Bodyguard: Target (22 page)

‘Tell me what happened,’
demanded Kay. Her green eyes blazed with emotion on the computer screen. Despite it
being two in the morning in the UK, she still managed to look glamorous. Yet the
news about Ash had visibly shocked her and her face was porcelain white.

‘It was an accident,’
explained Terry, seated beside Big T in his hotel room. ‘The clamp securing
the spotlight failed.’

‘What about the safety
cable?’ said Kay. ‘Shouldn’t that have stopped the light from
falling?’

Terry swallowed uneasily. ‘For
some reason, it wasn’t attached.’

‘
Not attached!
’ Kay
exclaimed, her familiar tiger spirit returning. ‘That doesn’t sound like
an accident to me.’

In the context of Ash’s death
threats, Charley was compelled to agree. But she kept her opinion to herself as she
sat quietly with Zoe on the edge of the bed.

‘There’s no evidence that
the light was tampered with,’ replied Big T.

‘Then how could it
happen?’

Terry wiped a hand over his dry mouth.
‘We were in a
rush to set everything up. The safety cable
was likely overlooked.’

Even across a divide of four thousand
miles, everyone felt the ferocity of Kay’s glare.

‘As you know, the crew are always
under pressure to set up for each gig,’ Terry hurriedly explained. ‘But
even more so when a false bomb alert delays
the already tight schedule.’

Kay’s smooth brow wrinkled
slightly. ‘What bomb alert?’

Terry directed an accusing stare at
Charley. ‘That’s down to your
guest
here.’

With open-mouthed dismay, Charley
realized the tour manager was trying to shift the blame for the incident on to her.
‘I don’t see how that’s got anything to do with it,’ she
protested.

‘It’s got
everything
to do with it,’ he insisted.

‘Hang on, what about that man I
spotted in the lighting rig prior to the concert? Perhaps he’s responsible?
Maybe it wasn’t an accident at all.’

‘Enough of your paranoid
assertions!’ said Terry. ‘That could only have been Geoff, one of my
most reliable roadies. And he’d have been able to complete his checks properly
if you
hadn’t raised the alarm over a lunch box!’

‘The backpack
could
have
been a bomb,’ argued Charley.

‘But it wasn’t, was
it?’ countered Terry, glowering at her.

Charley knew she was being made a
scapegoat for his road crew’s mistakes and this time Big T wasn’t
stepping to
her defence. But she realized he could only put his
neck on the line so many times.

Then Big
T broke his silence.
‘Pointing the finger doesn’t change what happened. The most important
thing at the moment is Ash.’

‘Quite true,’ said Kay from
the computer screen. ‘How is he doing?’

Zoe leant towards the webcam with a
reassuring smile. ‘He’s recovering fast. Like the song goes, he’s
indestructible!’

‘Ash got away with only a few cuts
and bruises,’ explained
Big T. ‘If he’d landed on stage from the
toaster lift even one step further back, though, the spotlight would have crushed
him.’

‘That doesn’t bear thinking
about.’ Kay sighed. ‘Where is he now?’

‘In his room, sleeping,’
said Big T.

Terry pinched the bridge of his nose and
rubbed his weary eyes. ‘We had to cancel the concert, of course.’

‘What about the rest
of the
tour?’ asked Kay. ‘Is Ash able to continue?’

Terry gave a nod. ‘The doctor says
he’s physically fine. So I don’t foresee any problem.’

‘Yes, but the question is, does
he
want
to?’

The atmosphere on the repaired tour bus
the following day was subdued. Ash had holed himself up in the back lounge, making
it clear he didn’t want to be disturbed. The next stop on the tour
was
Columbus, Ohio, and as far as everyone knew the concert was going ahead. But there
was deep concern among the band and crew whether Ash was in the right state of mind
to perform.

‘So, apart from being withdrawn,
is he otherwise OK?’ José asked Charley during the conference call to
Buddyguard HQ. José was the go-to for any medical-related issues during
Operation
Starstruck.

‘I think so. I haven’t had
much chance to chat with him,’ said Charley. She was in the toilet cubicle as
had become her custom to ensure some privacy when reporting in. ‘As I
understand it, Ash is more upset for his fans that the concert was cancelled. But he
does seem a lot quieter than usual.’

