No response.
She gently shook his shoulder. Still no response.
Airway was next. After checking nothing was blocking his mouth, she tilted his head back and lifted his chin to open his airway. Then she placed her cheek close to his mouth and nose and looked down his body for any signs of breathing. She waited ten seconds but felt and saw nothing. A spike of alarm shot through her.
‘Call 911,’ she ordered. ‘We need an ambulance fast.’
While the bassist fumbled for his phone, Charley assessed Ash’s circulation. There was no obvious sign of bleeding. She checked his pulse. A little fast but strong. That was a good sign. But he still wasn’t breathing. She had to begin CPR immediately.
Pinching Ash’s nose, Charley took a deep breath and placed her lips around his mouth. Before she could breathe out, an arm wrapped round her waist and a tongue caressed her own. Ash’s eyes opened and met her startled gaze as he began to kiss her in earnest.
Charley leapt away in shock.
‘Now that’s what I call mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!’ cracked the bassist, having taken a video of the intimate moment with his phone.
The other band members were all apparently in on the joke. They laughed heartily.
‘I thought you were dying,’ Charley exclaimed, wiping the back of her hand across her lips in disgust.
Ash sat up and grinned mischievously. ‘One false alarm deserves another!’
Charley was too stunned to reply.
‘Go on, admit it. You liked it,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Most girls would give their right arm to kiss me.’
Now over the initial shock, Charley felt a surge of anger at being duped. She was even more outraged at Ash’s arrogance that he imagined she’d liked it!
Charley responded with a tight smile. ‘How lucky I am.’ Then she drew closer and whispered in his ear, ‘You ever try to kiss me again, I’ll break your arm.’
Ash laughed it off. ‘Worth the risk!’
He waltzed out of the door with the rest of his band, their laughter echoing down the corridor as they headed for the stage.
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. C
harley 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 sile
nce.
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.
Bodyguard: Target Page 14