Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  ‘Not at all – your quick thinking and first-aid skills actually saved her life,’ he explained. ‘Minister Valdez is deeply grateful for your bravery.’

  Charley forced a smile. ‘That’s wonderful to hear, but I shouldn’t have let his daughter get shot in the first place. I tried to give her full body cover, but there was simply too much crossfire –’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ scolded the colonel. ‘Without you, Sofia would most certainly have been kidnapped or killed.’

  He pointed to the monitor where images of the crime scene in question scrolled past.

  ‘I’ve the complete report here,’ Colonel Black explained. ‘The bullet ricocheted off the minister’s armoured car. You couldn’t have done anything about it. We just have to be thankful it was a ricochet and not a direct hit. That slowed the bullet’s velocity and stopped it reaching her spinal cord. If you hadn’t carried out emergency first aid at the scene, she’d have bled out. You acted like a true professional.’

  ‘It should have been me that took the bullet,’ she insisted, still feeling guilty.

  ‘Never say that!’ snapped the colonel. ‘A bodyguard with a death wish is a danger to everyone. Yes, we need to be willing to stand in the line of fire – but only if absolutely necessary to protect the life of a Principal. Charley, you need to value your own life as much as theirs. Remember, a dead bodyguard is no protection to anyone.’

  Colonel Black rose from his seat, stepped round his desk and laid a paternal hand on her shoulder. ‘I realize you’re trying to compensate for not being able to save your friend, but you owe it to Kerry’s memory to forgive yourself.’

  Swallowing back the long-held grief for her friend, Charley blinked away a tear. ‘I know how crazy it sounds, but I felt that by saving others I could somehow bring Kerry back.’

  The colonel shook his head. ‘You don’t need to save everyone, Charley. Nobody could do that. You’ve honoured Kerry a hundredfold with your commitment to bodyguard training and your heroic actions in the field.’

  The colonel pinned a silver shield with guardian wings to her T-shirt.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked, staring at the badge in puzzlement.

  ‘For courage and outstanding performance in the line of duty,’ replied Colonel Black. ‘I consider you our top-ranking buddyguard, and you should be officially recognized for that.’

  Charley studied the shield, feeling a small flush of pride. This acknowledgement was proof that she was indeed the best of the best. She could almost picture her parents’ proud smiles, if they’d still been around.

  ‘Which brings me to your next assignment,’ announced the colonel, returning to his desk.

  Charley blinked, her moment of glory swept aside by the prospect of yet another mission. ‘My next? But I’ve only just got back.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ll have ten days to prepare. But I thought you’d like to know who you’ll be protecting …’

  ‘Who?’ Charley prompted when the colonel seemed to be purposefully holding back on her.

  ‘Ash Wild.’

  ‘The rock star?’ questioned Blake next day, his jaw dropping in astonishment.

  Charley nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Yeah, I can’t believe it either. He must be Buddyguard’s most high-profile client yet.’

  ‘But he’s a guy.’

  ‘Good observation skills,’ said Charley sarcastically. ‘Your point being?’

  ‘Well … you’ve always been assigned to protect girls before,’ replied Blake.

  ‘And? You’ve protected boys and girls on your missions.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s different.’

  Charley narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Why’s it different?’

  ‘Because …’ Blake averted his gaze, clearly stuck for a suitable answer.

  ‘Because he’s jealous, that’s why.’ Jason smirked as he strode into the briefing room with the others and took his seat.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Blake shot back a little too quickly.

  ‘Of course you are. Ash Wild is every girl’s fantasy,’ Jason declared. ‘A super-rich famous rock star. You’re no match for him.’

  ‘Nor are you, dingo breath!’

  Jason held up his hands in defence. ‘Hey, I’m not competing for the same girl’s affections.’

  His jaw tensing in anger, Blake started to rise from his chair.

  Charley placed a hand on Blake’s arm, urging him to sit. So much for keeping our relationship low profile, she thought. ‘For the record, I’m not interested in Ash Wild.’

  Jason gave her a look. ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘I don’t even like his music,’ she stated. ‘Besides, that’s a line we’re not allowed to cross. Rule number one: never get involved with your Principal.’

  ‘Oops! I must have missed that one in the manual,’ Jason remarked with a roguish grin.

  Charley stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’

  Jason gave a non-committal shrug. ‘It was only a kiss and she made the first mo–’

  ‘Oi, Casanova!’ José interrupted. ‘Colonel Black’s coming.’

  Everyone stood to attention as the colonel took his place at the head of the briefing room. He indicated for them to sit.

  ‘Operation Starstruck,’ announced Colonel Black, wirelessly connecting his tablet to the overhead display and launching straight into the briefing. On the screen appeared a picture of a handsome teenage boy with brown hair and hazel eyes. ‘Our Principal is Ash Wild. British-born music prodigy, talented in guitar, piano, singing and songwriting.’

  ‘Well, that’s a matter of opinion,’ mumbled Blake, slouching in his chair.

  Ignoring his sullen remark, Charley powered up her tablet to take notes. She really couldn’t deal with a jealous boyfriend, especially during a briefing. This was one of the reasons why she hadn’t wanted to get involved with someone on her team. It just complicated matters.

