Bodyguard: Target (30 page)

‘I hate to admit it,’ said
Kay, shaking her head wearily as they breakfasted in the diner opposite the
fire-damaged hotel, ‘but that makes a great picture!’

She tapped the newspaper with
a
manicured fingernail. Below the headline – ‘Love Birds Flee Nest
Fire’ – was a photo of Ash and Charley caught mid-plunge over the hotel
pool, still clasping one another’s hands, the flaming building behind making a
dramatic backdrop to their death-defying escape. Of course, Gonzo had been there to
catch the moment in all its glory, along with a handful of other shutterbugs
in the
city. But
he
had been the one to nab the front-page shot.

‘The headline’s predictably
trashy, though,’ Kay went on, sipping from her coffee. Despite having been up
most of the night, as had everyone else, she somehow managed to retain her elegant
looks even in a hotel robe and slippers. Charley and Ash were wrapped in blankets,
Big T in a white T-shirt and grey jogging
bottoms and, much to the road crew’s
amusement, Terry had fled the hotel in a pair of blue pyjamas embroidered with
yellow teddy bears.
Only Jessie had managed to escape the fire
in any reasonable state of dress. She sat with Zoe at the next table in jeans,
T-shirt and sneakers.

‘But, in all seriousness, either
this tour is cursed with the worst bad luck or someone is seriously
committed to
killing Ash if they’re willing to burn down an entire hotel.’ Kay put a
protective arm round her nephew and smiled at Charley. ‘If it wasn’t for
you, Charley, my Ash wouldn’t be sitting here with us now having breakfast.
You’re certainly proving your worth, young lady.’

‘Yeah, well done, Charley,’
said Big T, cupping a mug of coffee between his huge hands.
‘But next time
… take the stairs.’ He forced a tired smile.

Kay turned to Big T. ‘Might I ask
where
you
were during all this? Because you certainly weren’t at
Ash’s side.’

Big T dropped his grin and responded
with a defensive frown. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Ms
Gibson. When the fire alarm woke me, I discovered Ash already gone from his room.
So, after
ensuring everyone else was out, I made my escape. I was the
last
of the crew to leave our floor.’

A frosty look entered Kay’s green
eyes. ‘Not quite the last, as it turned out. Ash was still up
there!’

‘With Charley,’ he pointed
out. ‘I knew she’d carried out the fire security check so was confident
she’d get Ash to safety.’

‘Yes, and thank God she
did!’ said
Kay, turning her back on Big T.

Charley saw the wounded look on the old
bodyguard’s
lined face. She wanted to say something in
his defence, but Zoe cut in from the next table. ‘Hey, listen to this! Latest
update on CNN … the fire was no accident!’ she exclaimed, reading from a
news app on her smartphone. ‘The police report states it was arson …
They’ve found what appears
to be the remnants of a home-made incendiary
bomb.’ She showed them a picture of a charred can of Hyper energy drink and
the remains of a cheap digital watch. ‘The fire was started in a housekeeping
store cupboard … and someone had disabled the hotel’s sprinkler
system!’

Big T leant forward in his seat.
‘Any suspects?’

Zoe read a little further down, then
shook
her head. ‘The police have no leads whatsoever … and no one has
claimed responsibility so far.’

Charley put down her orange juice.
‘The fire
had
to be targeted at Ash.’

Ash glanced up from his omelette, his
fork hanging halfway between the plate and his open mouth.

‘Fire is a very indiscriminate
method of murder,’ Big T noted. ‘Ash may have escaped unharmed, but
other guests didn’t. It’s a miracle so few were actually hurt in the
blaze.’

‘But if some maniac is willing to
go to those lengths,’ Charley pointed out, ‘it shows how determined they
are.’

Kay narrowed her eyes. ‘Aside from
the death threats we know about, what makes you think Ash was targeted?’

‘Our closest fire exit was
blocked,’ Charley explained.

Zoe gasped
and looked at Jessie.
‘Thank heaven you made me run the other way.’

Jessie nodded. ‘Yeah, we’d
have been trapped too!’

‘Good thing
you did,’ said Ash, setting down his fork. ‘The fire was on the other
side of the door. Without Charley smothering me, I’d have been burnt to a
crisp.’

He took Charley’s hand in his. She
smiled warmly in response. Their near-death
experience had definitely brought them
closer.

Big T rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘It might not have been blocked on purpose. Many fire doors have smoke seals
that expand under heat to close the gap between the door and its frame. The fact
they worked in this case probably saved your lives.’

‘That does seem more likely than a
direct attack on Ash,’ admitted Kay.

The diner’s entrance swung open
and Vince approached their table. ‘I’ve been informed that it’s
safe to return to the hotel and collect our belongings,’ said their security
guard.

‘Well, thank God for the San
Francisco fire service,’ said Kay. ‘I just hope they managed to save my
dresses.’ She raised an eyebrow in response to Terry’s shocked
expression. ‘That’s a joke,
Terry, in case you’re
wondering.’

They rose from the table and headed back
to the hotel. From the outside there appeared to be little damage, just a few
shattered windows and black smears of soot staining the outer walls. Entering the
lobby, the reception area was in organized chaos, but a VIP representative from the
hotel swiftly escorted their group past security and
up the stairs.

The benefits of being a
celebrity
, thought Charley.