‘I guess it’s pretty
traumatic if a forty-kilogram spotlight
almost crushes you to death!’ snorted
Jason.

‘It was certainly a close
call,’ replied Charley coolly.

‘Jody says
he’s probably in mental shock, like after a car crash,’ continued
José. ‘Hang on, she’s just handed me a list of symptoms … OK,
it says here that he may swing between bouts of depression, anxiety, anger, despair,
hyperactivity and withdrawal. But the
symptoms usually resolve themselves in a few
days or so.’

‘Thanks, José, that’s
good to know. I’ll keep an eye out for them.’

‘You worried about him?’
asked Blake. These were the first words he’d spoken since she’d reported
in.

‘Of course I am,’ she
replied. ‘That’s my job.’

‘I know,’ he shot back a
little too quickly. ‘I meant whether you thought he was
becoming unstable. I
hear rock stars can be a little unhinged.’

No, you didn’t
, she
thought, guessing exactly what he was pushing at. Charley was growing tired of
Blake’s jealousy and snippy remarks every time she reported in. Either he was
short with her, mistrusting or simply in a mood. She understood that it was hard
them being apart for so long. And difficult to find
the time to resolve any issues.
But if he couldn’t trust her with Ash, then what was the point in them going
steady?

‘So, Charley, have you faced any
more crowds single-handedly?’ asked David when she went quiet.

‘We all saw the news footage of
Ash being mobbed by his fans, supposedly without protection,’ remarked
José. ‘Can’t believe you got him out of that situation
alive!’

‘Nor me –’ Through the
wall of the toilet cubicle she heard an anguished cry, then a loud bang.
‘Gotta go!’

Ending the call,
Charley rushed out into the corridor. Her first thought was that it was another tyre
blowout. Then she heard a crash and splintering of wood from the back lounge. She
burst through the door to find Ash furiously smashing his acoustic
guitar on the
floor. The body cracked. The strings twanged. And the neck snapped.

‘Ash! What are you doing?’
cried Charley, stunned to see him destroying one of his most prized guitars.

Ash tossed the shattered instrument to
the ground, then stamped on the broken remains.

‘You useless piece of junk!’
he cried as his foot went through the guitar’s body. His fit of fury
eventually ebbed away and he slumped back into the sofa, sobbing with his head in
hands.

Cautiously Charley approached, sat down
next to him and put an arm round his heaving shoulders.

‘I-I … can’t write any
more,’ he cried, hitching in a ragged breath. ‘I’ve … lost
the songs. I-I can’t hear them any more …’

Charley patiently listened to his
distress, realizing
this was the mental shock Jody had diagnosed. He trembled
uncontrollably and she gently held him in her arms. Jessie popped her head round the
door, a concerned look on her face. Charley held up a hand to say all was OK and to
give them some space. With a small nod, Jessie quietly retreated from the room.

As Charley waited for Ash’s sobs
to subside, she spotted his laptop open
on the table. A mostly blank page had the
beginnings of a song that was stalled on the first line:
You lift me up because …

In an open smaller browser window was a
feed from Ash’s social media site. A stream of well-wishers were posting
messages of support following the previous night’s cancelled concert.
Interspersed between these, like poisonous thorns on a berry bush, were
acid
comments from haters either joking about the near tragedy or wishing the spotlight
had
hit him. Charley disregarded these.

‘Judging by your fans’
response, they love your songs and you,’ she told him. ‘I’m sure
you haven’t lost your touch. You’re just in shock and a little stressed
out at the moment, that’s all.’

Ash looked up at her with reddened eyes.
‘B-but
writing songs is all I know. It’s who I am. It’s
why
my fans like me. I’m terrified my muse won’t come
back.’

‘Of course it will,’ assured
Charley. ‘If you can write a song like “Only Raining”,
you’re born with the gift.’

This only made Ash sob again.

He eventually regained control of his
emotions. ‘But w-what if it doesn’t come back? I’ve tried
everything
I know. Nothing seems to break the block. Ever since that letter bomb,
I’ve been struggling. I can’t sleep. I have nightmares about it. I just
don’t understand why anyone would hate me that much. What have I done to
them?’

