Bodyguard: Target (18 page)

Big T checked his watch and yawned.
‘The older I get, the more I hate these after-show parties,’ he
grumbled.

Charley stood beside him as he guarded
the entrance to the private club
that had been reserved for the sole use of Ash and
his entourage. Even Charley was fading at three in the morning. She’d been
invited to join the party, but after Ash’s ridiculing of her she was keeping a
professional distance – far enough away to be unnoticed, but close enough to
react if there was any trouble. Meanwhile, Ash and his band were still grooving on
the dance floor
with a group of VIP guests: local celebrities, TV personalities and
the prettiest female fans picked out from the audience by the security team. The
band were so pumped up on adrenalin from the concert that they needed to let off
steam before heading back to the hotel to sleep.

‘I heard about Ash’s
prank,’ remarked Big T over the heavy drum and bass of the DJ’s
music.

Charley grimaced with embarrassment.
‘Yeah, I’m sure everyone did,’ she said bitterly.

‘Don’t
take it personally,’ he said. ‘Tour pranks are something of a tradition.
When I was working security for Black Sabbath, Ozzy once poured Tabasco sauce into
my mouth while I was sleeping! I sure woke up fast. I thought my tongue had been set
on fire. He helpfully handed me a
glass of water to wash the taste away. Turned out
to be vodka! I vomited all over the bed.’

‘Well, Ash was lucky I
didn’t vomit over him,’ replied Charley, glaring at the rock star who
was encircled by a gaggle of gyrating girls, any of whom would probably give their
right arm
and
right leg to kiss the rock star.

‘Don’t worry –
I’m sure you’ll get your chance for payback
later in the tour. I
certainly did with Black Sabbath.’

‘You did? How?’

Big T grinned. ‘I replaced the
contents of a stick-on air freshener with raw chicken and hung it in their tour bus.
After a few days, the rotting meat began to smell. Really badly. But nobody on the
bus could figure out where the stink was coming from. The air freshener was the
perfect disguise.
The band spent the rest of the tour reeking of rotten
chicken!’ He let out a gutsy laugh at the memory.

Hearing this tale from the old
bodyguard, she realized Ash’s prank was just part of band touring and began to
feel better. However humiliated she’d been at the time, she had to take it on
the chin. Besides, from her training, she knew she had to give as good as she got
– and she vowed she would when the opportunity arose.

Charley glanced out through the tinted
glass of the
club’s doors. A crowd was still gathered
outside. ‘Don’t they have homes to go to?’ she remarked.

Big T eyed the crowd. ‘Paparazzi
never sleep.’

Charley spotted a face she recognized.
Unshaven with a hook nose, close-set mud-brown eyes and a buzz cut of black
hair, it
was the photographer who’d flashgunned her outside the press conference.

‘Do you know who that guy
is?’ asked Charley, pointing to the man through the glass.

Big T snorted his disgust. ‘Yeah,
that’s Gonzo.’

‘Gonzo?’ queried
Charley.

‘His real name’s Sancho
Gomez, but he looks more like the Muppet Gonzo to me. He’s one of the paps
that follow Ash
around the world. In fact he’s the worst of them – a
piece of scum, a former gang member turned freelance photographer. Guys like him
should be called the stalkerazzi!’

‘Can’t you get rid of
him?’

Big T shook his head. ‘Nothing we
can do. Those guys justify their presence by citing the rights of freedom of the
press. But ultimately it’s all about the money.’

‘What
money?’ asked
Charley.

‘Paparazzi can earn tens of
thousands of dollars for a single photo, sometimes even more. That’s why
they’re so determined and desperate, Gonzo in particular. I hear he owes a
large gambling debt to the mob. But, lucky for him, some tabloids are willing to pay
six-figure sums for a unique shot.’

‘What do you mean by
unique?’

‘Anything
that’s a scoop, like an affair or a new relationship,’ explained Big T.
‘Or a picture that makes the celebrity look bad, like a car accident,
appearing drunk, unattractive or angry. And, if they can’t get their shot
naturally, they’ll try to goad the celebrity into losing their
cool.’