  ‘Not according to his chart success, Blake,’ Colonel Black countered. ‘At fourteen, Ash was the youngest artist ever to achieve a number-one album in the UK. He’s topped the charts in sixteen other countries, including America where he became the first British solo artist to enter the Billboard 200 at number one with a debut album. Now fifteen, he’s about to embark on one of the most eagerly anticipated US tours ever.’ Colonel Black paused and swept his gaze round the room. ‘Our job is to keep him alive on this tour.’

  ‘What’s the primary threat?’ asked David.

  ‘An unidentified stalker, responsible for a hoax letter bomb and two death threats so far,’ the colonel explained as he presented the evidence on screen. ‘A nasty piece of hate mail written in pig’s blood and a message hidden within Ash’s latest single release.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard about that on the radio,’ said José. ‘Everyone thinks it’s a PR stunt.’

  ‘Well, they’re letting that story run, but it’s not the case,’ replied the colonel. ‘I was contacted direct by Ash’s manager, Kay Gibson.’ The display switched to a photograph of a striking red-headed woman in a black tailored dress. ‘Ms Gibson, who happens to be Ash’s aunt, is taking these threats very seriously. She’s already upped Ash’s normal security arrangements, including making his personal bodyguard full-time.’

  The overhead screen filled with the image of a hulking twenty-one stone man with a head like a wrinkled bowling ball and tattooed arms that could put a gorilla to shame.

  José let out a whistle through his teeth. ‘He’s one
mean-looking BG! Any stalker’s got to be crazy to take him on.’

  ‘What’s his background?’ asked Charley, suddenly feeling out of her depth in comparison to the colossal bodyguard.

  ‘His name is Tony Burnett, known better as Big T,’ said the colonel. ‘He’s old school. Started out in security when he was a teenager, just like you lot. But he got his training at the school of hard knocks, working the pub doors in the East End of London where he grew up. Later he moved on to concert security at the Hammersmith Apollo. From there, he toured with the likes of Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Slipknot and the Foo Fighters. Now approaching sixty, he’s somewhat of a legend among music security professionals. That’s how he acquired his position as Ash’s personal bodyguard.’

  David raised a hand. ‘Why does Ash need Charley, or any other bodyguard for that matter, when he’s already got Big T to protect him?’

  ‘Big T will act as high-profile security, warding off the obvious threats,’ Colonel Black explained. ‘But Charley is needed for low-profile, discreet protection – to counter the unseen and unexpected dangers.’

  ‘But why choose Charley? Especially after her last mission,’ said Jason, glancing across at her. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if I went? I could pretend to be one of the band.’

  He thinks he’s One Direction, thought Charley, bristling at Jason’s never-ending doubts about her ability.

  ‘No,’ replied the colonel. ‘Charley has a distinct advantage over you. The fact she’s a girl will allow her to blend in better. Officially she will be on the tour as a trainee PR girl, but to any casual observer she’ll appear as just another Ash Wild fan.’

  ‘So does Big T know I’ll be Ash’s buddyguard?’ asked Charley.

  José laughed. ‘Yeah, better not step on the big man’s toes!’

  Colonel Black nodded. ‘Ms Gibson’s informed him. As I understand it, he’ll be the only other person in the entourage, aside from Ash and the tour manager, to know your true role.’

  Charley made a note of this as the colonel turned to the others in the team. ‘Blake, you’ll be the prime point of contact for Charley here at headquarters.’

  Having sat silent throughout the briefing, Blake glanced up from his sulk and nodded.

  ‘Jason, investigate Ash’s background and run a threat assessment on him.’ A long series of dates flashed up on the screen. ‘José and David, this is the planned tour itinerary. Research each venue, hotel and location, so that Charley has instant access to maps and all other essential information.’

  ‘Yes, Colonel,’ replied José and David in unison, both opening up the tour file on their tablets.

  The colonel turned back to Charley. ‘We’ve a meeting with Ash and his manager at the end of next week. Ensure you’re fully prepped. Bugsy’s updating your Go-bag, so remember to stop by the logistic supply room. Other than that, you know the drill.’

  ‘Meet Amir,’ said Bugsy, introducing the skinny boy Jason had spotted in the dining hall the week before. ‘He’s assisting me with mission logistics.’

  Amir stared wide-eyed at Charley from behind the work counter of the supply room, giving the impression he was a little in awe of her.

  ‘Hi, I’m Charley,’ she said, leaning against the counter.

  ‘I know,’ he replied with a timid but endearing smile. ‘Everyone knows who you are.’

  Charley raised an eyebrow. ‘They do?’

  ‘You’re quite a celebrity now, Charley,’ said Bugsy, dumping a light green rucksack on top of the counter and unpacking its contents. He laid out the items in two rows, then stepped back.

  ‘You explain what’s in her Go-bag, Amir,’ Bugsy encouraged, popping a stick of chewing gum into his mouth. ‘It’ll be good experience for you.’

  Clearing his throat, Amir picked up the first item. ‘Well … this is a phone,’ he began.

  ‘I can see that.’ Charley smiled.