Charley thought about the man
who’d snatched Kerry all those years ago. And of the terrorists who’d
hijacked the plane her parents had been on. Tears
now threatened to come to her
eyes. ‘There are people out there who hurt and
hate for
no reason but their own. It’s not your fault. You’ve done nothing
wrong.’

‘Then why is someone trying to
kill me?’

‘Last night was just an accident,
like the coach crash,’ assured Charley. She pointed to his computer screen.
‘You have to ignore the haters and focus on those who
love you. Besides your
band, crew, Big T and your aunt, you have a whole legion of fans supporting you.
They’ll inspire you. You just need to give it time.’

Ash nodded. ‘You’re
right,’ he said, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. ‘Not
much of a rock star, am I? You must think I’m a right idiot for crying like a
baby.’

‘We all have to cry
sometimes,’
replied Charley.

Ash managed a weak smile. ‘You
should be a lyricist.’

His laptop pinged as a new message came
in. A photo appeared in the browser window of Ash on stage, the blur of a falling
spotlight just behind his head.

The caption beneath read:

‘Cancel the gig,’ insisted
the bassist. ‘In fact, the whole damn tour!’

‘No. There’s too much at
stake,’ said Terry. ‘We risk losing millions.’

‘We risk losing our lives!’
the bassist
shot back.

The band, tour manager, Big T and
Charley were all crammed into Ash’s dressing room backstage at the Nationwide
Arena in Columbus. Word had leaked out about the message on Ash’s computer and
the band had been spooked.

‘I tell you, it was an
accident,’ insisted Terry. ‘Just because some anonymous hater posted a
message online claiming he was responsible doesn’t
mean it’s true.
There’s absolutely no evidence of foul play. This is simply an opportunist
taking advantage of a news story. Now get yourselves ready for the
concert.’

Charley kept her mouth shut. She no
longer knew what to think. Big T had launched an investigation into the source of
the message, but it had so far come up blank. This was suspicious in itself. Yet an
examination of the spotlight had
pointed to basic mechanical
failure of its clamp as the reason for the accident. The fact that the safety chain
hadn’t been attached was put down to human error, rather than a premeditated
murder attempt. Nor had there been any reason to suspect the coach crash was
anything more than an accident. However, following the ominous message, Charley
began to wonder if that was really the case.

‘Hey, it’s not just Ash out
there on stage,’ reminded the bassist, crossing his arms defiantly. ‘Any
one of us could be hurt or killed. So we’ve a right to say whether we go on or
not.’

‘Fine,’ said Terry.
‘If you don’t want the gig, we’ll get another bassist
in.’

‘Well, I hope he wears a crash
helmet!’ he sneered.

‘Terry, you’re missing the
point,’ the drummer piped up. ‘We all know about the death threats.
Someone has it in for Ash.’ He directed his drumstick at Ash, who sat mute in
his chair, staring blankly at himself in the mirror as the stylist made the
finishing touches to his hair. ‘Are you willing to gamble his life, and ours,
like this?’

‘There is no gamble,’ said
Terry. ‘I’ve discussed this with his manager. Someone is playing a cruel
game, that’s all. They’re trying to scare Ash, intimidate him –
sabotage his career. And we won’t let that happen. Apart from the threats
before the tour, it’s all been false alarms. The crew has double-checked
everything at this venue. I can assure you, there’ll be no more accidents on
this tour.’

‘That’s comforting to
know,’ replied the bassist. ‘But what about actual attacks on
us?’

Terry jabbed a
thumb in the direction of the veteran bodyguard. ‘That’s the job of Big
T and his security team to prevent – and I’ve complete faith that
they’ll keep Ash safe.’

The bassist snorted. ‘That’s
all well and good for Ash. But what about
us
?’

‘My security team covers
you as
well,’ said Big T.

Terry glanced impatiently at his watch.
‘Now the gig’s going ahead with or without you. What’s it going to
be?’

‘Surely, it’s
my
decision!’ interrupted Ash. ‘Whether the show happens or not?’

Everyone in the room turned to him.
Dressed in his glittering stage gear, his hair perfectly coiffured, Ash looked more
than ready to go on stage.
But, having seen him with his defences down, Charley knew
the paralysing fear that haunted Ash’s every waking moment. In her opinion he
was in no fit state to perform.

While the others in the band had a right
to be concerned for their safety, Ash was the real target.