Charley reappraised the group of
paparazzi hanging outside the club. They were beginning
to look more like a pack of
sharks awaiting their prey. ‘So what can we do to stop them getting that
shot?’

‘Not much. Just have the patience
of angels,’ Big T replied. ‘No matter how rude they are, how much they
push and shove or shout and scream at you, always keep your cool and a smile on your
face. Remember, the key rule is to keep moving. Never stop among a pack of
pap.
Otherwise they’ll eat you alive. If you do need to block a photo for any
reason, simply put your body in the way.
Never
put your hand up to the
lens.’

Charley frowned. ‘Why
not?’

‘It’ll give them a dramatic
picture of your hand looking very large and very menacing in the lens. And then
they’ll have the story they were seeking:
Violent bodyguard attacks
innocent photographer
.’

Ash strode up to them with two girls on
his arm. ‘I’m beat,’ he said with a sigh.

‘Sorry, Ash, no room for guests in
the vehicle,’ said Big T in a polite yet firm tone.

Ash grinned and shrugged. ‘Guess
the party’s over, girls,’ he said, kissing both on the cheek and letting
them go. They giggled and swooned. Charley rolled her eyes.

The
rest of
Ash’s band and entourage joined them at the door.

Big T raised an eyebrow at Charley.
‘Time to meet the great unwashed!’

The cool night air hit them as they
emerged on to the street. Immediately the paparazzi pounced. They swarmed round Ash,
some even fighting one another to get in position for the best shot. Flashes burst
like fireworks in the night. But Charley
was more prepared for the craziness this
time. Even though it was dark, she wore her sunglasses against the blinding flare of
multiple cameras on full auto. And she kept her footing despite the mayhem of
pushing and shoving.

‘Make way, please,’ called
out Big T, cutting a path through the throng.

‘Ash, over here!’ shouted a
photographer.

‘Look this way, Ash!’ cried
another.

But Ash kept his head down and followed
in Big T’s wake.

‘Ash, have you been
drinking?’ accused one guy. ‘That’s illegal at your age, you
know.’

‘Excuse me,’ insisted Big T,
positioning his ample frame to shield Ash from the onslaught of photographers.
However, the paparazzi proved experts at walking backwards while taking their
shots.

‘Looks
like you’re on drugs,
Ash!’ taunted a pap. ‘What did you take?’

Ash shook his head. ‘I
never
take drugs,’ he snapped, obviously annoyed at the line of
questioning.

With the paparazzi
becoming more antagonistic, Charley moved closer to Ash, protecting him from behind
while appearing like a tagger-on of his entourage.

‘Got a thing for blondes now, have
you?’
taunted Gonzo, his ratty eyes fixing on Charley. There was a brief
flicker of recognition. ‘
Hola
, blondie. Are you his latest
girlfriend?’

‘No, just PR,’ she replied
with a smile.

‘Yeah, I believe you,
chica
. How about a picture of you two lovebirds together?’

Charley kept moving. Gonzo shoved a
camera in her face and reeled off several shots. He was invading her
body space, but
she held her smile and didn’t slow her pace.

More taunts and insults were hurled at
Ash in a bid to spark a reaction, but Big T swiftly escorted the rock star into the
awaiting minivan. Charley clambered in with the rest of the entourage and Big T
slammed the door shut. The paparazzi flocked round the vehicle, pressing their
lenses against the tinted windows
and assaulting the van with camera flashes.

As Charley took her seat, she heard Big
T’s voice in her earpiece.

‘See what I mean? Those guys will
do anything to get their shot.’

It hadn’t taken long. All the
instructions were there on the internet – even a helpful video.

The ingredients had been bought readily
and without suspicion. Sugar and a frying pan from
the supermarket. Saltpetre from
the fertilizer section of a garden centre. A small torch bulb, a nine-volt battery,
a relay switch and some electrical wire from a hardware store. Finally, a large can
of Hyper energy drink and a cheap digital watch from a gas station.

