.
Well, at least that’s been cleared up
, she
thought.
The bomb isn’t triggered by radio waves.

Big T turned to the tour manager.
‘Anyone respond?’

Terry shook his head. ‘What do we
do now?’

‘As Charley said, clear the
area,’ replied Big T. ‘Get Ash off the premises.’

‘But the concert!’ Terry
exclaimed. ‘It’s due to start any minute now.’

‘Not with Ash, it
isn’t,’ said Big T, directing two security
guards to immediately move
people out of the vicinity.
Shocked at the news of a bomb, the
technicians and road crew dropped what they were doing and headed to the exit on the
direction of the guards.

‘But we can’t just cancel
the gig over a lost backpack!’ Terry argued, as Big T sent word to evacuate
Ash at once.

‘With the death threats made
against Ash,’ argued
the bodyguard, ‘we must assume the worst-case
scenario.’

‘Why can’t we just look
inside the darn bag?’ said Terry, walking over to it.

‘NO!’ said Charley, grabbing
his arm. ‘It could be booby-trapped.’

Terry held up his hands in frustration.
‘It’s just a bag!’

‘A bag that
could
be a
bomb,’ said Big T. ‘We need to call the authorities.’

‘And how long’s that
going
to take?’ Terry shrugged off Charley’s hand and marched over to the
backpack.

‘Don’t!’ warned Big T,
moving rapidly away from the suspect bomb.

Terry bent down to open the bag. Big T
pushed Charley behind a transport crate, then dived for cover himself. There was a
long deafening silence.

Then Terry appeared, holding a can of
soda, an open packet of mixed
nuts and a sandwich box in his hand. ‘Some
bomb,’ he said, glaring at Charley and Big T crouched on the ground.
‘For heaven’s sake, Big T, keep that girl of yours on a leash!
She’s going to be the death of this tour.’

The manager strode off in a fury and
started barking orders to get the concert back on schedule.

‘Sorry,’ said Charley, feeling like she’d let Big T down
again.

‘Nothing to be sorry about,’
he replied, lumbering back to his feet. ‘You alerted me. I take responsibility
thereafter. Besides, it’s better to be safe than blown to bits! Even if the
bomb does turn out to be a mouldy cheese sandwich.’ He grunted a laugh.

Charley was grateful for Big T’s
good humour, but she knew she’d screwed up
again
. ‘You were
right to
call me inexperienced. On this assignment, I feel like I’m always
calling wolf.’

‘And one day there might be a
wolf,’ said Big T. ‘As a bodyguard, you have to suspect everything and
everyone.
Guilty until proven innocent
is my motto.’

‘I thought it was:
Only the
paranoid survive
.’

‘Depends on which arm I look
at,’ replied Big T, showing her the opposite forearm
with a tattoo of a pair
of weighted scales and the words
GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN
INNOCENT
inscribed beneath it
.
‘Now, don’t lose
faith in yourself. Ash has a gig to do and you need to be on the ball.’

With the emergency over, the crew and
technicians hurriedly returned to their duties. Everyone was under pressure to make
up for lost time.

‘Don’t forget,’ said
Big T
as he headed to Ash’s dressing room. ‘Murphy’s Law applies
at all times.’

Charley nodded. She was now a full
convert to Murphy and his Law. Anything that could go wrong for her on this
assignment seemed to be doing exactly that! She took up her position at the side of
the stage as instructed by Big T,
only too happy to comply
since it allowed her to keep a low profile.
Her name had to be dirt among the crew
after a second false alert.

Jessie ran up to her. ‘Did you
hear there was a suspected bomb threat?’ she gasped.

Charley nodded and said nothing.

‘I never imagined a tour could be
so
dangerous
,’ remarked Jessie, her tone suggesting excitement rather
than fear at the idea.

The house lights suddenly went dark and
the video
screens began a countdown. Fifteen thousand fans yelled along with it:
‘
FIVE
…
FOUR
…
THREE
…
TWO
…
ONE!
’

A huge explosion shuddered through the
arena …

But Charley didn’t flinch. She
knew this explosion was all part of the show. Fireworks lit up the stage in a
waterfall of red and gold sparks and a pounding heartbeat throbbed from the speakers
at a gut-thumping
volume. Images of a winged boy flashed across the video screens,
his silhouette leaping from frame to frame as a blazing fire took hold and raced
after him. The fierce crackle of burning grew louder and louder as the winged boy
was surrounded, then consumed by flames.

Out of the heart of the raging fire, a
single word pulsed in time to the dying beat of the music.

INDESTRUCTIBLE
.

The word shone like a beacon, then
morphed into:
IMPOSSIBLE?

Before transforming one final time
…
I’M POSSIBLE!

A thunderclap burst
from the speakers and Ash shot up from a toaster lift in the floor. He landed with
the grace of an eagle on the stage. Behind him on the video screens, a flaming
phoenix burned bright.

Ash pumped a fist in the air.
‘What’s
up, Pittsburgh!’

The arena erupted with screams and
cheers. Picking up his guitar, he struck a chord that started the blistering riff of
his first hit, ‘Easier’.

Out of the darkness, a large
missile-like object plummeted from above. Charley glimpsed it only at the very last
second as it flashed past the central screen. There was no time to react.

The spotlight dropped
from the lighting
rig like a meteor. It smashed into the stage right where Ash was standing. Knocked
off his feet by the impact, he crumpled to the floor. The audience fell deathly
silent as their idol lay motionless among the debris of shattered glass, splintered
wood and twisted metal.