  ‘A smartphone actually … it has all the usual features,’ he continued, his voice quivering slightly. ‘High-res camera, video capability, GPS, internet … but it’s also a weapon.’

  Now Charley was interested. ‘What sort of weapon?’

  Amir pointed to two small metal studs at the top of the device. ‘A stun gun. Slide the volume button up a notch and simply press to deliver over three million volts of electricity …’

  The ghost image of Kerry’s tortured face and shuddering body flashed before Charley’s eyes. She blinked and the vision was gone, but the chill of grief and guilt lingered. Amir was too involved in his description of the phone’s workings to notice her brief pained expression.

  ‘The shock will effectively short-circuit the attacker’s nervous system, causing loss of balance and muscle control, confusion and disorientation. It’s like being shocked by a cattle fence, only fifty thousand times stronger. Even through clothing, it can take out a fully grown adult.’

  He pressed the button; there was a fearsome crackle and a blue bolt of electricity arced between the two studs. The boy grinned. ‘I like to call this device the iStun.’

  But Charley didn’t laugh. Instead she quietly replied, ‘I know from experience what it can do.’

  ‘You do?’ he said, stifling his own laugh when he saw her expression. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s all right.’

  ‘Sure, I understand,’ he replied with an earnest nod. ‘Client confidentiality and all that.’

  Amir put the stun phone aside and picked up a small aerosol can. ‘This looks like a standard deodorant. But in fact it’s –’

  ‘A legal pepper spray,’ Charley finished for him. ‘I’ve used it on a previous assignment. Fires out a red gel that disorientates an attacker and stains their skin.’

  Slightly crestfallen at missing an opportunity to explain this himself, Amir held up a tiny white box no bigger than a sugar cube instead. ‘OK … how about the Intruder?’

  ‘Go on,’ encouraged Charley. She felt bad after realizing Amir was trying desperately to impress their instructor. So she leant forward and made a show of interest.

  ‘This is a mini portable surveillance device,’ he explained eagerly. ‘Instant set-up. Just fix it to a wall using the reusable adhesive on the back. If someone crosses the sensor’s beam, the device instantly alerts your phone with a text message. Bugsy thought these would be ideal for detecting intruders while you’re on tour.’

  Charley examined the box. ‘It’s certainly compact.’

  Heartened by her approval, Amir moved on to the next set of items in line. ‘Now these are really cool! Bugsy got them custom-made.’

  ‘What’s so special about a T-shirt?’ asked Charley as he unfolded the first black garment and laid it out on the counter.

  ‘It’s woven from a high-tech super-fabric,’ he explained. ‘This T-shirt is not only fireproof, it’s stab-proof too.’

  ‘Stab-proof!’ exclaimed Charley, feeling the thick cotton-like fabric between her fingers and doubting its capabilities. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t tested it personally,’ Amir admitted. ‘But Bugsy assures me it is.’

  Charley glanced at her instructor, who gave a single nod of his bald head. ‘Do you want to test it out?’ he asked.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I believe you,’ Charley replied quickly as he began to unsheathe the knife on his utility belt. She returned the T-shirt to Amir.

  ‘There’s all your standard gear too,’ said Amir, sorting through her remaining equipment
and repacking the items carefully into her Go-bag. ‘First-aid kit, comms unit, torch –’

  ‘What’s this? A secret poison dart?’ asked Charley, picking up a biro from the counter.

  ‘No,’ Amir replied, looking at her as if she had a screw loose. ‘It’s just a pen. But I thought I’d include it in case your Principal is asked to sign autographs. You don’t want to be hanging around, exposed any longer than necessary, while a fan searches for their own pen.’

  On hearing this, Charley reappraised the potential of the raw-boned boy. He might not have the muscles, but he certainly had the brains to be a bodyguard. ‘Good thinking, Amir.’

  Amir beamed at the praise.

  ‘Actually, this isn’t just any old pen,’ said Bugsy, stepping in and taking it from Charley. ‘The casing is made from high-impact hardened polycarbonate. This means it functions as a very effective self-defence weapon too.’

  Amir frowned. ‘How can a pen be used as a weapon?’

  ‘Allow me to demonstrate.’

  Holding the pen in an ice-pick grip, Bugsy said, ‘Like a Japanese kubotan, you can use this to strike at pressure points on the human body. The neck is the best place to target.’

  Without warning, he drove the tip of the pen into the clump of nerves just above Amir’s collarbone. Amir let out an anguished cry and crumpled to the floor where he lay gasping in pain.

  ‘Highly effective, as you can see,’ said Bugsy, returning the pen to Charley.

  Collecting her Go-bag, she slowly shook her head at Bugsy. ‘No wonder no one ever wants to be your assistant!’

  ‘New York, Dallas, Las Vegas, Miami, LA … Talk about one awesome assignment!’ said Blake, loading Charley’s travel case into the boot of the Range Rover. ‘Wish I was going with you.’

  ‘You forget, all that travelling’s a hard slog,’ replied Charley as she crunched across the gravel driveway with her Go-bag.

  ‘Yeah, right. Free concerts, celebrity-filled parties, exotic locations. I’d kill to go on a mission like that.’