The sugar and saltpetre had been mixed
in a bowl at the exact ratio specified on the web. Then the white powder
tipped into
the frying pan and ‘cooked’ under a low heat. Constantly stirring the
mixture with a wooden spoon, the grains of sugar had started to melt and caramelize.
Gradually the white powder liquefied into a light brown paste with the consistency
of peanut butter.

The resulting gooey liquid had been
poured into the now-empty soda can. As this mixture was left to cool
and harden, the
back of the digital watch had been prised open, its alarm buzzer disconnected and
electrical wires attached.
A circuit had then been made with
the battery, relay switch and bulb.

With great care, the glass of the torch
bulb had been broken to expose the filament. This was buried in a small wrapper of
uncooked sugar and saltpetre and inserted into the opening
of the soda can. The
watch and battery were taped to the outside of the can.

All the key components were now in
place: a timer, a battery, an igniter and an incendiary mix – small enough to
conceal in a backpack.

The bomb was complete.

Charley reclined in the upper-front
lounge of the double-decker bus as it headed west towards Pittsburgh and Ash’s
next stop on the tour. She’d never been in a vehicle like it before. The tour
bus was a Tardis. There were sixteen curtained-off bunk beds, three separate
lounges, a fully equipped kitchen and a designer-tiled bathroom complete with its
own shower unit. The lounges were upholstered in sumptuous black leather and boasted
high-definition televisions, games consoles and top-of-the-range sound systems.
Charley would have believed she was in a high-class
hotel if it wasn’t for the
subtle sensation of movement and the suppressed noise of traffic outside.

Ash was downstairs in one of the
air-conditioned bunk beds, sleeping off the night before. When she’d passed
him earlier, Charley had contemplated pouring Tabasco sauce into his mouth. But
fortunately for him there wasn’t any in the kitchen. Leaving the superstar to
get
his beauty sleep, she’d made her way upstairs where she found the drummer
and bassist absorbed in a two-player shooter game. A
coffee in
hand, she’d settled herself in the sofa by the front window.

Gazing out at the traffic, service
stations and fast-food joints that whizzed by, Charley’s thoughts turned to
the tour that lay ahead. There were still some twenty dates and a whole
continent to
cross. This bus would be their home for much of it and the one place that Charley
could relax from her duties protecting Ash. That’s if he let her protect him.
At the moment he still seemed to consider her some sort of joke. But the threat
against him wasn’t a joke. His stalker could strike at any point on the tour.
And she’d have to be ready, whether Ash took
her seriously or not.

‘How was the party last
night?’ asked Jessie, coming up the stairs and plonking herself down beside
Charley.

‘All right,’ she replied.
‘Where were you? I didn’t see you at the club.’

‘Oh, I had to update the website.
Lots of photos to add and a blog to write about the opening shows,’ she
explained. Then, leaning closer, she lowered her voice
in a conspiratorial tone.
‘Don’t worry, though. I didn’t reveal it was
you
who ran
on to the stage the first night!’

Charley cringed with embarrassment.
Despite her instincts having been right about the potential threat, she was still
regarded as the ‘guest’ who’d freaked out over Ash’s
performance and stopped the concert.

‘I don’t blame you for doing
it,’ whispered
Jessie. ‘I know how hard it is. Any time I see Ash, I
just want to grab hold of him and never let go.’ Her eyes took on a faraway
glaze.
‘Still can’t believe I’m on his tour
bus. It’s like a dream come true. So, how did you get invited?’

‘My guardian knows Ash’s
manager,’ Charley replied, hoping the half-truth would be convincing enough.
‘Which reminds me, I totally forgot
to call him back. Will you excuse
me?’

‘Sure,’ said Jessie.
‘I should really phone my mom before she thinks Ash has abducted me!’
She giggled at the idea. ‘It took a lot to persuade her to let me come on this
tour. I had to promise that I wouldn’t do anything stupid, like drink or take
drugs. But I explained Ash wasn’t that sort of rock star.’