On the sixth floor, she and the others
were confronted by the full devastation wreaked by the blaze. The corridor
was scorched and the walls blackened. The harsh acrid tang of
smoke still hung in the air and the carpet was soaked with water from the fire
hoses. As they each peeled off to gather their belongings,
Charley was amazed to
discover her and Ash’s rooms were untouched by the fire, their closed doors
having held back the flames. There was still the reek of smoke, but that appeared to
be the only serious damage.

Next door she heard Ash exclaim his
delight at finding his guitar in one piece. She looked in and smiled to herself when
she saw him caressing the instrument like
a long-lost lover. But she noticed the
Intruder device that she’d attached to Ash’s door frame had melted
beyond repair.

Returning to her room, Charley checked
and repacked the contents of her Go-bag: spare Intruders, half-empty pepper spray,
high-impact pen, first-aid kit, comms unit, torch. As expected, her phone registered
several missed calls from Buddyguard HQ – Jason’s
concern growing with
each voicemail message – and a bunch of warning texts from the Intruder device
catching her entering and leaving Ash’s room during the fire. She deleted
these, then called HQ.

The phone was picked up on the first
ring. ‘Charley! Is Ash OK?’ asked Jason.

‘Yes, he’s fine,’ she
replied. ‘I am too. Thanks for asking.’

‘That’s a relief,’ he
said,
though Charley wasn’t sure if he was referring to her or Ash or both of
them. ‘We saw the fire on the news and pictures of your dramatic escape, but
we were worried that we hadn’t had any contact from you.’

‘I’d
left my phone in the room. For obvious reasons, I was in a bit of a rush to get
out,’ she explained. ‘But I’ve got your messages now.’

‘Yeah, the colonel insisted
that I
kept calling.’

‘And I was beginning to think you
cared.’

‘Not a chance,’ Jason
replied. ‘Report in later.’ Then, before signing off, he added,
‘Stay safe, Charley.’

‘Will do,’ she replied,
unable to suppress a smile at his note of concern.

Putting the phone back in her bag, she
hunted through her suitcase for some clean clothes that didn’t stink too
much
of smoke. She was now grateful for Bugsy’s foresight in supplying fireproof
clothing. As she pulled on a pair of jeans, she noticed a white hotel envelope on
the carpet behind the door. She picked it up, frowned at the blank front and peeled
open the seal. Inside was a clipping from a tabloid magazine: Gonzo’s photo of
her with Ash at the restaurant in Dallas. Pasted beneath
it in letters cut out from
a newspaper were the words:

Ash was certainly a trouper. Despite a
sore throat from smoke inhalation and surviving yet another attempt on his life, he
was resolved to perform for his San Franciscan fans at the Oakland
Oracle Arena that
night. He burst on to the stage with a kamikaze-like energy, his gravelly voice more
than suiting his style of rock music. As Charley watched him literally rip one of
his guitars apart during a solo, then set it on fire, she wondered if Ash’s
third brush with death had tipped him over the edge. He was acting as if this might
be his last ever concert on earth.

Then again, she thought, his extreme
performance might be his way of letting off steam. Whatever, this gig was
jaw-dropping and his fans, sensing Ash’s desperation, were going wild for
him.

Behind the scenes, Kay had taken up the
reins alongside Terry as tour manager, her presence an iron rod to band and crew
alike. Nothing was being overlooked in terms of stage management
or venue security.
Everything had been triple-checked. The gigs were being run like a military
operation.

But Charley knew someone had slipped the
net.

The newspaper
threat she’d received couldn’t be any more clear. The fire had been a
premeditated attack on her and Ash. And if she needed any more proof she’d
subsequently read in a news report that the arson investigators
had found the
burnt-out remains of a cleaning trolley wedged behind the fire door on their floor
of the hotel.

Charley had harboured a tiny hope that
the message on the mirror had been a prank, a hoax, or at the most a knee-jerk
reaction by a jealous fan at the Dallas concert. But she could no longer delude
herself.

The homicidal maniac was on the tour
with them.

How else did that person know the hotels
they were staying at, discover which rooms she and Ash were in, and pass
unquestioned through their security checks?

In order to carry out the crimes, the
culprit had to have access backstage, to the hotels and to the tour bus. Only
somebody with an official pass could move unseen and undetected. The idea of it
chilled her blood
and made her more paranoid than ever.

The enemy was definitely within!

Charley had her suspicions who the
perpetrator might be, but no direct proof. The envelope with its newspaper clipping
was now in the pocket of her jeans. She hadn’t yet told Big T or Buddyguard
about it. She knew that Colonel Black would instantly pull her off the assignment
and she didn’t trust anyone
else, not even Big T, to keep Ash safe. She had to
see this assignment through to the end. It was her duty.

Besides, if the
maniac was who she thought it was, then she could handle them easily enough when
they showed their hand. But when would that be? And would she be in the right place
at the right time to stop them?

Any mistake, delay or miscalculation in
her reactions
could result in Ash’s death.

Charley remembered the tattoo on Big
T’s inner forearm. A pair of weighted scales and the words:
Guilty until
proven innocent
.

She couldn’t afford to wait. She
couldn’t risk Ash’s life any longer.

Pete was standing beside Jessie, bobbing
and weaving in time to the music, mouthing the words in sync with Ash, as he did
every night. Jessie
was gazing in reverential awe at her hero on the stage, her
hands clasped to her chest in deep devotion. Both had an unnatural obsession with
Ash, but only one had a motive to kill him.

Convinced who it was, Charley made up
her mind to act. She radioed for back-up, then confronted Ash’s stalker.