‘Yeah, my guardian warned
me to be
careful too,’ said Charley with a rueful smile.

She rose from her seat and headed down
the stairs. Seeking some privacy, she found the toilet cubicle and locked the door.
She dialled Blake’s number rather than Buddyguard HQ. It rang for several
moments before being picked up.

‘Hey!’ she said
brightly.

There was a slight pause, then a
‘Hey yourself’,
followed by silence.

At first Charley thought it was a delay
on the line, but the silence became more drawn out. ‘Are you OK?’ she
asked.

‘You didn’t call me
back,’ said Blake.

‘Yeah, sorry about that. There was
an emergency.’

‘I guessed as much. That’s
why I’ve been worrying all this time.’

‘Nothing to
worry about,’ said Charley. ‘Ash had pretended
to pass out and tricked
me into doing CPR. Turned out to be a tour prank.’

Blake snorted. ‘Sounds like a dumb
joke to me. So, how is the almighty Ash? Is he all he’s cracked up to
be?’

‘Truth be told, he’s pretty
amazing. Having seen him live, I can understand why his fans are so crazy about
him.’

‘Can you now?’

‘Don’t get jealous!’
she cautioned with a
laugh. ‘Ash is way too arrogant for my liking. Besides,
he isn’t half as cute as you.’

‘That’s good to hear,’
said Blake, his voice still flat. ‘I was beginning to think the radio silence
meant you’d forgotten me.’

‘Of course not,’ she
insisted. ‘Listen, my hunch was right about the laser. There
was
an
intruder in the b–’

A knock at the door interrupted her.

‘Charley?’ called Big
T’s voice. ‘We’ll soon be coming into Pittsburgh.’

‘OK,’ she replied. Then in a
quieter voice: ‘Listen, Blake, I’ve got to go. Missing you.’

‘Yeah, you too,’ he said,
and cut the call.

Charley stared at her mobile,
half-wishing she hadn’t phoned him. Blake was clearly annoyed she hadn’t
rung back the other day. But what could she do? She was
on an assignment. Aside from
the routine report-ins, she rarely had time to make social calls. He of all people
should understand that. With a sigh, she pocketed her phone.
Long-distance
relationships are a nightmare
, she thought.

Charley made her
way down the corridor and joined Big T at the front of the coach.

‘I hope you’re well
rested,’ he said to her. ‘It’s about
to get crazy again.
I’ve heard from the security advance party that Ash’s hotel is mobbed
with fans.’

‘I’m getting used to that
now,’ replied Charley, gazing through the windscreen at the city skyline
ahead.

The bus mounted a ramp and approached a
monumental golden bridge. Spanning the breadth of the Monongahela River, the
bowstring arch structure was an impressive
gateway to their next stop on the
tour.

‘Welcome to Pittsburgh, the City
of Bridges!’ announced their driver, a grizzled man with a beer belly the size
of a space hopper.

As they crossed the bridge, following
the signs towards the Consol Center, Charley glanced up at the lattice of golden
steel girders whizzing over their heads.

‘Ford Pitt Bridge,’ said the
driver, noting her interest. ‘Just one of four hundred and forty-six bridges
in the city. I bet you’re wondering why it’s painted gold?’ He
didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘It’s to match the city’s
official colours – black and gold.’

Charley nodded and smiled at the
talkative driver.

‘A very iconic bridge, this
one,’ he said, continuing with his monologue. ‘Been featured
in many
films.
Striking Distance
,
Abduction
,
The Perks of Being A
Wallflower,
as well as the documentary
The Song Remains The Same
about Led Zeppelin’s legendary 1973 tour. This bridge is constructed from over
eight thousand tonnes of steel and –’

A muffled bang
rocked the coach.

Charley grabbed hold of a handrail as
the tour bus suddenly veered across the road.
The driver fought to control the
wheel. There was another bang and the whole coach shuddered.

Cars honked and swerved at the last
second to avoid a collision. Charley clung on for dear life as the bus headed
straight for the barrier and the dizzying drop into the river below.